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Footsteps as nimble and quiet as a cat’s approaches him from behind, neither bothering to announce his arrival nor wait for him to be granted entry to his bedroom. Five steps away from him, and there’s the whisper of a blade being drawn out of its sheath.
Chuuya’s senses have always served him well, compounding his already-formidable battle instincts. It’s one of the reasons why his ‘God of War’ moniker is uttered by allies and foes alike. This means that impromptu assassination attempts—especially when performed by twigs who could be snapped in half by one decisive kick—aren’t something that could cause him any harm.
That doesn’t stop Dazai from trying out these schemes on him.
Once the mackerel is within grabbing range, Chuuya whirls around from his spot in front of his closet. One hand punches the blade’s handle out of the other’s hold, another hand going straight for the other’s neck.
More capricious than a cat, Dazai easily lets go of the dagger, letting it fly into an arc somewhere far from the two of them. He even lets out an enthused squeal at being manhandled, one that turns into an approving moan when Chuuya follows up his counterattack by shoving Dazai against the door of his closet, raising a leg so he can dig a knee into his stomach.
He’s the only attacker who can breach his private space this closely. Even so, Dazai only flails his arms forward and hangs them over his shoulders, dragging him up for a long overdue kiss.
By the time they wrench their mouths away from each other, Chuuya’s back is already sore from being pressed hard against the floor. He may be hailed and feared as the ‘God of War’, but there’s still such a thing as deep-seated muscle exhaustion. He’s only just returned after a victorious military campaign, taking just-under ten months to trail a blaze all the way from the westmost coastline to their capital in the central plains.
“You didn’t immediately present yourself in front of the Emperor,” Dazai points out with swollen lips and disheveled hair, a state of debauchery that he’s probably mimicking. The shitty emperor has the audacity to sit on top of his waist, making himself comfortable by wiggling here and there atop him. “I could have you executed for being disrespectful to me.”
“And then I’d have you executed for the crime of being an annoying dumbass,” he fires back, annoyed by the other’s wriggling that he grips the other man by the hips and keeps him in place.
It’s not that he isn’t interested in going to bed with this guy—after all, Dazai is many things, and knowing his body very well is one of the few good points about him. It’s just that he’s really too tired, after hurrying as much as he can while making sure that the territories that he’s conquered in the name of their kingdom won’t suddenly have ideas about an uprising.
Knowing the annoying emperor, he’d want to cram in ten months’ worth of lovemaking in ten hours. If they start something now, he’d probably pass out from fatigue within thirty seconds and then Dazai would never let him live it down.
Dazai flutters his lashes at him, “You’re going to have me executed even when I’m so seductive?”
“You’ve been alone here for ten months, I really should execute you if you’ve been going around seducing people.” Not that there’s a possibility of it happening. The two of them are many things, but having eyes for anyone but each other is not one of them.
“Mm, it’s not my fault if they can’t help but want to worship my dashing looks.”
He shakes his head, his thumb rubbing random shapes against Dazai’s clothes. “They should dash far away from you instead.”
…Well, it isn’t very random. He’s writing out several important reports that he’s managed to compile throughout his campaign. Dazai does the same, writing out several of his plans over the dip of his collarbone, etching upon his skin using his fingernails.
Multitasking whenever possible has always been the norm between the two of them. In fact, even their relationship could be considered as the biggest example of such a thing.
They exchange more reports while exchanging a series of sticky kisses, Dazai licking his mouth thoroughly like he could glean more information that way.
Even if it’s the palace’s floor, it still is ultimately, a floor. No carpets. Not only does it dull the sound of footsteps of would-be assassins, it also is extremely cumbersome to clean certain stains from it.
“Oh? How about you, Chuuya?” The hands near his neck creep upwards until they’re loosening up the choker that he likes to wear. “You’ve been gone ten months without me around.” Eyes dark, “With how flashily you kill your enemies, I’m sure there’s been several people who’s had ideas to climb into your bed.”
He’s sure that aside from Akutagawa, a number of the subordinates, servants, soldiers and envoys who have joined his forces, are also spies from Dazai. Plus, he’s never seen the point in lies. “Yeah, there have been a number of people who’ve offered to warm my bed.” He tilts his head, lips twitching. “A lot of enemies too, have offered to make me into their Empress.”
“And you refused them, because you’re already my Empress.”
He rolls his eyes, then regrets it a bit because he’s tempted into just letting them stay close. He really is too sleepy to deal with this bastard’s nonsense. Still, some things cannot be left to fester without being properly addressed. “I refused them, because they’re all annoying.”
And for enemies, the only thing he bares to them is the glint of his sword, the only body fluid involved being blood.
“Oh? Not denying the Empress part?”
A dismissive shrug. “Even if you write that down as an imperial edict, I’ll just overturn it.” Then, his gaze narrows as he suddenly drags Dazai’s face down, their noses bumping. “Oi, that dagger you used earlier is new and poisoned. Why the hell are you touching something that dangerous?”
“Fufufu, worried that I’ll die?”
“I didn’t go all the way to the western coastline only to return to a fishy corpse.” After all, the western coastline is known for their crab fisheries. He’s listened to Dazai’s war proposal in court last year, about the list of pros and cons of expanding their territory westward, but he knows it’s all bullshit excuses just so he can have his hands on those crabs.
“So you are worried about me,” Dazai concludes, rubbing their noses together in a gesture that could be considered sweet and innocent. The unholy light in his eyes say otherwise. There’s a cutting smirk on his lips when he whispers, “The Finance Minister has hired several assassins to take my life while you were gone, you know.”
He frowns upon hearing this. “That Ace bastard? I’m going to kill him,” he promises. His frown grows deeper. “And you, oh-so-almighty Emperor, couldn’t have done something about it? No punishments?”
“It isn’t good for the kingdom’s stability if only one Emperor keeps on sending out orders, no?” The laughter that bubbles out from his throat is very rich. “Otherwise, people might talk that I’m just keeping you as my pet dog instead of an Emperor of equal standing.”
He’s known the other man since he’s just been a lowly Prince who’s fourteenth in line for a crumbling throne. Back then, Dazai liked to cover his body in bandages, add powder to his face and rogue to his lips, deliberately wearing thin white clothes to affect a frail, sickly persona. Someone who has no designs for the throne, so won’t everyone else spare him and not bother him in his courtyard where he needs to sleep a lot?
Back then, he’s working as a hired mercenary, earning some silver in exchange for the head of the fourteenth prince. He’s seen the supposedly-sickly prince and has failed to kill him.
—He’s been failing to kill him for nearly a decade now, but there’s one thing where he doesn’t fail at, and that’s at reading the other’s bullshit.
“So, you want me to publicly execute him and defend your honor or something.”
Dazai knows him just as well, and so reads his countenance for what it is: acceptance of this troublesome task. “Glad you understand, chibikko. You can make it my birthday present.”
He raises an eyebrow. “The territories I’ve conquered for you aren’t enough? How greedy you are.”
There’s no need to add the fact that he’s even hurried back, rushing through inclement weather at the treacherous mountain passes, just so he can be here in time for this bastard’s birthday banquet.
Last time that he’s missed the other’s birthday, the territory that he’s specially cultivated for its vineyards have suddenly, mysteriously, found itself razed by invaders. Not-so-oddly enough, it’s only the vineyards that sell his favorite wine that have been affected. The other’s tantrums are too troublesome to deal with, so it’s easier to simply take steps to avoid them from happening.
“Mm, but that’s our joint territory, dear Empress.”
Being called the ‘God of War’ is strange enough, being called ‘dear Empress’ is enough to give him goosebumps. “You’re absolutely disgusting,” he declares, knowing that he’s the only one in this kingdom who can say such things to this person’s face without getting beheaded.
…Of course, that’s because he’s the one cutting down anyone else who dares to seriously harm or insult this bastard.
Back then, the not-so-frail-after-all fourteenth prince told him, “Being an emperor is such a tiresome job. You have to manage so many things, so it’s better to just lie down and die instead.”
“Then go die for me, so I can earn some silver,” he said as indifferently as possible, even though he couldn’t help but be intrigued by such a unique sort of incomprehensible being.
“So if I’m going to become Emperor, I need a partner so they can do everything needed and I can just continue to lie down and sleep.”
“Your bad intentions at slacking off are leaking out, oi.”
—On top of excellent senses, battle instincts and physical prowess, his memory is pretty good too. Even if it’s been nearly ten years, he still remembers that first meeting clearly. The meeting that has changed the course of his life.
“Fufufu, but you have no choice but continue being my partner,” Dazai tells him the same line that he’s used on him back then. “You have to stay by my side and make sure that there are no threats around me, make sure that I stay alive, so you can personally kill me.”
Being a young emperor while leading a kingdom that grows exponentially means that there are many threats to the other’s life. Internal strife, other kingdoms’ emperors, not to mention Dazai instigating people into wanting him dead.
That Dazai has gained the ambition to ascend as the Emperor, defeating everyone’s schemes—that this bastard has done it for the sole purpose of annoying him and binding them forcibly together—
Of course, he knows it.
A relationship where they multitask between protecting each other and trying to kill each other. Nobody else could understand it but them. And that’s more than fine with him.
They smirk at each other, full of sharp, incisive blades.
Taking that as a cue, Dazai smoothly stands up, then pulls him up and carries him to bed. It’s a short enough distance that the other has no excuse to crumble from their combined weight.
“Rest, Chuuya,” is the gentle command that drifts over his ears.
“Shut up already, shitty Dazai,” is his cat’s-paw-soft response.
For now, they tuck away their claws and blades, and take a well-deserved rest.
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end