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The Agency’s Christmas party had gone surprisingly smoothly this year. With the help of Yosano, Kunikida had managed the feat of keeping Dazai from ruining the illusion that Santa was not, in fact Kunikida in a fake beard and costume.
Atsushi had just about seen through it without Dazai’s help, but still he was glad that they’d managed to maintain the festive atmosphere until the younger members vanished for the night.
Rampo herded them all out, forcing Atsushi to carry a food-comatose Kenji with him and holding Kyouka’s hand as he winked at the remaining adults and called, “don’t get up to too much mischief or Santa won’t be coming next year!”
When the door shut, Kunikida slumped down into his chair, wishing halfly that he had volunteered to go with Rampo to put the kids to bed and halfly that he hadn’t let Dazai talk him into sharing a bottle of mulled wine with him that had quickly turned into two or three. He couldn’t keep track any more.
“So,” said Yosano, “anything juicy any of you want to share?”
Fukuzawa stared at her gravely and set down his glass. “I’ll leave you to it then” –
“Not so fast!” she called out. “That old childhood friend of yours made a reappearance recently. Any secrets to share there?”
He frowned. Kunikida couldn’t blame him; when the effects of alcohol wore their way through Yosano’s restraints, it was easier to run from her than to try and avoid her prying questions. And it was only a matter of time before Dazai joined in and doubled the suffering they’d all be subjected to.
Not a moment after he thought it, Dazai appeared at his side. Into his ear, he whispered, “do you want to play a game?”
This was going to be hell.
“What sort of game?” Kunikida begrudgingly asked.
“Well,” Dazai said, “for every time they say something stupid, we both take a shot.”
“I’ve already drunk enough, thank you.”
No way was he going to allow Dazai to get him even more inebriated. This level of tipsiness was toeing the lines of his ideals already. He would have to be extra vigilant to make sure Dazai didn’t lure him into doing something even more foolish.
Dazai fingered the neck of the bottle in his hands, pouting in his usual pretentious way. If Kunikida didn’t know better, he might have been fooled.
“Then how about… hmm…”
Oh now that, that, was dangerous. The little hmm noise was one Dazai made only when he was plotting something truly devious. The hair on the back of Kunikida’s arms prickled in anticipation, oblivious to the way Dazai leaned in even further, the fluffy offshoots of hair brushing against Kunikida’s neck.
“Every time I ask you what was said three sentences ago, and you forget, you have to do something for me.”
“Absolutely not!”
Tanizaki stared at him. “Is something wrong, Kunikida?”
“Aren’t you too young to still be here?”
“I’m eighteen now,” Tanizaki reminded him. “And Dazai said this was supposed to be fun or something.”
Kunikida took another sip from his glass, then almost spat it back out again. “What did you put in this?”
Dazai giggled. “It was empty, so I just topped it up.” He took a swig directly from the bottle, holding Kunikida’s gaze the whole time as his throat bobbed and just a little bit of alcohol escaped from the corner of his mouth.
Before he could stop himself, he wiped the trickle of it away on his sleeve, then turned back to the poor boy that had just been witness to yet more of Dazai’s insolence. “I wouldn’t listen to anything Dazai says. And I’m sure Rampo could use a bit of help with Naomi and the others.”
“Aw, Kunikida~~~” Dazai interrupted, “don’t ruin the fun.”
“No! No it’s fine. I’m sure the others will be up to the usual things as well.”
He didn’t hang around long enough for Kunikida to ask what, exactly, those usual things were, apparently more eager than Kunikida had expected to get away.
“So,” said Yosano, grinning slyly, “what is this thing you’re absolutely not doing, Kunikida?”
“He doesn’t want to play with me, Yosano. :(”
“Not when it means I’m at risk of becoming your slave, Dazai! I wouldn’t trust you with my body for a moment.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Dazai blinked slowly, all doe eyes and long lashes. Infuriatingly pretty, really.
“Not a chance! You wouldn’t either, would you, Yosano?”
Yosano simply laughed. “Oh, I don’t think he’d be quite so naughty with me. But how about we try this game out?”
Dazai nodded. “Right then, Kunikida, what was said three sentences ago.”
“Fuck me in the arse…” Kunikida muttered. “” –
“Nope!”
“Ooh, Dazai, what are you going to get him to do?” Yosano asked, clapping and kicking her feet.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d be paying the deposit the café had asked for when they booked it out for the evening.
Kunikida glared as Dazai whispered something into Yosano’s ear. He glared even more when Yosano giggled gleefully.
“Come here,” Dazai said, slumping himself back in his chair.
“I don’t think I agreed to play this game,” said Kunikida.
“Doesn’t matter! You lost! So come here.”
He wished he could wipe that shit-eating grin off Dazai’s face. It would be nice to see him without that ever-present hint of mischief for once.
“It was ‘You wouldn’t either, would you, Yosano,’” he hissed.
“Too late telling me now!”
Oh how he wished Dazai would ask him to punch him in his smug, pretty little face. Just to get his hands on that little shit-
“Come here!”
“I am here.”
Behind him somewhere, Yosano sniggered.
“No, here.” Dazai pointed down. Not to the floor – thank god – but towards his lap. His lap.
Kunikida stared.
“You have to, Kunikida,” said Yosano, words slurred between a mouthful of liquid. “Go on!”
He dimly wondered why Fukuzawa hadn’t put a stop to this yet.
Slowly, hatefully, he did as he was told, perching himself just on top of Dazai’s legs. He hoped his bones were digging right into the soft flesh of Dazai’s thighs. He hoped Dazai was somehow in excruciating pain, that he was –
“Not like that!”
Kunikida stood and wheeled on him. “Not like what? I sat on your lap just like you asked. I played the game with the rules you set, Dazai.”
“Oh, but I didn’t mean it like that. Come here.”
He didn’t move an inch.
“Oh, come on, darling.”
This time, when he stepped forwards, it was with the intent of throttling that smug smile right off Dazai’s face. But when a pair of hands reached out and took hold of his waist, he froze.
“I meant like this.”
His hands slid down Kunikida’s immobile frame, eyes sparkling evilly as he reached his thighs and pressed the heels of his palms gently into them until they spread slightly, all against Kunikida’s will.
“Now sit.”
God fucking damnit.
In the background, Yosano sounded on the verge of death by laughter. Fukuzawa made no sound, but Kunikida was still all too aware of the eyes of their small audience watching the two of them – watching him reluctantly play along with Dazai’s performance.
The last glass of wine was getting to him now; his face was hot, burning, almost unbearably so. The clammy cool of his hands against his own cheeks weren’t enough to stabilise the heat either, though with his palms pressing against his eyes, perhaps he could pretend a little that this wasn’t happening.
The jitteriness in his stomach had nothing to do with the thought of how close he’d be to Dazai, of how only a few thin layers of fabric would separate their skin. Of how Dazai would probably be able to feel every uncomfortable move he made. Of how Dazai’s fingers had moved back to his waist and were digging a little into the soft flesh of it, gentle yet almost painful as the pressure shifted from one fingertip to another.
He sat.
Dazai’s shoulder was a decent enough shield for his face.
The others didn’t need to see this – didn’t need to know that maybe the real reason he was resting his head here was so that he could feel the warm pulse in Dazai’s neck against his cheek, strong and fast. They didn’t need to know what was going on in his head.
Not even he needed to know what he was thinking.
Dazai’s chest was so close, firm and present as his whole body invaded Kunikida’s personal space. This surely couldn’t be right – being so close to someone, knowing just how they smelt (of mulled wine and cedar and something that couldn’t be named anything but Dazai), of somehow knowing it wasn’t close enough.
He shifted his hips. Something pressed against him, or was it – Fuck.
“Was that long enough to satisfy you?” he asked, standing.
The buckles on Dazai’s shoes hadn’t been this shiny the day before. Had he polished them just for the occasion of their Christmas party?
Dazai didn’t answer.
Kunikida looked up, forcing him to meet Dazai’s eyes.
What he saw, he couldn’t quite decipher. An expression on Dazai’s face, almost like when he scoped out a new woman to toy with and had just realised that they might be harder to talk into committing double suicide with him than he expected. Almost like he looked at Kunikida every day – but not. There was something in it that Kunikida wasn’t sure he wanted to put words to, something that he didn’t want to name unless he was sure.
But then he remembered the pressure. The contact. The interest.
Dazai didn’t resist as he grabbed him by the collar and hauled him wordlessly out of the room. He didn’t leave behind any snarky remark as Yosano’s laugh followed them out into the hallway. He didn’t even flinch when Kunikida slammed the door shut once they were inside the Agency’s offices above the café.
“You – you did that on purpose!”
God, Kunikida wanted to eat that grin right off Dazai’s face. He’d give anything now to tear into those soft, plush lips and devour them.
“Maybe I did. Maybe it was just time you realised a few things.”
Kunikida stepped forward. The smell of cedar and Dazai hit him again and it was all he could do keep himself from leaning those few inches down and destroying him.
“That was supposed to make me realise something?”
“You really are dense, aren’t you?” Dazai said, smiling though he had less than an inch between him and the wall behind, and Kunikida was quickly losing the will to maintain what little space remained between the two of them.
“And you really are annoying. Come out with it straight, or I’ll” – he’d what? What could he do now to make Dazai regret it? “– I’ll tie you up to your desk and leave you there until we reopen after New Year’s.”
“Oh, but being straight is so boring,” Dazai whined.
He couldn’t stand it anymore.
Maybe it was the mulled wine, or the cloying scent of Dazai, or something else about the beautiful hideous man in front of him that had possessed Kunikida’s mind, but it snapped.
Those inches melted away into nothing.
Dazai’s chest was firm against the palms of his hands, though it heaved in and out with every breath he tried to make.
Tried to make, because Kunikida had closed the gap by sealing his lips over Dazai’s, of pressing his mouth hot and hard against this idiot’s. Vaguely, the feeling of Dazai pulling against his ponytail registered, but all he could focus on was the heat of the mouth under his.
He didn’t resist as Kunikida pushed him up against the wall even harder, finally allowing him breath to make a few desperate gasps before their mouths met again. The seam of his mouth still tasted of the sweet bitterness of the stuff he’d put in Kunikida’s glass. Kunikida ran his tongue along it and Dazai obliged, his own darting out to toy at Kunikida’s lips.
Something else overcame him then.
With a snarl, he bit back at that disobedient tongue and shoved his knee up between Dazai’s legs, forcing him to rut against it as he pulled him in.
For so long, he’d thought maybe Dazai would surprise him with some kind of gentleness, with the tenderness that occasionally threatened to reveal itself at those quiet moments after missions patching each other up enough to get back and have Yosano treat them properly.
But this, this was not gentle.
And Kunikida didn’t want it any other way.
His fingers in Dazai’s hair, pulling at it in clumps, and Dazai desperately teasing at more as he rubbed himself against Kunikida’s leg. He wasn’t going to get off that easily.
Leading with his mouth, he brought Dazai to his knees, standing again only when he was sure the little bastard wouldn’t try anything.
“Do you want this?” he asked, looking down at him.
Dazai grinned. “Are you still going to tie me to my desk afterwards.”
Kunikida glared.
“Then of course.”
Kunikida had half a mind to stop him and have him right then and there at the sight of that stupid grin, but when Dazai undid his belt, carelessly enough that his hands brushed roughly several times over the reappearing bulge in Kunikida’s trousers, all other thought left him.
He pushed his hands back into Dazai’s hair, closing his eyes for a moment and then reopening them as he felt the flickering of Dazai’s tongue against his head, lapping at him like a kitten, those terrible, wide-open eyes watching him all the while.
At this rate, Dazai would get all he wanted out of him and he wouldn’t learn a thing.
“Stop teasing me,” he muttered, yanking on a clump of hair to ensure the message got into Dazai’s fluffy little head.
“Right away, darling.”
That word again.
Dazai gripped him and obediently stopped messing around. He finally started using that tongue for something other than frustrating everyone around him.
Kunikida didn’t apologise as he thrusted his hips right into Dazai’s face.
From below, Dazai’s face seemed somehow even prettier, his eyes sparkling in the low light. With him around Kunikida, it was the perfect picture. He’d managed to tame the beast that was Dazai Osamu.
Dazai swallowed him, whole to the sheath, his lips right up to Kunikida’s abdomen.
The sight of it was too much.
It wasn’t enough, even as he felt himself come, even as his body threatened to come apart under Dazai’s ministrations. It wasn’t enough just to have him bring Kunikida to such pleasure.
Kunikida had to teach and unteach him the meaning of that word. He had to drive the sensation of it into the back of Dazai’s mind and leave him so reeling from it he would never forget.
The back of Dazai’s throat bobbed against his head as he swallowed, taking the load Kunikida had just dumped in him.
He pulled himself out of Dazai’s mouth and redid his zipper quietly, letting Dazai wipe away the stray dribbles that had made it out of his mouth. He sat there on the floor, so good and innocent it seemed as if he’d never been the terror he usually was. Maybe he was easy enough to tame, after all.
***
“Kunikida!”
He opened his door to find Atsushi standing outside, wrapped tightly against the wintry cold.
“What is it?”
“Dazai still hasn’t turned up, and it’s our first day back. What if the Mafia have taken him?”
Kunikida chuckled. “He’s smart enough to outwit them. Come on, let’s get down to the office to meet the others. He always shows up eventually.”
When they got to the door outside the offices, Kunikida was satisfied to realise he wasn’t too late to witness the others’ reactions. Fukuzawa was just unlocking the door, and all the others, bar Dazai, had turned up all at the same time for once.
He stood back as they filtered inside and waited for the reaction.
It was Yosano that found him, and her shout that brought the rest of them to him.
Kunikida had been kind enough to the children to redress and clean up Dazai before he’d left him there for the rest of the holidays, and with enough food to last him within the short range of movement the cuffs allowed him while sprawled over the desk.
“Have you been like this since Christmas?” she asked, seemingly already piecing together the pieces.
Dazai blinked innocently. “Well, I had to learn my lesson somehow.”