Work Text:
Silence is a foreign sound. Always, when it comes to Double Black, but particularly so in moments like these, when Dazai would normally be bursting with the need to get on Chuuya’s nerves. It creeps around and settles over them like a mist—ever-present, all-surrounding, and disorienting.
Quietness begins feeding as soon as the mission is over. The walk to the pick-up car is the appetizer, the car ride the main course, and the walk back to Chuuya’s apartment is the dessert. It chews, then it swallows, and it swallows, and it swallows.
All things considered, Chuuya should be glad he finally gets some peace and quiet. Especially so after he just singlehandedly killed over a hundred people.
Yet, there’s a part of him that senses something he’s missing, something wrong in the air, and his instinctual response is a desire to fix.
Dazai never gets tired after missions. If anything, he’s even livelier than usual—pumped up with adrenaline, and more eager than ever to make Chuuya’s life a living hell, like the mass murder he just committed wasn’t doing that enough.
(Either that, or it’s meant to be a distraction—a way to prevent Chuuya from drowning in destructive thoughts, or guilt that pours down his spine. If that’s the case, the distraction is a very shitty one, but Chuuya is willing to appreciate the effort. After kicking Dazai’s teeth in, naturally.)
Now, though, Dazai’s silent as a mouse. Not as much as a word.
Chuuya desperately searches his brain for a way to provoke Dazai first, for a change, and feels like an absolute hypocrite for even considering it. He’s the one that always complains about Dazai annoying him—so what if Dazai actually decided to listen to his wishes, for once?
No, that’s so remarkably un-Dazai-like, if it was actually the case, he’d be given a free pass to declare Dazai kidnapped, and the one next to him a shameless impersonator.
But what is he supposed to think, otherwise? That Dazai’s feeling guilty? Not in a million years. That he’s mad at Chuuya? Likely, but his reaction to that isn’t avoidance, and they’re currently walking towards Chuuya’s home, anyway, what would be the point? Is he just waiting to start a fight in a secluded space? Possibly, but that’s also unlike him, previous experiences prove he prefers public violence.
Dazai is walking a handful of steps in front of Chuuya, he has been the entire trip, which is also strange, since they usually walk side by side. Though, that is a predicament dictated by the fact that they’re actually talking, Chuuya supposes.
Dazai eventually comes to a stop, and Chuuya has half the mind to ask why he did, before reality returns to him in the last possible moment, and he bites his tongue. Chuuya pulls out his apartment keys instead.
He clears his throat and inserts the key into the lock. “Um. Shouldn’t you, like, have a bobby pin for this, or something?”
Dazai merely shrugs, but otherwise says nothing.
Fuck, this is awkward. Why is this so awkward?
Now that he’s finally said something, Chuuya feels the need to say even more—to fill up the silence, to get Dazai to, at least, utter a single word, but he’s not sure what he could say.
He unlocks the door, and allows Dazai to walk in first, as usual. Dazai does, Chuuya follows him and closes the door behind them. “You know, if something bad happened, you can tell me,” he begins as he starts to twist the lock closed. “Because there’s clearly something up with you, and it’s making me feel really fucking uneasy—”
The moment Chuuya turns around, key still loosely in hand, Dazai pushes him against the door.
“Ow, what the fuck—”
Anger and confusion twist together inside his gut, and he has a million little insults on the tip of his tongue that he’s planning to outright throw in Dazai’s direction, but he doesn’t have the chance to, because Dazai’s mouth is on his in the very next second.
Chuuya’s eyes widen, the apartment key falls to the ground, and a disoriented sound clambers up his throat. He has every intention to push Dazai away, and kill him while he’s at it—
Yet, his surroundings actually begin cataloging in his brain, and he realizes something peculiar. It makes him hesitate for one single second.
Dazai is fucking shaking. Not from anything akin to nervousness, no, he’s bursting at the seams with a desperation of sorts, one that threatens to spill out and tear them both to shreds at any moment. One that Chuuya guesses has been building for quite a while, if the state Dazai is in speaks for anything.
And suddenly, Chuuya connects some dots and realizes that this must be why Dazai was acting so detached, and why he was in such a hurry to get to the apartment. Typical. Chuuya should have been expecting it.
The crucial difference to Dazai’s usual antics is that, now, there’s a wildly addicting quality to it. It’s not just lust, but genuine, unfiltered need. It messes with Chuuya’s brain and rewires every intention he has of pulling away, into one of getting closer.
With an exhale through his nose, and a redirection of those curses from earlier to be pointed at himself, Chuuya closes his eyes. His index fingers hook into two of Dazai’s belt loops to pull him forward, and he kisses back.
It makes Dazai smile against his lips for a split second, which, Chuuya thinks, could drive a man insane in and of itself. His hands travel from Chuuya’s shoulders to his neck, then further up until they wrap around his jaw, tilting it to the side to deepen the kiss with the unyielding intention of swallowing Chuuya whole.
The hunger he kisses with is as dizzying as it is unfamiliar. It pours from Dazai’s mouth and begins flooding Chuuya’s own bloodstream, coursing through his entire body. It’s a kind of desperation he never even imagined to see Dazai display, a desire so primal and outright animalistic that it contradicts itself ten times over and comes back as its direct opposite—something so painstakingly human.
Chuuya cannot possibly wrap his head around it, so he doesn’t try to. Instead, he opens his mouth greedily when Dazai prompts him to, and allows himself to burn from the inside out with every move of their lips, every little electrifying shiver flowing through his veins.
Dazai’s hands move in a complete frenzy, like he has to touch every single piece of Chuuya and his time is running out. They slide from Chuuya’s jaw back to his neck, then down his chest, to his abdomen, his waist, up his arms, and to his shoulders, before inevitably circling back around to his face and tangling in his hair. They're outright trembling, but he moves them with the dexterity of a starved man in front of a buffet.
Obviously unsatisfied with his hands’ inability to tear Chuuya open and touch the very parts which construct him, Dazai presses his entire body into Chuuya’s, now determined to feel as much as possible at once. For them to be glued together, indistinguishable from one another.
The kiss continues messy and open-mouthed—absolutely filthy. Their teeth clash together a few times from the force of it, and Dazai is mapping out Chuuya’s mouth like he wants to memorize it, and this is the only chance he gets. Their lips move against one another with an incomprehensible urgency, and even though Chuuya doesn’t understand what exactly has Dazai in this state, the desire seeps inside his bones all the same, and a groan leaks into the infinitesimal space between them—a small spark jumping from an erupting volcano.
In response, Dazai kisses him impossibly harder, pushing the back of Chuuya’s head against the door with a small thud. One of his knees lifts up, and he presses the kneecap to the wood right above Chuuya’s hip with a whimper, a wordless plea that only Chuuya could possibly understand.
Chuuya chuckles into Dazai’s mouth, and mourns the fact that he’s growing a bit too eager himself to tease Dazai right now.
His hands slide down Dazai’s lower back, until they’re holding on to the back of his thighs. With a grateful hum, Dazai shifts his arms a bit lower and wraps them tightly around Chuuya’s neck, palms meeting his elbows. At the same time that Chuuya pulls Dazai’s legs up around his waist, he flips their bodies so that Dazai’s back is now the one against the door.
Dazai welcomes the change with a grunt, and he squeezes his legs around Chuuya’s hips, crossing them at Chuuya’s back.
As soon as they’re back in a comfortable position, he returns to devouring Chuuya whole.
Chuuya feels his breath slowly dissipate from his lungs, and if the way Dazai practically pants into his mouth means anything, they’re in the same boat. Yet, Dazai only kisses him with more fervor than before, like the feeling of losing breath only makes adrenaline spur inside his veins, makes him absolutely determined to suffocate on Chuuya’s lips.
Even when Chuuya starts drawing his head back, Dazai chases after his lips with a high-pitched whine, and manages to catch Chuuya’s bottom lip between his teeth one more time before Chuuya finally pulls away.
Air shoots back into Chuuya’s lungs all at once, like the first solid breath of air after being trapped underwater. The world spins around him, a few black spots forming at the corners of his vision. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead in the crook of Dazai’s neck, taking sharp intakes of air with each breath.
Dazai’s arms go slack around his shoulders, falling over them, rather than holding on, as heavy pants leave his own mouth.
“What the fuck’s gotten into you?” Chuuya murmurs against Dazai’s skin.
“Nothing.” Dazai slumps against the door. He tilts his head to the side. “Just kiss me again.”
“No. What the hell happened?” Chuuya really wishes he could make it seem like he cares more, but his voice falls on the edge of rough, and his entire body is under the command of his dick, instead of his brain. He presses kisses all along the side of Dazai’s neck, just to have something to do with his mouth.
“Bite me,” Dazai rasps, fingers tangling in Chuuya’s strands of hair again.
“What? No.”
“Why not? Please.”
Chuuya sighs, stopping the movement. “Tell me what’s up with you and I might consider it.”
“Chuuya likes yapping too much. Sometimes I wish he would just slam me down on a surface and have his way with me in silence.”
“It’s hardly ever silent with you,” Chuuya retorts, “And that’s not gonna happen. Now spill.”
“You’re the worst.” Dazai pouts, before a defeated sigh leaves his lips, and he clears his throat. “There’s just… There’s something about the way you look in the midst of battle that drives me crazy. Some kind of venomous glint in your eyes, and, like… the way your lips curl over your gums when you smirk, and the way you carry yourself with the confidence of a man that has already declared himself the victor. It’s like the entire world orbits around you. Like I’m watching a God.”
Oh.
He wasn’t expecting that.
Chuuya’s body stills, and he doesn’t know how to feel about the confusing knot tightening in his gut. He has no idea what it’s made of, but some scattered pieces of pride and arousal are recognizable enough to know that it’s nothing good. “And that turns you on?”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Chuuya lifts his head up, the prospect of being that close to Dazai suddenly unbearable, lest his skin catches on fire. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he manages to breathe out, even if it sounds terribly insincere.
“Not much that isn’t also wrong with you,” is Dazai’s immediate response, followed by a smirk. His hands travel down the back of Chuuya’s head, then move around his neck. He stops at Chuuya’s collarbones, and his hands slide outwards, underneath Chuuya’s jacket. They loosely wrap around his shoulders under the leather.
“I’m gonna have to put you down if you wanna take that off.”
Dazai’s grin is fucking electrifying, specifically because it is so terribly genuine. The kind of smile Chuuya would map out with his eyes until he commits the sight to memory, just in case he’ll never see it again. “Says who?” he whispers, and his voice's cadence catches on the edges of the grin, more undeniable proof of its existence.
His grip on Chuuya’s shoulders tightens, as do his legs around Chuuya’s hips, and he takes advantage of Chuuya being distracted to lean forward and press their lips together again.
The ecstatic urgency slips back into his movements as soon as Chuuya reciprocates. He kisses like it’s the first time in a hundred years—like he wants to make up for lost time, remember how Chuuya feels and tastes until it’s engrained into every part of him, until he can be satiated with the memory alone for another hundred.
It makes Chuuya lose his fucking mind. He doesn’t think anyone has ever wanted him this badly before, and he’s not entirely sure how to deal with it.
He pushes Dazai harder into the door, and that only seems to spur Dazai on. His hands slide further and further beneath the jacket, until his forearms are under it in their entirety. He uses them to pull Chuuya even closer, until they’re chest to chest, and Chuuya can fucking feel the way Dazai’s heart beats against his ribs like an encaged animal—
Oh, fuck it.
Chuuya shifts his entire body weight forward, pressing Dazai flat against the wood, sandwiching him. Understanding what Chuuya’s planning, Dazai tightens the hold of his legs, and pulls his arms back from underneath the jacket, using his fingers to shrug the material off Chuuya’s shoulders, instead. For a mere few seconds, Chuuya lets go of Dazai’s thighs, and brings his hands behind his back to tug at the sleeves, until the jacket falls on the ground in a heap. The movement already pushed his gloves down slightly, so he decides this is a good time as any to take them off, too. As soon as they hit the ground, his hands jump back to hold Dazai up.
Dazai can barely constrain his smile, and it’s more like Chuuya’s kissing teeth right now, but he could not care less because this might be the best kiss he’s ever had. Part of him wishes he could cut himself on Dazai’s canines, just so this becomes more real, so he has undeniable proof on his body. He wishes it’d be so bad it would scar.
Dazai’s hands quickly begin sliding down Chuuya’s torso, until they reach a spot just above his waistband. He tightens his fists into the fabric of Chuuya’s shirt and pulls up like his life depends on it, until it scrunches up somewhere above Chuuya’s abdomen.
Chuuya takes the hint, and pushes himself forward to keep Dazai pressed to the door, before he takes his hands off again. He grabs the loose fabric from Dazai’s hands and concentrates his weight on his legs to lean back, breaking the kiss and pulling the shirt over his head. He throws it behind him, in the general direction of the jacket.
Right when Chuuya’s hands are back on him, Dazai chases after his lips again, having no time to waste. His palms press flat against Chuuya’s bare chest, and despite how unbelievably cold they are, Chuuya’s body still heats up at the sensation. Though, it doesn’t distract him enough to stop him from dodging out of Dazai’s trajectory, making lips hit his jaw instead.
“Chuuya,” Dazai whines, before he makes another desperate attempt to press his lips to Chuuya’s, like he’s more vital than oxygen.
“Nuh-huh.” Chuuya ducks, forehead against Dazai’s shoulder again.
Dazai scoffs in return, running his hands up and down Chuuya’s chest to compensate for the lack of touch where he actually wants it.
“Seriously now. What the fuck has gotten into you?”
Dazai groans, tilting his head back in annoyance. “I already told you!”
“Sure, but you’ve never reacted this way before.”
A small, breathless chuckle leaves Dazai’s lips. The image of him rolling his visible eye is vivid in Chuuya’s head. “Not that you know of.”
“…And why wouldn’t I know of it?” Chuuya begins peppering kisses to Dazai’s neck again. He really can’t help it.
Dazai sighs, melting into the motion, head lolling to the opposite side. “Because it was before this…” he takes a hand away and vaguely gestures between the two of them, “Was going on.”
A small gasp bubbles in Chuuya’s throat. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. “And what did you do if you couldn’t come to me, then?”
“Dealt with it by myself. Was there another option?”
Chuuya feels like he’s fucking spinning. His breath is heavy inside his lungs, pushing them deep down in his gut.
An image forms inside his mind, and he can’t seem to get it out. It’s even worse that he doesn’t want to.
He takes a deep breath, but the air does nothing to ground him. If anything, it makes it worse because it carries Dazai’s scent. He really wishes Dazai would’ve told him about this sooner. Why do they keep wasting so much time?
Chuuya closes his eyes tightly. “Did you imagine I was killing you or fucking you?”
Dazai fucking giggles. “Does it matter?”
“Kind of. Makes it easier to decide what I’m going to do with you.” Chuuya kisses his neck again, each press of lips more feverish than the last. He feels a need for more skin to press his lips to, wishes he could sink his teeth into the bandages and rip them off.
Dazai seems to get the hint, and he brings his hands towards his collarbones, working open his tie as Chuuya leans back to give him space. He’s fucking grinning again—all teeth and gums, and Chuuya thinks he might understand Dazai’s point just a little bit.
“Whatever you want.”
“Okay. But is there something you want?”
Dazai throws the tie on the ground before beginning to untuck the bandages. He shrugs. “Both is ideal. I don’t care about the order.”
Chuuya raises an eyebrow, without saying anything else. Dazai meets his eye shamelessly, like he didn’t just fucking say that. He starts popping the buttons of his shirt.
“What was that?”
Dazai smiles again. It’s stupid, how whatever this is between them makes him so much more expressive. Part of Chuuya wishes they didn’t need all this bullshit just for Dazai to smile without forcing it, but not everyone gets what they want.
“Dazai, what was that?” He needs to hear Dazai say it properly.
This time, Dazai caves in. “Me giving you permission to fuck my dead body,” he says, like it’s a completely normal sentence.
“Mhm,” Chuuya hums, trying his best to appear unfazed. To act like his entire world isn’t tipped off its axis, like there isn’t an ache, a want coursing through his entire body, only growing and growing. “And did you think I needed permission?”
Dazai’s hands freeze, and he closes his eye, melting against the door. He takes a deep breath, before a small laugh escapes him. He’s about three buttons short of opening the shirt completely. “See? This is what I’m talking about. The way you can just say that, no hesitation. Like you know the world is yours.”
And fuck, does Dazai look affected. It might be Chuuya’s favorite thing about this. There’s sweat gathering on his forehead, and underneath his eye. His face is dusted with shades of red, and there’s a certain glint in his eye that simply begs for something—for anything.
It’s one hell of a power trip.
Strangely, that ever-building ache gathers in Chuuya’s teeth, of all places. “So that’s it? You like people having power over you?”
“Not necessarily,” Dazai hums, “I think I just like you having power over me. It really just… Pisses me off, if it’s someone else.”
A breathless laugh leaves Chuuya’s lips. He almost chokes on it. “How terribly nice of you. What makes me special?”
“It’s probably because I know you’re utterly brainless, and you don’t have the chance often.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you just get off on pity so much that it makes you a sex-crazed mess. How believable.”
“Chuuya should really stop barking and really start fu—”
In an attempt to shut Dazai up, and nothing more, Chuuya plunges on the lowest part of Dazai’s neck, right as it blends into his shoulder, and sinks his teeth in. It’s, admittedly, not as deep as he could go, but he’s not sure if there’s some line he’s not aware of anywhere.
Dazai gasps, followed by a desperate “Yes!”, and a full-bodied shudder coursing through him, whimper at the tip of his tongue. “Chuuya. Chuuya. Harder. Draw blood. Please.”
And, really, there is no way in hell Chuuya could ever refuse such a prayer. He can’t even restrain his own eagerness as he bites down harder—feels the exact moment his teeth break skin as blood bubbles against them.
The moan Dazai lets out is nothing short of heavenly. He slumps, letting his entire weight fall down on Chuuya’s arms.
Chuuya leans back, licking the blood off his top teeth, eyes glued to Dazai as he does it. Dazai looks absolutely beautiful, like there isn’t a single thought in his head. Chuuya wishes he could take a photo of it for proof.
He supposes a mental image, forever imprinted inside his brain, is enough for now. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”
Dazai groans, and he wraps his arms tightly around Chuuya’s neck, holding onto him like he never wants to let go. His palms press against the back of Chuuya’s head and pull him forward, capturing his lips in another bruising kiss.
Chuuya reciprocates immediately, pushing into Dazai with a newfound fervor, need ever-building inside his gut. He kisses Dazai with what can only be described as force. Like he wants to break him, to crack open his skull and take his treacherous brain out, toss it to the side, and leave Dazai beautifully thoughtless for his entire life.
Dazai seems to relish in it, definitely not opposed to the idea. He lets his body melt completely, so Chuuya can do absolutely anything he wants with it. Their lips crash and burn, and the metallic taste of blood being transferred between them doesn’t help with how purely animalistic it is. Chuuya doesn’t think they’d have to go much further in order to start gnawing at each other—biting, and clawing, and consuming.
Which is exactly why he pulls away, but keeps his face close enough so he still feels Dazai’s breath entering his mouth.
Dazai grins again, and Chuuya’s eyes take it in for the millionth time, another piece of art in his catalogue.
“What?” Dazai asks, the corners of his mouth forming dimples in his cheeks.
“Nothing,” is Chuuya’s answer, before he kisses Dazai again.
Dazai, of course, welcomes it. He hums in satisfaction against Chuuya’s lips, and begins moving his hands down Chuuya’s torso while their mouths collide. Chuuya hums with a silent question, but doesn’t do anything to stop the motion. If anything, he encourages it, tightening his hold around Dazai’s thighs.
Dazai’s hands move lower, and lower, and lower, until his fingertips reach the leather of Chuuya’s belt. He wraps his hands around it.
Chuuya breaks away again, just a few centimetres short of Dazai’s lips. “What are you doing?” he whispers, smirk high on his face.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” is Dazai’s response, fingers pulling the leather out of the buckle.
“Right here?”
“Do you have the patience to go someplace else? I know that I don’t.”
“But—”
“There’s lube in my pocket.”
He’s really insistent on this. Hm.
Chuuya raises an eyebrow, but otherwise doesn’t question that statement. “I can carry you to the bedroom. It won’t take long.”
“No,” Dazai snaps, in something akin to frustration.
Chuuya smirks. He leans forward to whisper in Dazai’s ear, relishing in the quiver it earns him. “There’s some other reason you wanna stay here,” he asserts, “Aren’t you gonna be a good boy and tell me?”
“I hate you,” Dazai mumbles, fingers still working on Chuuya’s pants, now struggling to pull down his zipper, due to the way their bodies meet. “There’s something very… desperate about it, I guess. I like thinking you simply can’t wait to fuck me, either.”
With a reward-kiss to Dazai’s ear, Chuuya tightens his hold and pulls Dazai away from the door. Dazai lets out a small yelp, and he has half the intention to wrap his arms around Chuuya’s neck again. Before he can, though, Chuuya pushes him against the wall next to the door. “Legs on the ground.”
Dazai’s breath catches, but he does as he’s told immediately, the words probably not even properly reaching his brain before he obeys.
It’s instinctive, and mindless, and absolutely great.
In the next moment, Chuuya flips Dazai around and pins him to the wall with his entire body. Dazai stifles a whine. “Does it look like I can wait? Why did you say that like you have to pretend it’s true?”
Dazai’s breath seems to weigh down on his tongue—Chuuya can hear each little huff of air. “I don’t—” he gulps, “I don’t know. There’s this patience that you only seem to have when it comes to sex. You’re usually so short-tempered and brutal, but every time we have sex you’re levelheaded and so fucking thoughtful, and I just… It confuses me that you’re so put-together when this is the only thing that pulls me apart.”
Chuuya’s eyes widen, and he thinks blood might’ve stopped flowing through his bloodstream.
“Do you seriously think I don’t want you? None of this would be happening if I didn’t, Dazai. You have no idea how much restraint—”
“Then stop it. Stop restraining yourself. Can’t you see I want you to destroy me?”
It’s unhealthy for Dazai to think like this, Chuuya knows. And part of him wishes he wasn’t just another method in Dazai’s endless streak of self destruction, but alas, it is the lesser evil if he can control it enough to make sure it doesn’t become damaging.
Chuuya leans back, and snakes his hands around Dazai’s body. He pulls at the fabric of Dazai’s shirt until those last buttons pop off with an audible rip, then tugs the shirt off by the sleeves and throws it on the ground. “You know what? Fine. You wanna be broken? I’ll break you.”
That kind of language alone seems to ignite something inside Dazai, and he gasps, nodding as much as he can with his head pressed to the wall. “Please.”
Chuuya steps back and re-does his fly, so his pants stop drooping at hips. He walks towards the heap of clothes in front of the door. “Pants off,” he orders, and Dazai scrambles to undo his belt without any complaint.
He looks through the scattered pieces of clothing until he finds Dazai’s tie, before walking back to him. “In which pocket is the lube, exactly?”
“Front left,” is Dazai’s immediate answer.
“Take it out for me.”
In the next second, Dazai does, and holds it out in Chuuya’s direction.
“You’re such a good dog when you’re desperate,” Chuuya taunts as he takes the bottle away from Dazai’s hand. “Drop them on the ground.”
Dazai obeys, again, his pants dropping to his ankles with a clink of his belt. Chuuya shoves the lube into his own pocket and gathers both of Dazai’s wrists behind his back, but doesn’t tie them up just yet.
Dazai doesn't talk back to say he’s not a dog, like he normally would.
After a few seconds of complete stillness outside of labored breathing, he leans forward to whisper in the shell of Dazai’s ear. “Aren’t you gonna deny it?”
Right when the words leave his mouth, he starts to bind Dazai’s wrists together.
“I—” Dazai gasps, “I don’t know?”
“Oh?” Chuuya places a kiss to Dazai’s bare shoulder before his mouth melts into a grin, a snicker on the tip of his tongue. “Is this what I think it is? You’re fucking speechless?”
“Just… Just give me a moment—”
“You know what? I don’t think I will.” Chuuya knots the fabric, and his entire body is itching to ask if it’s too tight, or if Dazai is even comfortable with being bound, but Dazai’s reaction is a small, badly-suppressed moan, and he decides that’s good enough. His fingers caress Dazai’s hips again and begin to dip beneath the waistband of his underwear. “We don’t have a moment to spare, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dazai gasps in agreement immediately. “Yeah. Fuck, okay. I’m just not used to you acting like this.”
“Awwh. How cute. You’re not able to process it.” He starts to pull the underwear down. “Is your little genius brain finally off, sweetheart?”
Ragged huffs leave Dazai’s lips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, “Probably.”
“Good,” is Chuuya’s response, a smirk rising onto his face. He brings a hand towards his pocket and takes the bottle back out, opening it up with a pleased hum. “That’s how I like you.”
He pours an extensive amount of lube on two of his fingers and rubs them together to warm it up. “Spread your legs,” he orders, and Dazai does without complaint.
Fuck, Chuuya could really get used to this.
He stuffs the lube into his pocket again and brings the hand between Dazai’s legs. A delightful moan leaks out of Dazai’s mouth when Chuuya starts pushing the finger inside, sliding in with none of the carefulness or patience he normally harbors.
Dazai shuts his eye, and his fists clench and unclench in their binds, presumably as a grounding technique. Chuuya presses a kiss to his bare shoulder while he slowly thrusts the finger.
“Bite me again,” Dazai rasps out, his thighs beginning to tremble.
Chuuya laughs against his skin and speeds up the pace. “Do you think you get to tell me what to do?”
“Please,” he whispers, “Please, please, please.”
“That’s more like it.” Chuuya kisses Dazai’s shoulder again. In that same spot, before he bares out his teeth and bites down, drawing blood from the get-go.
The cry Dazai lets out might be the most beautiful thing Chuuya’s ever heard—he keeps outdoing himself. Chuuya relishes in the sound, allowing it to bounce around in his skull while he licks the blood off his teeth.
Dazai’s already gasping for air when Chuuya takes the finger out, only to go back in with two, ramming them inside almost in entirety. He knows it must hurt, but damn it if the way Dazai mewls and seems to fucking relish in it doesn’t make Chuuya want to be even rougher.
“You’re so fucking shameless,” Chuuya grunts as he starts to move both fingers. “The neighbors definitely heard that. Do you want me to get another noise complaint because of you?”
Dazai pants, he melts under the weight of Chuuya’s body. “Sorry… Can’t mn– can’t help myself…”
Chuuya moves the fingers faster. “How cute,” he mocks, “Do you want them to hear you, I wonder? Since you were oh-so-desperate for me to fuck you right here, do you want everyone to know what a little slut you are?”
Dazai clenches down around him with a high-pitched whine. It’s a heavenly sound. “I—” he cuts himself off, gasping, “Maybe I just want them to know Chuuya’s good at what he does…”
“Right,” Chuuya scoffs, “And that’s all there is, huh? There’s no thrill in people hearing you being this fucking pathetic?”
“They don’t even… They don’t know who I am.”
“But would you prefer they did?” Chuuya begins scissoring the fingers with a smirk; Dazai responds with a wail. “Next thing I know you’re gonna jump me in my office, and everyone will hear you moan like a little bitch while knowing exactly who you are.”
“Chuuya—”
“And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? All these people that respect you and fucking fear you hearing how much of a cockslut you are?”
“Oh my God.”
Chuuya can’t fight the grin that rises to his face, but neither does he try to. He starts thrusting the fingers while scissoring them, and Dazai’s body trembles with it, various sinful noises leaving his lips.
“Well?” Chuuya stands on his toes to reach Dazai’s ear. “Aren’t you gonna answer, princess? Does that get you off?”
Dazai is hardly coherent enough. “I… Fuck, fuck—! Just…”
Chuuya absolutely loves him like this. “Is this too much for you, hm? Does my baby need to slow down?” he asks in a mocking tone, to disguise the genuine intent behind the words.
“No,” is Dazai’s immediate response, coming out his mouth like a plea. “Fuck me, Chuuya. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
A grunt escapes Chuuya’s lips, and he becomes acutely aware of the heaviness between his legs. It’s funny, how his brain doesn’t even acknowledge it when he has better things to focus on, instead.
“Alright,” he exhales, dizziness spreading inside his skull. He takes the fingers out and works at opening his fly again. “But are you gonna ask nicely?”
“Please,” Dazai whines, without skipping a beat. “Please, please. I need you. I need you so badly.”
“Fuck. Good boy.” Chuuya scrambles to pull the lube out of the pocket and lets his pants drop to his ankles. He really wishes Dazai would allow him to record this shit. He doesn’t even want to use it for blackmail, and he’d swear on his life he won’t, just wants to have the privilege of hearing Dazai sound this fucking vulnerable whenever he wants, whenever he doesn’t view him as human.
Chuuya squirts a generous amount of lube on his right palm and throws the bottle on the ground before yanking down his underwear, not even bothering to pull it lower than his mid-thigh. It’s embarrassing how relieving it is to wrap the hand around himself—has to bite his lip so an outright pathetic sound doesn’t spill out.
Not like Dazai would be able to pay it any mind, either way. He’s panting like he just ran a marathon, and his eye is screwed shut. His fists clench and unclench in their restraints again.
“If you keep quiet, I’ll fucking stop,” Chuuya murmurs in the shell of Dazai’s ear, and begins pushing inside in the next breath. God, he’s certain he’s never been harder in his entire fucking life.
Despite the gasp that clambers out of Dazai’s mouth, he seems to have regained the slightest of his ability to think. “You’re the one that was complaining earl—”
That won’t do.
Thoughtlessly—instinctively, even, and in a terribly quick motion—his hand rises and comes back down on Dazai’s cheek in a resounding slap, a red imprint already forming when he takes the hand away.
The action doesn’t register in Chuuya’s brain until after he does it, and a twinge of dread builds up in his gut.
It gets washed away the exact moment a whiny “Fuck,” leaves Dazai’s mouth and he tightens around the little of Chuuya’s length that’s already inside him.
Chuuya regains his composure quickly, and decides to go along with it. He leans forward, and pushes further in the process. His top teeth scrape over Dazai’s jaw. “You were saying?”
“Nothing,” Dazai breathes out, “I didn’t say anything.”
Chuuya hums and trails his mouth down Dazai’s neck, until he reaches the bite-mark from earlier. He presses a kiss to it. “That’s what I fucking thought.”
A small whine leaves Dazai’s lips, and Chuuya takes that as an opportunity to ram the rest of his length inside and turn it into a sharp, high-pitched one. Dazai’s hands clench uselessly again, and it makes Chuuya realize that he’s trying to simulate gripping on to something. How cute.
Unable to bring himself to care to make him stop, Chuuya bites his lip until he tastes blood, to suppress the sound that was just about to get out. Dazai is so fucking tight it’s dizzying.
He regains his breath rapidly, and digs his fingers into Dazai’s hips again, determined to leave bruises. He pulls Dazai’s lower back closer to his crotch. “Arch your back.”
Dazai does exactly as he’s told, and without further warning, Chuuya pulls out and slams back in.
A wail that sounds suspiciously close to Chuuya’s name echoes around the room, and it’s loud, but Dazai’s voice is just slightly muffled by the wall.
Chuuya tuts, and takes his hands away from Dazai’s hips. One of them wraps around Dazai’s wrists to hold them tightly in place, while the other threads through his hair.
He grabs a handful of it and tugs, pulling Dazai’s head back. The sound Dazai lets out is a distorted mix between a pained hiss and a moan, but it’s delightful all the same.
“Come on, baby. You can do better than that.” Chuuya pulls Dazai’s hair even harder, and moves his hips in another harsh, deep thrust. Then another, and another, building up a rhythm.
“Chuuya!!—♡” Dazai cries out again, and this time Chuuya gets to enjoy it without the wall absorbing any amount of the noise. Perfect.
A moan vibrates in Chuuya’s own throat, and he tries to disguise it with a laugh, pressing his forehead to Dazai’s nape for support. “Slut.”
Dazai, surprisingly, has the coherency to not only register that, but actually respond to it. “Only… Only ah! for you—♡”
Chuuya freezes on the spot.
The response is a disoriented sound, followed by a pleading one. “Chu—?”
Chuuya exhales audibly, and goes back to tugging on Dazai’s hair. He moves again, this time slower—more deliberate. “You’re treading a dangerous fucking line by saying things like that, love.”
Dazai still seems a bit confused, but he still finds the energy to scoff. “I didn’t ask for your hand in marriage…”
Chuuya merely snorts, and loosens his hold on Dazai’s hair, but doesn’t take the hand away. Instead, he uses it to massage Dazai’s scalp.
Dazai shudders at the sudden gentleness. “Chuuya, Chuuya. Harder.”
“Patience, gorgeous.”
“Oh, but that’s allow—?”
Dazai cuts himself off with a strangled cry, his eye closing on instinct. His entire body fucking spasms, thighs quivering violently. Chuuya grins. “Bingo.”
“Wha—?”
Before Dazai can finish speaking, Chuuya speeds up again, balling a fist in Dazai’s hair once more. He sets a brutal pace, making sure to hit that spot with each harsh thrust.
The scream Dazai lets out is sure to alert the entire apartment complex that they’re having sex.
“Holy FUCK!—♡”
Chuuya lets out a breathless laugh, before he lets go of Dazai’s head entirely, making it loll forward and hit the wall again. His hands move back to Dazai’s waist, gripping tightly. “Mhm. That’s– fuck— that’s good, baby, isn’t it?”
“Yesyesyesyesyes. So good. So, so fucking good—♡”
God. Chuuya’s not lasting much longer. Not with Dazai a babbling incoherent mess and so beautifully out of it.
Thankfully, Dazai seems to be ahead of him in that regard, anyway.
His entire body looks and feels boneless already, only being held up by Chuuya’s grip. He’s still quivering, and various sounds that Chuuya doesn’t even bother to catalog leave his lips with every sharp thrust. Chuuya might be delirious, but he thinks he sees tears.
“Chuuya. Chuuya! I’m—♡”
“Close? I know, lovely,” Chuuya rasps out. He feels so breathless he thinks there might not be air left in the world at all. It’s a surprisingly pleasant feeling. One of his hands snakes around Dazai’s hip and wraps around his dick, stroking it in time with his thrusts. “Let go for me, will you?”
Dazai fucking screams again as his climax hits, and Chuuya really wishes he could hear that sound forever. Dazai is entirely made of gelatine, at this point. His body slumps into the wall, pathetic little whines leaking out his mouth while Chuuya keeps fucking into him, chasing his own release.
Just a few thrusts later, Chuuya feels like his body has caught on fire as he spills with a bitten-back moan. His arms wrap around Dazai’s middle to hold not only Dazai up, but also himself. He rests his head on the space between Dazai’s shoulders, panting against it, taking his first breath in what feels like decades.
Chuuya hasn’t ever felt this worn out after sex before, and it’s a sensation as strange as it is relaxing. He can’t believe that Dazai, out of all people, made him feel like this. Outright refuses to accept it, even.
Before Chuuya can ponder that deeper, though, Dazai speaks up, voice understandably hoarse. “Let’s go again,” he says, in one single breath.
And that is the last thing Chuuya expected to hear.
Chuuya clears his throat, trying to smooth down the rough edges. “You’re literally about to collapse.”
“Then carry me to your bedroom, or something.”
“You’re delirious.”
“Probably. And it’s great. I’ve never felt that good in my entire life.”
Point to Chuuya’s ego.
He sighs, pressing a soft kiss to Dazai’s sweaty skin as he pulls out. “And you want to replicate it already.”
“Mhmm.”
“How about this,” Chuuya prompts, hands trailing back around Dazai’s back and to his wrists, untightening the knot. “We go shower and get some rest, then if you’re still up for it, I’ll fuck you again when you wake up.”
Dazai pouts. “But that will take such a long time. Can’t Chuuya just fuck me in the shower?”
“I could,” Chuuys agrees, leaning back so he can actually see whatever he’s doing with the tie. Dazai’s legs almost give out at the loss of support. “But doesn’t rest sound nice? You’d like some of that, no?”
Dazai mulls it over, and while he does so, his hands come free, falling limply at his sides. “Fine,” he murmurs, “But I can’t feel any of my limbs, so…”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. One of his arms wraps around the small of Dazai’s back, and the other curls around his knees, to pick him up. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll have to do all the work, what’s new?”