Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Atsushi had first started doing this, he had been trying to establish trust and understanding.

And to get off.

But he swore the initial reason had been something…not selfless, exactly, but it hadn’t been self-centered, either. It was all about Dazai.

Dazai had a seemingly affable nature and the ability to draw people into his atmosphere and that had included Atsushi, from day one. He’d pulled the guy out of the river, and this half-drowned conundrum had sat up and tsk’ed at him! And then! He’d fed him and taken him home and shown him a way to live. There’d been a lot going on, y’know, tiger-wise and then becoming a member of a detective agency and then mafia stuff and Guild nonsense and everything else under the sun but the point was, Atsushi had been half-enamored from the beginning. Trying not to show it and desperately aware that it was a terrible idea, but yeah. He’d had Complicated Feelings. Complicated and very fond.

Not that it stopped the Feelings, but for all his charm and humor and, well, good looks? Dazai was also confusing and inscrutable and deliberately misleading. A walking contradiction who had taken Atsushi under his wing, shown him a warmth and kindness that he’d never experienced in his entire life, and then very deliberately had also shown Atsushi he could be cold and cruel and calculating. And this was the contradiction that had made him think—

Maybe Dazai wanted to be understood. And maybe (and oh man this sounded self-centered he couldn’t believe he was even thinking it but still) he wanted to be understood by Atsushi. Maybe the flashy performances of absurdity followed by callousness were Dazai’s version of a trust fall. And usually Dazai fell believing no one would catch him, directly into the river in a suicidal jump, but Atsushi wanted to be someone who could do that for him. Not just pull him out of the river, but catch him before he even fell. Someone who could be worthy of that trust, who could make Dazai feel good and loved and trusted in return and oh wow maybe he really was being self-centered about this.

Greedy.

At the very least, he wanted to prove to Dazai that the trust was there between them. But it wasn’t like Dazai was just going to have a heart-to-heart conversation about it! The only times his mentor allowed that kind of meaningful show of faith was during: 1) life or death situations and 2) pointless antics when Dazai was obviously bullshitting and he could wave off any genuine feeling in the moment. Neither of which were conducive to Dazai taking him seriously. 

So Atsushi settled in for the long game. He could be patient. He’d decided his answer to Dazai’s deliberate push and pull of you can believe in me and what kind of idiot would believe in someone like me was to make the decision to trust him: consciously, deliberately, on purpose. Dazai could do with that what he wanted.

He went along with whatever Dazai threw at him. When Dazai said jump!, Atsushi asked how high? And when Dazai said oh didn’t you know hadn’t you heard followed by some obvious nonsense, Atsushi played along and said wow I didn’t know that, you’re so smart Dazai-san. And when Dazai said hey can you pass me the salt?, Atsushi said absolutely not you’re just going to dump it in Kunikida-san’s tea and I’m not taking the fall for you again! And so on. 

(He really would do just about anything for Dazai. They both knew he had a soft spot for him and Dazai would gleefully exploit it, but Atsushi did have to say no sometimes or the man became insufferable. Or sometimes, even a little tight around the eyes, like he was scared.)

Then one day, after all the can you do this report for me and warn me if Kunikida’s coming and let’s get lunch together requests, they’d been the last two still in the building and Dazai had smirked at him and said—

“Hey, Atsushi-kun~ You wanna have sex in the office?”

Very obviously a joke. Pretty obviously. Maybe obviously? It was still so hard to tell. But Atsushi had decided on his strategy already, so he’d said yes and allowed Dazai to bend him over a desk.

Well. That made it sound simpler than it was. He’d stuttered a lot first and wrung his hands a bit and had to look away while his face burned but he’d pulled himself together enough to look back at Dazai’s surprised expression and tell him, “Yes, I want to, Dazai-san.” 

Like he’d said, it was about showing Dazai that trust, but it was a little self-centered, too.

Atsushi…had very rarely managed to get himself off. 

He’d had a whole mortifying conversation about it with Yosano-sensei when Kyouka first moved in. The doctor had cornered him about proper ways to satisfy any sexual urges in a shared living space. He’d stammered out something about it not being an issue, he couldn’t even “do that” and then Yosano had taken it to be a medical issue and pressed him until he admitted that masturbating made him too nervous even before he was sleeping a few feet away from a new roommate. 

She’d said something about the orphanage and religious shaming of sexual desires, which he’d been too busy minorly panicking to really take in, but she’d sent him links to some sites to read later that had been informative. She’d offered to help him find a therapist, too. Atsushi could barely admit the problem to himself so he hadn’t seen how that would be helpful. He’d deferred but promised to revisit the issue later if it became necessary. But it hadn’t become necessary because instead Dazai had—

Okay, wait, he was getting ahead of himself. 

Atsushi had a hard time (ugh, pun) with…touching himself. Like that. 

He had tried! Those times where he got hard in the evenings or early mornings, he’d hide himself under the covers in his completely dark room/closet and try to quietly bring himself to completion. He’d get close, so close, but then as soon as he felt like it’s coming it’s about to happen his hands would just jerk away like he’d touched a hot stove. Involuntary, a reflexive reaction to the building wave trying to crest inside of him. Sometimes if he was worked up enough he’d come anyway, spurting onto his stomach with his hands clutching at the sheets or the pillow under his head and near tears, convinced that it would be so much better if he could just finish touching himself through it. 

It wasn’t as good as it could be, but it was the best he could manage. It was something.

Then Dazai fucked him on his desk.

And oh god, he didn’t know it could feel like this. That his body could do this. 

He’d thought touching himself was overwhelming before, but someone else’s hands on him, Dazai ’s hands on him, was so far beyond that he couldn’t come up with the words to describe it if you’d given him a hundred years to do it. Dazai had opened him up and gently bullied his way inside of him, but Atsushi’s focus that day had been the hand on his cock, moving in time with Dazai’s thrusts. The sheer immensity of the sensation simmered and boiled over inside of him and for a moment he thought he was coming but that wasn’t it. 

He’d started crying. The overpowering feeling had released itself as tears, pouring out of his eyes and as soon as he realized what was happening he’d choked on a sob. At the sound, Dazai had started to pull away and a desperate Atsushi had cried out no wait please Dazai-san!

And Dazai understood. He kept going, even as he wiped the tears away. Told him, I have you, I’ll take care of it, and Atsushi’s crying had gone from being overwhelmed to relieved. And overwhelmed, still, but the relief of the dam breaking was right up there with the molten, shuddering pleasure radiating from his stomach to his limbs and making him lightheaded with want. 

Dazai had said he’d take care of it, which meant he would,  and Atsushi was safe and taken care of. If Dazai had it under control, then it was out of Atsushi’s control and he just had to keep up or die trying in the best possible way. It was too much and it was not enough and it was happening now and he’d sobbed his way through the orgasm pinned down on the desk and shaking in Dazai’s hold.

Dazai had taken one look at his tear-stricken face and asked, “Can I keep going?” with his dark eyes dilated and focused on him like there was nothing in the world that could make him look away.

Atsushi would have agreed to anything at that point so he said yes keep going yes and Dazai kept moving his hips and he did not take his hands off of him and Atsushi hoped he would keep touching him forever.

The feeling, those continued touches right after Atsushi had already come, he would later look up and realize was something a lot of people didn’t like. Overstimulation. If he’d thought it was overwhelming before, this was something else entirely. That feeling of have to get away, touching a hot stove, reflex to move back except Dazai didn’t let him go and Atsushi just had to take it and cry and bite his lip around the embarrassing whimpering noises trying to escape him until gradually and inescapably it started to feel good again. 

When Dazai had told him to come for the second time his brain and his body didn’t know what else to do in the face of the onslaught except obey.  And Dazai, with a splatter of Atsushi’s come all the way on his cheekbone, had looked so pleased that Atsushi had asked, or tried to ask, “Keep—keep—”

“Yeah,” Dazai breathed out. His hips started moving again. And his hands.

Atsushi couldn’t stop himself from making, god, all kinds of noises but especially sounds that were almost but not quite managing to shape themselves into Dazai’s name.

Meanwhile Dazai looked like he’d been handed the remote control for a new toy and he didn’t know what any of the buttons did. And he was planning to try all of them. Atsushi didn’t have the manual either so it was a surprise for both of them.

Things got a little hazy after that. He remembered Dazai softly cajoling him, whispering in his ear saying, “You’ll let me, right? I can—?” and then laughing when Atsushi said yes yes anything. He remembered, or thought he did, being on his back and being on his front and being on his desk and Dazai’s desk and maybe Kunikida’s desk. He figured Dazai had to have come inside of him at least once, maybe on him also? There had been come running down the inside of his thigh, warm but cooling in the office air.

He definitely remembered Dazai kissing him. Wet, hot, and slow.

He wasn’t positive how many times Dazai made him come, either. He just knew that:

1. Dazai looked positively deranged by the end of it
2. Atsushi was ruined for anyone else including himself

You’d think the aftermath of losing his virginity to his mentor in their office would be awkward. Maybe it had been and Atsushi was just too out of it to notice? But he remembered the warm babble of Dazai’s teasing all through cleaning up and leaving the building. No stilted silence or drawing away. In fact, Dazai walked him home.

Atsushi’s legs were basically jelly, so Dazai had kept a careful and almost proprietary arm around his lower back along the way. The closer they got to the dorms the more lucid he felt, but his brain was obviously still too mushy from coming so much because he started focusing on that arm and how the gesture felt almost…gallant? Dashing? 

Sweet.

And Atsushi knew he absolutely should not be thinking Romantic thoughts like that. First of all, Dazai was horrible (which Atsushi meant affectionately!) and not some kind of chivalrous gentleman. Secondly, there was no way Dazai thought about Atsushi like that so it was best to nip that kind of thinking in the bud. He’d been joking when he proposed the idea and had gone along with Atsushi’s flustered acceptance because he was blowing off steam or just having fun or something. 

He knew Dazai was at least fond of him, but the man was even more fond of getting a reaction and he was almost guaranteed to get one from Atsushi whenever he pulled something. This was just a new and exciting facet of that. 

Atsushi appreciated the accompaniment all the same. He doubted Dazai was usually one for sticking around and walking his conquests home, so. He could at least think this was nice.

Dazai walked him all the way to his door. He did not release him immediately. In fact, his hand was rubbing small circles at the base of Atsushi’s spine. He leaned in close, spoke quietly.

“You know, most people would have shoved me away after I kept going like that. But it seemed like Atsushi-kun was really into it.”

Atsushi figured this was Dazai’s roundabout way of checking in and making sure he’d liked it. Which, he thought it was pretty obvious he had. Embarrassed, he ducked his head and just hummed an agreement.

“Atsushi-kun did come a lot. It was pretty impressive, actually! I wonder if that’s a tiger stamina thing or just a lack of experience? Or both.”

He could not believe they were having this conversation in the hallway. Atsushi shuffled a little closer, which Dazai encouraged with the pressure of the hand on his back. 

He addressed it into Dazai’s chest, not lifting his gaze, when he confessed, “I’ve never, no one’s ever..." Too embarrassing to finish that sentence. "So, it could definitely be not having a lot of experience. Maybe the tiger, too, I don’t know.”

The pressure on his lower back increased. They were practically embracing as Atsushi lifted his hands and placed them on Dazai’s chest. Was he breathing more heavily? He dared a glance up and met Dazai’s dark, fathomless gaze.

“Well! Maybe we could experiment further. See what your limits are.”

“...like right now?” Atsushi asked. Offered.

And Dazai had grinned in a way that made him shiver and dragged him down to Dazai’s dorm and proceeded to wring him dry of come, sweat, and tears.

It turned into a repeated thing. Atsushi had in fact called it “a thing” for a long time because he wasn’t entirely sure what term to use. 

He did learn a lot of related terms, though. He did research. 

At first it was because he was worried he was being too greedy. While it turned out his stamina and refractory period allowed for a lot more than most people’s, he was still coming a lot compared to his partner. But Dazai seemed into it?

Atsushi could clearly see Dazai getting all gooey at the sight of him struggling to keep going past his limits. Since he seemed to like it so much, Atsushi was determined to push himself and his endurance and c—

And co—

Oh god it was embarrassing to even think this but. He would come as many times as Dazai wanted him to. The more incoherent Atsushi got the more riled up Dazai became, to the point he wasn’t concerned at all with his own orgasm. This had been what worried Atsushi in particular: uneven reciprocation. But his research had shown him terms like “service” and “stone” and while neither of those was exactly right for their thing, the words didn’t really matter. It was the fact that other people had experience with something similar that reassured him.

Some people were into giving more than receiving, and that was okay. It wasn't just Atsushi being greedy. Probably. He bookmarked the website just to be sure, revisiting whenever he started dwelling on being selfish in bed again.

And yes, the websites all encouraged communication, especially the BGSN ones. (That didn’t sound right, but he just could not get the romaji acronym correct unless he was actively looking at it.) There were no helpful articles for what to do if your partner would shrivel up and die if he had to clearly articulate his thoughts and feelings, though. Instead, Atsushi was determined to keep an eye out for any kind of cues for what exactly Dazai wanted out of their “thing.”

He might not understand the man's inner workings, but it wasn't hard to tell when Dazai got really into something they were doing.

Seriously, though. It seemed like what he wanted was to make Atsushi come his brains out. He seemed happiest when he got to be pushy and a little mean about it, but Atsushi was hardly complaining. And Dazai never complained about coming one or two times while getting Atsushi off three or more—in fact he complimented him on his stamina.

The other thing his partner seemed to like, he realized, was the idea that Dazai was, uh, a corrupting influence on Atsushi? He didn’t understand how his own crying and inexperience was sexy, but then again he didn’t really understand anything about Dazai’s thought process. He was just taking wild stabs in the dark. But the look he got when Atsushi stuttered out something about having literal zero experience with anyone was hard to miss. 

Dazai was usually concerned with his own ‘evil’ or whatever—he seemed convinced he was uniquely bad out of everyone on the planet. When he got in his own head about it, it made him withdraw and then he was even more out of reach than usual and it made Atsushi want to haul him in and keep him close with tiger claws. So. He may have played it up a little.

He’d already decided to trust Dazai, and with his body was no exception, but sometimes he acted more nervous than he really felt. He didn’t lie, to be clear! Just said things like “I’ve never done anything like that” or “can you show me how to” and “I need it to be you, Dazai-san.” Which made him turn red because it was embarrassing, yeah, but it got Dazai to come near again, put his hands on him again.

(Surely it was greedy. All he was saying was I want I want I want—but then Dazai reached back and gave him everything he was asking for and everything he couldn’t ask for and then Dazai was close and within reach and not on that pedestal he kept trying to climb onto to hang himself.)

Then Dazai melted some. Stopped trying to keep a distance after they had sex and instead leaned into his usual ridiculousness. He started dropping things off on Atsushi’s desk, which ranged from snacks to highly-inappropriate-for-the-workplace sex toys and a frankly alarming amount of white tiger-themed souvenirs (where was he even getting them?). He’d haul Atsushi off on outings to restaurants or the aquarium or just a sunset walk near the water. Atsushi referred to these as dates in the privacy of his own head because it felt presumptuous to say it out loud, but that was what they were, right? 

Dazai may have difficulty voicing it, but Atsushi got the message of I care, I want to spend time together, I want to feed you and give you things especially if those things are orgasms.  

And then! 

Then he was in love.

Which was even more embarrassing than the virginity thing.

He took a leaf out of Dazai’s book and didn’t say that part out loud. He didn’t know how Dazai would feel about it and honestly things were going pretty well for him as they were so he wasn’t about to shake up the status quo with it now. 

The important thing was that he felt like he’d established trust. In a highly sexual way, but yeah. He’d surrendered himself wholly into Dazai’s care, and Dazai had allowed him to see more private parts (oh god yet another terrible pun) of himself in return. They were doing the whole (he checked his website printout) BDSM thing and it was great.

That was why it was a surprise when Dazai, very briefly, walked out on him. Came back and fussed over him almost immediately, but it still managed to feel like he’d been gut-punched for the five minutes he was gone. 

Atsushi had to pin him down and prod him into trying to explain, but what he got was this: apparently Dazai was worried they weren’t communicating enough for the sex they were having.

Have you considered just saying words? Atsushi almost said. He didn’t, because Dazai had tried to voice it in his own roundabout way, and also Atsushi was actually very happy with the sex and the wavelength they were on there. He just had to show Dazai that! Meet him where he was without the man panicking and running away again.

So he fumbled his way through a reassurance, accidentally dropped a confession in there, GOT ONE IN RETURN (what!!!!!), then pulled on Dazai’s hair through a very enthusiastic blowjob.

Afterwards, he stroked through the wavy brown locks while Dazai carefully tucked him back into his pants, redid the button and then looked up at him with his dark eyes shining and oh, oh, he hadn’t been imagining it, that was affection. Devotion and care and lust all mixed together. Because Dazai had said he loved him, too.

Atsushi tightened his grip again, watched Dazai’s lashes flutter. “Dazai-san,” he said. 

“Hmmmm?”

“You know I couldn’t cry for a really long time?”

Dazai didn’t say anything but his thumbs started moving in soothing circles where they were still on Atsushi’s hips.

“I was told for so long I didn’t deserve to. So I, when we—when I cry while we’re—” He paused. Took a breath. “It feels good. To be able to lose control in that way, while I know you’re taking care of me and I’m safe with you.”

Okay, and here came the important part. “I trust you, Dazai-san.”

Dazai closed his eyes. Buried his face in Atsushi’s stomach. Made a weird noise.    

Oh, good. Atsushi’s message had been received.

Feeling very pleased with how this conversation had gone, Atsushi kept petting his hair.

Later that night, Dazai would ask him: “Okay, but even if you’re enjoying the waterworks, you don’t find it weird that I’m getting off on you crying?”

“I told you, there’s a word for that,” Atsushi said, exasperated. “I looked it up. I probably know more about this BFCM stuff than you at this point.”

Then Dazai started giggling and he realized he must have gotten the acronym wrong again, but whatever.

Now that Atsushi had established the love and trust part of this relationship, it was time for his next goal:

Figure out what Dazai had meant when he suggested that Atsushi should…

Ah…

“Use me, however you want”...?

Here was something Atsushi had realized about trying to understand Dazai Osamu: the man was very very good at hiding his thoughts and motivations and feelings, but most of his experience doing so was with hiding negative feelings or even a lack of feeling. He did not have a lot of experience with hiding good, positive feelings and so it was much easier for Atsushi to figure those out.

Dazai had made a request. In the heat of the moment, yes, but he’d asked for something. Had seemed really into it, and then immediately clammed up again. That was fine, Atsushi was a detective. And as he’d just told Dazai, he thought they had a solid rapport for the (whatever the acronym was) part of their sex lives. So he could figure it out.

Dazai was aware of Atsushi’s new quest, of course, but he was completely unhelpful about it. He just smiled and said shit like “I have faith in your deductive ability” and “practice makes perfect” and then on the side was distracting him from the mission by fingering him until Atsushi had no brain cells available for figuring out how to reciprocate.

He had a general idea. Dazai had implied he could be more assertive. He’d said he didn’t even need to come, in a way that made it sound like he was into that. And of course, Atsushi already knew that his boyfriend (he could use the word now!) liked to see him lose his mind during sex. The real issue here was, again, Atsushi had no experience!!! How, exactly, was he supposed to do this?

“Do you want me to give you some instructions?” Dazai asked him one day, apropos of nothing. “You have steam coming out of your ears.” Okay, rude.

“Instructions?” asked Atsushi warily.

“I could…tell you. What I would like.” He said that, but he was looking into the distance at nothing as though he was examining a piece of modern art in a gallery and Thinking Very Hard About the Themes.

Atsushi considered it, but told him, “:...no, I wanna figure it out. But thank you for offering.”

Dazai shrugged all casual-like.

“...Maybe a hint, though?” Atsushi prompted.

With a hum, Dazai tilted his head. “I could do that.”

He didn’t say anything else.

“The hint, Dazai-san?”

“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it, Atsushi-kun.” Dazai was still looking at his imaginary art piece, but his lips twitched into a smile.

Atsushi’s immediate thought was, oh no. 

Chapter Text

He did, in fact, know it when he saw it.

Felt it.

Whatever.

Going along with Dazai’s penchant for “corrupting” Atsushi meant that sometimes their encounters were, uh, semi-public? Not like full on exhibitionism, but Dazai liked to threaten him with getting caught. 

“Better keep quiet, Atsushi-kun,” the man was crooning in his ear. “Someone could hear you. They might want to see what kind of sweet kitten is making those noises down here.”

Down here being the alley where Atsushi had first learned he could regenerate limbs, by the way. Not his idea of a mood-setting location, but it had been a great place for an ambush because no one ever actually came down here, or would investigate a weird noise if they heard one. So the chances of someone discovering them were really low, but between Dazai’s words and his hands and the idea of it, Atsushi was left trying to bite back the whining noises and whimpers Dazai was intent on drawing out of him.

Dazai had dragged him down here and crowded him up against the wall of one of the buildings. The brick would be uncomfortable against his back if he cared about anything else except Dazai’s hand on his dick.

He had such nice hands. Atsushi thought about them a lot. Long fingers, surprisingly soft, some little raised scars on his knuckles from injuries over the years. Any time Dazai touched him all of Atsushi’s senses honed in on the feeling, but especially like this. He couldn’t even differentiate between those senses; it was just one big wall of sensation and heat.

Dazai alternated between jerking him off at a fast pace and a torturously slow movement that was more like he was just feeling out the shape of Atsushi’s erection in his hand. His other hand had previously been pinning Atsushi’s hip to the wall, but now it slowly trailed up his side and gently caressed the side of his face. The sweet gesture was totally at odds with the hot-tight-consuming motion below.

Atsushi took advantage of not being held against the wall anymore and stumbled a step closer. It made it harder for Dazai to keep touching him, but the urge to be closer was undeniable. There was also the urge to bite, an ache in his jaw and the tendons of his throat, which he tried to assuage by biting at the lapels of Dazai’s coat in a mindless, instinctive way. 

Dazai just laughed at him.

Atsushi tilted his head back, too far gone to be embarrassed by the trail of saliva between his mouth and the tan fabric. He looked through hazy eyes up at Dazai’s face, shadowed in the dim light of the alley. Even if he couldn’t see it clearly, he could picture the exact smug look Dazai would be giving him. 

Then Dazai tightened his grip. Slowed down again, but increased the pressure right under the head of his cock, thumbed over the tip, and Atsushi’s whole body jerked up into it. Automatically, he went up on tiptoes as his hips tried to thrust into that hold and his face angled upwards, beseeching. 

Dazai gave him what he wanted. Leaned down, pressed their lips together. And that was enough to set off a chain reaction—although it wasn’t in any kind of sensical order. Dazai kissed him, and Atsushi’s brain went totally offline, then his cock was shooting an undeniable wet patch up the front of Dazai’s shirt, and then the feeling of oh, fuck, coming rolled through his whole body and made him stumble as his knees went weak. 

Dazai caught his weight as he dropped back onto his heels, gasping. Slid his arms around Atsushi’s waist. Grinned slyly.

“Atsushi-kun comes so easily for me, hm? All you needed was a kiss?”   

Atsushi could feel himself shaking a little, coming down from the high and dizzy with the blood rushing back up to his head as he flushed. “That’s not—you—” He didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

With an overdramatic sigh, Dazai pulled him closer. “And you made a mess, too. And then there’s me…”

“You?” Atsushi repeated, dazed.

Dazai moved, shifted his hips so Atsushi could feel his cock against his hipbone, straining under Dazai’s pants. “See what you’ve done to me, Atsushi-kun?” He gave another beleaguered, obviously fake sigh. 

Atsushi bit his hip. Glanced at the mouth of the alley. “I could—” he started.

Dazai cut in, smarmy smile inching up on his face. “Oh, could you?”

And, well. Dazai had asked. For Atsushi to reciprocate, and that was unusual and exciting enough that Atsushi allowed his still-weak knees to buckle and knelt in front of his mentor.

He glanced up. Dazai’s dark eyes peered down at him, their depths only more alluring in the shadows. Under the piercing gaze, he slowly unzipped Dazai’s pants and pulled him out of his underwear. 

He had to take a moment to admire the length and weight of him in his hand. Face close, breathing heavily, it startled him when Dazai’s hand landed on top of his head. He jerked, and his bottom lip brushed against where the tip was leaking precome and dragged a little bit. His tongue automatically darted out to lap at the droplets that started to slide down his lip. 

Dazai-san…he tastes nice…

He’d blown Dazai before. Had even played up how much of a gag reflex he had and let himself choke on it a bit on purpose. Dazai would get a little rougher, even while his already-honeyed words got sweeter, in response to the signs of Atsushi’s inexperience. Especially if he started to tear up.

This time wasn’t like that—if anything, it was more like he was keeping it warm in his mouth. He pushed himself down as far as he could, felt his eyelids half-close and his throat contract as he hummed in contentment. Dazai’s hand tugged on his hair in response just for a second before it released and started to pet him instead. Atsushi let himself imagine what they had to look like—if someone did come down the alleyway, and saw them, saw Atsushi on his knees with his mouth full and under Dazai’s possessive touch—would they be able to see just how much Atsushi was enjoying it?

Would they be able to see how much Dazai was? Fuck, he hoped so.

Shit. Wait. Was he into the exhibitionism? No time to examine that thought, because Dazai gave a particularly satisfying push through the longer hair at the side of his face and scratched his nails back to the nape of his neck with a murmured, “Good boy, taking it so well.” Everything went a bit fuzzy, and he was aware but also a little zoned out as he basked in the feeling. He lost track of time, practically hypnotized between the soothing motion of Dazai’s hand and the way his cock took up all the space in his head. 

But then Dazai was gently pulling him off. Atsushi made a brief noise of protest. He was hauled to his feet and had to watch in distress as Dazai touched himself for just a moment before tucking his cock away and zipping his pants back up. 

“We have to get back to work, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai told him, obviously amused. 

Which! There were just…so many things wrong with that.

One, Dazai wanted to go back to work? Two, he hadn’t even come. And three, most importantly, he’d jerked Atsushi off but he hadn’t fucked him. 

Atsushi had expected, at the very least, that Dazai would touch him again. Or use that erection for something useful and turn him around and rail him against the stupid brick wall.

He opened his mouth—to complain? Maybe? Except Dazai was already smiling and waltzing away, calling back, “I think someone’s coming!” Not him, apparently. No, wait, bad pun. “Don’t want to get caught back here, do we?”

Obvious bullshit. Atsushi would be able to hear it if anyone was getting close and there was definitely no one else around. He had to jog to catch up to where Dazai was getting ready to turn the corner back onto the main road. He reached out to catch his arm. 

He knew Dazai was still hard. Atsushi was reeling a bit from coming and then having his mouth on him and then the abrupt change in mood but he was still horny enough that he thought—if he could just get Dazai to stop for a moment then he could beg him to either fuck him or let him keep blowing him, surely he could get the words to come out of his mouth—

Then they were out on the street, walking at a brisk pace back towards the office, and there were people everywhere all of the sudden. 

Trying not to pout, Atsushi reached over to tug Dazai’s coat closed so the stain on this shameless man’s shirt wasn’t too obvious. Then he clung to Dazais’ arm the rest of the way back, not saying anything. He picked at the sleeve, fiddled with the creases at the elbows and a loose thread at the cuff. 

“Atsushi-kun’s being so touchy,” Dazai noted. His eyes were gleaming. “Did you want something?”

They’d stopped in the hallway, right outside the door to the office, where no one could see them. 

“I want—” Atsushi started. Immediately choked on the words and bit his lip. For all the shit he gave Dazai about not just saying things, he had a hard time articulating his own wants. Usually Dazai knew what he wanted better than he did himself, and was prepared to give it to him. He leaned in, speaking quietly in the hopes it would be less embarrassing to say out loud if it was only a whisper. Dazai leaned in, too.

“I want, mmm, I want—to—”

Why was this so hard to say?

“I want more,” he finally managed to blurt out.

Immediately, gratifyingly, Dazai’s hands were on his waist. “More? How greedy, Atsushi-kun!”

Greedy. That was the word Atsushi had been scared of for so long, but the breathy way Dazai said it made it sound less terrifying and more…something else. In fact, he had to fight down a shiver when it passed through Dazai’s lips.

“What do you want more of, hm? Another kiss?” He leaned down and captured Atsushi’s lips in a brief but passionate kiss. Atsushi barely had time to recover when he pulled away and asked, “Or more of my hands on you?” Squeezed his waist. “Or was there somewhere else you wanted my mouth? My hands?”

One hand slid down behind him and squeezed, just a little bit. Atsushi jolted at the touch. Any calm he’d built up on the walk to the office disappeared as he fell right back into the headspace from when they were alone—wanting, distracted, greedy.

“Nnnnside,” he gasped out.

“Inside?” Dazai repeated, voice dropping into a lower tone. Dazai’s hand on his ass squeezed again, then slid over the seat of his pants and closer to—

He could feel his face heating, getting red again. 

He knew Dazai liked it when he said please, so he tried that. “I want more, please, I want Dazai-san to touch me more, there, inside.” The words escaped him in a rush. 

Dazai pinned him with that piercing gaze and for a second Atsushi thought he’d get his way and get hauled off to somewhere private.

Instead, Dazai’s expression changed completely as he smiled sunnily and said, “Well I can’t wait to get off work today and get home, then!” And turned and opened the door to flounce inside. 

Their coworkers looked up; Atsushi immediately reached out and slammed the door shut so he could take a moment to calm down in the hallway. 

That motherfucker. 

Apparently this was Dazai’s idea of a hint. Fine! Okay! Atsushi could be patient and play along. (Probably. Maybe.)

Have I gotten to be this impatient? Really? Not just greedy, but demanding, too?

He couldn’t reconcile it with his own perception of himself, but then again the Atsushi of one or two or especially ten years ago wouldn’t be able to recognize the current version of him. In multiple ways, not just the sex parts.

He’d like to think he’d worked hard—to become someone dependable, someone who didn’t run away. And there were a lot of people he had to thank for helping him with that. 

But the part where he’d apparently become someone with a high sex drive was entirely Dazai’s fault. Atsushi hadn’t noticed because he didn’t usually have to instigate anything; Dazai was raring to go at all times. And sure, maybe jumping straight into the deep end with his suicidal mentor, combined with all of Atsushi’s bouts of intensive research, had broken the ice of his initial reservations. But he still got so flustered and embarrassed over the things Dazai said to him.

So to realize now that apparently he was the kind of person who wasn’t satisfied with only getting off once in an encounter was a surprise, to say the least. Still: Dazai’s fault!

And now Atsushi was sitting in the office at his desk, getting increasingly annoyed. Not quite at pissed off yet—but he would be soon if he kept looking over and seeing Dazai practically sparkling with innocence at him, somehow. But the more Atsushi started to fidget and glower, the more dreamy Dazai’s expression became.

Look, Atsushi had already known Dazai liked a reaction. Any kind of reaction. He just did not understand what the man was getting out of this right now.

Atsushi stabbed away at his keyboard for a while, then spent a solid hour uselessly rifling through a case file. It was a Friday afternoon so people started trickling out for their weekend plans as the time wore on. The light changed from mid- to late-afternoon gold, and Dazai looked stupidly handsome in it. Ugh.

When he looked around no one else was in the main room, but Atsushi knew Fukuzawa and Haruno were still in the President’s office wrapping up and Yosano-sensei was rustling around in the infirmary. With a huff, Atsushi stood up and slammed his laptop shut. He didn’t say anything, despite Dazai’s sunnily expectant look. Just put his hand on the back of Dazai’s chair, shoved him back, and proceeded to crawl under the desk.

“How forward, Atsushi-kun,” he heard Dazai murmur. He rolled the chair back in. Atsushi was crowded into the small space by Dazai’s long legs on either side of him. 

It actually kind of made him calm down. He pinched the inside of Dazai’s thigh through his pants just to make a point, though.

Dazai jerked and squeezed his legs in as retaliation. 

He heard Fukuzawa and Haruno emerge only a few minutes later. Dazai scooted in some more, shielding any possible view of Atsushi under the desk as he chatted away with them with some excuse about why he was working late. They had to know something was off because there was no way the man would willingly stay at work for so long unless he was up to something. Wisely, they seemed to decide they didn’t want to know and soon left.

More interesting, though, was that as Atsushi’s eyes adjusted to the dim light underneath he could make out the shape of what he thought was…

He leaned forward and nuzzled into the warm space between Dazai’s legs and yeah, he was definitely hard. Dazai really was into the threat of being caught.

Dazai’s hand snuck under the desk and landed in his hair, stroking back through it gently. Atsushi could have purred at the touch, ire melting away and then totally forgotten as he was petted. He really was too easy for this man.

Yosano-sensei, the last holdout, emerged shortly after. Atsushi distantly listened to them talking. Dazai’s hand was still on his hair but had stopped moving, so Atsushi tilted his head to the side and started rubbing his cheek against the warmth of his thigh instead as he waited. 

Dazai’s position probably looked weird, right? Yosano-sensei could maybe guess…? Atsushi’s mouth flooded with saliva as suddenly the thought of getting his mouth back on Dazai’s cock was all he could think about. He shuffled forward as much as he could, opened his mouth and pressed the flat of his tongue against the bulge in Dazai’s pants.

Unbidden, a small noise escaped him. “Ahhhn—” It would be embarrassing, how just having his mouth on Dazai like this even though the layer of his pants was enough to make him dizzy with want, if he had the focus to actually think about it.

Then he heard the door slam as Yosano-sensei left and he realized, suddenly, two things: 

One, apparently he really was more into the exhibitionist thing than he thought, and TWO: that was entirely Dazai’s fault and Atsushi was supposed to be mad at him!!

So he pulled back and then pushed Dazai away until he went gliding backwards on his rolling chair. Atsushi scrambled out and went after him, plopping himself down in Dazai’s lap and ignoring the slight motion of the chair so he could look down at him and scowl.

Dazai never found this as threatening as he should. In fact he was just smiling up at him, although his pupils were blown wide. Atsushi leaned down and bit his bottom lip.

“I barely got anything done this afternoon,” he complained when he pulled away again. 

Dazai hummed. “Really? I was very productive, you know. Maybe you could take a few pointers from me.” He waggled his eyebrows, making it clear what kind of “pointers” he was talking about. Atsushi bit him again for the pun. Then pressed his lips to Dazai’s mouth with a helpless, stifled groan. 

He could feel Dazai smiling. Fuck. Atsushi loved him so much.

It took him a moment to break away as Dazai started to enthusiastically kiss him back. 

“Dazai-san,” he gasped out, already short of breath. Continued, somewhere between a plea and a demand, “Please touch me—!”

And finally Dazai was fumbling with his belt, pulling Atsushi out with rough movements that made him squirm in his lap. Dazai’s gaze flitted down to Atsushi’s cock in his hand, then back up to his face and he didn’t even need to say the smug words his expression so clearly conveyed—Atsushi had been steadily leaking precome for at least an hour now. 

Everything from the head to about halfway down was already slick and shining, but Dazai was a contrary shit so he grasped him at the base and then slid his dry palm up until his fingers caught the wet glide drooling from the tip. 

“Are you going to make another mess? Atsushi-kun?” His hand started moving in earnest and Atsushi could lose himself in that repeated up and down motion.

“Uh-huh,” he agreed mindlessly.

“Fuck, you’re so cute. You’re perfect, Atsushi—”

He was so worked up. He was going to come embarrassingly fast even by his standards.

The door opened.

It wasn’t in response to that, Atsushi would like to be totally clear. He was already coming. It was just right at that second that the door swung open.

All he could do was try to hide, but he was in Dazai’s lap so that meant his only option was to get as close as possible. His thighs clenched around Dazai’s, his arms wrapped hastily around his shoulders as he shoved himself nearer. Dazai had let go, at least, to put his arms around Atsushi’s waist and pull him in, but Atsushi was very aware of the way this made his pulsing, dribbling dick rub up against the man’s abs because nnnnnhhh. He buried his face in the side of Dazai’s neck.

Dazai had automatically swiveled the chair to hide most of Atsushi’s body and the damning way his pants were open, but that meant he was facing away from the door while Atsushi was facing towards it. 

He had his eyes squeezed shut but he heard Kunikida start to say, “What—?”

“Kunikida!” Dazai snapped. “Can’t you see he’s having a moment?”

“Ah, right, sorry…” The door clicked shut again. Their coworker’s footsteps disappeared at a rapid pace. They both waited for a moment to make sure he wasn’t coming back.

Atsushi let out a whining noise.

“Pretty sure he bought that,” Dazai said. “We’ll have to come up with a reason you were crying in my arms in the office on a Friday afternoon but I doubt he’ll pry too much.”

Oh god. Fuck. He might not have known what he was seeing but the fact remained that Kunikida-san had seen him coming. 

His cock twitched.

All of this was Dazai’s fucking fault.

“...are you crying?” Dazai prodded. There was no way he hadn’t felt that traitorous response from his dick.

Atsushi blinked his eyes open and rubbed the tears that had sprung up into the bandages on Dazai’s neck.

Dazai hummed and started wiggling his fingers between where they were pressed together, aiming for—

Atsushi bit him.

“Yow!”

He pulled back. “Absolutely not, we are going home, Dazai-san, if anyone else sees me before we’re behind a locked door I am going to die .” He repeatedly thwacked Dazai on the chest for emphasis.

“Alright, okay, we’re heading home!” He held his hands out to steady him as Atsushi scrambled out of his lap. 

“Why is it always Kunikida?” Atsushi muttered as he made himself presentable enough for the short walk back. God, but Dazai’s shirt was a mess. And his pants—

Dazai was definitely hard. Had been since Atsushi had been under the desk, he remembered.

Hmmm. 

He let Dazai see how his gaze went from his clothed erection to his face. Dazai cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Home,” Atsushi said firmly. 

Dazai’s eyes darkened. “Alright, Atsushi-kun. I’ll follow you, then.”

Chapter Text

Atsushi insisted on dinner once they were back in the dorm. Ignored Dazai’s heated looks and started bustling around the kitchen, preparing a simple meal. Okay yeah, it was chazuke, everyone loved to tease him for it but the important thing tonight was it was something he could make with his eyes closed. Or his eyes on something else, like the way Dazai was lingering around the kitchen and trailing along right behind him and offering to “help” with chopping up the toppings. 

If he’d called Atsushi touchy earlier, that was nothing compared to how clingy Dazai was being now. It was kind of cute. It also felt a little like Dazai was on the back foot for a change. Somehow Atsushi had gained the upper hand here, and he just needed to experiment and confirm his findings.

He corralled Dazai into eating properly at the table instead of just on the couch. Afterwards Dazai was right behind him back in the kitchen, helping to clear the counters and rinse the dishes and, of course, coincidentally bump into him and get in his space the whole time.

“Go sit down,” Atsushi eventually ordered as he was stacking the last of the bowls to dry. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Dazai sighed but slunk off—

Not to his couch, but to his bedroom. He did not reemerge. 

Atsushi huffed, disbelieving, but followed after a few minutes.

Dazai was lying on his futon in the same way he sprawled on the couch at the office when he was being lazy. Arms behind his head, lounging without a care, jacket discarded. Eyes closed and humming a tune. The main difference was he’d taken his belt off and the fly of his pants was “somehow” open. The nerve of this guy. Atsushi wasn’t about to give up his advantage, though.

He padded across the room silently, although he knew even with his eyes closed Dazai would know he was approaching.

Carefully, he lowered himself into Dazai’s lap. Dazai cracked an eye open to look at him but didn’t move.

Fine, he’d make the first play.

“Dazai-san should be touching me,” he said. Because it was true.

“Oh?” Dazai moved his arms, placed them on Atsushi’s waist. “Anywhere in particular?”

Atsushi reached out and grabbed those hands, determined to place them himself. He shifted one to the top of his thigh, where Dazai took the implied invitation and immediately started stroking his fingers along towards his inseam. Atsushi almost moved the other hand directly to his crotch but changed his mind at the last second, bringing it up to his face instead and nuzzling against the knuckles. 

He remembered how much he’d wanted to get his mouth back on Dazai’s dick earlier and parted his lips to draw two of the long, elegant fingers into his mouth. Not really the same but it was Dazai and at least the man was Looking at him Correctly now—dark and promising.

Dazai watched him suck on his fingers with an intensity belied by his laidback posture. It only took a minute for him to abandon the pretense at least somewhat and sit up; with their faces much closer together Atsushi could see the way his gaze flickered between looking at his lips and meeting Atsushi’s eyes.

He took advantage of the closer scrutiny to draw Dazai’s fingers in further, towards the back of his throat. And he—again, not lying, just exaggerating a little—let himself choke a bit so that tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. 

As expected, he was able to see Dazai’s pupils dilate in close quarters. 

“Ahhh~” Dazai sing-songed under his breath, prompting Atsushi to open his mouth.

Dazai took a moment to just look inside before he withdrew his fingers and swooped even closer to replace them with his tongue.

It was a very wet kiss. Atsushi had been drooling, having something in his mouth like that, and Dazai seemed to be determined to make it as sloppy as possible, too. Atsushi started thinking about sucking Dazai’s dick again as he moaned around the taste of him.

When Dazai pulled back there was a thick strand of saliva between their mouths and Atsushi made an embarrassed noise and darted in to press their lips back together just so he wouldn’t have to look at it. He ignored Dazai’s slight laugh into the kiss and focused on tilting his head just so as he tentatively poked his own tongue out to lick at the wetness gathered on Dazai’s lower lip.

He wasn’t really used to starting this kind of kiss himself, usually following Dazai’s lead. But Dazai opened for him eagerly and Atsushi licked into his mouth with a hum. When Dazai groaned, Atsushi’s hips rocked instinctually and he pressed in even more.

Dazai had pulled back just a little but he was still reciprocating with fervor so Atsushi leaned in again. And when Dazai leaned back again, he followed again. They just kept kissing and it wasn’t until they were jostled a bit as Dazai leaned back on one elbow that Atsushi realized he was being lured in further and further and then Dazai was lying down and Atsushi was leaning over him and Dazai’s eyes were glinting like he was the one who’d pinned Atsushi down when it was the other way around, wasn’t it?

Atsushi finally pulled away and sat back up to shoot him an exasperated look.

“What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Atsushi told him. “And I know what you were doing earlier. Just leaving it like that.”

“Oh? Atsushi-kun makes it sound like I’ve been so mean to him today, but by my count I’ve made him come twice, haven’t I?”

Atsushi felt his face turn red. “You know that’s not—mmm.” He bit his lip. So embarrassing. But he couldn’t give up his advantage here. He pressed on. “I told you it wasn’t enough.”

Dazai’s hand, still on his thigh, twitched. “You did say that. You said you needed more?” He sounded out of breath.

“Yes,” Atsushi groaned. Embarrassed and exasperated with his own answer but it was the truth. “I need more, and need you, and—” This time he did reach down and move Dazai’s hand to rest over his erection, as he simultaneously ground down on Dazai’s again. 

Normally this would be the part where he said please. Which always worked. But he was supposed to be testing something here. Instead he said, “So give it to me.”

Dazai lost the self-satisfied air completely as he stared wide-eyed up at Atsushi. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I will, whatever you want, Atsushi-kun, I’ll make you feel so good—” He dragged Atsushi back into a kiss as his hand scrabbled to free Atsushi’s cock from his pants for the third time that day.

Except this time Atsushi wasn’t going to let him get away with stopping before he was fucked. As much as he could stand, and possibly more after that. Dazai broke the kiss with a gasp just to give him a heated look like he knew what Atsushi was thinking. He probably did. 

Not that Atsushi was having very coherent thoughts for much longer. He lost track of time as Dazai stroked him through one orgasm, then another, sitting right there in his lap with his clothes still on. Dazai didn’t pause inbetween; the conflicting jolts of overstimulated pleasure and pain ricocheting through Atsushi's body as Dazai forced the second one made him jerk every few seconds. He could feel Dazai’s cock, hard underneath him, the whole time—so when he cry-gasped his release out he whimpered out, “Inside,” again.

This time he wasn’t coherent enough to be embarrassed about it. This time Dazai obliged.

Atsushi touched whatever skin he could get his hands on as Dazai finally stripped them both in a flurry of motion that ended with Atsushi right back in his lap. It was a brief respite from the hand directly on where he was most sensitive but Atsushi didn’t feel any less desperate for it. In fact, he had to stop himself from digging his nails into Dazai’s shoulders as Dazai reached behind him to prepare him with the lube that had apparently been in his pocket all day, this fucking jerk. 

Dazai, the goddamned mind reader, laughed. It was still breathless, at least, and quietly accompanied by the wet sounds of his fingers pushing in to loosen Atsushi’s hole.

“You can leave a mark, if you want,” Dazai told him.

Atsushi made a questioning noise, the most he could summon while he was writhing back against those fingers. Because Dazai’d told him he didn’t like pain, so Atsushi was always careful—

“Don’t like unnecessary pain, pointless pain,” Dazai continued, guessing exactly what he was confused about. “But I want to feel you, want to feel it with you.” He leaned close, nuzzled into Atsushi’s neck and then peered down over his shoulder behind him to see where his fingers were disappearing inside. “Want anything you’ll give me,” he murmured, then pressed two fingers unerringly into Atsushi’s prostate.

Atsushi stuttered out a whine and clawed his fingernails into the bare skin of those shoulders, where the bandages didn’t reach. Dazai made a choked noise but it didn’t sound like a complaint. Atsushi still relented before he drew blood, but he was distracted by the pink crescents left behind on pale skin—he’d done that, left a mark, he’d dug his claws in and Dazai had not pulled away.

For some reason this made him tear up again. Dazai shifted, saw his face and had half a second to open his mouth to ask if he was okay before Atsushi tilted his head and bit down, hard, on his neck right over the jugular. 

“Ahh—”

The sound Dazai made was…pretty. Atsushi didn’t know how else to describe it. He bit down again more gently and then started to lave his tongue over the bite mark, sucking at the skin in the same way Dazai did when he left trails of hickeys down the inside of Atsushi’s thighs. 

“Atsushi,” sighed Dazai. He’d moved his head to bare his throat, but he’d also stopped moving his fingers. Atsushi shifted impatiently. 

“Dazai-san,” he pleaded. “Keep going, you said you’d make me feel good, still not enough, I want—”

“Whatever you want,” Dazai said again, and pulled his fingers out so quickly that Atsushi gasped. Atsushi jerked back to get a look at his face. His expression was almost dazed, but he was eyeing Atsushi hungrily and while that was promising, he was not moving fast enough. He shoved Dazai back; the man let out a quiet groan when his head met the pillow.

Atsushi lifted himself onto his knees, reached down with one hand to position Dazai’s red and dripping cock where he wanted it, and impaled himself swiftly. Ahh, too fast, maybe. It hurt a little. But he and his body were nothing if not adaptable, so he ignored the slight twinge and lifted onto his knees again, just enough so Dazai stayed inside him but he got more of that long, slick slide of the shaft as he took him in greedily.

It was kind of like he was fucking himself, he noted absently as his head lolled back in response to the stimulation against his prostate. Using Dazai’s dick to touch himself where he wanted, that spot deep inside that made sparks fizzle between his ears. Which was—he cracked an eye open, only just noticing he'd closed them.

Oh. That was exactly what Dazai had been asking for, wasn't it?

Dazai was panting, pinned underneath him. His pupils were blown and glossy black as the man stared at him unblinkingly. Atsushi bit his lip, swiveled his hips; Dazai’s gaze flickered rapid-fire between both motions like he couldn’t decide where to look. His hands came up to clutch at Atsushi’s sides while his own hips stuttered through the beginnings motions of a thrust. But he couldn’t seem to muster up the concentration to really put any effort into it.

He was too distracted watching Atsushi—how he was moving, how they were joined. 

Dazai-san is looking at me, came the (obvious, redundant, true) thought. 

“Ah,” Atsushi choked out as, embarrassingly, his dick pulsed out a gob of come in response. The rest of the reaction hit him a second later. His muscles in his thighs tightened, he clenched around Dazai inside of him, the aftershocks traveled up his spine and seemed to carry a gasping moan from his lungs through his open mouth with them as he shook through another orgasm. 

“Ahhhh,” he barely even managed the noise as jolty bursts of overstimulation started to make themselves known. Atsushi slowed—some—to just grinding down onto Dazai’s cock. Enjoyed the fullness, the too-much-ness, until Dazai started to shift his hips more insistently and he remembered something.

“Wait, Dazai-san…”

Dazai stopped immediately with a strangled, “Mmm?” 

“Can you,” he had to pause and sigh, roll his hips slowly. “Mm, can you reach the bag on the floor behind you? It’s kind of above your head and to the left a little.”

Dazai reached one hand back and started flailing around for the bag Atsushi wanted without looking. 

“Why do you need this bag right this moment?” he whined.

Atsushi tried to hold himself still. “Just a little more left—It’s that small one you gave to me in the office last Wednesday, remember? You said it was a mid-week present for me. I brought it here when we came back together that day but we didn’t end up using it.”

Dazai faltered in his reaching for just a moment before he continued groping for the gift bag. “Oh. Right. I remember. Giving it to you. Um.” Finally he snagged one of the handles, pulled it in and held it, dangling, up to Atsushi. “I must say I wasn’t expecting you to actually want to use it.”

“No, you were just being annoying,” Atsushi agreed as he took the bag. He reached in, pulled out the ring box inside, and tossed the empty bag away. 

Dazai had gifted him quite a selection of sex toys, almost none of which they’d actually used because Atsushi was too embarrassed to bring them back to his own dorm, and things tended to get lost in the mess of Dazai’s. He’d known when Dazai handed him this gift in the office on a random workday with a dazzling grin that it was going to be something intended to make him blush. The ring box had thrown him for a second, but it did have a ring inside. Which Atsushi’d had to look up (why has my partner given me a ring made out of silicone? was the internet search that had finally made Katai-san email him about how to use a private browser, which had been horrifying but at least he hadn’t had to look the man in the eyes).

So. Cock ring.

“Oh, but you shouldn’t be totally hard when I put this on you,” Atsushi remembered as he flipped the ring box open. 

Dazai made a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat and his hands clamped down on Atsushi’s hips. He was looking a little bug-eyed, actually.

“Unless you don’t want me to?” Atsushi prodded, a little worried.

“It’s fine,” said Dazai, strained. Atsushi figured that was his boyfriend’s stilted way of saying hell yes please put a cock ring on me.

So he shifted back up onto his knees, a bit shakily still, until the (nnn, long) slide of Dazai’s dick left his hole and he was able to scoot back to sit on Dazai’s thighs instead. Dazai released him and moved his hands to the bedding below.

The two of them blinked at each other as the length of him, glistening with lube and precome, bobbed upwards for a moment before landing gently backwards, a direct line towards Dazai’s belly button. He was still extremely hard and flushed red. 

Hmm. The website he’d read for this one had pretty well-written instructions but had failed to mention the actual preparation for it could be kind of unsexy. Maybe if they hadn’t stopped in the middle of something it would be less obvious.

“I’m going to think distracting thoughts,” Dazai announced. Strange thing to say, but when wasn’t Dazai strange? “And I’m going to change my heart rate to adjust my blood flow.” Okay, case in point. 

“Change your heart rate?” asked Atsushi, incredulous. “You can do that?”

“Atsushi, darling, you giving me that look like I’ve just said something ridiculous is only turning me on more.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “You are being ridiculous. Anyway, if I’m distracting you from your distracting thoughts, just stop looking at me.”

Don’t stop looking at me. Probably shouldn’t say that one out loud, though. Instead he leaned forward, reached down and covered Dazai’s eyes with one of his hands.

“Nooooo, having my eyes covered is too sexy, that’s the opposite of what we need.”

Atsushi shook his head, asking around another laugh: “How is having your eyes covered sexy?” 

“I’ll show you later,” Dazai promised. Hmm. “Atsushi-kun is making me focus way too much during sex, by the way. I’ve never had to do this trick while I’m hard before.”

Atsushi moved his hand to Dazai’s chest, felt for his heartbeat through the bandages. Dazai blinked his eyes open and looked at him again. “Are you actually changing how fast your heart is beating?”

“That look! I’m about to lose it!” Dazai told him cheerfully. “Checking my heart is too sexy, also—”

“How is this sexy—?”

“—and anyway it worked, you should put it on now.”    

And oh, yeah, Dazai was mostly soft. That should work. 

Atsushi fumbled for more lube and tried to remember the diagrams he’d looked up before he got Katai-san’s embarrassed email. He felt weirdly nervous—some combination of trying something new and the hands-on nature of the process—but when he glanced up Dazai had a hank of sweaty hair stuck to his forehead and his mouth was crooked up in a boyish, amused grin. He didn’t look tense at all. Just fond. 

He had a tell, though: his fingers were plucking at the futon beneath them. His eyes were dark, dilated, and riveted on Atsushi. Perfect.

Atsushi pictured the diagram. Putting it on directly over was an option but the site had said it was more secure if he—

He reached down and curled his fingers around Dazai’s balls. They fit well in his hand, but he was always surprised by how heavy they were. Gently, he tugged one, then the other, through the ring. He heard Dazai hiss out a breath but remained focused. Once the balls were through Atsushi stretched the ring and…hm, well, it took some finagling (the diagram was turning out to be maybe-not-so-helpful but he hadn’t been about to look up a video!) but he did also manage to carefully fit Dazai’s cock through. 

When he pulled his fingers away, the silicone tightened back into shape, leaving cock and balls constrained in the ring. Atsushi was a little surprised by how much the sight of it flustered him. 

“The website said it should allow blood flow in but not out,” he started to babble. “And to be careful not to use it for too long. And—”

Dazai’s smile was widening, canine teeth exposed in a way that pinged in Atsushi’s tiger hindbrain as a threat. 

“—and you’re getting hard again,” Atsushi ended in a near-whisper. He kept looking between Dazai’s predatory expression and his reddening cock, unsure which he should be more focused on first. 

“Mm, yes, for you,” Dazai told him. Hardly the most erotic thing he’d ever said to Atsushi, but here and now it made Atsushi’s already-pounding heart skip a beat.

He reached down, trailed his fingers lightly up the side of Dazai’s shaft. He remembered what Dazai had said that had prompted this whole experiment and swallowed thickly.

“So I can,” Atsushi paused, “use? This? Use you?”

Dazai’s eyes went impossibly darker and his fingers spasmed in the sheets before darting up to clamp onto Atsushi’s hips again. He whined, a low noise Atsushi had never heard him make before.

“However you want. Tell me what you want.” Dazai’s voice was low and his face was flushing pink. Atsushi shivered.

“I already told you.” He curled two of his fingers tightly around Dazai’s cock, another ring right above the silicone one. “I—inside, I want—this should be fucking me.”

In a burst of movement, Dazai had surged up and toppled him backwards to pin him down to the futon. Atsushi gasped. Being manhandled had surprised him, sure. But now the intensity of Dazai’s expression, a kind of manic fervor focused just on him, made him forget how to breathe for a second. 

“You made us go back without fucking me earlier,” Atsushi complained. His breathless tone made him sound petulant. Maybe he was, a little. His legs had landed splayed enough for Dazai to be in between; now he spread them wider. “Don’t you want to —?”

Dazai cut him off by shoving his cock back inside him.

“Always want to,” Dazai told him. “Always thinking about it. Fuck.” He moved right into a fast, punishing pace, slamming his hips in and Atsushi could feel the part of the ring over the top of Dazai’s shaft nudging against his rim when he buried himself all the way inside. 

Inside. Yes, this was what he’d wanted. Dazai as close as possible, inside where Atsushi could lock his thighs around him, reach out and grab at him, hold him and keep him close and not let go. A greedy thought, but if both of them wanted it, that was fine, right?

Fuck, Dazai was going so fast, and so deep, and most damningly he was still talking.

“Want you to want it, Atsushi. Want you to want it from me. I want to make you feel good.” Atsushi’s vision was starting to get hazy around the edges. He tried to focus as Dazai ducked in and licked at the corner of of his eye. Oh, he was crying again. “Want to make you feel not-good, too,” Dazai confided. “Feel more, feel too much. And the—the tears, I just—you look so pretty.”

Atsushi whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as his body tried to seize up against the orgasm that slammed through him. He could feel the muscles in his thighs fluttering and his toes curling and the tendons in his neck straining as his head thrashed uselessly. Overloaded by competing sensations, he was only vaguely aware of Dazai continuing to fuck him right through it.  

Right up until the point where the initial wave of buzzing pleasure started to ebb away. Then the sensation of too much too much oh fuck took over. His muscles were still straining and his spine was still bowed but the feeling of rapturous heat melded right into the agitated burning of overstimulation. Atsushi wouldn’t have been able to stand it except it was Dazai touching him.

Dazai’s voice broke through the haze, a demand: “Ask me to keep going.” Then a plea: “Ask me to keep going.”

Atsushi had never been very good at the erotic words, dirty talk, the way Dazai was. This time, though, he let himself say the greedy things. 

“Keep going,” he gasped out. “Da—Dazai-san, please. Please keep going, keep fucking me, touch me forever don’t stop, don’t stop don’t stop —”

“I won’t,” murmured Dazai, enraptured. “Not ever. You’re mine.”

Atsushi couldn’t tell the difference, where the pain of overstimulation ended and the building, subtle heat of his impending completion began. It all merged together as he shook his way through coming again. Too much and too soon after the last time but inescapable. All the while Dazai moved like a machine, the back and forth motion like a metronome and reassuringly steady amongst the chaos of overwhelming signals rolling through Atsushi’s body. 

The combination of stimuli lighting up across his synapses was incomprehensible. Atsushi had to focus on the only thing he could focus on: Dazai.

Dazai’s cockhead rubbing along his prostate with each thrust. Dazai’s tongue flicking over his cheek and below his eyes to consume the saltwater of his tears. The dark voids of Dazai’s eyes, all pupil and intensity, drawing his gaze in with undeniable gravity. Dazai’s warmth where Atsushi pulled and pressed and clung close. 

Dazai was shaking, he noticed. Almost as much as Atsushi was. A tremor in his frame that Atsushi might not have noticed if he wasn’t holding onto him so tightly. Then Dazai gave a full-body shiver and the pistoning of his hips stopped for a moment as his head dropped to Atsushi’s shoulder. 

Dazai made a noise that started out as a groan and ended in more of a whine. He tilted his head and nipped at the juncture of Atushi’s neck and shoulder. Then he started biting more firmly as Atsushi automatically bared his neck to give him access and soon Dazai was sucking a determined hickey onto the skin there even as he started to fuck him again.

Atsushi lost track of even the small details. His brain was offline. The only thing he was capable of was a chant of Dazai Dazai Dazai but it wasn’t even out loud, just mental. His mouth was open but all he could manage there was a continuous stream of incoherent noises as he was fucked stupid. 

At some point he thought he might have come again, but it was hard to be sure. There was a pulsing, throbbing wave of something that might have been pain or pleasure that rolled through him, and while his cock twitched, he had nothing left to give. Then, just when he thought he might actually be reaching his limit, Dazai slowed to a stop.

A surprisingly coherent thought: he remembered Dazai being worried about not stopping even if Atsushi really needed him to. Yet he was so tuned in to Atsushi’s body and expressions as to know exactly when too much really was too much. 

“I love you,” he told his ridiculous, handsome, maniacal sex-demon of a man as Dazai finally pulled out. Funny, how his throat felt scraped raw from the I wants, the greedy demands Dazai had coaxed from him, but then the love came soft and easily from his mouth. “Dazai, love you so much.” And, maybe the most greedy thing he’d ever said, “You’re mine, too.”

Dazai froze, met his gaze with wide eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed, voice hoarse. Then he shuffled back until he was able to duck down and take Atsushi’s cock down his throat.

Atsushi yelled and kicked out, the too much! slamming right back into his body and brain and sending him reeling back into incoherence. Dazai, merciless, drove him to the brink of another not-orgasm before backing off, moving down, starting to drag his tongue around the edges of Atsushi’s gaping, abused hole. He hummed in response to Atsushi’s whimpering, dipped his tongue inside, squeezed his hands where they were holding up Atsushi’s thighs for access. 

Atsushi was maybe starting to black out. Rather than a real orgasm it was like his whole body seized for a moment and then went limp in Dazai’s hold, and that was when Dazai finally pulled away. 

Both of them were gasping for breath on the futon. Dazai’s expression was dazed; Atsushi could only imagine what his own expression looked like.

“That may have been a record, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai said finally.

Words beyond him, any kind of articulation beyond him, Atsushi hummed out a, “...Mm-mm-mmm?” No syllables, just the barest intonation of the question how many?

“I counted seven.” He sounded exhausted and extremely proud of himself at the same time.

Atsushi’s brow furrowed. That was one more than he’d thought but everything was so hazy, especially near the end…

Dazai’s expression went even more self-satisfied and he perked up like he’d been given a compliment. Atsushi groaned.

Fuck, had he really come seven times? And Dazai—

Oh, wait. 

Atsushi pointed to the ring, still tight around Dazai’s very red and very hard cock. “Mmmnnneed t’ take it off.” 

Dazai held up his hands in a go ahead gesture. The jerk.

Atsushi managed to haul his boneless form upright enough to reach out for the ring. It was good that it was silicone and stretchy enough to get off over Dazai's still-flushed erection more easily than it went on. He was very aware of Dazai’s dark eyes on him the whole time as he eased the ring off of him, but no words were forthcoming. And right, his plan.

He set the ring to the side, slid his palm up the shaft and tugged a few times experimentally. He watched with interest as a bead of precome emerged from the head and started to slide down over his fingers. Dazai hissed but still didn’t say anything.

“Think we’re done for the night,” Atsushi decided. “Dazai-san wore me out.” 

When he looked up, Dazai’s blown-out pupils were voids of darkness staring him down. 

“...Unless you wanted something.” Atsushi didn’t even phrase it as a question because he knew the answer. Still, he waited through Dazai’s almost imperceptible shudder.

“Are you sure I can’t blow you again?” asked Dazai. 

Atsushi squeezed his hand one more time and then withdrew. “Don’t even joke, Dazai-san.” He sat up slowly. Dazai was laser-focused on him.

This was kind of fun, actually. It was like they were playing a game together. He reached up to pet at Dazai’s hair, which was somehow always impossibly fluffy even after sex. Dazai ducked down to allow access and pushed into the touch. He was batting his eyes like, look how good I’m being, didn’t I do well?

Atsushi couldn’t help but smile at him. “You might have to carry me to the bathroom,” he said.

They made their stumbling way into Dazai’s cramped bathroom to clean up. Dazai gave him a gallant bow and handed him a damp washcloth to wipe down with. It would have been nicer if he’d wetted it with warm water instead of cold, but Atsushi was appreciative of the gesture anyway. He sat on the toilet seat and ran the cloth over his skin, clearing away the sweat and tears and frankly ridiculous amount of his own come, and watched Dazai brush his teeth. 

Dazai kept shooting him exaggerated looks and wiggling his eyebrows even while his mouth was full with the toothbrush and foaming toothpaste. Atsushi found himself giggling, which only spurred him on more. 

Dazai had thrown one of his shirts back on but left it unbuttoned; he’d completely ignored pants or underwear. Atsushi shot a few furtive looks downwards as Dazai’s erection gradually went away, untouched. 

One of Dazai’s T-shirts from his civilian wardrobe was hanging over the towel rack so Atsushi grabbed that and pulled it on once he was done cleaning off. “We need to shower tomorrow,” he said as he cozied up to Dazai’s side to grab his own toothbrush from the cup on the sink. Dazai made a noise of acknowledgement.

They brushed their teeth together. Dazai made faces at him in the mirror, goading Atsushi into making faces back. They shoved lightly at each other as they both went to rinse at the same time. Dazai kept one hand on him the whole time—holding the small of his back, nudging at his elbow, poking the impressive hickey he’d left on Atsushi’s neck. The hickey in particular made Dazai snicker to himself; he always got so pleased with his trick of nullifying the tiger’s healing when the bruises were the color he wanted. 

He was being touchy. Clingy. Atsushi loved it—the closeness, the lack of a pedestal, the two of them together here.

“Atsushi-kun handled his gift very well, by the way,” Dazai murmured in his ear. He’d leaned in to kiss at the bite mark and now he was pressed to Atsushi’s side and looking at him in the mirror. 

Atsushi used their reflection to look right back. “By my gift do you mean the ring or your dick?”

Dazai went a little pink-tinged. 

“How crass, Atsushi-kun! And here I was trying to compliment you! It just seems like all your research has paid off, I meant.”

“Oh. Well, yes, I think so. I’m glad you liked it.”

Dazai hummed. “I did. Hey, I’ll give you 200 yen if you can get the acronym right.”

“Dazai.”

“Genuine offer!”

Atsushi squinted at Dazai’s reflection. “Bee.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Jee?”

“G, sure.”

“Um.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Well I know there’s four letters. And none of them repeat.”

Dazai’s eyebrows shot up like he was holding back an are you sure about that?

Atsushi scowled. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“What! When have I ever tried to trick you? You wound me, Atsushi-kun.”

Atsushi pointed at him. “If you’re not careful it won’t be a ring next time, it’ll be one of those cage things.”

He had the pleasure of seeing Dazai’s reflection go from pink to red.

Ahh. Not really a threat if he was into it. Atsushi made a mental note to look up where he could buy a cock cage.

“Dazai-san.”

“Mmm?” came the strangled hum of a reply.

He had to check one more time. “You said I could, you meant—so I could ask for more whenever I want?” His gaze darted down to where he could just see the base of Dazai’s soft cock in the mirror. “Use you?”

Dazai blinked. “Yes. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, continued to rattle off casually: “Here or your place or in public or at the office, when I’m asleep, whenever and wherever. Although I might have some fun teasing you first, but you can’t help it that you’re so fun to tease, I’m afraid.”

Okay. Buried in there. Something new, said so laid-back it had to be on purpose. Dazai wouldn’t just say something like that without being very aware of his words.

Atsushi gave him a considering look, which made Dazai stick his tongue out at him before pressing a kiss and a muttered Iloveyoutoo into Atsushi’s hair and then fleeing the bathroom. Atsushi assumed he was going to freak out about it.

You had to think about dating Dazai as a fight. A battle. And knowing your enemy was important: Dazai weaved and dodged and kept moving, always, so even when you scored a hit it glanced off as he danced away. It was hard to tell how hard the hit was when your opponent didn’t pause, but this was Dazai. He was still so bad at hiding those positive emotions—hell, giving the man flowers nearly took him out. So Atsushi knows. He knows Dazai as best as anyone can, he knows the playbook. He can use that to his advantage.

He emerged from the bathroom and sure enough, Dazai was lying facedown on the futon. 

Atsushi lay down next to him. Cuddled up close to Dazai’s rigid form. 

“Dazai-san always makes me feel good, you know,” he said softly. “You make me feel happy. And important.” Dazai shuddered. “And loved.” The shudder became a full-body shiver. “I hope I make you feel that way, too.” 

Dazai was shaking or wiggling or both, the way he did when he got overwhelmed and had to lay on the floor. He lifted one hand to pound at the blanket he was on, like he was tapping out of a wrestling match or pounding on a table for emphasis. 

Atsushi laughed, recognizing the wordless gesture for what it was. “Okay, good! I’m glad.”

Quick as a flash, Dazai rolled over and snagged his arms around Atsushi’s waist. He twisted them into a blanket-burrito and then they were both being smothered in the sheets.

They fell asleep bundled up together, no more words spoken for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Atsushi had found the two best ways to trap Dazai into a conversation were to either sit on him or to corner him in the bathtub.

The shower also worked in a pinch. If they were taking a bath together Atsushi preferred the tub in his own dorm; Dazai was less likely to try holding his breath underwater for concerning amounts of time there.

So when Atsushi opened his eyes the next morning to see Dazai already awake and Contemplating the ceiling with a frown, he abandoned his plans for cuddling and chivvied his boyfriend out of bed. He corralled him into the shower as quickly as possible—he wanted to get whatever was bothering Dazai out into the open before he could get too into his own head. And he wanted to get clean. And frankly he wanted the excuse to stay close and touch him.

He wondered which part of what he’d said last night had gotten under Dazai’s skin this time. The love or the trust or even the you make me happy. These were all things that had made Dazai twitchy at various points since they started having sex—well, for longer than that, even. Atsushi was no stranger to overthinking things so he sympathized with Dazai’s tendency to overanalyze, but he hoped one day neither of them would feel the need to grab onto something and turn it over and over like a mental worry stone. 

Atsushi was dead certain about this. About Dazai. For better or worse he was with him until the end. Movies he’d seen and books he’d read made it seem like that was the be-all and end-all of the story, but Atsushi had found that while Dazai was trying, it was hard for him to just accept being loved that easily sometimes.

So. Atsushi hauled him into the shower and busied himself with soaping up both of their bodies. Dazai was staring at the shampoo bottle like he was reading the ingredients list, with his brow slightly furrowed. Being completely unhelpful, but what else was new? Atsushi indulgently cleaned them both with soap and a washcloth. He paused once they were both rinsed off. He wasn’t sure if he should reach for the shampoo—if that would break Dazai’s thought spiral in a good way or a bad way.

“It’ll be nice to spend the weekend together,” he said aloud, experimental. “Although I think the weather isn’t supposed to be that great, but we could hole up and have a movie marathon or something?” 

No reaction.

“I mean, there’s other things we could do. I’m still a little sore from last night, though.”

Dazai frowned. “You’re still sore,” he repeated.

“Mmhmm.” He’d slept in so he wasn’t tired, per se, but they’d maintained near-constant skin-to-skin contact through the night. So his accelerated healing hadn’t quite gotten rid of the slight ache in his muscles where he’d been, y’know. Thrashing, crying, coming. Seven orgasms, yeesh. 

“...and you are in love with me.” Dazai’s tone was disbelieving.

“Yes.” Atsushi’s own tone was matter-of-fact. He might as well have said the Earth was round. The ocean was big. He loved Dazai. “You don’t think I am?”

Dazai finally looked at him. “No, I don’t,” he said emphatically. It was clear and exact, vehement, and he maintained focused and direct eye contact while he said it. 

Ah. Obvious bullshit.

Atsushi crossed his arms over his chest, though it felt a bit weird to be doing it while he was naked and wet. “Is that your actual answer to my question? Or is it the answer to the question you think I should be asking?”

Dazai tsk’ed, and Atsushi knew he had him. 

“You think I should be asking whether it’s a good idea to be in love with you.”

Dazai’s eyebrow twitched. “Yes.”

“And you think the answer to that is…?”

“No!”

“Okay,” Atsushi said simply. “But what’s your answer to my first question?”

“...I know you are.” 

“Good, as long as you know. Bend down, please.”

Dazai did, leaning into his space with a resigned air. 

“Sorry, Dazai-san,” Atsushi told him as he finally grabbed the shampoo and started to fuss with Dazai’s hair. “But I’m a sure thing.”

Dazai shivered; Atsushi paused briefly to bump the water temperature up a little bit. 

“That is not an invitation to be a jerk and try to push me away, okay?” he continued. “I’m serious. If you start being a dick just to prove a point I’ll still be a sure thing but you’ll have hurt my feelings.”

Atsushi had used the “hurt feelings” threat only once before but had found it to be extremely effective. Being a jerk came naturally to Dazai, but as soon as Atsushi started being genuine about how his actions made him sad? He caved. 

Dazai made a high-pitched and almost dog-like whiny noise, which Atsushi took to mean he’d conceded the point and wouldn’t be trying any of that nonsense. 

So Atsushi was winning.

Dazai must have been able to sense some of the smugness he felt because he gave Atsushi a squinting glare that was extremely hard to take seriously while his hair was soaked through and plastered back where Atsushi had been running his hands through it. He finally got a bit of vigor back, reaching out to turn Atsushi around while he returned the favor of washing his hair. 

Atsushi tilted his head into it and enjoyed the touches, ignoring the look Dazai gave him in the meantime like Atsushi was going to pay for the horrendous crime of loving him later.

By the time they were out of the shower and Atsushi was helping him to put his bandages back on, Dazai had bounced back completely with an almost manic level of energy. 

“Let’s go on a date, Atsushi-kun!” he crowed. “I know a perfect spot!”

That could mean anything; Dazai’s idea of romantic date spots ran the gamut from expensive eateries with gorgeous views to Port Mafia shootouts. But Atsushi got dressed, and fed them both rice and salted fish for breakfast, and rummaged in the closet for an umbrella when he looked out the window and saw it was in fact pouring down sheets of rain. 

Dazai, playing up his gentleman act, opened the doors for him on the way out, held the umbrella open over their heads, and paused to kiss him right outside the building. Like he was trying to make up for his sullenness earlier. Well, Atsushi would take it. Although he couldn’t help but feel Dazai was still holding something back. Again, what else was new?

Dazai’s “perfect spot” turned out to be an excuse for him to:

1. Make a terrible pun.
2. Pet cats.

It was a cat café. A small building with big windows that would surely let in a lot of light if it weren’t pouring buckets like today. The two of them were the only customers when they walked inside, and the hostess checked them in and took their drink orders before letting them wander the room to find an open place to sit that wasn’t taken up by what seemed to be about twenty snoozing cats. They ended up settled on a plush brown sofa in a far corner near the window. There was a small gray cat on a cushion absorbed in watching streaks of water race down the glass outside.

“Perfect, do you get it? Atsushi-kun? Puuuuuurrrrfect?” Dazai was wearing a shit-eating grin and petting a black-and-white cat that had immediately claimed his lap. 

Atsushi looked away from the tabby he’d started playing with to roll his eyes pointedly in his boyfriend’s direction. “That cat looks like Akutagawa, you know,” he noted. Which it did! Its fur was almost entirely black except for a jabot-like white patch on the chest. It was even glaring at Atsushi, which felt a bit cutting because most cats loved him. 

Dazai paused. “Huh. So she does.” He shrugged and kept petting her. “But you know, my favorite kitty to stroke is—”

Atsushi was saved from this truly terrible flirting when the hostess came over to their sofa and deposited two travel cups of tea on the low table in front of them. Another cat, this one a Siberian, immediately jumped up onto the table to investigate. She shooed it away with an indulgent air. 

“Many of the cats try to drink the tea,” she explained. “So these have lids on them, but I can get you nicer dishes if you’d like?”

Atsushi assured her that the travel cups were fine, and ignored the way Dazai was dying to make a comment next to him (most likely along the lines of cats that liked tea and tigers that liked chazuke, etc. etc.).

After the hostess left, Dazai apparently decided his tea comment had been communicated effectively without words because he went right back to the terrible flirting.

“When it comes to having kitty cats curled up in my lap, I can think of one I’d like to—”

Atsushi hushed him hurriedly, darting glances at the hostess’s retreating form to see if she’d heard. 

“Oh, why is Atsushi-kun acting embarrassed? When I happen to know for a fact he wouldn’t really mind being overheard?” Dazai lamented, directing it mostly to the tuxedo cat. The cat shifted her unimpressed gaze up to Dazai before standing and giving a languid stretch. 

Dazai and Atsushi exchanged thrilled looks when the stretch revealed the very tips of her back toes were also white. The cat hopped off Dazai’s lap and sauntered away, which allowed him to shuffle a little closer to Atsushi on the couch.

“You pretend to be so innocent while that nice lady is near, but I have evidence,” he continued, gloating. He reached up and tugged the bandages around his neck just a little, creating a small space where Atsushi could see—oh, shit. The massive hickey he’d left on Dazai’s neck last night. 

Atsushi swatted at him, flustered, until he covered it back up. “I thought this was a date, Dazai-san, not an excuse for your exhibition kink!” His voice got quieter as he went, until he was hissing out the words exhibition kink in an agitated whisper.

Dazai’s eyes widened. “My exhibition kink?” He leaned in even further. His eyes were gleaming; the smile inching across his face was confident and predatory. 

Bad sign, Atsushi’s brain told him. 

“While I do like the idea that you’re so willing and eager to get on your knees for me that you don’t care who sees…”

Atsushi squirmed in his seat.

“...you’re the one who came so hard you almost passed out—while I was still inside you—that time you thought Kunikida was about to walk in on us. So isn’t it your kink?”

Shit.

“I even tried it again just to confirm, you know, and the way your thighs went so tight around me?” Dazai sighed. “I wish I could have seen your face.”

Hold it. Hold on a second.

Atsushi had figured out pretty easily after the fact that Dazai had lied about the door being unlocked that one time. He had not realized that Dazai knew Kunikida hadn’t left for the day the second time. 

So that had been a setup. On purpose. Another of Dazai’s plots. 

He thought about it for a moment.

Okay.

Atsushi wasn’t really mad about it. It wasn’t outside the range of Dazai’s usual day-to-day manipulations so it wasn’t like it was some huge shock. He was a bit annoyed he hadn’t realized it before this, though. That combined with the fact that this asshole was right about whose exhibition kink it really was made him a bit meaner than he usually would have been when he changed the subject with a pointed, “You got a good look at my face this morning when you told me you didn’t think I actually loved you.”

Dazai made a choked noise, kind of like erkk, and scooched away to reach for his tea. Ooooh and now he was avoiding eye contact as he took a sip. Atsushi felt a little bad for interrupting his flirting so abruptly, but damn it he wanted to lance this wound.

The tabby he’d been playing with earlier hopped up onto the couch and walked over Atsushi’s lap to settle in Dazai’s. The man in question glanced down at it and then at Atsushi suspiciously, like Atsushi had sent the little creature over as part of a conspiracy to make sure he couldn’t escape. 

With the terrible weather outside, there was still nobody else in the café. The hostess was behind the check-in podium near the door, tapping away at her phone and not within hearing distance. There were a ton of cats, of course, but most were sleeping in various cubbies or on pieces of furniture and soft rugs scattered through the room. Atsushi started talking, hoping to hit on the core of the issue or at least get Dazai to react since there was no way the man would just tell him what the problem had been.

“You were worried about something when we woke up,” he started. “And it was making you act weird and say those things in the shower. It had to have been something about last night, right? And based on this morning, it’s not actually that you don’t think I love you.” He frowned as he tried to think it through, ignoring Dazai’s agitated fidgeting without mercy. “But…you said it was a bad idea. Why is it a bad idea? And what about last night even brought it up?”

“I would think it’s obvious why it’s a bad idea,” Dazai muttered. Which answered none of Atsushi’s questions, of course. But it was in response to the why is it a bad idea question and ignored the what brought it up question, which was interesting. Dazai had put his tea down and started petting the tabby cat, like he was trying to calm his nerves even as his expression remained impassive.

“What brought it up…” Atsushi repeated, mostly to himself. Dazai’s mouth twitched into a frown for just a second.

Atsushi had to think through what he remembered saying last night, which was difficult with, well, everything else that had been going on. “I mean, you said you enjoyed it, and I don’t think that was a lie?” Dazai shook his head. Okay, good. “And you told me you wanted—well, you told me a lot of things you wanted,” he remembered. 

Now Dazai was definitely frowning. Was that it? Damn, Atsushi was just making himself more confused.

“Was it telling me all of that?” he guessed. “Was it that embarrassing?” He’d thought they’d been communicating well enough despite Dazai’s honesty allergy. 

“What I want—” Dazai finally broke his own silence, but immediately cut himself off with a frustrated expression. Then he said, almost mechanically: “Anything I would never want to lose is always lost. It’s a given that everything that is worth wanting will be lost the moment I obtain it.”

Which. What the hell was Atsushi supposed to do with that?

“It was the 'you’re mine' part that bothered you,” he realized. “That you said I was yours.”

Dazai grimaced and didn’t respond.

Atsushi huffed out a breath as an unexpected jolt of hurt pierced through him. Despite himself, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Well that’s—If you don’t want—” He was aware he wasn’t being entirely rational but couldn’t stop his voice from warbling a little as he sputtered out, “If Dazai-san doesn’t want me to be his then that’s fine but he’s still mine, you’re not getting rid of me, you can’t—”

His diatribe was cut off abruptly when Dazai, dumping the poor tabby from his lap, lunged closer and practically bashed their foreheads together. He pressed his forehead into Atsushi’s firmly, brought his hand up to the nape of Atsushi’s neck to hold him in place.

“Not what I meant,” Dazai said. “Breathe, Atsushi.”

Atsushi was embarrassed to find he was, in fact, gasping over harsh breaths and hadn’t even noticed. He struggled to get it under control as Dazai rubbed the back of his neck and grabbed one of his hands to hold in his own. 

“Shit. That was the opposite of what I meant, Atsushi-kun. I do want you, you are mine.”

Atsushi gulped in air, the same air Dazai was breathing out as he spoke. He reached out with his free hand to clutch at the fabric of Dazai’s shirt. Mine, he thought fiercely.

Dazai continued when Atsushi didn’t respond aloud. Not a statement, of course, but a question, turning it back on him. “Don’t you ever get worried about…” Losing everything and everyone you love, he didn’t say. “...jinxing it?” he did say.

Fucking. Of course he did. This was so new—not just their relationship, but Atsushi being allowed to want things, much less having something to lose. And now he wanted, and Dazai had said it was okay, so he wanted and wanted and wanted and he held on tightly to Dazai and the agency and his ability and everything he’d somehow gained. 

Dazai could be worried about losing the things he allowed himself to want and Atsushi would understand that. But if Atsushi lost anything it would not be for lack of trying to keep it.

So Atsushi just tightened his grip on both Dazai’s shirt and his hand. “I told you I was a sure thing. I’m not going anywhere,” he said. Not even if you didn’t want me.

Dazai sighed and pulled his face back to press a kiss to Atsushi’s forehead and then to the top of his head. “Okay. Alright.” He nuzzled into Atsushi’s hair. “My Atsushi.”

Atsushi twisted sideways to sling his legs over Dazai’s lap and inch in closer to wrap his arms around Dazai’s torso. Burying his face in Dazai’s neck, he murmured, “My Dazai,” quiet but adamant. 

Dazai hummed in agreement, stroking the hand that had been holding his neck down along his spine. Like he was petting a cat. 

Cat. They were in a cat café. Oh man, there was no way the café hostess wasn’t just deliberately ignoring them making a scene. 

“You know, at some point you could just call me Osamu,” Dazai said, breaking through Atsushi’s mortified musings about never being able to come back here again. 

Atsushi squeaked.

Dazai laughed.

After a while Atsushi managed to unlock his arms and extricate himself from Dazai’s hold, moving back to a more appropriate distance on the couch. As soon as his thighs cleared Dazai’s lap, yet another cat (this time a tortoiseshell) jumped up to replace him. Truly, Dazai’s lap was the spot to be if you were a cat.

“Sorry about…that,” Atsushi murmured. By which he meant, the under-negotiated “feelings” talk.

“Atsushi is so mean to me. We’ll have to have a third party adjudicate,” Dazai told him. He poked the cat. It let out a disgruntled meow in reply. “She has spoken! All good.”

Atsushi couldn’t help but smile back as Dazai beamed at him. As much as Dazai sometimes faked his silliness, he was also, genuinely, very silly. 

Atsushi loved him so much.

“Anyway, it might be a good thing that Atsushi-kun calls me out sometimes. You’re getting better at standing your ground! There was a point a while ago where you were being weirdly compliant and just went along with everything I said.” 

“No I didn’t,” Atsushi said automatically. Shit. Of course Dazai had noticed that. 

“Great job disagreeing with me! But seriously, I was once talking about the possibility of becoming an astronaut to be the first person to commit double suicide on the moon and you just nodded when I said it was impossible because there are no beautiful alien women up there.”

Atsushi did remember agreeing with that one. They hadn’t even been sleeping together at that point.

Red-faced, he replied, “I just wanted you to feel like you could trust me with anything.”

Dazai shot him an amused look. He looked down at the tortie in his lap, back up at Atsushi, and then blinked. Slowly. Like a cat.

I trust you.

Fuck. Atsushi was tearing up again. “I’m not a cat, Dazai-san,” he said, a little wobbly. 

Beaming in delight at the opening, Dazai announced, “But I can sure make you purr like one!” 

This was what drove the hostess to finally ask them to leave.

From there, Dazai dragged him to a horror movie double feature at the nearest movie theatre for the afternoon. They stopped in an izakaya and ate ramen on the way home in the evening. Started a third horror movie back in Dazai’s apartment and ended up falling asleep together on the couch without finishing it.

When Atsushi woke up, Dazai was turning off the TV and carrying him to the futon. He fell back asleep in the dark of the bedroom with Dazai wrapped around him.

When he woke up again, Dazai was inside him.

Atsushi was lying on his side and he could feel Dazai pressed all along his back, and hands petting up soothingly along his flank, and the hard cock sheathed to the hilt in his ass.

“Wha?” Atsushi barely managed, and was greeted by Dazai’s delighted humming. 

“Good morning, Atsushi-kun! So glad you’re awake. See, I was thinking,” Dazai started rambling, chin hooked over Atsushi’s shoulder.

“Oh god,” groaned Atsushi. He felt Dazai briefly press a smile into the side of his neck. 

“I was thinking,” Dazai continued, “that sometimes Atsushi-kun thinks with his dick. Or maybe the better way to phrase it, Atsushi-kun’s dick does the thinking for him?”

“What?” he managed to enunciate this time, but still could only get out the bare minimum of words.

One of Dazai’s hands reached to wrap around the dick in question, and Atsushi lost his grasp on coherency again as he realized belatedly that he was very hard and extremely turned on. 

“I just had noticed recently, sometimes it looks like you come down here,” he squeezed for emphasis, “before you do up here.” He moved his hand to tap Atsushi’s forehead instead; Atsushi whimpered at the sudden loss of the pressure where he wanted it. “So I thought of something I think you’d like!”

Atsushi had actually noticed before that sometimes there was a delay between his brain and his body when it came to feeling, well, pleasure. He just wasn’t sure he understood the connection between that and what Dazai was doing now. Possibly because he’d just woken up, possibly because Dazai was shit at explaining things.

“Just trust me,” Dazai said. “All you have to do is go with it. We're going to go slow today.”

“Go with what? How slow?” Atsushi asked, not awake enough to be embarrassed about the whiny way the question came out. He started wiggling in place, trying to get Dazai to move, but Dazai just grabbed onto his hip to hold him still.

“You don’t need to move,” was Dazai’s only response. He said it so matter-of-factly, so calm, that Atsushi instinctually listened and stilled. For a while the only sound was his own breathing as it slowed from panting back to deep, tired breaths.

Atsushi almost thought he would fall asleep again. Time blurred the way it did when they lazed in bed on a Sunday morning, except he was never quite unaware of the way that Dazai still had his hips pressed flush with his ass. After a certain point he didn’t even think Dazai was hard. He was just…

Inside.

Atsushi sighed, relaxing even more into a boneless slump. He could feel Dazai’s silent huff of laughter stirring a strand of hair resting on his cheek, and the way their chests were moving in unison as they breathed in and out at the same pace, and the sleepy warmth generated between them in all the places they were touching. There was a different kind of warmth flickering low in his belly—arousal, but with none of the usual urgency of when Dazai was inside him. Just there, almost comforting.

The slant of sunlight across the bedroom floor had moved quite a bit when Dazai started to shift again, running his thumb along the soft, pale hairs below Atsushi’s belly button. His hips moved, too, but in barely noticeable rocking motions that were more gentle than anything. Atsushi languidly moved in time with him, somehow feeling more turned on by the way they were moving in sync than the actual sensation of Dazai’s cock in him.

Not that it wasn’t a factor. His awareness had narrowed down to their breathing, their movement, the way he could feel Dazai hardening again inside of him. Every once in a while Dazai would cup his balls or run his fingers along his shaft in just a fleeting touch. Just as the smoldering heat started to build back towards something that might ignite, Dazai slowed down again from the already unhurried pace. 

 “Dazai, nooooo,” Atsushi complained. More awake, he was starting to guess what kind of torture Dazai was planning for today. 

“Atsushi, yes!” was the cheerful reply. “We should go eat lunch, it’s almost noon.”

Ugh. Terrible, bastard man. “We’re not going out, are we?” 

Atsushi might combust if he had to make himself presentable to go outside right now.

“No, we have food in the fridge.” Dazai pressed a series of warm, gentle kisses along Atsushi’s shoulder.

“...and are you going to put the, um, the cock ring on me?” Atsushi stuttered over the question as Dazai, mostly soft again, pulled out of him and started to wiggle free of the bedding.

“Don’t need it,” Dazai said, chipper. “You won’t come until I tell you to.” And he got up and padded naked, save his bandages, off towards the kitchen while Atsushi buried himself back under the sheets to recover from that sentence.

He gave himself a few minutes before the sound of Dazai rummaging in the kitchen menacingly propelled him into getting up and heading to the other room. He had the topsheet wrapped around him in flimsy protection, and sure enough as soon as Dazai saw him bundled up in it he came over to unwrap him. Atsushi refused to let go of the sheet completely so then they were both standing naked in the kitchen and each holding onto one end of the sheet like a bizarre game of tug-of-war.

Atsushi shuffled backwards, keeping one hand firmly on the fabric and one eye warily on his boyfriend, to examine the rice cooker. Thankfully it seemed like Dazai had only gotten as far as putting the rice and water in the cooker and hadn’t turned it on yet. When Atsushi checked, it was set to go for two hours. He shot Dazai a disapproving look and went to adjust the settings. Of course, this was when Dazai took advantage of his distraction to completely tug the sheet away.

Atsushi pursed his lips and ignored him. Even as he could feel goosebumps erupt over his back and arms and his face flushing red, he focused on the rice cooker and on not giving Dazai the reaction he was looking for. Not that ignoring him ever stopped him.

Dazai, now wrapped up in the stolen sheet, sidled up next to him and peered over his shoulder as Atsushi started the cooker. Atsushi braced himself for a smartass comment.

“...Can’t believe Atsushi-kun is standing around naked in the kitchen. How scandalous!” 

Like that. Despite knowing it was coming, Atsushi flustered. Before he was consciously thinking about it, he turned and his hands came up gesticulating wildly. “I’m—! You’re the one—!”

Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Me, too? Well, if you insist.” He dropped the sheet dramatically, like he was shrugging out of a luxurious coat. 

And then they were both standing around naked in the kitchen.

Atsushi slapped his hands over his eyes, once again moving on autopilot, so he only heard Dazai laugh at him.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, why are you acting so embarrassed now?”

He didn’t know how to explain it. When Atsushi peeked through his fingers, Dazai was standing there with a hand on his hip, watching him with an amused expression. There was something about the way the sunlight coming in through the window lit him up in gold tones, something about being together on their day off after sleeping in, something about casually standing around without clothes on while the rice cooked, all of it made Atsushi’s heart beat a little faster.

“Dazai-san looks so pretty,” was the only thing he could manage to say. 

Through his fingers he saw Dazai’s expression go surprised and then soft, and then come closer as he swooped in and moved Atsushi’s hands away to kiss him thoroughly.

They were still kissing—slowly, lazily—when the rice cooker went off. They paused to eat: rice directly out of the steaming bowl, reheated miso from the same cup and leftover cold chicken from the same plate as Atsushi chattered through details of an unimportant case. Dazai gave the occasional comment or piece of advice, which ranged from obscurely helpful to purely nonsensical. Piling the dishes into the sink and downing gulps of water from the same glass, they moved around each other easily in the small kitchen space. 

Once the surfaces were clear, a grinning Dazai cornered him against a counter and pressed up against him and suddenly the easy calm of their meal was replaced with the returning awareness that they were both very naked.

It was still slow, but Dazai kissed him deep and intent. Atsushi’s hands reached up to clutch at his shoulders. This was where the bandages tapered from solid to haphazard wrapping, so there was bare skin under the pads of Atsushi’s fingers. He tightened his hold, tentative at first but then hard enough his nails were pressing into skin and was answered with Dazai tightening his own grip on Atsushi’s waist.

It felt possessive—both his own hold and Dazai’s—which was enough to make Atsushi shiver. Dazai moved from kissing his lips to mouthing down the side of his neck and over his shoulder, biting occasionally. With the counter behind him and Dazai’s steadying hands on his waist, Atsushi allowed himself to lean back and bare as much skin as possible.

He wanted to be a blank canvas for Dazai.

Dazai took the invitation and moved even further down. With Atsushi leaning back he could duck down and lave his tongue over one of Atsushi’s nipples. First just small licks and breaths, making it stiff and sensitive, and then broad strokes with the flat of his tongue. One of his hands came up and gently caressed the other nipple even as he used the ridge of his teeth along the peak of the first one. Atsushi couldn’t help the small noises he was making any more than he could help the way his hips bucked and his breath quickened. 

He let Dazai put his cock back inside him right there in the kitchen. 

Dazai turned him around; Atsushi practically collapsed against the cool surface of the countertop. Even leaning over like this his nipples weren’t safe from Dazai ministrations—Dazai had one hand on his hip to steady him as he pressed his cock slowly back into Atsushi’s entrance, but the other reached around to tug at the same puffy, abused nipple he’d been playing with before.

Hands and forearms flat on the smooth surface, Atsushi groaned and his head dropped to hang low. His panted breaths left a sheen of condensation on the countertop. Blearily, he noted that Dazai’s arm was right there. He whimpered, which made Dazai hum a questioning noise as he fully seated himself inside Atsushi. 

Atsushi could feel the warmth radiating off of Dazai. More importantly, he could feel Dazai’s hips pressed flush to his ass. He could picture the way he was leaning over would look—the blatant, sexual  invitation of it. 

Just for Dazai-san.

And yesterday Dazai had agreed when Atsushi’d said he belonged to him, too, and it made Atsushi want—want to—

His mouth dropped open on another groan. 

Dazai paused, then retracted the hand that had been messing with his chest. The hand reappeared again after a moment as he reached around to present his wrist in front of Atsushi’s face.

Blatant invitation.

Atsushi bit down on it, possessive and tight like a dog with a bone. The bandages dulled the bite, so he didn’t break skin, but the wrist was such a fragile area, wasn’t it? Tendons and thin bones and delicate veins. His hold was tight enough that Dazai wouldn’t be able to get away unless Atsushi let go. If it weren't for No Longer Human, Atsushi was pretty sure his teeth would be sharp right now.

God. He was getting hard again. He wished Dazai would just touch him or move. 

Based on how he’d been woken up this morning, he didn’t think that was going to happen any time soon. He wriggled half-heartedly, pushing back into Dazai as much as he could while bent over the counter. 

Dazai didn’t take the bait. His hips stayed still and his free hand was petting at Atsushi’s hip in a soothing motion. He did lean down and press a kiss to a spot along Atsushi’s spine. It would have been sweet except that Atsushi could recognize just from the feel of Dazai’s mouth on his skin the exact smug and self-satisfied expression he got when he was succeeding at being a particular menace.

And it wasn’t like Atsushi didn’t enjoy Dazai being mean to him, but that didn’t mean he was just going to let him get away with it without saying something. He released Dazai’s wrist with a whine; Dazai used the newly-freed hand to grasp his other hip. Now with both hands holding Atsushi in place, he pulled back just a little before gently (too gently) pushing right back in and just…shifting a bit. Nudging and prodding and keeping him open but not putting any pressure where Atsushi really wanted it.

“Yyyyou’re being. Mean.” The words fell out of his mouth, slurred and barely comprehensible as he fidgeted in place restlessly. The subtle arousal that had mostly faded away while they were eating was stirring again, just because Dazai was close and touching and inside, and he’d let Atsushi bite him, even . But with no real stimulation to respond to it just sat as frustrated heat in his lower belly. 

“Yes!” Dazai said happily. So Atsushi had sure told him off. 

Dazai kept him pinned there for a while. Atsushi wasn’t really sure how long it was. 

Every once in a while Dazai would alternate between a few too-gentle thrusts or a soft touch to Atsushi’s erection—just enough to keep him hard—but mostly he just kissed at Atsushi’s neck or spine, or played with his hair, or murmured about how good you’re being, Atsushi-kun and it was maddening up to the point that Atsushi slumped bonelessly onto the counter and resigned himself to whatever the hell Dazai was up to with this.

That was when Dazai finally pulled away completely and directed Atsushi with soft touches towards the couch.

“Dazai-san, please,” Atsushi complained even as he was lovingly guided to sit down. It was much more comfortable than being bent over the counter but it also wasn’t really a position conducive to fucking him properly. 

“Hmm?” Dazai hummed, still looking too smug. “Please what?”

Atsushi didn't even manage to glare at him before Dazai was kneeling in front of him to take his cock down his throat. And then. Not moving or sucking but just staying in place and holding him in the soft and wet heat of his mouth. Running a thumb under the base and over the curve of his balls.

Atsushi whined and pulled at his hair to no avail. “Come on, Dazai-san.” 

Dazai didn’t move, just looked up at him with his mouth full and raised his eyebrows as if to repeat the question, please what?

“Do something,” Atsushi pleaded. He couldn’t be any more specific than that; somehow despite the way he was being strung along like this his brain was already refusing to provide the words he needed. 

Of course, Dazai pulled off. Ignoring Atsushi’s whimper of distress, he pressed a kiss to the tip and smiled. “I am doing something! But if Atsushi-kun wants more, of course he only ever has to ask.”

Terrible, terrible man. 

Finally, Dazai wrapped a hand firmly around his cock. Atsushi bucked into it immediately. His eyes were irresistibly drawn to the sight of those long, slim fingers. Touching me touching me Dazai-san is touching me.

“Isn’t this what you like?” Dazai continued. Still smiling. He squeezed his hand a little to make Atsushi jolt, then gave a few slow strokes. “Is this what you want? Tell me.” He sped up; Atsushi groaned. He could see his own thighs trembling a little. 

How the hell did Dazai do this? It was nothing compared to other things they’d done before, but Atsushi was panting and overheating like they’d been at it for hours. At this point it had been hours since he’d woken up to Dazai inside of him, but the man hadn’t done anything except tease him since then. And still Atsushi felt like he was going to die with how much he wanted him.

He felt the telltale sting of tears forming in his eyes. Dazai looking up at him must have seen the sheen of them because he rewarded him with a firm swipe of his thumb over Atsushi’s leaking slit.

“Tell me~” he said again, smile growing in the face of Atsushi’s distressed lust.

“I want to come,” Atsushi told him, helplessly honest. 

Dazai dug his thumb into his slit, coaxing out a bead of precome and then spreading it over the head with little circular motions. He hummed, faux-considering. “You’re not coming until I tell you to, remember?”

Atsushi let out another pained noise, eyelashes fluttering. “Mmhmm,” he agreed. And then, “Please keep touching me.” Dazai could torture him as long as he wanted if he’d just keep his hands on him. He didn’t have the capacity to say all of that at the moment, but it was true.

A firm stroke, a kiss to the tip, and Dazai was licking away the precome he’d been playing with. “Alright,” Dazai told him, easy.

And then he did touch. 

There was no part of him Dazai hadn’t touched, Atsushi was pretty sure. He remembered the exploration of the first time, Dazai putting his hands and his mouth wherever he wanted as he learned all of Atsushi's tells and reactions. Like—

Dazai pulled at his hips to scoot Atsushi towards the edge of the seat and then placed his thighs over his shoulders. He nipped at the crease where Atsushi's thigh met his ass and already knew to keep a tight grip on the leg as Atsushi kicked out automatically at the feeling of teeth somewhere so soft and sensitive. 

Atsushi felt but didn't see Dazai bite along his thighs because his head had lolled backwards into the back of the couch as the heat in his lower belly started to ramp up again. Dazai bit marks into his thighs, he dug his fingers into them, he licked a hot and lurid stripe up from Atsushi's entrance to the base of his cock. The sound of his own panting almost but didn't quite cover up the sound of Dazai spitting on his still-loose hole and then pushing two fingers inside to rub unerringly along his prostate. 

Atsushi moaned, low and tremulous. He wanted to thrash with restless and overwhelmed energy coursing through him, but Dazai had replaced his fingers with his tongue and had a firm grip on both of his thighs and he couldn't get away from the onslaught. 

He didn't want to get away. He couldn't buck Dazai’s hold but he could move closer, and his body did so just like it had been trained to: thighs tightened in to clamp around Dazai’s head, hips bucked down to spear himself further on Dazai's tongue, fingers tugged at Dazai’s hair.

Spikes of vivid pleasure came and went as Dazai ate him out. He knew Atsushi’s body too well—as soon as Atsushi got too close to a precipice Dazai slowed and gentled him back down to a baseline of milder but constant heat. Like a low-grade fever: not enough to get him off work much less get him off. Once again, it wasn’t until Atsushi stopped squirming and melted completely into the couch cushions that Dazai stopped, pulled away and stood up. 

“Back to bed, I think,” he said. Atsushi blinked up at him wordlessly, dazed. Dazai just laughed at whatever expression he had on his face.

Dazai picked him up in a bridal carry to transport him back to the bedroom. He placed Atsushi down carefully on one side of the futon, then started messing with the pillows. Atsushi watched him put one in the center, fluffing it up and arranging it just so to some unknown specification, while the other one was placed a little above that. Then Dazai looked at him and smiled, patting the one in the middle. 

“Hips here, Atsushi.”

It took him a second to convince his limbs to move, but Atsushi roll-heaved himself towards the middle of the futon. 

“And on your front, please.”

Ah.

Atsushi pushed himself on his arms enough to settle his hips onto the middle pillow. His poor, aching cock was nestled carefully into the waiting plush but he allowed his head to fall roughly onto the upper pillow as his arms gave out again almost immediately. He shakily moved them to hold onto the pillow his face was buried in now, looking for something to steady him. 

He assumed Dazai was still playing with him. With his hips and ass tilted up into the air like this on the pillow, it would be easy. Having the soft friction of the pillow against his cock was nice, but Atsushi didn’t dare move despite how tempted he was to just rub himself off against the squishy give of it. He heard Dazai chuckle, and he shivered when the man ran a proprietary hand down the length of his spine.

“Now this is a familiar position. Still being very good for me, hm?”

If Atsushi wasn’t so out of it he might have actually answered something embarrassing like yes yes yes.

He lifted his face up from the pillow when Dazai’s fingers trailed along the shell of his ear, but he only got a glimpse of the room before there was a strip of soft cloth being placed over his eyes and tied securely at the back of his head. Fuck.

This position had already felt exposed and at Dazai’s mercy, and Atsushi didn’t know why but not being able to see made it feel even more so.

“Relax,” Dazai told him, which coming from him was the opposite of relaxing. “Oh, come on,” he continued, apparently reading something of Atsushi’s skepticism from his body language. “Don’t I always take care of you?”

Atsushi considered that, as best he could with his brain scrambled, and relaxed. At least a little bit. Dazai rewarded him by kissing the back of his neck. 

When his voice came next it was a little further away. He’d moved down some? He was still touching Atsushi’s back so between the lack of the tiger’s senses and the blindfold Atsushi couldn’t place his exact position. “I was wondering, back then, you told me you had trouble…bringing yourself to completion, let’s say?”

Right. Atsushi made a vaguely affirmative noise.

“Did you ever do this?” He nudged at Atsushi’s hip. “Rub yourself into your pillow?”

His tone made it sound like he was expecting an answer; Atsushi tried to pull himself together enough to verbalize a response. “Tried but. Couldnnnn’t.” Just like trying to masturbate with his hands, he’d frozen up whenever he got close. “Not enough.”

“I can picture it,” Dazai said musingly. He was moving—oh, he was moving behind and over him. Straddling him. “Atsushi-kun rutting into his pillow. Turning all pink and red and desperate but not finishing. Your face is so cute when you get close, have I told you? I’ve really liked seeing it today.”

Bastard. 

“Here,” said Dazai. Atsushi could tell from his voice he was smiling. And he pushed his cock in once again, finally, completing a circuit that lit Atsushi up from the inside. “I’ll help you, Atsushi-kun. We’ll do it together.”

 Oh, fuck.

Dazai was leaning over him, chest brushing against his back and mouth skimming along the nape of his neck. He was braced on one arm to the side but the other was holding Atsushi’s hip in place again.

He was using his minimal leverage, not to fuck him, but to move their hips in tandem so Atsushi’s cock ground into the pillow underneath. His own cock nudged tantalizingly against Atsushi’s insides but he wasn’t thrusting so much as using it to direct Atsushi’s hips into motion. It was more like having a plug inside him as he rutted into what he was sure was Dazai’s pillow. 

“Noooooo,” Atsushi groaned into his own pillow. 

Dazai hummed. At the exact same pitch as Atsushi’s forlorn complaint, slightly mocking. Atsushi tried to kick him but their legs were hopelessly tangled together and he didn’t get anywhere with it.

They moved as one, Dazai in control of the rocking motion of their bodies. It was more of that soothing, steady movement he’d been keeping up all day and so Atsushi automatically kept pace with him, even as he whined out a frustrated keen. It was—his cock was rubbing along the pillowcase, pushing into the give of it, all at Dazai’s whim. And fuck, it was good. 

Dazai’d put the idea in his head so he couldn’t help but picture it, those times he’d tried this before. In his closet, trying to be quiet even though he was alone and didn’t really need to be. His pillow between his legs and the desperate need to just rub, and squirm, and rut until something happened—and it was never enough. He’d whine, quiet and frustrated, and imagine a firmer pressure, a larger and firmer hand, a voice…

“Feels good, right?” Dazai’s voice was breathy but calm in his ear. “Doing so well, Atsushi.” 

Fuck. Atsushi shivered, almost feverish. He could feel himself sweating; he could feel the wetness of his own precome on the pillow beneath him and he was drooling into the other.

Whatever the hell Dazai’s play here was, it was working. He could feel himself getting hazy and it was so, so tempting to just go with the flow and keep rocking his hips along with Dazai’s, keep grinding down and just feeling it, riding along the edge of something. He wouldn’t be able to come, anyway, until…until Dazai told him he could. 

Atsushi groaned, embarrassed at how naturally he’d accepted that order. Dazai, as always like he knew what Atsushi was thinking, laughed softly.   

Atsushi tried to latch onto any kind of irritation at the smugness—he couldn’t just let this man get away with whatever he wanted—but, fuck. His spine was evaporating; his body was going limp and pliant and docile. Dazai was pulling all his strings, moving him exactly how he wanted, and Atsushi would let him get away with anything as long as he kept doing it.

He wanted Dazai to touch him. He wanted Dazai to watch him, he wanted Dazai to think about him all the time, and oh. He was no better than that rabid dog, he was obsessed. He shivered, briefly distracted by the bothersome thought. No, he was better than Akutagawa, he at least had some backbone when it came to Dazai! But then Dazai shifted, got more comfortable, and his cock pressed right where Atsushi wanted it to for just a moment before the undulating to and fro started again and Atsushi’s supposed backbone vanished into the ether as he melted into it.

It was greedy, again. But he wouldn’t let Dazai-san go. He wondered if Dazai understood just how possessive Atsushi was over him. He didn’t think anybody really knew the extent of it. Everybody assumed Atsushi was the sensible one of them, but he felt insane with how much he really wanted Dazai. Constantly and forever and he was not normal about him at all. Dazai just made him look good by comparison because he was openly a weirdo. 

And while Dazai was the one who was into the denial, into the drawn-out edging of pleasure, now he was making Atsushi experience it along with him and Atsushi couldn’t even really mind because Dazai was all over him and that was (almost) as good as coming.

“You’re thinking too much,” Dazai murmured.

Atsushi agreed, actually. “Yeah, help me, please, Dazai-san…”

“Just focus on me,” said Dazai. Like Atsushi ever wasn’t.

But he did try. He let himself be swept under into that headspace where he could only feel, only let it happen to him. Every movement went from Dazai is fucking me and Dazai is touching me and have to wait until Dazai tells me to come to just: Dazai Dazai Dazai!

All of his muscles were lax. He had no idea how long it had been. Every so often Dazai would take a break from moving their hips to kiss along his shoulders or stroke along his sides. Every light touch felt like a wave of pleasure through his whole body. Never quite cresting, but all part of a tidal push and pull controlled by Dazai’s gravity above him. Dazai’s panted breaths on the back of his neck raised goosebumps and even those were an overwhelming stimulation on his skin. Every part of him was a live wire but he was unable to move on his own volition. Just as an extension of Dazai.

Dazai crooned to him, “There we go, I think you’re getting close now, hm?”

Atsushi was groaning and drooling into his pillow and a verbal reply was beyond him, but he shivered as a more heated wave of ecstasy rolled through him just in response to those words. Dazai finally took the hand off of his hip and slipped it around to get between Atsushi and the pillow he was humping. 

He let out a cry as Dazai’s hand closed around his cock, giving a few experimental pulls. 

“So wet,” Dazai said admiringly. “You made quite a little puddle here.”

Atsushi whined, shuddered through another looming wave that wasn’t an orgasm but, fuck, felt almost like one. 

“Here.” Dazai retracted his hand again. Atsushi sucked in a breath as his eyes immediately welled up behind the blindfold. He didn’t have it in him to be truly frustrated at this point, but his whole body felt like he was balanced on a precipice and about to fall and it was so much. Dazai reached and brushed his hand, wet, under the bottom of the cloth to catch a stream of tears. Then he tapped Atsushi’s forehead like he had that morning. Even this touch prompted a haze of staticky bliss in Atsushi’s brain. “Remember, you’re going to feel it up here at the same time.” 

Atsushi didn’t know what he meant but. He’d do anything Dazai wanted.

“Good boy.”

Dazai pulled back and slammed his cock into him. Atsushi wailed. 

Finally, finally being fucked, his body rocked even more firmly into the pillow as Dazai’s hips pistoned into his. The stimulation on his cock and inside of him where Dazai’s length was moving easily into the space he’d been warming and making pliant all day combined into crashing waves, one after another, of overwhelming sensation.

This was going to kill him. There was no way he would survive—

“Come, Atsushi.”

Drool-slick lips parted around a soundless scream as everything in his body lit up at once. His limp muscles finally worked again as they all contracted with long pulses of unbearable pleasure; his fingers scrabbled uselessly at the pillow under his face. His head felt like Dazai had pushed him under the water, a roaring rush in his ears wiping away any semblance of a thought he had left in his brain. 

It just—kept going. Continuous. He kept coming, cock releasing a surge of come he could feel pooling in the pillow underneath him, a seemingly never-ending climax and Atsushi was sobbing as his voice returned in a cracked cry of Osamu!

And then Dazai was there, firm hand on the back of his neck, a grounding point to focus on as Atsushi fought his way through the current and back to shore. When he emerged, gasping, on the other side, Dazai pulled out and pulled away only to haul Atsushi back up and into his lap.

“You did so well, baby, darling,” he whispered as he whisked the blindfold off and pecked kisses all over Atsushi’s face.

“’M gonna kill you,” Atsushi whimpered between hiccuping cries. He blinked his eyes open and snuggled into Dazai’s arms as his boyfriend laughed quietly at him.

“Pretty, pretty~” Dazai ignored his weak threat and continued to kiss him.  

Atsushi submitted to this treatment, even tilting his face into the kisses (and occasional lick at residual tear tracks) while he calmed down.

After a while Dazai was just humming to him, rocking them both slightly, and Atsushi’s body had finally stopped sending mayday signals and calmed into a slump in Dazai’s hold.

There was a knock on the front door.

“Ah, I placed an order to be delivered around dinner time,” Dazai told him, and carefully lifted Atsushi off of his lap and into an unsoiled spot on the futon. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He grabbed up a rumpled pile of clothing from the corner as he went for the door.

Atsushi hummed his agreement. When he glanced at the window, it was in fact getting dark. He didn’t even want to know how long they’d been at it. 

While Dazai was gone he groped for the pillows and grimaced. They were both wet—sweat, tears, saliva, a frankly outrageous amount of his own come. Did Dazai even have spares here? 

When Dazai returned he'd lost the clothes again; probably they'd been abandoned with the topsheet still in the kitchen. He had water and two boxes of pizza. Atsushi rolled his eyes because undoubtedly the empty boxes would be added to the general mess of Dazai’s rooms, but he let that thought fall to the wayside as Dazai insisted on hand-feeding him bites of pizza. At least until the point where Atsushi’s appetite returned with a vengeance and he pulled one of the boxes closer to devour himself while Dazai went to the bathroom. 

When he got back, Dazai just watched him eat with a smug expression. Atsushi decided he’d earned it this time and didn’t call him on it. 

He stood on shaky legs to go to the bathroom and wipe himself down and when he returned, Dazai had tossed the empty boxes to the side of the room and was lying down on the futon looking ready to go to sleep.

His head was on the pillow Atsushi had been rutting into.

“Dazai-san, no!” he whined, horrified. “Please tell me you flipped that over, at least.”

“It’s dry enough!” was the cheerful reply. 

Atsushi shuddered, even as his face turned red. 

“We are showering in the morning. We have work tomorrow and this is just. Super gross,” he insisted. He crawled into the futon with Dazai anyway. Not about to use the other pillow, he rested his head on Dazai’s chest. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dazai grumbled. “Bedtime now.” He reached out without looking and found a tissue box, which he threw at the light switch to turn it off. 

Atsushi nuzzled his face into Dazai’s pectoral to hide his amused snort. 

“Did you have fun today?” Dazai asked sleepily after a few minutes of cuddling in the dark. Like he was inquiring about Atsushi’s day at work rather than the intensive, hours-long sex they’d had.

“Yes,” Atsushi told him. “Also I seriously will kill you if you try that again any time soon.” He’d leave ‘soon’ up to interpretation, though.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Dazai grumbled, and pulled him closer. “My Atsushi. Love you.”

Atsushi both felt and heard Dazai’s breathing change as he conked out soon afterwards, apparently satisfied. 

Well. Mentally satisfied, at least? Now that he wasn’t being driven crazy with a protracted orgasm, Atsushi was 100% positive Dazai had not come at all. Again.

Somehow the thought only made him feel fond. 

He snuggled in, settling down and closing his eyes. 

At least he’d sleep well tonight.

Chapter Text

He was NOT sleeping well, and it was absolutely Dazai’s fault. Yes, said boyfriend was currently asleep and not bothering him in any way, but still. 

Instead, Atsushi was staying perfectly still, in a perfectly comfortable position, even, and lying in wait like sleep might wander by and allow him to pounce on it like a tiger stalking prey. Given his sometimes-unfortunate ability-granted tiger instincts, this was not a good comparison for him to make because now he was even more amped up.

He didn’t want to disturb Dazai, except for how he kind of did. It was Dazai’s fault. Atsushi’s whole body was still thrumming with that steady rhythm his boyfriend had subjected him to all day. Atsushi hadn’t noticed during the initial comedown, but now without food or getting ready for bed or Dazai to distract him it was unignorable.

He was still thinking about the push and pull, the moving together, and the fact that, well. 

Strictly speaking. 

Even though it had been a very nice, very intense orgasm.

Technically! He’d only come one time today. And he’d told Dazai before that wasn’t really…enough. 

His brain had about three seconds to reprimand him for being greedy again before Atsushi brushed the thought away in irritation. He knew better at this point. Dazai didn’t mind; Dazai liked it. Atsushi remembered Dazai had looked practically elated when he'd admitted that.

He also remembered Dazai had sounded kind of into Atsushi, um, doing things while he was asleep. So surely it was fine if he…?

Dazai was on his back with Atsushi’s head on his chest; the arm he’d looped around Atsushi’s back to hold him close had slackened. Which meant Atsushi had a little bit of wiggle room to slowly reach down and palm himself without disturbing him.

It was fine. It was fine, right? Dazai had said it was fine, in that indirect way of his of course, but he’d said so and that meant it wasn’t weird for Atsushi to be touching himself while lying in bed next to his sleeping boyfriend. Right.

He curled his fingers slowly around his cock and found himself already getting hard. 

You get so desperate for it, Dazai had told him once. He’d been in the middle of fucking him and had sounded so pleased about it. 

Atsushi bit his lip, picturing the intent focus on Dazai’s face when he was determined to make him see stars. His dick pulsed in his hand and he realized he’d started stroking himself to the same rhythm from earlier without even realizing it. 

It feels better when Dazai does it, came the slightly forlorn thought, which made him feel so pathetic he stopped and let go. Not…not because he was turned off. Kind of the opposite. 

Desperate, pathetic. Needy. In the dark, touching himself furtively, Dazai unaware of what he was doing right next to him. Fuck. Why was it so hot?

Atsushi exhaled a ragged breath and shifted his hips closer until his cock was pressed against the side of Dazai’s thigh. Even that felt better than just his own touch.

I can use him, he said so, he justified, aware that he wasn’t thinking the most clearly but unable to care. 

Sometimes Atsushi-kun’s dick does the thinking for him, Dazai had said. Atsushi replayed it in his mind but in the dark and turned on as he was, it sounded meaner. More demeaning. He had to stifle a whimper as his hips jerked and his cock dragged against Dazai’s leg. 

Yes, please, I need it, he imagined saying, imagined Dazai laughing darkly in response. His hips moved again, grinding his cock along sleep-warm skin. He shifted his hand behind himself and felt at his entrance—slightly sore and still kind of stretched. They’d been touching almost this whole time, hadn’t they? One finger dipped inside, tugging just slightly at the rim, and like he was on autopilot his hips rocked again in response. It felt so good to touch inside, and to have the pressure against his cock. 

Ah, he was scared of jostling Dazai too much, though. What if he woke up?

Carefully, he pressed the one finger deeper inside. This was something he hadn’t really tried to do by himself. But Dazai always made it seem so easy, making Atsushi come on his fingers and then his—hmm.

Dazai was really asleep, as far as he could tell. Despite the man’s complete control over his own breathing (and apparently heart rate) and his ability to convincingly go limp and even fake the eye movements of being truly asleep, he did have one tell. Atsushi had noticed it when Dazai pretended to sleep at the office. There was a major difference between those on-the-clock naps and the deeper rest Atsushi had been privy to seeing on longer, quiet nights together: Dazai made stupid faces in his sleep.

Atsushi slowly pulled his hand away and sat up leaning on one elbow to examine Dazai’s face. It probably wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone who hadn’t spent a lot of time staring at Dazai, but there were the barest twitches and shifts at the corners of his mouth, at his brow, the eyelids. Little micro-expressions like he was dreaming. As Atsushi watched, he saw those small movements and realized Dazai was actually, truly asleep. 

Letting Atsushi do whatever he wanted. 

It was probably creepy, wasn’t it? Staring at him, rutting against his thigh, touching himself while Dazai slept on. Well, that was another thing that was Dazai’s fault anyway. He was too pretty and he made Atsushi want. 

Enraptured, he reached out and ran his fingers lightly over Dazai’s cock, lying soft and bare on his stomach. He knew Dazai hadn’t come earlier, and unless he was jerking off while Atsushi wasn’t around, he must not have come for at least a few days now. So it made sense that after just a little bit of petting, Dazai started to fill out and harden under his touch. 

“Oh,” Atsushi said quietly. He continued in a whisper to no one except himself, “Dazai-san is getting hard for me.” He gently cupped the head and then ran his thumb up and down at the edge of the foreskin the way he knew Dazai liked…when he was awake. It only took a minute before Dazai’s erection was jutting up fully hard and tempting. 

Atsushi shifted again slowly to sit up all the way. Despite the movement and the, well, fondling, Dazai remained asleep. His breaths were slow and even, in stark contrast with Atsushi’s nervous ones.

He moved carefully, creeping that last little bit closer until he could swing a leg over Dazai’s hips and tentatively rest his weight on his thighs as he straddled him. No reaction. Atsushi’s gaze stayed locked on his sleeping face for any hint of awakening.

When Dazai had mentioned this, he’d been talking about ‘being used.’ Atsushi supposed he was kind of using him like this, playing with his erection and tracing the shape of his balls, more like he was fidgeting with a toy and not trying to get him off. But he wasn’t in the kind of mood he thought Dazai’d been hinting at—asserting and demanding and uncaring about anything except his own pleasure.

He did care about mostly his own needs right now but he was also just…how to explain it? There was a kind of shivery joy he was trying to stifle in the dark and quiet because Dazai was asleep, and the fact that Dazai was asleep when he was usually so paranoid about letting his guard down was making Atsushi feel more smitten than anything.

Dazai-san trusts me. He did actually shiver at the thought. And I love Dazai-san so much.

And. And. He knew he could trust Dazai. Here he was, sneaking around in the dark and just barely daring to imagine Dazai being mean to him or saying something degrading to him, touching himself to the thought, trying to feel good—and it was safe. There would be no sneering voices or punishments if he was caught even attempting to experience pleasure in his own skin, none of that mattered because Dazai was here and he was safe with Dazai.

He really, really wanted to come.

It was easy to find the lube Dazai always had within easy reach of his futon. Taking it slow, Atsushi made sure to warm some in his hand before gently rubbing it along Dazai’s cock. He shoved some inside himself, just inside the rim, with much less care, too eager to do much else and confident his still-stretched body could take it. 

“Osamu-san,” he whispered, a little thrill running up his spine. “I’m going to be really greedy, so I’ll be using this.” He held Dazai’s hard cock firmly in his hand at an angle where it was easy to lift up and seat himself on it.

He took it slowly, watching Dazai’s face. His face twitched and his mouth opened some, but he didn’t wake. 

Atsushi stayed still and waited for Dazai’s breathing to even out again.

“I woke up this morning to you inside me, so this is really just making us even, right?” he whispered. 

Atsushi was more wired than really energetic right now—restless but still sore from spending all day having sex. He wanted the feeling of Dazai inside him and he wanted to come but his tired muscles weren’t prepared to ride Dazai’s cock and fuck himself. Instead he swiveled his hips and clenched down, closing his eyes and feeling the exact way the shaft shaped the give of his insides. He did lift up again, just a little, only to come back down and feel the way the slightly different angle brushed along his prostate.

He did that a few times, taking it slow and with long breaks in between. He figured it would be easy, with how pent-up Dazai must be, to make his boyfriend come inside of him while he was unaware. But he didn’t want to end that game just yet, so he was careful and stopped completely any time Dazai shifted like he might wake up or his hips twitched in his sleep. Maybe he was dreaming about fucking Atsushi?

His own dick jumped. He was dripping pre-come onto Dazai’s stomach.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” he breathed out as he shifted again in a way that nudged Dazai’s cock right into the bundle of nerves he wanted. “Not even awake and I’m still doing this the way you wanted me to.” 

The stop-and-start movement really did remind him of how Dazai had kept him on edge all day. Atsushi was pretty sure he’d be able to come like this, though. He was too turned on by Dazai leaving himself in his hands like this. 

He kept grinding himself down, wondering if he could come without touching. He pictured it again: Dazai’s voice, Dazai’s gaze on him. Atsushi-kun just needs to be filled, hm? Needs a cock inside of him this badly? Are you that desperate for it?

“Yes,” Atsushi whimpered. His hips jerked and he tightened harder than he meant to as a jolt of heat went through him. 

Dazai stirred with a little nnnnn? noise. His breathing was getting heavier and his face was flushed.

Fuck it. 

Atsushi raised himself up and started to move faster.

“Osamu-san,” he whined, a little louder. 

Dazai’s eyes blinked open gradually as Atsushi continued to ride him with increasing fervor, ignoring the aching twinge in his legs in favor of chasing his peak.

“Mm, ah—?” Dazai didn’t snap awake or startle, just roused slowly. Still pliant underneath him. Atsushi groaned.

Finally, Dazai’s gaze focused on him. He still looked bleary-eyed but he was awake enough to smile before he sighed and murmured, “Oh, this is a good dream. Atsushi-kun…” He trailed off with another heavy sigh.

“I needed to come again,” Atsushi informed him, well past caring how that sentence sounded coming out of his mouth. Dazai just made another half-asleep questioning noise, but now that the prospect of having Dazai’s attention was there Atsushi didn’t want him to go back to sleep. So he said, “And it’s your fault, so take some responsibility for your actions.”

It came out, without him really thinking it through, as an obvious impression of Kunikida scolding Dazai for slacking off at the office—take some responsibility, damn you!

Dazai woke up more fully as he spluttered out a surprised laugh. “Don’t imitate him in bed!”

Atsushi slowed again, aware he’d definitely changed the mood but unable to be upset about it when he heard the sound of Dazai’s genuine, if tired, laughter. “You’re the one who started it, making me think he’d walk in on us!” he protested, biting back a smile.

Dazai hummed a noise that wasn’t agreement or disagreement. His eyes closed again, but he lifted one hand and placed it without looking right on Atsushi’s thigh. “Trying to pass the blame off, I see. ‘S a good tactic, I must be rubbing off on you.”

Actually I was rubbing off on you earlier, Atsushi didn’t say. Bad pun.

Dazai’s thumb started stroking soft and absent-minded circles on his thigh. Atsushi stilled to savor the small touch.

“Y’gonna come like this? Hmm?” He’d gotten even quieter. Words slower and less enunciated. Drifting off again.

Atsushi sighed out a quiet yeah as he resumed riding him. Dazai’s hand slipped off his thigh and fell back to the futon but that was okay. Atsushi’s thighs burned with effort as he tried to keep his movements almost gentle. Soothing. Like he was going to rock him back to sleep with the rocking of his hips.

But then Dazai’s eyes opened just a little, enough for Atsushi to see the small glimmer of moonlight reflected in them, and he said, “Needed to come again but didn’t even need me for it. Just needed something inside you.”

It was a little mean and it was a little too much—Atsushi came with a bit-off cry. All over Dazai’s stomach. 

Dazai laughed softly and closed his eyes. “Atsushi-kun’s so cute,” he murmured. He sounded exhausted. 

“Sorry for the mess,” Atsushi whispered. 

No reply except a small sigh. 

Atsushi carefully lifted off of Dazai’s cock—still hard, still had not come—and fumbled for a discarded shirt near the futon to carefully wipe off Dazai’s abdomen. He tossed the shirt in the general direction of the laundry pile and mentally added getting a hamper for dirty clothes to his list of things needed for this dorm. Then he just sat for a moment, looking.

He always thought Dazai was pretty, but at night he was a particular beauty. His soft hair, his long lashes, everything turned even darker like ink in the shadows of nighttime. He wanted to reach out and touch, but it seemed like maybe Dazai’d already fallen back asleep.

Except, no. Dazai stirred one more time. Tilted his head in Atsushi’s direction like he knew he was being stared at even without opening his eyes. Atsushi took the implied invitation with a giddy sigh and kissed him, also taking the opportunity to run his hand through Dazai’s hair once or twice. 

When he pulled away, Dazai was firmly asleep again.

This time when Atsushi lay down and cuddled close, he felt his own eyelids weighing down. He briefly thought about Dazai not coming again, then the possibility of asking his boyfriend to say more mean things to him sometimes, and even more briefly about taking a shower in the morning.

Then he was asleep, and dreaming. 

Atsushi woke up, again, to Dazai moving behind him. Not inside this time, but Dazai was rutting between Atsushi’s thighs with an abandon that was unlike him so early in the morning.

Atsushi whimpered a bit as the head of Dazai’s cock pushed against the back of his balls. Dazai groaned and tightened his arms around Atsushi’s waist. 

He was panting. “Fuck,” was muttered into Atsushi’s ear, and it was almost a whine with how out of it Dazai sounded. Atsushi moved his head, trying to get a view, and it was hard to see at this angle but he was pretty sure Dazai’s eyes were screwed shut. 

The alarm on his phone went off.

Dazai jolted. 

Had he…still been asleep? Wow. Wow, he really was pent up.

“Time to get ready for work,” Atsushi blurted out as Dazai stopped moving and blinked fully awake.

“Fff—huh?” 

“We have to get up! Come on, Dazai-san.”

Dazai made a long and drawn-out noise of protest. “I am up, Atsushi.” He rolled his hips for emphasis; Atsushi yelped.

“We need to take a shower so bad, and we cannot be late for work, especially with how we left last week!” He slapped at Dazai’s hands. “Shower, shower, come on.”

“Technically we stayed late last week,” Dazai grumbled into the back of his neck. But he did relinquish his hold, allowing Atsushi to roll out of the futon and turn off the alarm before standing up. 

When Atsushi looked down on Dazai still in bed, rumpled and sleep-soft except for the dark and promising look in his eyes and the prominent erection, he was, admittedly, tempted to get back in. But he held strong and pointed towards the bathroom.

“Shower. Then breakfast.”

“Whatever you say, Atsushi-kun.”

So yeah. They were late to work.

His mistake was allowing Dazai to shower with him, to be honest. He’d justified it as making sure Dazai actually got clean considering how dirty they’d gotten the futon over the weekend. But then Dazai, with that dark and intense gaze that seemed to be able to convince Atsushi to do anything, had been determined to get on his knees and suck Atsushi off with an itadakimasu~! 

At that point they were already going to be late so Atsushi had insisted on making a proper breakfast. For a few reasons, honestly. One, they both needed  plenty of sustenance to make up for their, ahem, weekend activities. Two, he really liked feeding Dazai and seeing him eat the food he’d made. 

And three, he wasn’t looking forward to seeing if Kunikida had bought the can’t you see he’s crying thing on Friday.

They walked quickly to the office after they ate, Atsushi hustling them along while Dazai supplied various bizarre or incomprehensible or obscene scenarios for the cause of his supposed crying fit, in case Kunikida asked.

"I'm not saying that," Atsushi hissed at him as they neared the building, in response to a suggestion that involved too-tight lacy underwear. "The point is for him to NOT think we're huge perverts!" Dazai just wiggled his eyebrows. "Or at least that I'm not a huge pervert," Atsushi amended.

Thankfully, when they arrived Kunikida didn’t ask. He did, however, spend a solid ten minutes berating them both for being late. It was unfortunate that he used the phrase “don’t let this waste of bandages rub off on you” during it because then Atsushi had to avoid making eye contact with Dazai all morning for fear he’d break into hysterics.

Atsushi worked on the report he’d neglected Friday afternoon, and the report that Dazai had neglected Friday afternoon, with repeated insistence that Dazai should do his own reports. Kunikida was in a meeting about finances with the President most of the morning, which allowed them to quietly bicker through the early hours of work with occasional amused comments from their other coworkers. 

It was a sunny and easy Monday morning. 

The office scattered for lunch. Kyouka-chan and Kunikida had brought prepared lunches, but everyone else went out to forage at the surrounding stores and cafes. Usually Atsushi would have also used his Sunday to prep something for the first day or two of the work week, but, well, he’d been distracted. So instead he followed Dazai to a convenience store and they scarfed down sandwiches and cold drinks in the park before meandering back to the agency.

Atsushi was ready to get back to work, but Dazai had been extra touchy-feely all morning and he was letting himself enjoy the affection even if it meant being a few minutes late getting back from their lunch break. Hopefully Kunikida wouldn’t notice.

Dazai pulled him to a stop on the landing of the stairwell as they headed up, and Atsushi allowed him to back him into the corner and against the wall. Dazai had one hand on the wall next to his head and the other on his waist, as if Atsushi had any intention of escaping. 

“We could just ditch work completely,” Dazai started to suggest.

Atsushi was already shaking his head. “No way, we already got in trouble this morning.”

“So what’s a little more?” Dazai wheedled, giving an exaggerated pout and pleading eyes. 

“We should start the week strong,” argued Atsushi. “If we start slacking off on Monday it just sets a bad precedent for the rest of the week.”

“Just because we’re not in the office doesn’t mean we can’t get anything done. In fact,” Dazai dropped the faux-sulky expression and his gaze turned more devious as he continued, “I think we could get a good amount of work in away from the office.” He leaned in and Atsushi automatically leaned in also to hear Dazai’s whisper of, “How many times do you think I could get you to come this afternoon?”

Atsushi forced himself to don a scowl so Dazai wouldn’t see how tempting the offer was, although he was sure the way his face was turning red was a giveaway. “Should have considered that yesterday, then. Also!” He glanced around, listened, didn’t hear anyone coming and so he reached down and cupped his hand the clothed shape of Dazai’s dick in his pants. “I think you’re just being needy because you haven’t come in like a week. How long are you going to keep this up?” He fiddled with the fly a little bit, just because he could.

Dazai groaned and pinned him to the wall more forcefully. “Not nice to tease, Atsushi-kun. And anyway, I was offering to get you off.” He shoved his knee between Atsushi’s legs, then huddled in close so his thigh was pressing against him and Atsushi could grind down on it. Which he was not going to do! Because they had to go back to work!

Except then he thought of rubbing against the side of a sleeping Dazai’s thigh the night before and got flustered, and—before he knew what he was doing!—he rocked his hips a little bit. 

Dazai grinned, cat who caught the canary, and ducked in to kiss at Atsushi’s neck. “You know yesterday, when you came,” he murmured between soft kisses and the occasional bite, “the first time, I mean. You called me Osamu.”

Atsushi squeaked. 

“I liked it a lot,” Dazai confided. His breath was warm on Atsushi’s skin.

Okay, fuck, he was definitely maybe kind of riding Dazai’s thigh a little bit. “O—Osa—” He got partway through choking out the name but then he heard—

Footsteps. Someone was about to come up the stairs. And those footsteps were burned into his brain after the close calls; it was definitely Kunikida.

Atsushi shoved Dazai away with a whisper-shriek of sorry sorry oh shit! and fled up the stairs and into the office. He was sitting at his desk within seconds, flushed and ignoring the odd looks he was getting from everyone else back at their own work stations.

Kunikida walked in a minute later, frowning over a travel cup of coffee from Café Uzumaki downstairs. 

“Dazai was in the stairwell banging his head against the wall like a lunatic,” he announced. “Atsushi, sorry to dump this on you but you’ll have to split some of his overdue reports with Tanizaki again. Whatever it is that’s wrong with him today, I doubt he’ll get much work done.”

“Hai!” Atsushi replied, way too loudly. Kunikida startled a little and gave him an exasperated look, but thankfully let it go without further comment.

Dazai defied Kunikida’s expectations and arrived fifteen minutes later, overly cheerful and smiling dazzlingly. When he sat down at his desk he leaned over to take back the reports Atsushi’d been planning to finish for him and took the opportunity to hiss I’ll get you back for that before he went to work. 

Kunikida gave them both suspicious looks but didn’t say anything, probably for fear of discouraging this rare bout of productivity from Dazai.

Dazai did make a decent dent in his paperwork, but by midafternoon he was complaining loudly about wanting to be done for the day. Kunikida looked increasingly twitchy.

“What do you have to do that’s more important than this?” he finally snapped, pointing a pen at Dazai like he was considering stabbing him with it.

Dazai sighed dramatically. “I wanted to take Atsushi-kun on a date after work,” he said. “And you expect me to care about,” he waved a piece of paper around, “trip expenses when I could be holding my boyfriend’s hand or making him feed me bites of cake?”

There was a brief moment of total silence and then the office erupted with various cries of BOYFRIEND? DATE? And at least one what kind of cake? from Ranpo.

Atsushi blinked rapidly, wondering if he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. But then Kenji was patting him on the back and Kyouka had come over to mutter finally, and he realized no, that had actually just happened.

It wasn’t like they’d been hiding it, exactly, but he’d figured Dazai wanted to keep their personal lives private. As private as they could be considering they worked in a detective agency.

So unexpectedly going public with their relationship had not been on his agenda for the day, but...it was nice. Or was he maybe making too big a deal of it? He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair and he knew he was blushing again, so maybe Dazai had just been going for a reaction again as payback for the stairs thing earlier. He did have that smug look on his face.

Then Yosano-sensei said, “Yeah, yeah, you bagged a cutie, don’t look so proud of yourself.” Dazai stuck his tongue out at her, then turned to Atsushi and grinned.

Atsushi could feel the words I love you I love you bubbling up from his heart to his throat but he held back; that was probably a little too much for the office. Instead he accepted Tanizaki and Kenji’s congratulations with an embarrassed but pleased smile. Even Fukuzawa came out to see what the commotion was about and offered the two of them a pleased nod.

Everyone was thoroughly distracted as Yosano cajoled Dazai into retelling a highly fictionalized and also highly-watered-down account of how long they’d been dating and how they’d gotten together, so Atsushi was the only one who noticed the impending danger.

Kunikida’s brow had furrowed, and he looked to be thinking something over—and Atsushi could guess what realization he was about to come to.

“When you were here late on Friday—” Kunikida started to say when he noticed Atsushi’s panicked look in his direction.

“MY FISH DIED!!” Atsushi blurted out at top volume. Totally apropos of nothing to everyone else, who stopped their discussion to stare at him. Kunikida looked horrified, oh shit there was no way he’d bought that, but Dazai burst out laughing.

“Fish…?” Kyouka asked. Who would know full well there was no fish tank in their dorm. 

“Anyway!” Dazai interrupted. “Like I was saying!” He launched into a tangent, something about the beauty of Atsushi-kun’s eyes, like the sunset they enchanted me, and Atsushi was at least partially distracted from his abject embarrassment by the way that Dazai was smiling. It was a helpless, warm, open smile, and he still sounded a little breathless from his laughter. 

Atsushi wasn’t the only one staring. Dazai looked visibly, obviously happy. The others were smiling along with him, prodding him into giving extra details about whatever sappy thing he was saying now.

Atsushi ignored the way Kunikida had pressed a file over his face to cover a silent scream and instead focused on Dazai explaining that he had, apparently, “The most beautiful eyes in the world!”

“Dazai-san’s are prettier,” he protested on reflex. Which they were! They were dark and deep and gorgeous. 

He flushed as all of his coworkers (his friends) rounded on him to tell him his eyes were pretty and unique. Dazai looked a little red himself, having trailed off at Atsushi’s declaration. 

Eventually Kunikida couldn’t hold himself back and shrieked at them all to finish their work. Everyone went back to their desks reluctantly. Kunikida gave Dazai and Atsushi one more threatening look before offering a gruff, “Congratulations. If you finish then you can leave for your date. And if I ever catch you in here after-hours again…” His grip tightened, wrinkling the paper in his hands, before he visibly calmed himself and left the implied threat hanging.

Dazai gave him a jaunty salute and started scribbling away at his reports again. It remained to be seen how seriously he was taking them, but he seemed satisfied to have caused a commotion at least.

They left the office twenty minutes early, and Dazai did indeed drag him to a café and make Atsushi feed him bites of cake. He would have dragged him home, too, but Kyouka appeared out of nowhere and insisted Atsushi come back with her to debrief about the whole relationship thing. Dazai pouted, but relented after an intense and silent staredown between the two of them. 

Atsushi was a little glad for it. He did miss spending time with Kyouka after work. He’d have to make sure to not let Dazai monopolize all his time.

But Monday night ended up being the only night Atsushi spent at his own place, because every other night that week Dazai was extremely insistent on getting Atsushi into his futon (and on his couch and his floor and the kitchen counter again) and driving him crazy. Dazai seemed to be going crazy—more than usual, even. He was relentlessly horny and clingy and whiny. Even the ADA was noticing, now that the relationship was known, how extra Dazai was being in his affection.

“FIX whatever is wrong with him!” Kunikida barked after catching Dazai trying to feel Atsushi up right at their desks. And he kicked them out of the office a full three hours early on Friday afternoon. 

Two weeks. It had been two weeks now that Dazai hadn’t come, and Atsushi knew that he had to do something about it because this was getting ridiculous. Enough was enough. 

Dazai had also decided enough was enough, apparently, because he was on him as soon as he got Atsushi through the door.

Pushy, demanding, a little mean—it was like when they’d first started having sex as Dazai bullied him into various positions around the dorm, wringing orgasms out of him like it was his job.

Atsushi was on the floor, on his hands and knees. He was fighting the urge to arch his back and present like a cat, not least because he’d never hear the end of it. But from behind him he could hear these obscene, wet noises that were just audible over the sound of his own heavy panting and his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t help but think about the fact that he was wet because Dazai was inside him, because he’d licked his way in and then pushed the cold slick of lube inside with his fingers and then warmed it with the searing length of his cock. Now he’d be leaking precome inside and if he’d just let go of the damn “hint” thing he could fill Atsushi up further. 

The thought made Atsushi pant even more and make embarrassing, high-pitched noises as Dazai moved inside of him. Dazai started pounding harder at the sound and the wet noises became louder until Atsushi was gasping, and crying, and he didn’t know which way was up or down. The only thing that would make the way the world was spinning make any sense would be if Dazai would just touch him. 

“I’m already touching you,” Dazai said behind him, smug if breathless, because apparently he’d said some of that out loud and Dazai was the most annoying man in the world. 

Yes, he was technically touching him but it wasn’t enough, Atsushi wanted more, all the time he wanted more—

He just barely had the presence of mind to whine out, “Please!” and finally arch his back, twisting to make teary eye contact with Dazai. 

As soon as Dazai saw the tears he relented and reached around for Atsushi’s cock. The moment his hand brushed against him, Atsushi was gone.

Atsushi whimpered as come splattered onto the floor beneath him and his arms gave out at almost the same time. He managed to catch himself before he faceplanted, but that was about the extent he was able to move as he went limp. In a familiar move, Dazai got an arm around his waist and pulled him backwards so he was instead sitting impaled on Dazai’s cock. 

Atsushi groaned, both at the feeling of being full and the hand still playing with his oversensitive but still half-hard erection. “Can’t,” he gasped out. “Can’t, can’t—”

“Oh?” Dazai, the bastard, started to move his hand away. 

Atsushi reached up automatically and clawed backwards at Dazai’s shoulder. “Don’t pull away from me,” he insisted. No matter what else he said, Dazai not touching him was the last thing he wanted.

Dazai huffed out a surprised breath of a laugh, but then pressed a smile into the side of Atsushi’s neck. “Okay, if Atsushi-kun insists. I’ll keep touching him.”

Atsushi hummed out a slightly bratty-sounding noise of agreement. He opened his mouth to say something else, though he wasn’t sure what it would be. “Osamu-san,” was all that came out. 

Dazai understood. “Yeah, I’ll stay right here, you have me,” he crooned in his ear as he started pumping Atsushi back to full hardness. Atsushi whined and thrashed his way through the pangs of overstimulation until he came, again, all over Dazai’s hand. 

Dazai did give him a slight break at that point, lifting Atsushi off of him and carrying him over to the couch. 

Atsushi had fond memories of this couch. Dazai had told him he loved him for the first time here, granted in a somewhat bizarre context. He eyed Dazai’s smug smile where the man was sitting next to him with an expectant air. 

What was it that was making Dazai hold out for so long? He’d long made his point about using him or whatever. So why was he still driving himself, and Atsushi by extension, crazy by holding off from just coming already?

Dazai looked smug, and flushed, and arrogant, and turned on, and disheveled. And so, so in love.

For me, Atsushi realized. And it made sense, in the way the Dazai’s unnecessary schemes didn’t really make sense but Atsushi went along with them anyway.

Dazai was waiting for Atsushi to let him come.

“You’re impossible,” he groaned. Dazai fluttered his eyelashes at him, playing coy.

“Sit facing me,” Atsushi demanded. He also sat up from where he’d been slumped to turn towards Dazai, holding out a hand. “And give me your hand.” 

Dazai followed the instructions easily. Atsushi could feel himself flushing, a pinprick itching of embarrassment at being so bossy that fizzed at the edges into the sparking, consuming haze of his own desire to get off, and to touch Dazai, and to have Dazai touch him. It would have been a helpless feeling, except for the fact that Dazai was waiting patiently for further instructions.

Atsushi moved the hand that had been placed in his to Dazai’s cock, and then reached for his own returning erection. 

“I haven’t done this very much,” he said. Like he used to when they’d first started to have sex. He managed to keep his voice only mostly steady. “Can you show me? How should I touch myself, Osamu-san?”

Dazai hissed out a breath and tightened his grip on himself. “Yeah, yeah of course, baby, just do what I do.” He started to move his hand, up and down, and trailed off into a groan.

Atsushi watched him. Watched his hand and his perfect cock with a pearl of precome beading at the tip, watched the way his expression went a little slack and his pupils blacked out most of his irises as they dilated. He copied Dazai’s movements as he watched, carefully keeping his own hand moving in time with Dazai as they touched themselves together. 

Dazai was watching him, too. Probably the same things, based on where his gaze was flickering: hand, shaft, expression. Even now, he was more focused on Atsushi than on himself, stroking at the exact pace and tightness that Atsushi preferred.

“You really like this, huh?” Atsushi asked. He’d known, by this point, but it was still a little surprising just how much Dazai liked it.

Dazai, ever the sadist—or was it masochist in this situation?—squeezed at the base of his cock and watched Atsushi groan and obediently copy the motion. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, even as he continued to drive Atsushi crazy by starting to caress his balls instead.

It was a rare affectionate truth, which Atsushi figured Dazai had only managed to say so openly because he was starting to lose it. Dazai was the one, out of the two of them, that really enjoyed having his balls played with. If he was doing that instead of just what he thought Atsushi would like, he had to be close. 

Atsushi whined a little when they went back to the shaft, thumbing at the foreskin the way Dazai preferred. It was a noise he would have called pathetic if it hadn’t been for Dazai making an incoherent whimpering sound at the exact same time. Atsushi couldn’t help himself; he tilted forward and met Dazai in a sloppy kiss. They both whined into it.

When he pulled back, Dazai was open-mouthed and dark-eyed and panting and so, totally focused on Atsushi even as he pulled himself closer to the edge. 

“Osamu-san,” Atsushi whispered. “I want—”

“Whatever you want,” Dazai said immediately, like he always did. 

“I want you to come.”

Atsushi got to admire the stunned, blissed-out expression Dazai made in close quarters as he came with a cry. It took a while for Dazai to shake through it, gasping and keening. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and Atsushi had a moment to think oh, is that what he likes about seeing me cry? before he was coming also. He leaned in again and muffled the sounds of his own release against the last of Dazai’s in another messy kiss. 

Dazai was making little mmmm and gasping noises against his lips. Atsushi lost focus for a bit. He had barely enough presence of mind to make out with his boyfriend, but he didn’t come back to full awareness until Dazai recovered enough to start murmuring, “Atsushi, Atsushi, Atsushi” as he shifted to pressing small kisses all over Atsushi’s face.

When he pulled away he realized they both still had their hands loosely circling their dicks and there was, hmm, a lot of come on their hands and stomachs and upper thighs and not really anything around to wipe it off on except the couch. Then he was looking at Dazai’s come in particular and thinking, that’s kind of a waste.

“Oh? What’s that expression for?” Dazai asked him, a little breathless still. 

“Osamu-san, I think you should come on my face,” Atsushi said appraisingly. 

Dazai made a choked off noise. “Huh?!”

“And,” he added, “then you should come inside me.” He’d had fun playing Dazai’s denial game but now he wanted to make his boyfriend come a lot and he wanted the evidence all over him and inside of him. He wanted, and Dazai would give him what he wanted if he asked. And maybe he was going mad with power but he’d be a benevolent ruler and make sure Dazai got whatever he wanted from Atsushi, too.

Dazai blinked like his brain had just shorted out. Which maybe it had, after coming so hard and for the first time in two weeks.

“I want you to come inside me,” Atsushi insisted, starting to clamber into Dazai’s lap. 

Dazai’s arms opened for him and he pulled Atsushi close. “...Right. Fuck. Okay, just give me a second.”

Atsushi wiggled pointedly, feeling where Dazai was already getting hard again under him.

Dazai groaned, which turned into an affectionate laugh. “Mmm. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another truth, freely given. “Alright, bring it on.” He nipped at Atsushi’s ear. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. You’ll have my come dripping out of you.”

He let Atsushi shove him back onto the couch under the onslaught of another enthusiastic kiss.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too, he could have said, but in this moment he felt he didn’t need to say it out loud. 

In his touch, in his kiss, in his eyes, every way he could think of and sometimes yes, in words, he’d always tell Dazai:

I understand. You’re mine, I’m yours. I love you, I trust you. 

He’d keep telling him for as long as they were alive.

And for today…until they both passed out from exhaustion.