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It's late. Far too late for Chuuya to even still be here. He should be at home, feet propped up comfortably in bed while he drinks himself into a stupor.
It's been a long day. An operation he'd been overseeing had gone wrong, and he ends up having to run back and forth between strategizers and assault squads and cleanup crew in order to get the problem fixed. But it's dealt with now, and he's exhausted.
He's practically stomping down the hallway from his office to the elevators, shoulders stiff, pulled impossibly tight. He really needs that fucking drink.
His freedom is nearly within reach, when a pair of hands are suddenly wrapping themselves around his torso, pulling him back into an alcove tucked between two other offices. The hands immediately slide towards his belt buckle, deftly undoing the clasp, and tugging at his zipper.
For a moment, panic wracks his body. A small gasp escapes his lips and he's wondering who's stupid enough to pull a stunt like this with him of all people. Chuuya reaches within himself for Tainted Sorrow, ready to completely annihilate his attacker. It's only when he comes up empty, nullification ability settling comfortably into his skin, that his panic turns into irritation. That's who'd be stupid enough.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Chuuya hisses, grabbing the bandaged freak's wrists, stilling them with a tight grip.
Unfortunately for Chuuya, those long, skinny fingers manage to slip their way into his trouser pockets, gently massaging tiny circles into his hips. It's entirely too distracting.
He can't see the bastard's face but he knows he's smiling.
"What does Chuuya think I'm doing?" Is Dazai's reply, breath ghosting along the shell of Chuuya's ear. He'd be lying if he said it didn't illicit a shiver from him.
They haven't seen each other much as of late. It's been weeks, actually. Dazai is mostly assigned to executive desk work these days, and Chuuya has become something of a diplomat, traveling far more frequently than he ever did when they were younger.
It's not like they're going out of their way to spend what little free time they have together, either.
When Dazai's not preoccupied tormenting that Akutagawa kid with his bizarre idea of training, he's down at that old rundown bar with his new little friend group. Chuuya hadn't understood the slight twinge of jealousy he felt when he learned that Dazai has friends now. He should be more than happy to let the idiot be someone else's problem.
They may still be feared together as Double Black, and they are undoubtedly just as sharp and dangerous as always, but their collaborations are practically non-existent now. This little interaction has definitely caught Chuuya off guard.
Dazai's fingers are still lazily tracing patterns wherever they're able to touch. His chin is resting on Chuuya's shoulder, nosing at the space where neck meets soft curls. He's also undeniably hard, pressed close against the swell of Chuuya's ass.
Chuuya lets out a huff of frustration. "I think that you're preventing me from going home." He's really not in the mood for this right now.
Letting go of Dazai's wrists was his first mistake. The second he does, the hands are retreating from his pockets and grabbing at his chest instead, locking him into place. Dazai's hips push against him and Chuuya is forced to lean forward to accommodate.
He feels somewhat helpless like this, eyes landing on two sets of brightly shined dress shoes.
"I promise I'll be quick." Dazai nearly whines, rolling his hips again, trying to create a little more friction between them.
Chuuya wonders what's got him so worked up tonight. It's not like he's the one who had the horribly busy and stressful day. The thought has Chuuya feeling especially annoyed, and he's elbowing Dazai in the side in an attempt to push him off.
"Mean! Chuuya is so mean!" Another whine, but Dazai's hands don't seem to be going anywhere. One of them begins to drift downwards instead, heading straight for the open space where Chuuya's zipper had been so rudely yanked down earlier.
Chuuya jerks, trying to straighten himself out, but he knows it's pointless when Dazai's like this. It's not that he doesn't want this, it's just. He really wanted to go home and drink more.
He's about to open his mouth for another attempt at protest, when Dazai's murmuring into his ear. "Missed you." He says, soft, so soft that Chuuya could be convinced he hallucinated it. But he didn't, and Dazai sounds so sincere that Chuuya is sucking in a sharp breath, teeth digging into his bottom lip.
Fucking bastard.
Dazai takes this as his cue to fully grope at him now, sliding a hand over Chuuya's cock and squeezing him through his underwear. Chuuya stifles a groan and leans his head back against his partner's shoulder.
"Been too long." Dazai says, grinding his hips against Chuuya's backside. "Missed this."
His one hand continues its ministrations, palm pressing into the base of Chuuya's rapidly growing erection. The other is undoing the top few buttons of Chuuya's dress shirt, fingertips skidding across his collarbones and reaching over to play with his chest.
It's definitely been too long because Chuuya feels like his skin is on fire.
Dazai's mouth is on his neck now, tongue running against the leather of his choker, and Chuuya rolls his own hips back in response, grinding against him hard. He feels Dazai's teeth nip at him, and he's letting out a much louder moan, reveberating through the narrow walls of the hallway.
It only then occurs to him that they're still standing in the middle of the fucking hallway.
"Oi, Dazai, we can't-" Temporarily returning to his senses, Chuuya's eyes dart in the direction of his office. He can't imagine anyone else would be here working this late, but what if?
"Shh, don't worry about that." Dazai's hushing him, hand that was previously on his chest now carding through his hair, attempting to distract him. It nearly works.
"Shitty bastard, what if someone sees us?" Chuuya snaps in response, once again trying to pull away.
"Lucky them?" Dazai says casually, and then he's pulling Chuuya's boxers down, wrapping his stupidly large hand around the base of his dick and giving him a particularly unforgiving stroke.
Chuuya knees nearly buckle. He lets out another loud sound of pleasure, and slaps his own hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle it.
"If Chuuya is really so worried about the noise though..." Almost immediately, Dazai is pulling Chuuya's hand away and replacing it with a few fingers of his own.
Chuuya fully moans at this, tongue working around the intruders. His eyes slip shut.
Dazai's other hand is thumbing at the head of his cock now, smearing precum along his shaft when he strokes downward once more.
Chuuya honestly isn't sure how much longer he's going to last. It's pathetic, really, but now that he's thinking about it, he really-
"Haven't touched yourself in a while, have you?" Dazai finishes the thought for him, and Chuuya can feel his smug grin. Creepy ass mind-reader. "Chuuya's been so busy lately. No time for himself." He coos. It's almost unfair how steady his voice remains, even when Chuuya is working his hips overtime, slotting Dazai's dick in-between his ass. Still too many layers, he thinks. Chuuya can only mumble out a response, mouth still currently occupied.
"I know, baby." The fingers in his mouth twist, causing him to gag a bit. He can feel spit pooling, trickling down his chin. "No time for me, either."
Dazai presses his face into Chuuya's neck, bites at the expanse of skin hard enough to leave a bruise. His hand is picking up speed on his dick.
Chuuya feels dizzy, and he's no longer bothering to rub off against Dazai anymore. Instead, he cants his hips forward in an attempt to fuck the hand that's wrapped around him so tight. Dazai lets him, hand stuttering against the movement.
It's suddenly all too much. Chuuya practically wails against the fingers in his mouth, teeth biting down hard. His breath hitches and he's suddenly coming, spilling over Dazai's hand and most definitely staining his pants and maybe even the carpet. He doesn't think he can be bothered to care right now.
The fingers in his mouth are gone now and he's being turned, Dazai capturing his lips in a deep kiss, his arms wrapping around Chuuya's waist and bringing him in close.
Chuuya attempts to slide his hand between them, intent on finishing Dazai off himself, only to immediately faulter. The front of Dazai's slacks sport a growing wet stain, and Chuuya would laugh if it wasn't so fucking hot.
They break apart, leaning against one another for support, panting heavy. A thin line of saliva hangs between them and Chuuya licks it away, hands coming up to cup Dazai's face.
He looks tired. More so than usual. He'd also been noticably less talkative, not bothering to tease and provoke and edge the way he would normally. Chuuya would ask about it but he knows he'd never be able to get a straight answer out of him.
Instead, he's leaning in for another kiss, mouth parting as Dazai tucks him back into his pants. They can talk later. They've got some catching up to do.