Work Text:
The first time Chuuya went to a Port Mafia party was the day he turned sixteen. The light breeze of the spring night played with his red locks, cooling the excited flush on his cheeks as he walked down the road with the Flags, chatting lightheartedly with his friends as they headed to the club to celebrate.
Chuuya’d always thought he lived his life without inhibitions, even when he still bore the burden of leading the Sheep, not realizing just how much he was missing until he met his new companion and an entirely new set of doors started to open for him. The seemingly never-ending amount of alcohol, the drugs, the girls, and occasionally, boys was something he never imagined he’d have access to one day.
While he enjoyed his wine, sipping from fancy glasses by Kouyou’s side, chatting idly with the woman and learning the ways of the mafia one day at a time, the world suddenly opened up when he was with the Flags. There wasn’t anything he desired that he couldn’t get his hands on. A dangerous kind of freedom he reveled in.
The Flags have been dead set on including Chuuya in everything — be it in or out of work, they wanted Chuuya to live to the fullest, and experience everything life could offer.
And then one day, they were all gone just like that, slaughtered like animals, leaving Chuuya with a gaping hole inside his chest.
After Verlain’s rampage and the horrors he went through in its wake, Chuuya started to visit the parties for an entirely different reason. He wasn’t living anymore; he was there to seek even the tiniest bit of warmth, the comfort of companionship, even if it was just for a night. He was searching for his friends in the faces of the indifferent masses, something that could make him feel like he belonged again.
The remnants of his childhood wonder and excitement —, the giddiness he felt whenever Albatross cracked a bad joke, Doc’s mischievous smirk as he nudged Chuuya’s shoulder to point something out, Iceman’s indulging gaze as he passed him the lighter, or Lippmann and Piano Man’s shared glances before they went on a ramble about their next crazy idea for the group, — were all gone.
But Chuuya tried, nonetheless.
New coworkers came and went, trembling teenagers and hardened adults alike, and Chuuya, even as he rose in the ranks with the rapidity of a wildfire, made sure to show the same inclusivity to his subordinates that he once received from the Flags. The people around him not only respected him for his power, or regarded him simply as one side of the feared Double Black, but they actually liked Chuuya as a person.
And surrounded by them, Chuuya embraced the lifestyle and enjoyed it to the fullest just as the Flags wished he would. He truly tried for them.
While Chuuya let himself loose and reveled in the attention, his partner, Dazai, was the complete opposite.
Dazai wasn’t unfamiliar with the parties, he’d been around a lot back when Chuuya was still learning his way through them, — sharing glances across the club while throwing back shots, and bumping into each other in back alleys as they both sneaked away with their faceless, nameless conquest of the night, — but after the Flags’ death, and Chuuya’s shift in demeanor, he caught sight of his partner less and less.
Not that he cared. It’s not like Chuuya spent his nights dwelling on the fact that his annoying fuckhead of a partner rather spent his nights sipping whiskey with his two boring friends in a shitty little bar instead of making eye contact with him over the head of the crowd as they both fooled around. It wasn’t his business, no.
At best, they were coworkers — partners, if you must, — and Chuuya wasn’t Dazai’s keeper. He was having fun, so much in fact that his chest felt like it was bursting with it, so there was no reason for him to feel jealous of what Dazai had going on with his precious Odasaku and that rat with the glasses, Sakaguchi.
It was all pointless, really, until that one night when it wasn’t anymore.
The club was packed to the brim, the crowd moving as one to the beat of the song blasting from the scratchy sound system, when Chuuya arrived with his crew a little before midnight to let loose and dance away the night after a job well done. They finished the mission early, enough for him to run back home and get ready properly before they met up again to celebrate yet another enemy of the Port Mafia eliminated.
Chuuya took a couple of shots with his subordinates, cheering their success, then slid away to order himself a cocktail while he greeted some of the familiar faces he bumped into, then settled onto an open stool by the bar to take in the scene before him. He was on the hunt tonight, craving a certain way of companionship he rarely let himself indulge in.
Even though Mori requested Double Black to be in his office sharp at noon, tonight Chuuya was ready to take on the hassle of having to kick some poor lad out of his bed in the morning. It’s been a while, and with the adrenaline of the earlier mission wearing off rapidly, the need to fill the void rose inside him, body and mind craving a primal way of intimacy for the night.
As the buzz of the alcohol slowly started to course through his veins, the tequila shots he took with his subordinates finally kicked in and played their part perfectly to loosen up his inhibitions, and the thrumming bass of the music settled into his bones. Chuuya grew more and more restless to join the crowd dancing on the floor. He loved dancing; he reveled in the act of losing himself to the music between sweaty bodies, with no worries or responsibilities on his mind for a couple of hours. Moving with the simple goal of indulgence.
He just needed to find a good partner. Or two.
He spotted the couple eyeing him with interest easily. They weren’t subtle in their staring at him, eyes hooded and playful grins inviting. Chuuya smiled back, letting them know that he was interested as he trailed his eyes over them one by one. They were both brunettes, the girl lithe, probably around Chuuya’s height, her flushed face pretty. Her companion was what Chuuya would simply call tall, dark, and handsome — attractive enough for Chuuya to quickly down the remnants of his drink with one gulp before hopping off his stool and starting towards the pair with his usual charming grin playing on his lips.
There was no introduction when he reached them, only an exchange of heated gazes, then the couple parted, and Chuuya slipped into the inviting space between them. Two sets of warm hands landed on his body, his back flush against a broad chest while his arms circled the curve of the girl's waist, and they started to move, picking up the rhythm of the music easily as they melted together.
The contact tethered Chuuya, letting him relax and close his eyes to give himself over to the beat of the song, his hips moving in sync with the ones surrounding him in a sensual dance. It felt good, the heat of the touches making his mind hazy, almost content. Chuuya could feel the girl shift closer in front of him, her breath warm and damp as it puffed against his skin with every exhale, while the large hands on his hips tightened their hold. His eyes cracked open to a slit the moment plush, wet lips met the heated flesh of his neck. He gasped, head tilting back to give her more access, his half-lidded gaze running over the crowd mindlessly as the man behind him leaned down and joined his partner to start licking and kissing the other side of Chuuya’s throat.
And that’s when he saw it.
Saw him.
Dazai Osamu, his partner and the bane of all his misery. Chuuya’s brain took its time to process the information. Dazai, in the club Chuuya frequented, accompanied by his two friends standing at either side. Dazai, with his one uncovered eye, stared straight into Chuuya’s half-lidded ones.
Chuuya couldn’t help but shiver under the intensity of the gaze boring right into his soul, and although his body never stopped moving, following the rhythm of the music and not giving his distraction away to his dance partners, he could feel a newfound tension rise inside him. There’s an alarmingly familiar heat pooling in his gut, one not caused by the twin set of insistent lips mapping the column of his throat. To mask his body’s involuntary reaction to his partner’s unexpected appearance, because he refused to give the satisfaction of grabbing his attention so effortlessly to Dazai, Chuuya forced his mouth to curve into a challenging grin before he let his eyes drop closed once again.
It was a futile attempt. Pathetic, really, because no matter how much he tried to get back into the dizzy headspace his partner so rudely pulled him out of and concentrate on the couple embracing him from both sides, he couldn’t get rid of the prickling feeling in the back of his mind. Even with his eyes shut tight, he could feel it, Dazai’s unwavering gaze on him. It made him angry, furious.
His eyes snapped open, scanning the club until it landed on his partner again, now standing by the bar and sipping on his whiskey while he listened to what his friends were chatting next to him. Their eye contact was heavy and electric in a way that made Chuuya crave it more.
How dare he, Chuuya thought, anger boiling deep within his chest, and his hand moved on instinct. His fingers slid into the soft brown curls at the nape of the girl in front of him, moving her head away from his neck, and captured her shiny lips in a hard kiss. He could feel a gasp against his mouth, a startled gush of air followed by a moan as she opened up under him, pressing her curves closer to Chuuya’s front and clutching him tighter, yet his eyes remained locked with Dazai’s. Pettiness never felt so good, almost victorious as Dazai looked away first, but something was still missing.
Chuuya kept the kiss going as he watched Dazai down the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, face scrunching up just a little bit at the burn of it, then he leaned to the side to mutter something to his friends before turning around and walking away. Before he could disappear completely out of sight, he looked back over his shoulder. Right at Chuuya, gazes locked for a second only, then he was gone in the direction of the door Chuuya knew all too well led to the back alley behind the club.
Chuuya’s breath hitched, eyes widened, and his rabbiting heart jumped into his throat. How dare he? It’s like a mantra as Chuuya cursed the smug bastard. As he cursed his own body for betraying him, cock twitching to life in his suddenly too-tight pants.
For a fleeting moment, he debated not taking the bait. He could easily ask his dance partners to leave with him now, through the front door, and ease the burning lust Dazai sparked inside him just by being an annoying piece of shit. He could do that, he should do that, yet—
“I’ll be back,” he said, voice shaking only slightly as he freed himself from the couple’s embrace. They let him go reluctantly, a matching expression of disappointment on their faces as if they knew he wouldn’t be back, but Chuuya had no time to spare. The urge to catch up to Dazai and give him a piece of his mind was too burning in his chest.
He moved quickly, weaseling through the crowd skillfully, avoiding bumping into anyone. He didn’t show his surprise when Dazai was already waiting for him when he rounded the corner towards the narrow corridor leading to the back entrance.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He bellowed instantly, stepping up to his partner and pushing him slightly until Dazai’s back met the wall behind him. The bastard simply blinked back at him with widened eyes, words dripping with faux innocence.
“Odasaku had someone to meet here, so I thought I’d tag along.”
Chuuya ground his teeth, not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “Tch, as if you’d show your shitty face here without an ulterior motive. I need you to leave me the fuck alone.”
Dazai simply shrugged, not even slightly bothered by Chuuya’s accusation. Instead, his face twisted into a cold grin, the taunt falling from his lips sharply. “Chuuya really likes to whore around a lot, no?”
The words struck deeper than Chuuya wanted to admit, twisting something hot and defensive in his gut. “I’m not whoring around,” he bit out coldly. He really hadn’t been; it was never like that. “I’m just enjoying myself, something you wouldn’t know how to do even with a gun to your head.”
Dazai hummed, the sound barely audible even with the music much fainter here in the back. Something unfamiliar flickered behind his eyes.
“Are you offering?”
Chuuya swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, words sticking to his tongue like cotton. “Fuck you,” he spat, then turned to leave, annoyance shifting into something much more sinister inside him. He needed to get out of here before he did something he’d regret. They’d both regret.
He couldn’t even take a proper step back toward the main floor before he got stopped, Dazai’s strong arms circling his waist and pulling him back against his chest. For a second, everything faded around them. Chuuya’s too aware of every line and curve of Dazai’s torso flush against his back, the urge to push his hips back, to feel more, hitting him like a brick.
Dazai’s damp breath landed right against the flushed skin of his throat, and he couldn’t suppress the shiver running up his spine. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle.
They’ve been playing this messed-up cat-and-mouse game for too long, years, really. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Chuuya always noticed how unfairly attractive Dazai was. He never dared to say it out loud, or even acknowledge it while sober, but there was something about his partner that called to him on a visceral level. Especially when he let go, showing Chuuya just what it’d be like to get lost in the throes of pleasure together.
It happened before. A lot more, when Dazai was still coming around to the parties, and they’d somehow end up in barely lit backrooms together, getting head from some faceless strangers at the same time, eyes locked into each other. Mediocre blowjobs leading to unsatisfying orgasms that were only exciting because they were turned into a game. A challenge. Chuuya wasn’t even sure what the point, the goal of it was — to come first or to last longer — because his eyes always dropped shut just before he tipped over the edge, not willing to let the bastard see the vulnerability flash behind his eyes as his orgasm hit. Not even if closing his eyes didn’t make a difference, it was always Dazai’s intense gaze flashing behind his closed lids right as pleasure washed over him.
It was a game he knew well, being pressed against a stranger in a dingy club, the teasing press of a hard dick against the small of his back, but the person flush against him being Dazai was something he wasn’t familiar with. A scenario he’d never dared to entertain, never wanted to. It was an unwritten rule, they’d rile each other up without acknowledging the reality of what was going on between them, tension taut, but the feelings buried so deep Chuuya could almost believe they weren’t even there. But touching had always been off-limits.
Yet somehow, here they were now, chest to back, with Dazai’s chapped lips pressed against his neck, tongue flicking out teasingly to trace over his racing pulse point.
“Fuck off,” Chuuya rasped, voice deeper than it was a moment ago, and pushed out of Dazai’s hold forcefully. Dazai let him move away without protest, leaving what would happen next up to Chuuya.
How dare he, Chuuya thought once again, feeling Dazai’s intense gaze on him prickling at the back of his neck, as he made his decision. He threw one last glance toward the end of the corridor that’d lead him back to safety, then, without further hesitation, he turned the other way and walked up to the door leading to the back alley without looking at Dazai. The implication was clear; he didn’t need to see the bastard’s satisfaction written all over his stupid, handsome face. He hated Dazai so much; he hated how much he wanted him.
“Ah, Da—” Chuuya moaned the moment his back hit the hard brick wall of the alley, the rough surface scraping through his jacket as chapped, insistent lips crashed against his own in a searing kiss.
Dazai devoured him like a starving man feasting for the first time in days. It felt desperate, almost unhinged.
The kiss burned with more than just passion; it was years of repression, resentment, and unspoken want igniting at once, a need surging through Chuuya’s body like a dam bursting. His chest heaved as he arched against the wall, Dazai’s taller frame pinning him there, their bodies fitting together like long-lost puzzle pieces. He rose onto his tiptoes, straining for leverage, arms winding tightly around Dazai’s neck while his gloved fingers tangled in messy brown locks, tugging harshly until he angled the younger’s face just so, deepening the kiss with a mixture of frustration and surrender.
Their mouths slid against each other hotly, wet lips bruising with every clash as Dazai pressed in closer, fingers bunching the fabric of Chuuya’s shirt at the waist with barely concealed desperation. One of Dazai’s legs slipped between Chuuya’s, his thigh grinding against the bulge in Chuuya’s pants, forcing a gasp from him at the sudden pressure. His lips fell open helplessly around the raspy sound, and Dazai wasted no time slipping his tongue past them, claiming his mouth in a breathless struggle for dominance.
Heat coiled low in Chuuya’s belly, spreading until every nerve burned with unbearable want. His clothes felt suffocatingly tight, every brush of fabric a reminder of how little space was left for restraint. Dazai’s hands started to roam; one slipped boldly down to cup and squeeze the curve of his ass, forcing another moan from his throat, while the other traveled lower, long fingers nearly circling Chuuya’s thigh completely as they dug into firm muscle. Chuuya’s knee buckled under him, but Dazai only dragged him closer, his hold steady, forcing their hips flush together.
The kiss turned filthy, tongues colliding messily and teeth knocking, muffled moans swallowed whole right from the other’s lips. Chuuya’s sanity threatened to unravel as Dazai ground their bodies together, his thigh sliding higher between his legs. He could feel the hard press of his own erection grinding against Dazai’s leg, just as clearly as he felt the other’s hardness jutting against his hipbone. They moved against each other without rhythm, just raw need, every sound pulled from them louder than the last, echoing faintly in the narrow alley.
Chuuya might have drowned in the feeling, lost completely to the taste of Dazai’s mouth and the suffocating press of his body, if not for the sudden break of contact. Dazai pulled back just far enough to let out a low, rumbling chuckle, and the sound cut through the haze of Chuuya’s arousal like a blade.
“Chuuya’s eager,” Dazai teased, his words dripping with something grainy that made Chuuya growl in the back of his throat in irritation.
“Shut up, asshole,” he snapped back, voice more ragged than he’d liked it to be. Throwing all eloquence out the window, he shoved forward, grinding his cock shamelessly against Dazai’s, ripping an unexpected shudder and a guttural moan from the other. Satisfaction curved Chuuya’s lips into a smirk only until he caught the dangerous glint sparking in Dazai’s half-lidded, uncovered eye. His cheeks were flushed, a dusting of pink spreading across his skin, making him look infuriatingly beautiful up close. Such a pretty face, wasted on a bastard like him.
“Feisty,” Dazai muttered, voice threaded with humor but heavy with something darker that made Chuuya’s stomach clench, heat burning hot in his lower belly. The word vibrated against his lips before Dazai surged forward again, stealing not only his next breath but also the sharp retort burning at the tip of his tongue.
They kept kissing, grinding against each other until Chuuya was painfully hard in his pants, his cock leaking with precum, wetting the thin material of his underwear. Dazai couldn’t have been faring much better; his breath came fast and uneven, each quiet moan spilling from his lungs, urging Chuuya on. The press of his palm against Chuuya’s ass guided his hips forward, trying to set a rhythm to their movements.
Chuuya felt wound so tight it was almost unbearable, arousal coursing through his body until it choked him. He broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, throwing his head back against the wall. His skull thudded dully against the brick, but he didn’t even register the sting. Dazai took the opportunity to drag his mouth lower, latching onto the curve of his exposed throat.
“You were letting them mark you up,” he growled against Chuuya’s flushed skin, teeth scraping and nipping harshly along the edge of his choker. It took a second for Chuuya’s lust-filled mind to understand that Dazai was talking about his dance partners from earlier. Chuuya had never cared much about marks, just tiny bruises that faded in days. They never meant anything to him.
Now, though, as Dazai bit and sucked at his heated flesh, repainting the faint pinks left by strangers into vivid reds and deep purples, it felt entirely different. Chuuya’s heart hammered painfully in his chest, panic rising inside him sharp and sudden. He yanked hard at Dazai’s hair, trying to tear him away, but the younger only tightened his hold, locking him in place. His teeth sank deeper, and Chuuya’s hips bucked helplessly, a sharp pulse of pleasure shooting down his spine. His cock twitched, spilling a hot spurt of precum into his boxers.
“Da- ah— ” he tried to speak, but his words broke off into a strangled gasp. His head lolled to the side involuntarily, exposing more of his throat. He could feel Dazai’s warm breath stuttering against his spit-slick skin.
“That’s right,” Dazai rasped, voice rough with an unfamiliar possessiveness. “Chuuya’s mine to mark up. No one else can have you like this.”
Chuuya chuckled darkly, eyes squeezing shut. He shook his head even though he knew Dazai couldn’t see the movement, only feel it through the press of their bodies. “Such big words from a fucking coward . I’m not yours, you bastard. I’ll never be.”
Dazai stilled, his mouth hovering just above Chuuya’s bruised skin. When he spoke again, his tone cut like a blade, sharp enough to tingle down to the marrow in Chuuya’s bones.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Chuuya. You’ve been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Chuuya’s chest tightened, the fight burning in his ribs far from pleasant. Acknowledging Dazai’s claim would mean acknowledging his own feelings. Or even worse, admitting the claim went both ways. He might have spat coward at Dazai seconds ago, but he knew deep down he was no braver than his partner. He didn’t dare ask the question clawing at the back of his throat, terrified of the answer he might get.
Fortunately, he didn’t get to dwell on it, his thoughts scattering as Dazai abruptly let go of him. Chuuya’s leg dropped heavily to the ground, knees buckling as he sagged against the wall, only then realizing just how much he had relied on Dazai to keep him upright.
His hands slipped from the other’s shoulders, fumbling for balance, only for Dazai to grab him again, both hands clamping tight around his waist. In the blink of an eye, Chuuya was spun around and shoved chest-first against the wall. His reflexes barely saved him from face-planting, his forearm catching his weight as he braced himself against the rough brick.
Dazai’s body pressed flush against his back a second later, caging him in, and his hips rolled forward, grinding his cock against the plush of Chuuya’s ass. The thick heat of his erection nestled between his cheeks through the material of their pants made Chuuya whimper, his back arching into it involuntarily.
Chuuya had prepared himself earlier that evening, hoping for an easy night, and now the slick reminder of lube clinging to his already stretched hole made the ache of emptiness inside him almost unbearable. Feeling Dazai’s cock pressing so hot and heavy against him brought the urge roaring back tenfold, fierce and burning.
Instead of rising to Dazai’s claim, he pushed his ass back deliberately, grinning into the crook of his arm at the guttural groan the other let slip. Chuuya chose to fight fire with fire — his next words came out cocky, dripping with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel.
“Is that so? Then prove it, you fucking bastard.”
Dazai didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands went straight for Chuuya’s belt, unfastening the buckle with infuriating ease before popping the button and tugging the zipper down in one fluid motion.
Chuuya’s eyes squeezed shut as the night air rushed against his bare thighs, the sudden chill making him flinch. A small, helpless whine slipped past his lips when the cold kissed the dark wet patch spreading across his underwear where his cock strained against the soaked fabric.
A low chuckle rumbled from Dazai’s throat, hot against the nape of Chuuya’s neck, and the sound alone made Chuuya shiver. Then he moaned outright, shameless and broken, as Dazai’s hand closed over him through the thin cotton of his boxers. His whole palm pressed firmly against the bulge, cupping the shape of his cock and balls together, fingers curling just enough to make Chuuya’s hips twitch forward into the touch.
“Needy,” Dazai murmured, though the way he pressed forward, grinding his erection against Chuuya’s ass betrayed his own desperation.
“Don’t tease,” Chuuya rasped, his voice rough with want. “Or are you just all talk?”
“The chibi should learn some patience,” Dazai shot back.
“And you should fucking do something instead of running your mouth.” Chuuya retorted, lifting one arm from the wall to reach back and seize Dazai’s hips, dragging him closer. The motion tore a moan out of Dazai, his fingers twitching against Chuuya’s cock as his own length jerked hotly against Chuuya’s ass. They stayed like that for a heartbeat, then Dazai’s hand suddenly withdrew.
Shame prickled through Chuuya as he nearly whined at the loss, swallowing the sound only at the last minute before it could slip out. The faint rustle of fabric told him what Dazai was doing, and sure enough, he heard the soft rasp of a zipper being pulled down. Excitement fluttered sharply in his belly, and he scrambled to shove his own underwear down. The soaked fabric clung stubbornly to his skin, and tugging it with one hand proved awkward, but he managed it eventually.
When it was finally pushed to mid-thigh, he braced his forearm back against the wall and arched his spine, presenting himself in a way he knew drove people insane before. Chuuya never doubted he had an incredible ass, and here, half-naked in a dark alley, instead of feeling vulnerable under Dazai’s gaze, he felt powerful.
Dazai’s breath hitched audibly, and the sound sent a spark of pride flaring in Chuuya’s chest. He knew exactly what Dazai was seeing: the pale curve of his bare ass, the tease of his hole flushed pink and slick from fingering himself in the shower before heading to the club.
Chuuya’s lips curved faintly, but the smugness didn’t have time to settle before Dazai’s cold fingers brushed lightly over his ass. The touch was fleeting, almost tender, before his hands clamped down harder, grabbing his flesh harshly and spreading him open. The night air rushed over Chuuya’s exposed hole, making him shiver and bury his forehead deeper into the crook of his arm.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Dazai’s knees buck slightly under him, and his imagination betrayed him for a moment — he could almost see Dazai dropping to his knees behind him, almost feel the the phantom warmth of Dazai’s breath ghosting over his entrance. The thought alone made his hole twitch hungrily, aching to be filled.
They weren’t partners for nothing, Dazai seemed to read his mind perfectly. In the next moment, one of his hands released Chuuya’s ass and slipped lower, fingers gliding between his cheeks with ease. The pad of his fingertips traced over the damp slickness gathered there, testing and teasing, before the digits pushed inside him without warning.
The tight ring of muscles gave way to two of Dazai’s fingers with little resistance, swallowing them hungrily as they pressed further and further without stopping to wait and see if Chuuya needed a moment to adjust. Chuuya gasped raggedly, his hips jerking back against the intrusion, his body welcoming the stretch and burn of finally being filled.
Dazai began working his fingers in and out of him, the steady slide making Chuuya moan into his arm, muffling the sounds as best he could. It felt too good, better than he ever wanted to admit. As shameful as it was, he had spent more than one night fantasizing about this very thing, — Dazai’s fingers, — and the way they would feel inside him.
They filled him perfectly.
“ Fuck— ” he moaned louder when Dazai curled his fingers just right, finally pressing against his prostate. His whole body shuddered as Dazai held the pressure there for a moment, then pulled back, only to slide in deeper on the next thrust while simultaneously adding a third finger. The stretch burned, sharp and hot, but the pain quickly melted into pleasure, a deep groan tearing itself from Chuuya’s throat.
Behind him, Dazai’s breathing sounded just as ragged as his own, heavy and uneven, as if he were already buried inside him. Chuuya could feel the weight of his stare burning into his back. His hips stuttered under the attention, fucking himself back into Dazai’s fingers.
“Just like that,” Dazai murmured, voice unsteady with his own need. “Chuuya prepared so well for me. You wanted it that bad, no? Waiting for me to show up tonight. Hoping I’d fuck you like you deserve.”
Chuuya gritted his teeth, hard cock bobbing uselessly between his legs, leaking steadily. He ached to touch himself, to take the edge off the orgasm curling tighter in his gut, the filth spilling from Dazai’s mouth only making the heat climb higher. His head swam with arousal, the stretch of the three fingers inside him felt so good but not nearly enough. He needed more.
The words spilled from his mouth without his permission, before he could stop for a second to think about it. “I need you to fuck me.”
“I’m fucking you, Chuuya.” To emphasize it, Dazai curled his fingers against his prostate again, wringing a sharp keen from his throat.
“ No— ” Chuuya gasped, desperate now. “Not like this. With your cock. I need your cock.” His voice cracked, shamefully whiny, but he couldn’t hold it back.
Dazai growled, though the thin edge of smugness in his tone only half-masked his own unraveling control. “Is that what Chuuya wants? My cock?”
There was no room left for shame. “Yeah,” Chuuya moaned. Then, “ Please .”
Dazai’s fingers stopped immediately, frozen mid-motion. He sounded utterly winded when he spoke. “What was that?”
Chuuya pushed back against the digits still buried inside him, chasing the sensation, but Dazai’s free hand clamped tight around his hip, holding him still.
For a moment, Chuuya considered remaining silent, but his craving overpowered his pride, rewiring his defiance into something pleading and raw. His words came out ragged, on the edge of breaking, the corners of his eyes stinging with frustrated tears.
“Please. I said fucking please. Please, Osamu, fuck me. Properly.”
“All Chuuya had to do was ask,” Dazai breathed.
Dazai’s fingers slipped out of him in an instant, leaving Chuuya’s hole gaping and empty.
He borderline sobbed when he finally felt the wet, blunt head of Dazai’s cock pressing against his rim. Both of them gasped, breathing harshly as the thick head rubbed slowly over his hole, mixing his precum with what little slickness remained from the lube there. The anticipation coiled sharp in Chuuya’s belly, shame scattering like ash, and just as he was about to beg again, Dazai pressed forward.
The first stretch stole the air from his lungs. Dazai’s cock was thicker than his fingers, even three of them, and the first few centimeters burned almost unbearably. Chuuya hissed through it, forehead pressing into his arm, body trembling with the effort of taking him. A part of him knew it would have been easier if they’d grabbed lube — hell, there was a vending machine stocked with those small packets in the club bathroom — but the thought vanished instantly as Dazai’s hips started to press forward with slow and deliberate thrusts, each push deeper sending small shocks of pain laced with a promise of pleasure down his spine.
It felt like an eternity until Dazai bottomed out, hips pressed flush against Chuuya’s ass, and for a moment, neither of them moved, only their ragged breathing filling the narrow space between them. Dazai leaned down, chest pressed to Chuuya’s back, his breath unsteady and hot as he panted against the damp strands of Chuuya’s hair at his nape. His chapped lips brushed over the sensitive skin of Chuuya’s neck as a broken whimper slipped from his throat.
“Fuck, Chuuya,” Dazai groaned, voice rough. “You’re so tight. You feel so good around me.”
The words shouldn’t have hit him as hard as they did, but something warm swelled inside Chuuya at the sound. His body felt strung tight, every nerve burning, but the praise made his chest flutter. His muscles, wound taut since the first push of Dazai’s cock inside him, slowly began to ease, tension bleeding from his frame. He only realized just how hard he had been clenching.
His knees felt weak, nearly buckling under him, and once again, as if he was reading his mind, Dazai seemed to understand him without words. One strong arm wrapped firmly around his waist, keeping him upright, refusing to let him falter for even a second. Then Dazai’s mouth found his throat again, his lips pressing to the frantic pulse hammering there, and he bit down — not as harshly as before, but firm enough to send a sharp ripple of pleasure sparking through Chuuya’s body. His hips twitched from the jolt, making Dazai shift inside him. They moaned simultaneously as the thick length of Dazai’s cock slid just slightly out, the friction of it intense and almost unbearable.
The stretch grew easier as Chuuya forced himself to relax, his body adjusting to the intrusion. Dazai seemed to sense it too, because instead of rushing, he started to press slow, deliberate kisses against the column of Chuuya’s neck, soothing him without words like they had all the time in the world.
It helped more than he wanted to admit, and with the ease, a new ache swelled inside him. Suddenly, Chuuya was overwhelmed by the need to be closer. Not like this, braced against the wall, but in a more intimate setting, face to face, chest to chest. To taste his mouth and drown in the heat of his kiss, to get lost in his arms until he couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.
To shun the thought away — to bury that dangerous need for belonging before it could claw its way to the surface — Chuuya rolled his hips again, on purpose this time. The movement tore another groan from his throat as Dazai’s cock slid further out of him, the drag a little drier than Chuuya would have preferred, but it still felt good. Too good. Heat flared deep in his belly, catching like fire as the underside of Dazai’s length brushed against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him.
By the time only the head of Dazai’s cock remained inside, Chuuya was trembling on unsteady legs. He forced his eyes open, turning his head just enough to catch Dazai’s gaze.
The sight almost undid him. Dazai looked wrecked, and they were only starting. His visible eye was dark, pupil blown wide, his lids heavy with lust. His lips were a bruised red, kiss-swollen and bitten raw from restraint. Chuuya almost wished he could erase it from his memories forever.
But some traitorous part of his being never wanted to forget it. This. Dazai like this.
“You can move,” he rasped, his voice faltering. He cleared his throat, and after one last pointed glance he hoped Dazai would understand, Chuuya turned back, burying his face against his arms braced on the wall. “Please, Osamu. Move. Fuck me like you mean it.”
For a heartbeat, the silence stretched between them, thick and electric, before it finally cracked.
Dazai moved; the arm anchoring Chuuya’s waist tightened, his grip steady and firm, while his other hand braced against the wall beside Chuuya’s head. He pulled back slowly, dragging out until only the swollen tip of his cock remained buried in Chuuya’s heat, then slammed back inside, bottoming out with brutal force.
The impact knocked the breath out of Chuuya, a guttural moan ripping itself from his throat before he could stop it. His body clenched around Dazai instinctively, and for a moment, the world narrowed to nothing but the sound of their breathing, the slap of their bodies, and the unbearable fire clawing its way up Chuuya’s spine.
It felt like pure bliss, being fucked by Dazai, being split open and filled to the brim until there was nothing else left in him but the heat and the dizzying weight against his back. Chuuya’s head swam, hazy and disoriented, like nights lost to heavy drinking, shot after shot until the world blurred at the edges. His heart hammered against his ribs, fast and unrelenting, resembling the pulse of the bass pounding through the packed dance floor of the clubs he frequented.
Pleasure coursed through him in waves, hot and sharp, not unlike every night he’d spent tangled in other bodies, seeking comfort in fleeting warmth and companionship that was always temporary. Except it was different, Chuuya could feel it even through the haze of his lust clouding his mind. It was always different with Dazai, something more. More. More.
“ More, ” the plea slipped through his lips before he even realized, breathless and desperate. “Daz— Osamu, I need more.”
“Fuck,” Dazai cursed against his skin, the word low and ragged as he leaned down again, teeth sinking into the curve of Chuuya’s neck where it met his shoulder. Dazai’s hips snapped up harder, pace quickening instantly, following Chuuya’s desperate plea without the usual teasing delay. On any other day, Chuuya would’ve mocked him for that. If he wasn’t currently losing his mind, being able to do nothing but fall apart. Every thrust, each precise push angled perfectly against his prostate drove him higher, sending sparks through him with every grind of Dazai’s hips. “You feel perfect. Perfect for me.”
And Chuuya wanted to believe it. Wished to be perfect with every fibre of his being, not this pathetic, undone, a trembling mess unraveling in Dazai’s arms.
“You too—you feel so g—ahh—” Chuuya sobbed, voice breaking on the syllables, and Dazai’s thrusts faltered for a second, hips stuttering before he shifted and drove back in with a sharper angle. Chuuya’s vision blurred into white, stars bursting behind his eyes as the new angle turned each thrust into raw lightning. The earlier brush against his prostate felt like nothing compared to this deliberate assault, Dazai’s cock hitting that sensitive spot inside him dead-on, over and over.
“Chuuya,” Dazai gasped his name, broken and wrecked, and the way he kept pistoning his hips into Chuuya nearly tore a scream from his throat.
“There— fuck, right there, don’t stop, please—”
“Yeah, scream for me,” Dazai groaned, voice thick and strained. “You hear me? No one else can make you feel like this. Only me, Chuuya. No one but me.”
“Only you, Osamu. Only you,” Chuuya swore, the words spilling out without his permission. In that moment, he would’ve promised anything — his body, his soul, even his life. He was so close.
“Fuck, Chuuya— I’m gonna—” Dazai growled, arm crushing him tighter, fingers bruising his waist as his thrusts turned punishing, the relentless sound of the slap of skin against skin echoing through the buzz in his ears.
Chuuya didn’t even need to touch his own cock, his orgasm had been coiling hot in his gut, building rapidly as Dazai kept pushing inside him. All he could do was bite down on his forearm, muffling the wrecked cries that tore out of him, drool soaking through his sleeve. Before he knew it, he was coming. Untouched, his cock jerking helplessly as thick ropes of cum spilled across the wall, the pavement, probably even his shoes. His whole body spasmed around Dazai’s cock, hole clenching hard, fluttering uncontrollably with his release.
Dazai fucked him through it, merciless, every thrust dragging the orgasm out of him, wringing him dry, burying himself deeper into the tight spasms that squeezed around him like a vice.
Just as Chuuya teetered on the edge of overstimulation, his cock giving one last pathetic jerk when Dazai brushed hard against his prostate one last time, Dazai stilled. His hips stuttered, then pressed deep. Chuuya felt his cock twitch inside him, warm cum filling him as he came with a deep moan muffled by Chuuya’s shoulder.
It was something he had never experienced before. Being cummed in. The raw intimacy of it hit him harder than he expected, being claimed from the inside, and the thought alone made his chest tighten, eyes prickling as if he might start tearing up.
They stayed tangled together for a few long minutes, both gasping for breath, trying to process what had just happened. Three years of bickering, tension, and half-buried desire undone in one reckless choice.
The comedown was brutal.
Chuuya waited for the hollowness to claw its way back into his chest, the familiar emptiness that always followed when he slept with someone. He waited for regret too. The first never came, but the second arrived fast, hitting him mercilessly.
Neither of them talked; the silence between them was unfamiliar and unsettling, too foreign for two men who only ever knew how to banter and barb. Dazai, of all people, kept quiet. When he finally moved, it wasn’t to leave as Chuuya immediately thought but to fish a crumpled packet of tissues from his pocket and press them wordlessly into Chuuya’s hand.
Heat rose to Chuuya’s cheeks before he could stop it. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if clamping them shut would keep a thank-you from slipping out. He hated that it felt oddly thoughtful of his bastard of a partner. Hated even more that it actually made him fluster.
The cleanup was messy and uncomfortable, something that underscored just how raw and exposed this whole situation was. Every nerve in him screamed to flee. More than anything, Chuuya wanted to get dressed, storm off, and put a thousand miles between himself and what just happened. But something inside him stalled, keeping him rooted to the spot.
Dazai hadn’t left either, even though he could have.
It would have been easy for him; he had only undone his pants to free his cock, and he didn’t have come dripping from his asshole the way Chuuya did. He could have walked away at any moment, but he lingered instead. Just a few steps away, his gaze kept drifting back to Chuuya, and Chuuya felt the weight of it with every glance.
While he got dressed, Chuuya racked his brain for something to say. Maybe they could be mature about it, take it for what it was — a good fuck, nothing more. Something Chuuya would repeat if only for the physical release. That would be simple. Manageable.
But there was always the risk of it being more, of it meaning something neither of them was willing to put into words. Even thinking about it made Chuuya’s throat close up; the words stuck before they could ever form.
They could go back to what they were best at — snapping at each other and trading insults. Hurting each other with intent. The thought made Chuuya feel just as pathetic as the other option, the knowledge that tonight, his heart wouldn’t be in it. Not after Dazai had so effortlessly filled a void inside him that no one else had ever come even close to.
When their eyes finally met, Dazai stepped closer again, almost as close as they had been before. Chuuya studied his face: the flush had faded, but his lips were still red and bitten. He tried to read Dazai’s intentions and told himself, firmly, that the flicker in his chest wasn’t hope. It was just leftover heat from his arousal and the undeniably mind-blowing orgasm.
Before either of them could speak, the back door swung open.
“There you are, Dazai. Ango and I are ready to leave. We’ve been looking for you.”
Odasaku. Of course, of all people, who else would interrupt them than Dazai’s stupid best friend, whom he spent most of his time with. Who he idolized in a way Chuuya could never understand. Ice water sluiced through Chuuya’s veins, dread replacing the heat that had been curling low in his stomach. A small part of him wished the man had opened that door just a couple of minutes earlier, to show him that if only for a short time, Chuuya also had a claim on Dazai.
“Chuuya, hi. I haven’t seen you around for a bit.” And of course, Odasaku had to smile at Chuuya with one of his kind smiles, the same Chuuya had once seen him give the stray dogs around the block. It made his stomach twist.
“Ah, Odasaku, the chibi and I were just having a talk,” Dazai said, his tone nonchalant, but his gaze stayed locked on Chuuya, sharp and unyielding, as if daring him to speak up. To deny it.
Unlike what Dazai liked to imply from time to time, Chuuya wasn’t stupid, and he was also far too tired to take the bait. He let out a scoff instead, humorless and sharp. “Yeah, having a talk. And now it’s over, so I’m out of here.”
He turned away without another word, without so much as a glance back in Dazai’s direction.
“Hey, Chuuya,” Dazai shouted after him. “We weren’t done talking. Odasaku, I’ll come in a minute; you can wait out front.”
“I’m tired, Dazai. Just fucking leave me be,” Chuuya muttered, still not turning back. His knees bent slightly, preparing to launch himself skyward, the buzz of his ability began to rise in his veins — until a cold hand closed around the side of his neck. His ability fizzled out instantly as a blue hue took over the red of Tainted.
“No, Chuuya. We are not done talking.” Dazai’s words were quiet but absolute, carrying the kind of finality that made Chuuya’s pulse spike. He huffed, biting back a sharper retort. Of course, the bastard thought Chuuya would do whatever he asked, just like that. Of- motherfucking -course.
“Fuck off,” he growled, his irritation climbing higher with every second Dazai’s hand stayed on him. Irritation, yes. Familiar and grounding, comforting in its predictability.
But underneath it, buried so deep that Chuuya wanted to deny it existed at all, was something else. Something traitorous that felt a little too much like hope.