Archive of Our Own

Nakahara Chuuya was bored. Not bored in the way that means he wants to watch a movie or in the way that he needed to go & grab a new sheet of paperwork- he had already done that five times tonight, forget how much he’d done it this week. Chuuya was bored in the way that seeped into his bones, & made him crave something that had left him two years ago, with a bomb under a car he never even used as a ’goodbye’. Chuuya was bored in the way that only the lack of Dazai Osamu could make him.   

Only after years of hearing Dazai’s grating voice, & horrible insults or insinuations of Chuuya being a dog, could this numbing & all-encompassing boredom ensue. It was a boredom Chuuya hated, because there was no reason for him to feel it- he detested Dazai & detested the way the man had always made him feel. That was what Chuuya would like to think, really, but it wasn’t true.   

 Only after falling into bed after missions & feeling Dazai’s blood beneath his hands, after seeing adoration in his own eyes in the stupid selfies Dazai had always forced him to take after missions or after the arcade; after knowing Dazai so well & so intimately that it was unconscious & effortless. Only after feeling all of that- because that’s all Chuuya could call it, feeling , because defining what those feelings were meant accepting that feeling hadn’t been mutual- only then could this boredom come about, a boredom that drained like a skin wound that dug deeper than it ever should. Chuuya refused to call it what it was, he didn’t miss Dazai, because Dazai didn’t miss him; Chuuya didn’t need Dazai, because clearly Dazai had never needed Chuuya.  

With no annoying man who was better compared to a fish, Chuuya chose to crawl out of his desk chair- one that had mysteriously shown up after Dazai left the organization, smelling & feeling suspiciously like the one that had sat behind Dazai’s desk in their shared office, the one they had more often than they should’ve shared, pressed against each other with the excuse that it was easier to look at and complete their reports that way- & make his way to his front door. With no small amount of malice, he grabbed the keys for his new car, & made his way out of his apartment. Chuuya would force himself to forget this boredom, he didn’t need Dazai to cure it, he could do it himself.  

Dazai Osamu was cold. That was to be expected though, when one is standing on a street corner, leaned against a streetlight, with little to nothing covering him. The most he had working for him was the cheap dark red dress he had found at a flash sale about a month ago- though it was really only red now, since he had finally scrounged enough to go to a laundromat- it had been almost brown before then, & no one wanted to fuck a girl in a dirty red dress, hence the laundromat.   

The dress didn't do much, if Dazai was honest, to keep him warm. The long sleeves & high neck were nice, it meant he didn’t have to wear bandages there, which he had found to be a turn-off for some men. The back of the dress, though, was backless almost all the way to his ass, which made it much more flattering than the last dress Dazai had been using on the corner, until an asshole customer of his had gotten too excited & ripped a hole too big to sew. The backless style, while it made him more money, meant he was cold more often as the year swayed into fall. Beyond that, it just barely went past his ass, & just barely showed off the underwear he had stolen from the same flash sale.  

Dazai chose to ignore, even after a whole month, why the dress he wore now had been the one he chose. There had been cheaper dresses, ones that would have surely made him seem more attractive as well, but still he had chosen this one, with its comfortable fit, & dark red color. Dazai chose to ignore that it was the same red, or as close as it would ever get, to the color of red Chuuya had always worn. Dazai ignored it because if he didn’t, that meant he’d have to accept the image that had burned into his chest when he had seen the dress- an image of him next to Chuuya, in matching colors. The fleeting thought, the tiniest hope that if Chuuya were to ever find him, he would find Dazai in his color, he would see that Dazai was still his .  

Even there, on a curb somewhere in Yokohama, closer to Port Mafia territory than was likely safe for him, Dazai felt warmed on the inside, imagining how hilarious Chuuya’s face would be if he were to see Dazai now, dressed as he was, shivering while waiting for some random man to pick him up and pay him to use him for the night.  

As if called, a deep red colored car, a new model, rolled up slowly along the road leading to Dazai’s corner.  

Rolling his shoulders and eyes, Dazai let his gait slow, and added a sway to his hips as he approached the car, which had indeed stopped only a few paces from his light pole. He let his eyes relax as well, most men would call it bedroom eyes, Dazai just called it being tired, but it worked either way. Just as he had expected, when Dazai got within speaking distance, the car’s window rolled down- tinted, maybe he’d get more money than usual tonight. Had he known what he would find in the driver’s seat when he leaned down, Dazai would have walked away. Instead, he leaned over in a way that would let the driver peek at his chin and lips but wouldn’t quite show his eyes. He was a tease and he knew it, but that wasn’t a crime.  

Nakahara Chuuya, looking the same as he had the day Dazai bid him goodbye for his over-seas trip, only days before Dazai had left the organization, sat behind the wheel of what Dazai now knew must be a newer model of car because Chuuya had had to get a new one after he blew it up .  

Dazai’s eyes widened in shock and his jaw dropped, while his legs threatened to give way if not for the hands he had thankfully used to hold himself up on the roof of the car. Chuuya wasn’t looking at him, he was looking straight ahead, but Dazai knew- he just knew in that way the two of them always had, Chuuya knew it was him. The two of them would know each other without any skin, without words, even across the Earth; as if they were but a soul that had been torn in two, desperate to reunite. In that moment, Dazai felt much like that soul, like his skin was pulling itself of his bones, being pulled to Chuuya- Chuuya who wasn’t even looking at him.  

Before Dazai could speak, as soon as his lips had parted to yearning speak Chuuya’s name- as if he hadn’t screamed it inside his head every time he let another man have his way with him, imagining with all he could that Chuuya would forgive him- Chuuya spoke.  

“I’ll pay you 10,000 yen for tonight,” It was more than Dazai had ever made in one night, even if he took more than one client, but Dazai couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Chuuya spoke the way he had. He spoke like he didn’t even know Dazai, which he knew was impossible, there was no way Chuuya didn’t. “But I have one special request.”  

If Chuuya wanted to play like they didn’t know each other, like they didn’t know more about each other than anyone else ever would, fine, Dazai could let him.  

“T-That sounds fair, what would your request be?” How pitiful could Dazai be, stuttering like a schoolboy. ‘The Demon Prodigy’ truly had fallen it seemed. Despite that, Dazai waited with bated breath, anxious for what possible ‘request’ Chuuya could have for him that wasn’t to get in the car so Chuuya could tie him up and bring him to Mori on a silver platter.  

“I’ll tell you when we get to my place, just get in.”   

So Chuuya was killing him it seemed.  

Dazai had hoped once he got in the car Chuuya would drop the lies they were both telling, pretending they weren’t two men who knew exactly who the other was. Instead, Chuuya kept up the charade, and began asking Dazai how he treated his clients, as if he didn’t know perfectly well.  

“I let them do what they want,” Dazai spoke softly. He was afraid if he spoke to loudly, too much like he always used to around Chuuya, that the other man would throw him out of the car, likely while it was still moving. ”And let them decide what I do. What do you want me to be like tonight?”  

“I don’t really care. I’ve never had a preference, so it doesn’t matter to me,” again Chuuya spoke like he didn’t care about Dazai, and his eyes didn’t even leave the road.  

Dazai felt his chest and hands burn at Chuuya’s words, because it meant Chuuya had been with others. Chuuya had let himself be with others. Of course, Chuuya was allowed that, if he wanted it, because Chuuya did not belong to him, even if Dazai belonged to Chuuya.   

When Chuuya and Dazai had been younger, Dazai had dreamed of being in this situation, but in a much different sense. One recurring theme had always been the car, and Chuuya grabbing at his thighs while he drove, never looking at him, but Dazai always knew that Chuuya was paying attention to him anyways. Maybe, if Chuuya asked, Dazai would tell him about those dreams.  

While in the car at least, even if the silence made Dazai feel like he was being squeezed from all sides, he was finally able to appreciate how Chuuya had matured. His hair was longer, swept to the side, and even if he was still wearing that horrible hat, Dazai could admit he looked every bit the ‘bad boy’ part he had played when they were kids, though it was a more classy, attractive version now. He wore what was obviously his work clothes, a white collared shirt rolled at the elbow- Dazai embarrassingly couldn’t resist the need to squeeze his thighs together at the sight of Chuuya’s arms- with his cross tie slightly loosened. He had forgone his vest, if he even still wore it, but the slacks he wore looked the same as before, and Chuuya had always bragged about how the coloring complimented each other, so Dazai felt confident he did. His face, and his hands, were the most changed, the most matured, with sharp lines and frankly sexy attitude written across.   

Altogether, Dazai felt himself just as gone in three seconds as he had been on their first day, despite the years since they’d seen each other. Dazai couldn’t be angry about it, though, even if it was embarrassing to admit and recognize how much an affect Chuuya had on him, if all it took for him to completely fall back was to see Chuuya and be near him again.  

Soon enough, they arrived at Chuuya’s apartment, but Dazai would have known even if Chuuya’s car hadn’t started to slow down; Chuuya lived in the same apartment complex he had when Dazai left.  

“Come on, I’m not that far up,” Chuuya said as he got out of the car, forcing Dazai to suck in a breath before following his lead.  

Once inside the apartment, Dazai only had a few seconds to take in the layout. It was the exact same as when Dazai had still spent much of his time here, he was pretty sure he would be able to find the same indents in the couch he had made. Chuuya hadn’t changed anything.  

Before Dazai was able to observe anything else Chuuya was on him. In an instant, Chuuya had him pushed against a wall, lips pressed and instantly devouring with a sharp exhale through the nose, with one hand holding him there via a grip on his waist, while the other began trailing up his leg, skimming the edge of his dress.   

Dazai couldn’t resist, not when he had dreamed- even prayed once- for Chuuya to treat him this way. Letting himself pretend for just a moment that Chuuya was holding him this way, kissing him this way, because he was Dazai, and not because he was some common whore who had been picked off the street for Chuuya to fuck, he let himself give in. So when Chuuya’s lips grazed his jaw and his fingers dipped beneath his dress to continue up his thigh, Dazai let himself moan in response, breathy though it was.  

For a split second Dazai was allowed to continue his fantasy, until Chuuya apparently processed what Dazai had done, and pulled away.   

“Let’s head to the bedroom,” Chuuya wouldn’t meet Dazai eyes, locked instead on his collar bones. Without another word, Chuuya pushed off of Dazai, and set off down the hall.  

Neither of them brought up that under this pretend scenario where they didn’t know who the other was that Dazai shouldn’t know where the bedroom was. And so Dazai followed after Chuuya, every bit the lost puppy he had acted at fifteen when they had first met. Chuuya hadn’t turned the light on, letting the light of the city and the moon shine in through the windows that lined an entire wall instead. Dazai had always thought the wall of glass, and especially the balcony beyond it, was rather tempting for suicide, though Chuuya had always hated when he would joke about it. The brunette found himself, just before the doorframe, wondering how the redhead would react if he were to say those things now.  

Shaking off his nostalgia, Dazai advanced, froze, stood, and waited until Chuuya turned to face him, a question written on his face. He still wouldn’t look Dazai in the eyes.  

“Are you going to tell me what your request was yet?” Dazai’s voice was shakey, breaths pushing between syllables as he tried to fight the urge to look into the red head’s face, and instead keep his gaze steady on the carpet.   

“I suppose I should,” Damn him- damn Chuuya- for being able to talk to easily, Dazai cursed him as he hugged himself tighter. Forcing his eyes higher, Dazai was met with the sight of Chuuya unbuttoning the dress shirt he had been wearing, just enough to show off his collar bones, and that damned choker he never took off.   

Struck by seeing Chuuya- and wasn’t that embarrassing to think about- Dazai nearly forgot he was meant to be listening to what Chuuya wanted with him tonight. Refocusing on the man in front of him, Dazai was able to make out the words.  

“I want you to let me call someone else’s name tonight.”  

Acting as if Dazai hadn’t just felt the floor disappear from underneath him, Chuuya continued to undress. After nearly a full minute of silence, Chuuya turned back to look at Dazai, sitting down onto the bed.  

“You ready?”  

Dazai felt it as he did so more than consciously nodded, and forced himself to walk closer, out of the safety of the doorway, and into Chuuya’s personal space.   

“T-That’s fine,” Dazai held in the need to cringe at the stutter in his words, but he let himself believe that it was better than him letting the shards of his heart fall out of his throat, like he felt they would. Chuuya wasn’t just looking for someone to fuck tonight, he was looking for a body to project a different face onto. Somehow, Dazai’s teenage dream had started and immediately twisted into his worst nightmare. Chuuya wanted someone else- he didn’t want Dazai- and was just using Dazai to satisfy that.  

“But, will you tell me yours?”   

Dazai could see in Chuuya’s eyes, as the red head had to tilt his head up to make eye contact, the decision being made. He knew, though, that either way it would be painful for him. On one hand, Chuuya refused to tell him, as if he didn’t already know, and Dazai had to sleep with Chuuya, something he had dreamed of, and not be allowed to call for him like he wanted. On the other, Chuuya told him, and he was able to finally let his name fall from his lips, but it would have to be incomplete, because Chuuya would call for someone else. Dazai couldn’t decide which was worse, and half wished he hadn’t even asked.  

“No, there’s no need, I don’t think,” Chuuya chose, and moved on quickly to pulling Dazai forward, placing hands on his hips and tugging him closer. “Just sit and let me have fun, alright?”  

At this point, Dazai couldn’t trust himself to speak and not beg Chuuya to call for him instead and let them drop this idiotic charade, so he only let himself nod, as Chuuya shifted him around to push him onto the bed.  

Of course, there was the underlying fear that Chuuya knew who he was, but didn’t care, because he truly couldn’t care less for the brunette, and would prefer to pretend while he got to imagine fucking some other person he wanted. Someone who wasn’t Dazai. There was also the option that that Chuuya knew who he was, and somehow had finally realized how Dazai had always wanted him, and this was his revenge for Dazai leaving the redhead behind.  

Closing his eyes, Dazai felt as Chuuya brought himself over him, and felt sparks flash across his skin when a hand appeared, gloveless, and started up his thigh. As he moved up his body, Chuuya began to press his lips on every piece of skin he could reach, Dazai’s hand, his legs, his back and ribs- though he had to raise Dazai’s arm to get to it- and even over the dress, on his hips, chest, collar bones, and shoulders. Breathless all of a sudden, Dazai couldn’t stop himself from moaning again, over and over when Chuuya had made his way to Dazai’s neck.   

Pretending the both of them didn’t know what was underneath the fabric, Chuuya tugged the neck of the dress to get access to Dazai’s skin. As though teasing him, because who would they be if they didn’t take every chance to get on each other's nerves even when pretending to not know each other, Chuuya refused to start on Dazai’s neck, instead trailing his lips over the brunette’s jaw, tracing the length between his lips and near his ear. Dazai was struck with the realization that the side Chuuya was paying so much attention to was the side he had always stood on- the side Dazai had always bandaged his eye on. Something tight in his chest loosened, if only slightly, at the thought that even after all the years apart, Chuuya couldn’t resist being careful with him.   

“Why are you taking so long?” Dazai couldn’t stop himself, some phantom of a fifteen-year-old Dazai pushing him to annoy Chuuya, to beg him to growl and bark at him again. He felt his neck tighten as he stretched, his breathing becoming heavier and words full of air as Chuuya finally made his way to his neck. “Don’t you want to fuck me already-”  

“Shut up, you damned whore,” Chuuya spoke sharply, his hand tightening where they held Dazai on his waist and thigh, before he smiled when he felt Dazai tense and shiver beneath him. He hummed, and Dazai could feel the smug grin against his neck, still muffled by the fabric between them. “So that’s something you like? Well don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.”  

“Come on,” Dazai begged, curling into himself beneath Chuuya, turning his face as far away as he could when the redhead chuckled above him, amused by Dazai’s embarrassment.  

 While he felt as though he could just sit and watch Dazai squirm for hours, Chuuya decided to reward the brunette for asking directly for what he wanted, even if it was meant to antagonize him, since Dazai had always been so bad at asking for what he wanted when they were partners- whether it be getting something to eat, or asking Chuuya to sit beside him during a movie night on their few nights off from missions. Instead of letting Dazai sit and squirm, Chuuya smiled as he leaned down to drag against his neck, bringing up a finger to pull the neck of the red dress down Dazai’s skin.  

Chuuya felt his eyes roll as the man beneath him keened at the first contact, his hands spasming where they dug into Chuuya’s back. Like an animal digging its claws into a toy, Dazai began to drag Chuuya closer when he would bite, but Chuuya barely noticed for how he reacted when he would suck his skin, pulling it between his teeth, and running his tongue over the skin once it became sensitive.   

Dazai, for all that he was embarrassed to do so, felt himself whine, high-pitched and needy, when Chuuya marked his skin. He felt the way Chuuya began to paint a necklace of purple and red, passion and possession, across his neck and under his jaw. He felt as he whined over and over, whimpers scratching in between them, as Chuuya smiled, long and angular, at his noises.  

Chuuya himself felt like he finally understood the grunts who would spend their breaks taking pills to their throats or needles to their arms, though he didn’t think he needed any of that. He felt the drug underneath his hands, under his teeth , each noise Dazai made his own special drag of a drug he was already addicted to.  

Slowly as Chuuya kept his position on Dazai’s neck, to the point it was sore and near painful, Dazai began to beg, and it was the most beautiful sound Chuuya could remember.  

“Please, please just fu-” before Dazai could continue, in what had been almost five minutes straight of thoughtless want, Chuuya cut him off with a kiss that conveyed the heat they were both harvesting beneath their skin.   

Both men sunk into each other, coming as close as they could to one another, as their mouths slid against each other. When Dazai began to feel as though he was running out of air, though he didn’t mind all that much, Chuuya pulled away and sank further towards his waist, his attention drifting slightly south.  

“Alright,” Chuuya smiled down at him, basking in the gasps that Dazai was forced to pull, trying to recover from the kiss. But looking into Dazai’s face, the red pasted over then brunette’s skin, reminded Chuuya the role he was playing that night, and he forced the grin off his face. “I think it’s time to get the main course, don’t you agree, slut ?”  

Of course, Chuuya couldn’t resist throwing Dazai a bone after the realization earlier- and hadn't that been an adorable find, though thinking about it, it wasn’t all that big of a surprise- that Dazai had a thing for mean names. The shiver and moan the man let out in response made it all the more worth it.  

“Yes,” a moan in itself, Dazai agreed while Chuuya began rolling slowly like morning waves, rolling Dazai’s dress up his thigh, until it lay wrapped around his waist.  

As Chuuya rolled it upwards, he was once again reminded of how stunning Dazai was like this, wrapped in red. Specifically, in Chuuya’s dark and wine red, his back exposed and arms wrapped to his wrists. Chuuya couldn’t help the possessive adoration that he felt in his chest when he had seen Dazai on that curb, almost as if the brunette had been waiting for him, like he knew Chuuya would come and find him. The way his wrists were covered, no doubt due to shame that the man could not control, hatred for the scars that lay underneath. But amidst that hatred, was the fact that Chuuya had seen what other men had not; Chuuya had been there at their birth, wrapping them, those scars were Chuuya’s right as Dazai’s partner.   

And his back, exposed for all to see, because no matter what, Chuuya was there to cover it. Even now, Dazai lain beneath him whimpering from pleasure, Chuuya wondered if Dazai had allowed any of the men he let take him to touch his back, or if that too was reserved for him. If Dazai had only let those men look, because holding Dazai’s back, touching such a vulnerable spot, was Chuuya’s right alone.  

Before Chuuya could continue in his own head, consumed by the ownership he felt over Dazai- that he always would- Dazai rolled his hips down onto the redhead’s thighs, seeking friction from him even while Chuuya was neglecting him to simply watch the man under him. A pang of pity like one would feel for a kitten that’s mewling for attention struck through him, and he smiled at Dazai again.  

“I’m sorry, baby,” Chuuya crooned, only encouraged when Dazai keened at the pet name- so it was mean and sweet, Dazai was truly Chuuya’s dream, wasn’t he- and began grinding down upon him faster, his breath coming quicker in time with his movement. “I was so busy looking at how pretty you are, I forgot how fucking needy you are.”  

Dazai downright sobbed at that, a babble beginning to spill from his lips, tiny protests of ”No...ngh...m’not needy...ch-You’re just being mean...”   

“I’m not being anything less than what you want, though, am I?” Chuuya dug his fingers into the flesh of Dazai’s legs, not letting him move more than an inch. He knew exactly what Dazai wanted, he wanted Chuuya to be cruel while still being kind to him- he ignored the thought in the back of his mind that said that it was funny Dazai would want this, when it was all Chuuya had ever been to him.   

“I thought,” Dazai breathed, ”that you’d be more interested in my panties than my dress, maybe you’re more old fashioned than my usual customers.” A minx-like grin spread across the man’s face, spelling out how much he craved to get beneath Chuuya’s skin.  

Leave it to Dazai to know exactly how to do so, as well. To mention not only Chuuya being likened to an old man, one of his favorite ways to tease his fashion sense when they were young, but to also draw Chuuya’s attention to right where he wanted it. This time it was to his underwear, but Chuuya couldn’t bring himself to be upset at Dazai’s manipulation, not with the gift beneath him.  

“Where the fuck did you get these,” Chuuya breathed, his fingers absentmindedly skimming over the silk that kept Dazai’s cock constrained. Dazai hadn’t been simply speaking dirty when he called them panties; the man was actually wearing what was closer to a thong than to panties, but the way they lit a fire in Chuuya’s groin was all the same. It was a thin and small thing, barely covering Dazai, silk and small bits of lace on the edges, stretching from where it was tucked over the brunette’s length, to his hips and waist, before trailing to his back, where Chuuya let his fingers follow the lace ties to where they lead to Dazai’s bottom. Chuuya laughed to himself, He delighted in the way the brunette whimpered and began to squirm all over again when he just barely let his fingers drag along the fabric.  

“Fo-hah-Found a little store on a corner,” Dazai spoke sweetly, coaxing Chuuya to look him in the eyes again, before his gaze grew cold and sharp again. “Why? You wanna get some for the bitch who’s name you’re going to call me? Think they’ll look better on her?”  

Holding himself back from confessing to the man under him that Chuuya couldn’t imagine anyone who’d look as absolutely gorgeous as he did right now, no matter what they wore, Chuuya instead chose to be mean again, and brought a hand to Dazai’s penis, and before the man could question what he was doing, he interrupted himself with a high pitched wail.  

Dazai had known for a while he liked it when people were a little rough and cruel with him- especially when it was the redhead- but when Chuuya had brought his hand forward and squeezed him, tight enough to make it hurt? Dazai had seen white. Without even realizing it, he had begun begging for Chuuya again.  

“If you want me to fuck you tonight,” Chuuya whispered in his ear when Dazai came back from wherever the redhead had sent him with his cruelness, “I’d suggest you start behaving.”  

Dazai forced himself to nod, and for the time being that seemed enough for the other. In an action that was far too casual for how Dazai felt, Chuuya had grabbed a condom and a small bottle of lube from somewhere in the slacks he still had yet to take off, and was moving the small thread of fabric that laid between Dazai’s cheeks to start preparing him.   

Thanks to regularly letting people have their way with him, it didn’t take long before Dazai was gasping, hands shaking where they gripped onto Chuuya’s back- he was also using it as an excuse to feel the muscles that laid there, but no one needed to know that, surely- while the redhead sank three fingers into him with no mercy.   

Dazai had experienced being fingered many times now, but he couldn’t help but feel it felt more pleasurable, more special, simply because it was Chuuya who had the brunette under him then and there. The actual action didn’t bring much pleasure in it of itself, but Dazai felt his stomach churn at the knowledge that it was Chuuya inside him. He couldn't count on both his hands the amount of times he had done this himself, desperate and not unlike a cat in heat, imagining that his own hands were the other man’s instead. Now that it was happening, Dazai almost couldn't believe it wasn’t a dream.   

The only thing that broke the illusion was the ever-present cruelty of Dazai’s mind, always thinking even at his own expense, remining him that Chuuya wasn’t seeing Dazai, and instead some other person he craved, someone Dazai wasn’t.  

“I think I’m ready,” Dazai spoke suddenly, shocking Chuuya and his ministrations into a pause, ”I’m ready for you to go ahead.”  

“Are you sure? It might still hurt,” Chuuya backed away and began unbuttoning his slacks, sliding the fabric lower onto his thighs and exposing his boxers. Dazai felt himself become harder under his own underwear at the sight of how tight Chuuya’s were, the grey- fucking grey - fabric leaving absolutely nothing to imagination about the length of what lay underneath.   

Noticing that the man underneath him was zeroed in on his groin, Chuuya moved to grab the brunette’s chin in his hand, curling his fingers around his jaw. He smiled down at Dazai, who gasped at the contact. Before he could truly process it Chuuya pulled him forward, forcing his eyes- those which he could make himself tired of- to meet Chuuya’s.   

Dazai felt himself mewl, to the redhead’s amusement, at the control he was under. It felt like fire beneath his skin, and he couldn’t resist fueling it more; if it burned him that was all the better.   

“Do you not want to hurt that person?”  

Chuuya laughed, and Dazai felt like he was the butt of a joke somehow, until the man spoke again, back off the bed in order to fully take off his pants and boxers, leaving himself bare in the moonlight. Dazai should have felt more in control, laying in his dress and underwear while the other stood in front of him in nothing, but he had never felt more like an animal on a leash, with the tether being held by none other than Chuuya.  

“You wouldn’t believe how much I want to hurt him.” Chuuya finally answered as he crawled back onto the bed, grabbing the condom he had left beside Dazai and slipping it onto himself swiftly.   

Dazai yelped as Chuuya grabbed his thighs and pulled him towards him, until Chuuya’s cock lay resting between Dazai’s hip and his own groin. Huffing at the startled noises Dazai continued to make, Chuuya brought his fingers to take some of the lube that had been left on the brunette’s bottom in excess to cover himself.  

 Somehow, Dazai thought, this must be his reward for trying to be a good man. Thats the only reason he could think of for why Chuuya slotting inside him must feel so good, even before he had begun to move.  

Chuuya sat in wonder above him, amazed at the way Dazai was reacting. The man was writhing, his hands clenched in the sheets next to his head, which was thrown to the side with his mouth open. The redhead couldn't find it in himself to resist, not an opportunity as good as that which had been given to him.  

Without warning, Chuuya dove toward Dazai’s neck and latched on, and at the same time started driving his hips into Dazai with no restraint, pounding and listening in cruel joy at the sound of slapping that came from below him.  

Dazai felt like his insides were being torn apart and resewn, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the feeling of Chuuya all over him, or the sound of Chuuya grunting and groaning into his neck, the sound penetrating even Dazai’s screams and keening whines. He felt overwhelmed already, pushed even farther at the feeling of Chuuya’s breath, the redhead panting onto his neck, and the hand rough with callouses creeping towards his chest, rubbing at him over his dress.  

Between the blinding feeling, though, Dazai heard it. The first sounds of a name. Like a knife through his heart, Dazai felt the pleasure take the backseat to the ache that had crept into his neck in an instant.  

Chuuya was still speaking into his neck, so Dazai felt more than heard small bits of the name. Miniscule snips of ”Fuck..Osa-” and ”so good, ‘zai.”  

So quickly, his arms moving without him thinking, Dazai felt himself fist a hand into Chuuya’s hair and pull him out of his neck, ignoring the hiss Chuuya let out, and bringing the redhead’s focus to his face instead.  

“Say it,” He croaked, pushing the tears he felt creeping into his eyes back, and ignoring the emotion he could hear in his own voice, ”Say his name while you fuck me. Say it .”  

“Do you really want me to?”  

“Yes.” Dazai knew he was pleading, and while normally he would be embarrassed and angry by his voice, with Chuuya over an in him saying someone else’s name, he instead felt his jealousy- his need for Chuuya to call his name instead- pushing the embarrassment to the back of his mind.  

“Osamu Dazai.” Chuuya punctuated his words with a hard thrust that touched into Dazai’s prostate, and once he had processed what the redhead had said, he couldn’t tell which had brought him more pleasure. Chuuya was saying his name. Chuuya wanted him .  

But, Dazai had to keep up the charade, especially now that he knew Chuuya had been toying with him all along. Looking into his eyes now, Dazai could finally see the mirth that danced in them, Chuuya was so proud of himself, gotten everything he wanted. Dazai felt his skin pimple at the excitement that coursed through him once again when he thought about what Chuuya wanted was him.  

Dazai keened as Chuuya suddenly hit that spot inside him again and pouted at the smirk that Chuuya shot at him. Now that Chuuya didn’t have to pretend to be upset anymore, it seemed, he wasn’t going to hold back on being annoying in his favorite way- making Dazai fall apart. Well, if Chuuya thought he had won already, Dazai would just have to make him keep playing.  

“Wh-hah-Who is that?” Dazai groaned, pulling again on the red hair in his hands in response to Chuuya’s attempt to interrupt him. The brunette couldn’t bring himself to be too upset, not when Chuuya’s was of interrupting him was grinding further into him- maybe once this game was really done Dazai would flip them and show Chuuya just how deep he could take him.   

Delighting in the confusion that flashed on Chuuya’s face, Dazai moaned and asked again, purposefully making himself louder to spur the redhead on. After all, he had not missed the way Chuuya drove harder with each sound he made.  

“Who’s Osamu Dazai, huh,” Chuuya laughed at Dazai. Or at least it would have looked to anyone else he was laughing at Dazai, but he could see in those eyes that Dazai would be laughing too if not for his love of this game between them- Chuuya wouldn’t have it any other way, because any other way wouldn’t be theirs. If Dazai wanted him to admit it all to him, then Chuuya could give him that.  

Chuuya brought his hand up towards Dazai’s neck, pushing it lightly into the flesh so Dazai could only just feel it. Then, he spoke.   

"Osamu Dazai left me behind, with nothing but a car blown to smithereens" He thrust hard and pressed forward, so Dazai was left in a position to where he could not move, trapped between the mattress and Chuuya. If he tried to pull away, he would only deprive himself of feeling how deep Chuuya was, and if he went the other way, he would only drive Chuuya deeper.  

"Osamu Dazai called me his dog every day, would never shut up about it,” Chuuya whispered so Dazai could feel his lips brush over his ears. ”Even gave me ‘collar’ but he left anyway.”  

Dazai tried to speak, opened his mouth to begin but Chuuya brought himself over to instead cover his lips with his own. He brought his tongue inside to drag the whines at the back of Dazai‘s throat out, and smiled at the line of spit that broke to lay on the brunette’s lip and chin when he pulled away just far enough to speak.   

"But Dazai forgot that when you leave dogs alone, they get lonely quick, & will go find their affection somewhere else if they have to."   

Forget the charade. Dazai saw red at Chuuya’s words and felt his skin crawl.   

“Chibi really has forgotten his place as my dog if he thinks he can go hump some other whore-”  

Dazai never got to finish. That stupid nickname was all Chuuya needed to hear to know Dazai was done pretending too. With nothing holding him back, he began rutting back into Dazai. If he didn’t know any better, Chuuya would think he was listening to music with the way Dazai sounded, his words interrupted by Chuuya’s actions. Beneath him, the brunette was finally- finally- calling for Chuuya, yelling his name all other kinds of idiotic barbs he loved to call Chuuya.  

After a time of just enjoying the feeling of driving into Dazai, enjoying the way Dazai reacted, Chuuya’s hand found the brunette’s and pulled them in between their faces, so they both could see.  

“How many?”  

“H-How many what?” Dazai looked beautiful fucked out like this, gasping and struggling for once to speak, Chuuya decided.  

“How many people have fucked you since you left?” Chuuya needed to know, needed to know how many times he needed to do this again before he beat them all. Dazai blushed brightly when he told him as much.  

“I don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter,” Dazai pulled his hand from Chuuya’s and cut him off with a kiss when the redhead tried to open his mouth to speak again. It was sweeter than those from before, shorter and more of just a peck, but Dazai felt he needed to do it a lot more times to ever be satisfied. “None of them were who I want.”  

Suddenly Chuuya looked nervous, biting his lip and looking away.   

“And who do you want?”  

Dazai laughed loudly; leave it to his chibi to still be self-conscious when he was literally balls deep in him.  

“Mon petite mafia,” Dazai spoke softly, craning his head upwards so his lips rested again next to Chuuya’s, “it’s always been you, Chuuya. Now won’t you tell me again that you want me too?”  

“How could it ever be anyone but you, stupid mackerel,” Dazai felt himself melting at hearing that stupid name, it felt like coming home, in a way. “It will always be you that I want, Osamu.”  

As Chuuya spoke against his lips Dazai felt it. The half of a soul he must have stolen from Chuuya, pushing and prying at his ribs. It was pulling him apart from the inside, clawing to escape and meet with its other half. It was desperate, yearning, painful. It felt as though Chuuya’s words- like Chuuya’s tongue which was tangled with Dazai’s now- were a shovel that he was pushing into Dazai’s chest and digging like a grave robber, ready to steal Dazai’s heart, as if hadn’t done so five years ago. Dazai was struck with the knowledge that he would let Chuuya, would allow him to break apart every rib he had and tear apart his skin. Dazai knew he would let Chuuya kill him from the inside, and would beg him to lay inside the grave he had dug for them inside Dazai’s chest.  

In the morning, the sun broke through the windows and ran across them, two men lay side by side. They hadn’t ended up sleeping at all, instead Chuuya had shown Dazai just how much he had missed him, and once that was done Dazai had rolled them over to show the redhead how deep he could take him when on top, and even after that they had simply lain down, content to hold each other and be able to open their eyes each time they blinked, and see the other still there.  

But all good things must come to an end, and when Chuuya brought his hand to tuck some of Dazai’s hair behind his ear, his phone rang from his bedside table.  

Pulling away and ignoring the ensuing whine from the brunette, Chuuya answered his phone with a quick “Yes?”  

After a few seconds of back and forth, with Chuuya running the hand not holding his phone to his ear over Dazai’s body- which Dazai had shamelessly been teasing him with as soon as he answered the call, pulling the sheets down to uncover his collarbones, then chest, and finally his hips- with only hums and mumbles of agreement to whoever was on the phone. Until finally he spoke, and what he said broke the spell of domestically they had created.  

“Yeah, I’ll be right there Boss.”  

That was all Dazai needed to know that this, whatever it was, was over. He pushed Chuuya’s hand off him and rolled over, pulling the damn expensive sheets higher to cover his shoulders like a cocoon.  

“What the hell, Mackerel? What are you doing?” Chuuya sounded like he was close to laughter, but that didn’t help Dazai at all, if anything it made him angrier. “Why are you hidin’ from me?”  

“Chuu-yA!” Dazai yelped as he was grabbed around the center and pulled around until he was put on his back, and the blankets around him were pulled away from where they were covering his face.  

Chuuya smiled at him- he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of Dazai’s little pout when things didn’t go his way- before he asked again why the brunette had hidden, though ineffectively, from him.  

“Chuuya has to go to work.” Dazai spat like a petulant child. “He’s still loyal to Mori like the stupid dog he is.”  

“That’s not true, you know that. I’m loyal to the organization, not him. But the Boss just called and said he needed me to check up on a lead he has on a certain traitorous executive,” Chuuya continued despite feeling Dazai tense and start squirming in his arms. “I guess it’s just too bad I won’t be finding anything to help. Maybe I’ll be too preoccupied thinking of who might be waiting for me at my apartment?”  

What Chuuya had hoped would be a good way to invite Dazai to stay while showing he had no intention to turn him over to the organization, instead seemed to make Dazai sag in something other than relaxation.  

“I can’t stay here, Chibi, you know that, right?”  

“Why not?” Chuuya didn’t understand, why couldn’t Dazai just stay here and let him take care of him, he didn’t need to keep selling himself, Chuuya would take care of everything. He told him as much, but it didn’t make a difference.  

“And what happens when Mori finds out?” Dazai brought his hands out of his cocoon to hold Chuuya’s face. “That’s the whole reason I blew up that car.”  

“I thought you blew it up to make me angry!”  

“No,” Dazai smiled sadly up at him, “I blew it up because I knew you didn’t really like it all that much, for one. But it was also because I needed Mori to think there was no chance you’d come after me in any other way than under his orders. I couldn’t risk him thinking you knew anything.”  

“That’s fine, you’re right- I didn’t even like that car all that much,” Chuuya sounded desperate, it was something Dazai never wanted to hear again, “and Mori doesn’t suspect anything, so stay, Osamu, please.”  

“Chuuya I can’t , I can’t put you in danger like this. No matter how much I want to just stay here with you.” Dazai drew his hands back, it would only be harder the longer he held him, he wouldn’t want to let go.  

But Chuuya didn’t let him, instead grabbing one of his hands and holding it where both of them could see, a painful reminder of how he had done the same thing last night, “Will I ever see you again?”  

“I don’t know, mon petite mafia,” Dazai answered truthfully, before pushing Chuuya again towards where he had discarded his clothes before, “but you need to get ready for work.” 

And so Dazai watched as Chuuya got dressed and ready, drifting around him, naked and fully a distraction. They continued for longer than Chuuya had ever taken to get ready, the redhead’s hands and lips finding themself all over the brunette multiple times, until Chuuya pulled out clothes for Dazai to wear.  

“I took them from your,” Chuuya hesitated, he always hated how Dazai’s only option of living had been a shipping container, “from your place, before Mori took everything out of it.” Neither of them asked why Mori took his things rather than burning them, they both knew already.  

Dazai thanked him while he slipped them on, a simple pair of jeans and a long sweater, but seeing Dazai look so comfortable in his home was all the thanks Chuuya needed.  

Dazai whispered to him that he’d leave later that day while letting Chuuya kiss him against the wall next to his front door. It felt not unlike what they would do in the morning if they were to ever be allowed this, if they allowed each other.  

And then Chuuya walked out the door. A little bit later, Dazai did the same.  

Two weeks later, Chuuya Nakahara was bored again. Two weeks later, Osamu Dazai stepped into a new model car.