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It starts with a glass of wine, as it usually does.
Dazai lounges across the maroon velvet sofa, dangling a glass of wine between his slender fingers as he raises a chocolate truffle into the air. He stares at the treat thoughtfully, as if contemplating its very existence, and lets himself be entranced by the icing’s design. It’s an elegant flower, symmetrical and meticulously crafted by the hands of some skilled chocolate artisan. Dazai can just picture an old, weathered man sitting at his workbench, fingers steady as they paint the petals fluidly.
It’s Dazai’s day off, and he’s incredibly bored.
“You know what I like best about truffles?” he asks casually, tilting the treat to run a nail over the hard white glaze. He doesn’t wait for a response. “The way the filling spills into your mouth when you crush the fragile little shell.” He applies pressure and watches the icing crack into a lightning streak.
“The way you say it makes it sound morbid.”
Dazai laughs and glances over at his dear friend, Oda, another victim of the horrid day off. He’s reclined comfortably in the plush armchair right across from him, seemingly focused on the old book laid open across his lap. Except Dazai knows better. Oda hasn’t turned the page in the past hour and his eyes aren’t even moving across the text.
He’s curious as to what has Oda so entranced that he can’t even read his beloved books.
“Does it now?” Dazai coos playfully. Forget the truffle, he rather decipher the puzzle that is Oda than waste time imagining some chocolatier paint pretty flowers with icing. “Then, I would like to leave this dreary world as a truffle does. I’d have a lovely young woman take me in between her dainty fingers and bite into me until I burst.”
Oda raises a brow. “And that sounds lewd.” Dazai can see it in his eyes that Oda is not surprised by a longshot. Everyone knows that Dazai has always had a rather unique way of describing his ideal situations - or in this case, his ideal suicide.
Dazai laughs even louder, nearly spilling the wine across the hardwood floor in his amusement. “Ah, my dear Odasaku, you really are so outright with your words!” He presses the truffle to his lips and gives Oda a wry smile. “What about you? How would you like to go?”
“That’s not something I like to think about,” Oda answers sincerely.
“How boring,” Dazai groans, taking a bite from the truffle. Some of the raspberry ganache smudges against his bottom lip and oozes down his chin, earning a soft sigh of disapproval. He diligently swipes the sticky filling away, all too aware of Oda watching him intently as he pops his finger into his mouth and sucks it clean.
Oda visibly swallows and Dazai grins. The first of the puzzle pieces have fallen into place.
“Do tell me, Odasaku,” Dazai begins, lapping at the remaining half of the truffle with a sly smile. Oda not so subtly dips his head down to continue staring at the book, flipping a single page in an attempt to cement his act. “Wherever did you acquire this fine wine and these luxurious treats?”
Oda wets his dry lips with his tongue before he responds. “They were a gift,” he says, sounding calm as ever despite the fidgeting of his fingers and the faint pink tint of his cheeks. “I helped a woman and she insisted on showing her appreciation.” He briefly glances to the wine bottle and the opened box of truffles resting innocently on the coffee table. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Dazai plops the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and lunges dramatically for the wine bottle, raising it up to the light as he takes a sip from his glass. “Domaine de la Romanée-Conti,” he reads aloud. “Quite the appreciation, giving you one of the most expensive wines in the world.”
“What I did meant a lot to her,” Oda says nonchalantly.
Sitting upright against the sofa, Dazai sets the bottle back onto the table and swishes the wine around in his glass. “And what is it that you did for her to warrant such immense gratitude?” The smile is still on his face, shifting more and more into a smirk the longer Oda refuses to look him in the eye. How cute.
“She had just undergone a divorce, but her husband kept stalking her.”
Dazai’s face lights up. “Oh?” With another sip of wine, he scoots to the edge of the sofa and leans in toward Oda, grinning from ear to ear. “Did you beat him up, hm? Did you leave him black and blue while you left the scene completely unscathed?”
Oda finally looks him in the eye and blinks. “No. I forged a new identity for her and disappeared the old.”
“Boring!” Slinging his arm across his forehead, Dazai falls back onto the sofa with a dramatic swoon and huffs. How frustrating it is sometimes to have a friend as blunt and direct as Oda, so he believes. “You could have made up some fantastical tale and I would have bought it. Anything but some silly paperwork story.”
“If I can avoid violence, then that’s what I’ll do,” Oda says with a shrug. “My apologies if that doesn’t satisfy you, Executive.”
Dazai can’t say he dislikes the sound of Executive. The way it falls so smoothly and naturally from Oda’s lips, as if he were born for the sole reason to say that one little word, has a chill running down Dazai’s spine. There’s something about Oda that affects him easily, something that has his adrenaline spiking and his skin tingling with the urge to be touched. It’s a far more satisfying sensation than the rush of suicidal tendencies.
But the best part? Oda is the exact same way when it comes to him. Dazai had come to that realization a few months ago when, while drunkenly floundering about the bar, he had fallen onto Oda’s lap and was greeted by a little friend.
Dazai was no fool then, and he is no fool now. He will never miss out on the opportunity when it presents itself.
“...I know you don’t like the blood and the guts, but it wouldn’t do you any harm to get a little rough. ” Dazai emphasizes the last word with a wink, not missing the way Oda bites his lip.
Clearing his throat, Oda tugs at his collar and closes the book to set it aside. Good. It’s not like he was even paying attention to the thing. “I know that much,” he says. “But still, I don’t want to risk losing control.”
“But I like it when you lose control,” Dazai teases. Oda chokes but shakes it off with a forced cough, obviously directing his attention at anything but the smirking Dazai. He ends up settling his gaze on the wine glass he left forgotten on the nearby side table. Picking it up, he swirls the wine around and stares at the deep red color.
It takes every ounce of self-control for Dazai not to tease him for his adolescent behavior. He’s sure Oda remembers all the things they’ve done together, the ways they’ve experimented with each other’s bodies; a little bit of innuendo should be nothing to him.
Dazai purses his lips. “Have you even tasted the appreciation of the woman you oh so graciously assisted?”
Oda runs his nail over the rim of the glass. “No,” he admits, ignoring the innuendo in Dazai’s question. “I’m not really thirsty.”
Dazai clicks his tongue; that won’t do, no, not at all. He can’t be the only one enjoying such an expensive bottle of wine for free, especially since he wasn’t the one who went through the efforts of acquiring it. “You should at least try it,” he suggests slyly, raising his glass to his lips. “It really is the best I’ve ever had. No wonder the price tag is so ludicrous.”
Oda lifts the glass up and stares at the liquid. “What kind of blend is it?”
“Pinot noir,” Dazai answers with a grin. “Your favorite.” He gleefully watches Oda take a slow, deliberate sip from the wine, his skin itching with excitement. Oda’s face softens as he contemplates the taste and Dazai has to stop himself from leaping into his lap. Not yet, he tells himself, not yet.
“...It’s good,” Oda says after a moment. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and sets the glass back down. “It would be great with a steak or some venison.”
Dazai can’t help himself anymore; he’s dying to dismantle that naive act. “Would you like to try a truffle next?” Before Oda can supply an answer, Dazai - wine glass still in hand - slides onto his lap and straddles him easily, a leg on either side of him. With a startled grunt, Oda involuntarily grips onto his hips and Dazai beams. He’s been waiting for this since the moment Oda asked him to ‘join him for some wine’ earlier that day. “Well? Would you?”
Oda swallows thickly, at a loss for words.
“You’re so cute when you’re nervous...,” Dazai teases, slowly caressing the side of Oda’s face until his fingers find purchase underneath his chin. He gently coaxes Oda to raise his head, deep brown locking intimately with steel grey. “But I really must ask… How come? We’ve done things like this several times before, so why the virgin act?”
“I’m afraid,” Oda says shakily.
“Of what?”
“Of losing control.”
Dazai grins. “I already told you, and I meant it: I like it when you lose control.” He throws his head back and empties the wine glass down his throat, caring little about the liquid that slips onto his chin and down his neck.
“You’re making a mess,” Oda mumbles, eyeing the red stream that flows down Dazai’s bandaged neck.
“Then clean it up for me, sweetheart.”
Oda immediately leans forward and runs his tongue over the liquid, reveling in the taste of fine wine and Dazai. His self-control gradually slips away as he licks up every drop until there’s nothing left but the paper and sweat on Dazai’s smooth skin. “Good boy,” Dazai breathes, setting the glass onto the side table so he can slip his fingers into Oda’s hair. His skin tingles under Oda’s hot, wet tongue. “Such a good errand boy…”
Oda mouths over Dazai’s throat and bites down hard, eliciting a sharp gasp shortly followed by a giggle. “My, you’re just like a dog,” he coos. “Possessive and -” He runs a hand down Oda’s chest until he reaches the obvious erection straining against tight pants. “- horny.”
“You dislike dogs,” Oda breathes, holding back a groan when Dazai palms him languidly.
“I do,” Dazai admits. “But you’re an exception.” He lets go of Oda’s hair to reach behind himself and pluck a truffle from the box, holding it between their mouths with a sly smile. “You didn’t answer my question: would you like to try a truffle?”
“Yes, please.” Oda’s voice is deep and raw, laced with predatory lust and pure, absolute need, so much so that Dazai can detect the desperation growing by the second. Oda’s fingers are tightening and loosening on Dazai’s hips repeatedly, dying to touch more, aching to take full possession of him in every way. Dazai knows this. Without a doubt, he knows this, but he is not the type to submit so easily.
He hums. “You’re missing something.”
“Executive.”
“That’s more like it.” Grinning deviously, Dazai places the truffle between his own lips and closes the gap between them, coaxing Oda’s mouth around the chocolate. Dazai bites into it slowly, letting the tart raspberry ganache gush out over the shell, and urges it more and more into Oda’s mouth until he accepts it dutifully. The ganache smudges all over Oda’s lips and Dazai takes a moment to lean back and admire Oda’s new look.
Red gloss smeared against parted lips, flushed cheeks, and eyes glazed over: it suits him.
Dazai leans forward and kisses him, licking off the sweetness and sliding his tongue into Oda’s mouth to taste the chocolate and wine. The kiss is messy but passionate, both men groaning into it as they press their bodies closer together to seek more contact, more intimacy. They end up falling into a chain reaction of touches that leaves them both craving more: a bite is met with a moan which is met with a grinding of bodies and nails sinking into skin.
“Odasaku,” Dazai says breathlessly as they part for air. He smirks when Oda leans forward to lick up the saliva on his chin. “How was the chocolate?”
Oda breathes raggedly, his eyes darker than before. “Good,” he mutters, his hands tugging at Dazai’s tie to loosen it. He yanks the garment off and drops it to the floor, deft fingers immediately working the buttons of his dress shirt open. “But…”
“But what, hm?” Dazai asks innocently as he slides Oda’s jacket off his shoulders. He takes a moment to discreetly slip his hands into one of the pockets, eyes flashing when his fingers wrap around a familiar plastic bottle. Of course.
“It doesn’t compare to you.”
Dazai whistles low. “So you rather eat me?”
“Yes.”
Dazai rubs Oda’s crotch and grins at the involuntary thrust of Oda’s hips. “Very well,” he says. “You may devour me to your heart’s content. But first, there’s a little problem.”
Oda stops and looks at him.
“This chair is too small.”
To say Dazai isn’t ridiculously turned on by Oda carrying him to the bed as if he weighed nothing would be a big, fat lie. To say his cock doesn’t react favorably to being tossed and pinned onto the bed would be another big, fat lie. Dazai loves to be manhandled by Oda. It’s the second best thing next to dying.
Oda trails kisses down Dazai’s chest, savoring every scar, every mark, not a single one left unloved. Dazai sighs blissfully under his ministrations, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… What exactly are you doing?”
Oda runs his tongue over a scar. “Eating you.”
“Feels more like you’re ogling me.”
“Well,” Oda breathes hotly against his skin, “you are gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous? With all of these scars?” Dazai starts to laugh, but ends up gasping as Oda presses his face into his groin and nuzzles against his clothed cock.
“Yes, with all of your scars.” Oda traces a diagonal scar across Dazai’s stomach, Dazai twitching and arching into the touch.
“My oh my, you’re odd.”
“That makes two of us.”
Dazai chuckles. He can’t argue that. “True.”
Oda hooks his fingers into the waistband of Dazai’s black dress pants and slides them off, letting them pile onto the floor. “...You’re not wearing any underwear,” he says, eyes directed at Dazai’s erect cock.
“I didn’t see the point.”
“Were you expecting this?”
Dazai raises a small bottle of lube and taps the lid against his lips. “I found this in your jacket,” he says, and Oda immediately reddens. “I’d say we both had a similar idea of how we wanted this night to go.”
“...I can’t help it.”
“Oh?”
Oda wraps his hand around Dazai’s cock and slowly starts to jerk him off, smooth, languid movements that have Dazai moaning softly and arching his back. “Thinking about you underneath me like this… It drives me crazy. I can’t think straight,” Oda says in a low, husky tone. He presses his thumb into the slit and drinks in the sight of Dazai squirming. “...You don’t know how jealous I get when you talk about women.”
“Actually, I do know,” Dazai admits nonchalantly, slightly out of breath. “That’s why I do it.”
Oda grips Dazai’s cock tightly and digs his nails into the shaft, drawing out a yelp. “Manipulative, aren’t you?”
Dazai chuckles and bites his lip. This is the reaction he’s been looking for. “Oh, definitely, only because I care about you so much, Odasaku.” He sits up and wraps his arms around Oda’s neck, smiling innocently as he stares into his eyes. “I love it when you’re rough with me…”
“Masochist.”
“Absolutely.” Dazai leans in, presses a light kiss against Oda’s ear, and whispers, “I’d even let you kill me if you wanted to.” Oda shudders, a chill running down his spine. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined you fucking me to death.”
Oda shouldn’t be turned on by that. Oda should definitely not be turned on by that. But he is, and he can’t stop the blood rushing to his cock so fast he nearly passes out. He tries to keep himself grounded by jacking off Dazai faster, his fist slick with precum, but remembers all too late that Dazai’s sweet moans and gasps - right in his ear, no less - simply drive him off the edge even further.
Dazai steadily rocks his hips into Oda’s grip, breathing harder and harder until he suddenly reaches down and clutches Oda’s wrist. “Now, now,” he laughs breathily. “What kind of Executive would I be if I don’t let my subordinate have some fun too?”
With a smirk, Dazai deftly undoes Oda’s pants and reaches into his briefs, palming his thick cock smoothly. It’s hot and heavy in his hand and he licks his lips at the thought of having his way with it. Giving it a few more quick strokes, he pulls it out into the open and circles his finger around the swollen head.
Dazai’s smirk splits into a grin. “Oh, Odasaku, look at how needy you already are,” he coos. “Heh, I’m so flattered.” He presses his nail into the slit and gleefully takes in Oda’s deep groan. “You’re such a good errand boy, you know that? I’m so glad we picked you up.” He wraps his fingers around Oda’s cock and starts to pump him slowly, his fist sliding effortlessly along the throbbing shaft.
Oda’s breathing comes out harsh and labored, borderline animalistic. He impulsively shoves his face into the spot between Dazai’s shoulder and neck and bites down hard, sinking in deeper and deeper as Dazai’s whine rises in pitch. He drags his teeth down to Dazai’s pulse point and resumes his assault there, savoring the warm and quick pulse that beats relentlessly into his mouth. Vibrations tingle his tongue when Dazai chokes out a broken laugh above.
“Vicious,” Dazai breathes. “I love it.”
With a feral growl, Oda unceremoniously shoves Dazai back onto the bed and forces his legs up and apart. He settles between them, looking as though he damn well belongs there, and lowers his face to Dazai’s cock. Instead of taking it into his mouth, he grabs Dazai’s ass and spreads his cheeks apart with both hands, the flesh warm and soft under his calloused touch. Dazai giggles expectantly; so this is the kind of ‘eating’ Oda has in mind.
His giggle twists into a gasp when Oda jerks forward and presses his tongue into Dazai’s hole. He shudders when he feels Oda’s tongue probe deeper, claws and grips at the sheets so tightly his knuckles go as white as the straining fabric. Oda’s stubble scratches against his skin but hell if Dazai has anything against it - he adores the rough, prickly texture.
Dazai’s body is overcome with heat. Every kiss and suck of Oda’s talented mouth, every scrape of nails against his skin, every deep grunt resonating inside of him - all of it has Dazai’s legs trembling, cock twitching, and mouth spilling harsh pants and repressed whines. At this rate, he’s going to lose his mind, but he’ll be damned if he gets to that point without Oda. He dares not to leave his precious errand boy behind.
“O-Oda,” he rasps out, voice strained and needy. He doesn’t continue his sentence, his train of thought suddenly wrecked by the sharp teeth that sink into the tender flesh of his inner thigh. He cries out and bites his lip, trying not to laugh at his own weakness. How easy he melts into putty under Oda’s ministrations - be they rough or gentle.
Breathing harsh and slow, Dazai reaches down and cards his fingers through Oda’s red hair, fingering the subtle curls and rubbing into his scalp. He drifts his hand lower to Oda’s cheek and caresses him with all the tenderness in the world. “Come here,” Dazai orders breathlessly. “Let me reward you.”
Oda obeys. He crawls over Dazai’s body until he’s staring down at him, pupils blown with lust. “First, let’s get rid of this pesky thing,” Dazai coos, his quick, clever fingers working Oda’s shirt open with ease. He pushes the garment off along with the shoulder holsters and drags his hands down Oda’s chest. He hums, content with the firm muscles he lightly squeezes, taking his sweet time mapping the taut body before him despite already having done so several times before. Oda sighs blissfully above him, chest rising and falling steadily under his touch.
“And now, let’s do...this!” Dazai laughs as he suddenly flips them over, landing with his legs on either side of Oda’s hips and his hands splayed against his chest. “...I forgot how good you look underneath me.” Oda simply scoffs.
“I can say the same about you,” Oda says, running his hands up and down Dazai’s thighs. “But I love this view too.” He traces his finger over a particularly large scar across his hip, so loving and tender Dazai deems himself undeserving. He doesn’t stop him, though. “Anything that has to do with you… I like it.”
“Such poor tastes you have,” Dazai says, amused.
“I’d call them unique.”
“Unique, hm?” Dazai slowly inches down Oda’s body, grazing his fingers over warm skin as he goes, until he’s face-to-face with his cock. “Am I what you think to be unique?” He drags his tongue along the underside of it, eliciting a soft, pleased sigh. He wraps his fingers around the base and suckles the head lovingly, eyes falling closed as he savors the taste.
Oda is barely able to restrain himself from thrusting into Dazai’s mouth. “Without a doubt,” he mumbles, rolling his head back. His fingers subconsciously tangle themselves in Dazai’s hair as the other man swallows down as much as he can, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Oda groans, feeling his cock hit the back of Dazai’s throat, and reaches for the nearby lube.
Dazai doesn’t say anything - he can’t with a cock down his throat - but he conveys his amusement with a chuckle that sends vibrations into Oda’s body. “Fuck,” Oda gasps with a sudden jerk of his hips. Dazai chokes but bears through it, relaxing his muscles and focusing his breathing to take Oda in even deeper. He’s done this before, deep throating Oda. It’s pretty much second nature to him now.
He seamlessly swallows inch by inch until his nose brushes against fine red curls and his ears tingle with the pleasant sound of Oda’s labored breathing. He presses his tongue flat against a bulging vein, whines at the back of his throat when Oda throbs in his mouth. His mind’s in a haze, his body is hot and needy for more, and all he can think about is the heat pooling in his belly.
Eager to please even more, Dazai slides off until just the tip rests between his lips, laps up the precum, and swallows him down again in one fell swoop. Oda groans loudly and Dazai hums with satisfaction. He’s never been the one to underperform at anything. He’d rather die a slow, agonizing imperfect death that would forever humiliate him in his grave than not give Oda everything he possibly can.
Sitting up slowly, Oda pops the lube open and slathers his fingers in the cool fluid until they’re shiny and slick. He reaches over to probe at Dazai’s tight entrance, his clean hand coming up to steady Dazai’s head. He traces the rim slowly, drags his nail over it, and presses in until the tip of his finger is in. Dazai jerks, but doesn’t stop bobbing his head. Instead, he props his thighs farther apart and wiggles his ass a little.
Come on, Odasaku, Dazai thinks to himself, sliding off his cock with a wet pop. Give me more than that. He mouths along the shaft, humming softly.
Oda receives the message. He slides his entire finger in and joins it with another, working them both in and out at a steady pace. It burns a little, but it’s nothing Dazai can’t handle. The lube smoothens the movement and then he’s taking in a third finger effortlessly, all three of them stretching him open, reaching deep inside of him. Dazai outright purrs.
A few seconds later and he’s a moaning mess.
Eyes glazed over and lips bruised from sucking, Dazai can barely steady his sweating, trembling body. He’s unbearably hard, leaking all over the sheets, and he’s sure he’s about to lose his mind from how good it feels. But it’s still not enough. He needs more. “O-Oda,” he whines, hand slack around Oda’s cock as Oda’s fingers noisily thrust in and out of him. “Enough.” Enough teasing, enough denying themselves both what they so desperately crave.
“As you wish, Executive,” Oda mutters, his own voice strained and rough with pleasure. He withdraws his sticky fingers, coaxes Dazai onto his back, and settles between his legs comfortably. He pulls down his pants and briefs down to mid-thigh and takes his cock into his hand, taking a moment to slicken it with lube. Groaning at the contact, he pumps himself a few times before pressing the head against Dazai’s stretched hole.
“Don’t keep me waiting now,” Dazai taunts playfully. His blood is racing, thrumming in his ears, with excitement. “Remember: I like it when you’re rough.”
Eyes narrowing, Oda takes Dazai by the hips and slides into his pliant body, filling him up bit by bit until Oda’s fully sheathed in his tight warmth. Dazai sighs softly and lolls his head to the side, a smile on his face. It’s amazing, to be taken by Oda. Their bodies are so compatible they fit together seamlessly, perfectly, as if they were born for each other.
Dazai gasps when Oda starts to move; short, shallow jabs at first that quickly become hard, long strokes. They fall into a steady rhythm together, Oda snapping his hips, Dazai moaning and gripping at the sheets for leverage. Dazai can’t wrap his mind around how good it feels, no matter how many times they do this. All he can do is bask in the moment, a stupid grin on his face, gasping and breathing harshly as he takes in everything Oda can possibly give him.
“More,” Dazai breathes. He wraps his legs around Oda’s waist and invites him to fuck him deeper, harder, uninhibited.
Oda complies. He grips Dazai’s hips tighter, pushes him down into the bed, fucks him hard and rough. The bed creaks under their weight and Dazai can’t help but laugh, a laugh that twists into a whimper when Oda suddenly rams straight into his prostate. “There, Odasaku, t-there,” he whines, his trembling body sucking Oda in deeper. The squish and squelch of their rough coupling only turns him on further.
Oda gives him exactly what he wants without a single word, only groans and deep, labored breathing that make Dazai’s cock twitch because damn, he sounds good. It’s satisfying knowing that he can rile Oda up like this, that he can draw out such sultry sounds meant for him and him alone.
No one else is allowed to see or hear his Oda like this.
“Kiss me,” Dazai orders, understanding Oda’s jealousy all too well. “Kiss me now.”
Ever so obedient - whether out of loyalty or love, Dazai still isn’t sure - Oda pulls Dazai onto his lap and kisses him hard. Tongues intertwine, warm bodies meld together into a single entity of electric desire. Wrapping his arms around Oda’s neck, Dazai greedily takes in his heat and scent and sounds and locks them away in his enigma of a mind forever. He bites Oda’s tongue, pulls it, savors his taste of chocolate and wine, rocks his hips down onto his cock until the fire in his belly burns hotter; he’s close, he’s so close.
He breaks the kiss with a gasp and giddily smiles. “You’re mine,” he croons, clenching down so tight, so good, Oda gasps and his hips stutter. “You’re all mine.” He bites into Oda’s neck, sinking his teeth deeper and deeper until droplets of blood trickle into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Oda whines. He drives his hips harder into Dazai, forcing out choked gasps and whines against his own neck until Dazai pulls back with a whimper.
“O-Oda, m-more,” he whines, his broken voice indicative of his near undoing. Oda lunges forward, pushing him back down onto the bed as he yanks the bandages away from his neck to expose more scarred skin. Mouthing against his neck and indulging in his scent, Oda repays Dazai’s mark with one of his own and pounds into him erratically. Dazai whines underneath him. His hands fly to Oda’s head and keep him there, accepting the pain and the proof that just as Oda belongs to him, he belongs to Oda.
“Mine,” Oda suddenly growls.
Dazai’s vision goes black. Electricity runs through his body like a rampant river, setting him alight with pleasure so intense, all sounds die in his throat. He can’t think. He can’t process anything else besides the coiling heat unraveling within him. He can’t do anything but cradle Oda closer, arching into him and giving himself entirely.
“Fuck, Dazai - t-tight - I’m -”
With one last deep, sultry groan, Oda fulfills his own end, coating Dazai’s insides in stickiness and warmth. He rides out the last waves of his orgasm with a few more short thrusts until he’s completely spent. “Dazai,” he breathes, chest heaving up and down. “Dazai…” He nuzzles his neck, breathing in his scent of sweat and sex.
Dazai lazily smiles. “Hmm… That was fun,” he says with a gentle caress of Oda’s face. “...But now I’m all sticky. And I need new bandages.”
“I’ll clean it -”
“Later.” Dazai absentmindedly weaves his fingers through Oda’s hair. “I want you here right now.”
“...Yeah. Me too.”
Dazai pretends not to know why his heart skips a beat.