Archive of Our Own

“Ranpo-san.” Kunikida waits to continue until Ranpo’s head rises from the snack wrappers littering his desk. One livid green eye cracks open. Sighing, the detective sits up and stretches.

“What? It’s not enough for you that you and Dazai-kun ruin my ability to sleep three nights a week?”

Kunikida knows he’s in no position to ask Ranpo for anything, given that is undeniably the case. Once Dazai cleared the hurdle of showing more traditional signs of affection—in particular, him reaching for Kunikida’s hand in public—he became borderline insatiable, like sex with Kunikida Doppo is once again novel and needs to be explored from every angle in every part of his dorm. Kunikida is half ashamed to admit that now includes Dazai’s kitchen. After their most recent walk together, Kunikida found himself ensnared in a kiss as soon as Dazai’s door fell shut. “Doppo,” Dazai breathed against his lips. “I want you.”

It’s not often he gives in to Dazai’s whims, but that evening, he found he, too, wanted sex, so he answered with a nod and a kiss.

He didn’t anticipate Dazai pulling away with a smile and murmuring, “Can we fuck in the kitchen?”

He’s still not sure which of them was more desperate. The only thing Dazai gave him time for was getting the lube before opening his belt and trousers and reaching for him, demanding to get fucked the whole time Kunikida was fingering him open and kissing the bare sliver of his neck. Kunikida still remembers turning Dazai around, grabbing Dazai’s hips, and burying himself inside. After adequate preparation, of course. He can still recall how Dazai’s moan ripped through the dorm, partly blocked by Dazai’s arms and the counter. He still remembers thinking Ranpo definitely heard that, but by that point, Dazai had teased and bantered him into a state of arousal so dire, his need to fill his partner overrode every other consideration.

“Stop thinking about railing Dazai and tell me what you want,” Ranpo snaps.

Kunikida pushes his glasses up and clears his throat. “I was not—”

“You were!” Ranpo declares. “And if you don’t want me preaching to this whole damn office about your depraved kitchen experiments, you’ll either let me go back to sleep or you’ll tell me what you want. Your choice.”

The fact that Ranpo can even tell what room they were in is humiliating. Clearing his throat, Kunikida murmurs, “I want you to deduce something for me.”

Ranpo hums.

“Dazai once said something about getting an apartment with me. I want to know if he was joking.” In truth, Kunikida has been obsessed with the thought ever since Dazai mentioned it. He replays that moment over and over in his head, whether the brunet is beside him or not. It interrupts him sometimes, intrudes into his thoughts and makes him stop whatever he’s doing just go give it more attention.

“Ask him,” Ranpo retorts, folding his arms and dropping his head back into them.

“I can’t.”

Ranpo groans and lifts his head again. “You two are hopeless.”

“If this is an avenue I pursue, I want to do it without him knowing.”

“Why?” Ranpo spins his chair and folds his arms again. “Never mind. Rhetorical questions are rude. You want to surprise him, I gather.”

“Yes,” Kunikida says.

With a sly smile, Ranpo’s green eyes split open. “What’s in it for me?”

Kunikida meets his gaze and holds up his hand with three fingers folded in.

“Three what?”

“The next three times Dazai wants to have sex, I’ll take him to a love hotel. My finances has recovered a little, thankfully, and I moved key money in a different account.”

“And?” Ranpo presses.

Kunikida sighs. “And… I’ll buy you snacks for a day.”

“Two weeks.”

“Three days.” When Ranpo opens his mouth again, Kunikida states, “Remember what you have to gain from this, Ranpo-san: a lifetime of nights undisturbed by Dazai moaning my name when I—”

“Deal!” Ranpo holds out his hand, Kunikida shakes it, and Ranpo spins back to his desk. “Give me two days. I’ll have your answer then.”

Luckily, Dazai is still worn out from fucking in Kunikida’s kitchen to want sex that night. He’s still whining about his knees hurting, to which Kunikida responds, “It was your idea.”

Dazai just wraps his bandaged arms around Kunikida’s shoulders. Kunikida, in answer, continues stirring the pot of Hayashi stew he’s cooking.

“I can be gentler next time, then.”

“Kunikida-kun’s a brute.”

“And you’re an insatiable waste of bandages,” Kunikida answers, glancing towards Dazai and catching his pout. “Red roses.”

“Yeah,” Dazai murmurs, unwinding his arms and walking towards the living space. “Red roses.”

“Take the spoons?”

Dazai comes back wearing an alarmingly serious look.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Dazai answers, taking the spoons and passing him a glance. “Out of nowhere, I just feel… sad.”

The fact that Dazai is even trying to articulate his feelings is progress. Kunikida dops his head to look towards the sliding glass door. “It’s not raining,” he observes.

“Does it have to be?”

Picking up on the game, he murmurs, “Why are you sad, Osamu?”

“Why are you still stirring that pot instead of cuddling me?”

Kunikida could phrase his response as a question, but instead, he murmurs, “I promise I’ll hold you all night after we eat.” He meets Dazai’s slightly wider honey-colored eyes and sighs.

“Why didn’t you ask a question?”

The only reply Kunikida gives is, “Red roses.”

Before Dazai leaves the kitchen, he hugs Kunikida one more time. And for once, it’s not in a way that might interfere with his ability to cook. He keeps his promise once dinner is done, cradling Dazai in his arms and murmuring affectionate words into his hair, occasionally dropping a little kiss on his forehead or rubbing his shoulders. It takes time, as all things in love do, but eventually, Dazai nods off.

Around the time he’s thinking about how he spends more time in Dazai’s dorm than his own, Ranpo drops a file on his desk. “What’s this?” Kunikida asks.

“That file you asked for yesterday. I finished early.”

Kunikida tries to remember what that’s in reference to, then recalls he asked Ranpo to deduce something… personal. He folds his hands and leans his forehead against them, staring at the folder between his elbows.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I should look.”

“Why not?” Ranpo asks.

Kunikida sighs. “I… am realizing just now the best thing to do would have been to ask him. Even if it meant getting hurt, I—”

“Kunikida-kun, you’re being an idiot.” Ranpo leans against the edge of his desk. “Dazai doesn’t do anything without having an intention.”

“And the intention half the time is to annoy people. Consider all the times he has called me his work wife.”

“You are his work wife,” Ranpo retorts. “Just read the file. I’m happy to get you more information, but it’ll cost you.”

Sighing, Kunikida pushes his work aside for a moment and opens the manilla folder. There’s a single sheet of paper inside. It’s blank.

“Back side,” Ranpo calls, dropping his head on his desk again.

Kunikida turns it over to a single sentence. He wasn’t kidding, so ask him, dummy. He’s not sure whether those words relieve him or make him more anxious. Before deciding, he takes the folder and paces to Fukuzawa’s office. It’s a slow day, so it Kunikida takes the opportunity to knock.

“President, sir,” he murmurs, dropping into a bow. “Please permit me a moment of your time.”

Fukuzawa glances up and hums an affirmative. Kunikida shuts the door on the way in and sits across from Fukuzawa’s desk. “Tea?” he asks.

“Ah. Yes.” The instant the teacup is in his hand, he thinks better of it.

“You had something you wished to speak to me about, Kunikida?”

“Sir, I apologize if this is personal. I’m aware this isn’t not an appropriate use of worktime and promise to make it up this evening. However, now seemed like an ideal opportunity to approach you, and—” He stops. “And I…” He catches Fukuzawa’s stare, swallows, and says, “I… want… that is…”

“You’re turning red, Kunikida. Do you need a mom—”

“I want to move in with Dazai. Or… I want him to move in with me.” Kunikida sighs and stares at the file in his hands. “But the dorms, I don’t believe, are an ideal space for that sort of arrangement, never mind that Kyouka-chan and Atsushi-kun share a dorm. I… want to live with him as my partner. Romantically. And because of that, I believe the best solution is an apartment near the building, no more than one or two train stops away.” He glances up to find Fukuzawa staring at him with the same expression he was wearing when he dropped his eyes. “I… understand such an arrangement is unusual, given we have dorms. However, I felt compelled to ask. Because it’s something I want. And I believe it’s something he wants, too.” He swallows, waits for Fukuzawa to speak… but the man’s stern expression lingers. “If I’ve overstepped—”

“Very well.” Fukuzawa’s hands disappear into his sleeves and he nods once. “Since you know best what the two of you can afford and what sort of space would best suit your needs, bring me a list of properties, and I will see what I can do.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Rising, Kunikida drops into a low bow.

He would spend the night crunching numbers, but Dazai shows up at his dorm with the definition of bedroom eyes. It’s nothing short of a miracle that Kunikida remembers his promise to Ranpo. “Come on,” he states.

“Why can’t we do it here?”

“Because I owe Ranpo three quiet nights and three days’ worth of snacks for a favor I asked him.” He stares at Dazai’s face, looking for any signs the brunet knows what it is. Seeing none, he holds out his hand. “So we can do it at a love hotel, or we can wait until we calm down and just cuddle.”

Dazai, of course takes his hand, and at the love hotel, Kunikida barely waits until they enter the room before pushing Dazai against a wall and claiming his mouth. It’s a mystery how they make it to the bed, or that they manage to get each other undressed without any buttons flying to separate corners. The moment any bit of Dazai’s skin is exposed, Kunikida dips to kiss it, reveling in every noise that flies from Dazai’s mouth as he fingers the brunet open. The sighs, the moans, the wrecked and shuddering screams as his want intensifies, all dredged in desire, all egging him on. But his favorites are the murmured sounds of his given name in Dazai’s ear after he’s all the way inside.

As good as sex with Dazai’s, that’s not what he thinks of. He thinks of the list of apartments he’s already started making, the one he’ll finish tomorrow while Dazai is still sleeping. He thinks of giving it to Fukuzawa, who, against all the odds stacked against them, succeeds in finding them a suitable place they can afford. He imagines taking Dazai there to explain. And that’s where his vision breaks down. If the world was ideal, Dazai would accept with an enthusiastic smile, maybe after playing the whole thing off as a joke. But for some reason, Kunikida can’t envision it. And that is a kind of unsettling he wasn’t prepared to face, especially not while he’s having sex.

“Doppo…”

The sound of his name catches his attention.

“Doppo… come out of your head for a second.”

He’s sweating, shaking, and all Dazai does is stare up at him, eyes burning into him. Slowly, the brunet’s slender, scarred arms rise, and his palms settle against Kunikida’s face.

“Where were you?” Dazai whispers. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “I was scared you wouldn’t come back.” Swallowing, Dazai’s hands drop. “Am I… not good enough?”

Kunikida drops to rest his forehead against Dazai’s. “No.” He answers in the same volume Dazai used to speak to him. “No, my intolerable freesia. You are… incredible as always.”

“But not better than whatever’s on your mind.” Kunikida half expects Dazai to joke about it being something indecent. Instead, he murmurs, “If you’re not thinking of me, we should stop.”

“Dazai.” Kunikida caresses his partner’s face. “I’m sorry. There’s just… something on my mind. And it is you, but it’s not this.” He kisses Dazai’s cheek. “It’s a very powerful idea. And it’s nothing you need to worry about. I promise…” He waits until Dazai’s eyes are locked with his again. “I’m right here with you now. You don’t need to be scared anymore.”

He can tell Dazai is remembering something frightening or terrible by the way Dazai’s arms wind around his neck and hold him closer.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida whispers. “We can stop. You just need to let me—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, no. I need you. Come inside. Inside. Please…”

They finish far differently than they started: soft, tender, and for once, quiet. As they each come to climax, their moans and whines remain soft, and their names remain whispers. Kunikida keeps his eyes on Dazai’s and tumbles over the edge first with a pant. And Dazai… his hands cup Kunikida’s face, smoothing the skin there as he continues to rock. He watches Dazai’s face scrunch up as he strokes his partner to completion and shudders at the tightness around his own erection, now softening inside of his partner. Blinking, Dazai looks up at him again, and Kunikida smooths away the unruly bangs stuck to his forehead, then trails his fingertips down Dazai’s face. They stare at each other for a moment while Dazai catches his breath. In the end, he’s not sure whether he started dipping first or whether Dazai guided him down. The result is the same either way: their lips come together, and they settle into a slow kiss.

Later, while they’re cuddling in Kunikida’s futon, wearing far less than they usually do because Dazai insisted, he feels Dazai’s fingers trace over his bare shoulder. They’re pressed together anyway, Dazai using his arm as a pillow, smiling. The room is too cold, but Dazai feels so warm and alive next to him. “What were you thinking about earlier?”

Kunikida jolts, and the finger Dazai is tracing his shoulder with freezes.

“Kunikida-kun?”

He presses his hand over Dazai’s and shuts his eyes. “I… can’t tell you just yet. Soon, though. For now, know it’s not a bad thing and I have no complaints about you in bed or anywhere else.”

“Even when I call you my work wife?”

“Especially not that,” Kunikida answers, passing Dazai a smile.

“Aww… honey, you’re so sweet.” He delivers the words in a sing-song voice and snuggles closer, but Kunkida knows Dazai is still anxious.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?’

“I know telling you not to worry about it will be counterproductive.” He catches Dazai looking at him. “So… instead, I’ll only say that while it’s about you, it’s nothing you did.”

“My work wife worries so much…”

“I’m being serious here,” Kunikida says. “I don’t want you to drive yourself crazier with it. I’m not mad or upset. In fact, the thing that’s on my mind is actually really good.”

“But you’re keeping it to yourself? Kunikida-kun can be selfish sometimes.”

Kunikida pushes Dazai onto his back. “I can also be a little greedy.” He catches Dazai’s lips, feels Dazai smile against his. “But you love me anyway.”

“Yes, I do,” Dazai murmurs, guiding him back down.

Kunikida remains optimistic about pulling this off without Dazai finding out, at least until he starts looking at prices. Even after paring out some aspects he’s willing to negotiate on—the second bedroom they could use as an office space, a dining room space, a decently sized kitchen—he still can’t find anything reasonably priced. He winds up going back to Fukuzawa’s office, once again when most of his coworkers are out to lunch, and approaching the desk.

“Yes?” Fukuzawa asks without looking up.

Kunikida drops into a bow and offers him a folded sheet of paper.

Fukuzawa takes it, gives it a glance, and murmurs, “These are your criteria. I asked for a list of complexes.”

“I… didn’t find any, sir.”

Fukuzawa’s eyes flit up to his.

“I combed the area pretty extensively. The properties are either too far out to be convenient or too expensive. There also seems to be a shortage of one- or two-bedroom apartments with a living, dining, and kitchen available.” He bows again. “My ideals are on the right, and the concessions I’m willing to make are on the left.”

Humming, Fukuzawa sets the list down and continues skimming the report in his hand. It’s one Kunikida wrote that morning.

“If it’s not possible—”

“I believe it is,” Fukuzawa answers, “but you need to be patient.”

That night, Kunikida lays alone in his dorm grappling with the possibility that, yes, perhaps this isn’t feasible, that his gut reaction when Dazai brought it up or joked about it or both was the proper response. Then, he wonders if he should have been more willing to compromise more: do they really need a newer bathroom? A bedroom big enough for two futons just in case Dazai wants to sleep separately? He rolls over and shuts his eyes, but his brain won’t turn off. It’s cluttered.

Giving up, he paces down the stairs and knocks on Dazai’s door. The brunet answers, his hair still damp from a shower or bath. “Kunikida-kun? What—”

He wants so badly to apologize that he failed Dazai. Failed them. But if he does, he’ll talk about it, and too soon at that. It’s not the ideal moment. If he’s being honest, none of this is ideal.

“Doppo.”

Kunikida’s eyes shift to Dazai.

“You’re in your head again, but that look on your face—”

Without knowing why, he latches onto Dazai’s shoulders, buries his nose in Dazai’s hair. They stumble backwards over Dazai’s threshold, the door thudding shut behind them.

“You look like you’re hurting.”

He nods once.

“Then…” He pauses. “How can I make it better?”

“You can’t,” Kunikida murmurs. “It’s all up to chance now.”

“Well.” Dazai grips the back of Kunikida’s shirt. “I can think of a few things that might ease your troubles.”

“We can’t do it here.”

“So strict,” Dazai murmurs, throwing a puckish laugh into his ear. Kunikida shudders when he feels Dazai’s tongue trace its shell. “I’m not the one who needs to relax.” When Dazai draws away, Kunikida finds himself dazed. And it doesn’t get any better when his partner says, “Exactly what was your deal with Ranpo-san?”

“That the next three times we had sex, I’d take you to a love hotel.”

“Hmm…” Dazai smiles. “Did you specify what sex was?”

“I—no?”

Dazai grabs his arm and tugs him forward, still smiling.

“Dazai, we can’t. I—” It doesn’t take them long to get to Dazai’s living space. It’s oddly… clean. There are a handful of book between two book ends that Kunikida likes. His cell phone is plugged in and charging. Other than that, there’s a futon spread out that he clearly got out of to answer the door. One of the books is resting next to Dazai’s pillow. “Dazai, I don’t know what you’re thinking—”

“I’m thinking tonight, I could finger you for once.”

Kunikida hates to admit it, but that request brings his arousal to life.

“I’ll be gentle so you don’t make too much noise. I can get off by touching myself or having you touch me.” Smiling, he murmurs, “Ranpo-san never specified what sex was.”

“This counts—”

“I’ll be quiet,” he continues. “Plus, this is something I want to do for you. So you can understand how good it feels when you open me up.” Dazai sends him a pleading smile, and he swallows as his nerves kick into gear. “If it’s a no, I understand.”

Kunikida stares at him. “Can you really be quiet?”

“I’ve always been quiet.”

Rolling his eyes, Kunikida retorts, “I mean it. I don’t want—”

But Dazai loops his arms around Kunikida’s neck and kisses the rest of his objections away. Maybe that’s how he winds upon Dazai’s futon bare from the waist down, legs spread, cock hard, heart pounding. Dazai smiles down at him, uncapping the lube and putting a generous smear on his fingers.

“That’s too much.”

“It’s not. You’ve never even done this to yourself,” Dazai states, smirking. “I’m so honored, my work wife is letting me deflower him—”

“Just get on with it,” he retorts, clenching his eyes shut and bracing himself.

But the intrusion doesn’t come. And he looks up to see Dazai passing him a look. “If you’re too scared, or if you’re really not interested—”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound fine.” Dazai smiles. “Want to try it yourself first?”

Kunikida is a little less anxious about that idea, and there is something appealing about Dazai watching him. He takes the bottle of lube Dazai offers him and coats his own fingers. At the very least, touching his own rim isn’t unpleasant. It makes his breath hitch.

“Oh, Kunikida-kun likes to touch himself there?”

Kunikida rolls his eyes.

“Go on, my beautiful work wife. Put one in for me.”

“Knock it off, will you?” he growls. “I’m just… afraid it’s going to hurt.”

“Well, I’m right here.” He pushes Kunikida’s knees a little further apart, his eyes dropping to where Kunikida’s hand is poised. “Push a little.”

“Don’t rush me.”

“We’re going to be here all night, Doppo.” Dazai leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of his leg. It distracts him from the sting as he pushes the tip of his first finger inside. “That’s good,” Dazai says. “See? You’re a natural. Keep going.”

“Is it supposed to sting?”

“A little,” Dazai answers. “At first. But if the pain is too much, you can use more lube.”

Dazai, of course, was right: it’s not enough. Even if he’s never done this before, he can sense it. After pulling his digit out, he’s surprised to find the brunet meeting him halfway, applying more to his fingers. “There. Now try.”

This time, when he pushes, the sting is less intense, but he barely gets halfway in before he manages, “I need a minute.” He sees the light change behind his eyelids, then feels Dazai’s hands on either side of his face. Dazai’s lower half, also bare, is twisted off to the side, and Dazai is hovering over him, smiling.

“How are you feeling now, Doppo?”

“Horny and a little uncomfortable.”

Pouting, Dazai nuzzles his shoulder. “Why don’t you let me distract you a bit?”

“That… would be acceptable.”

“Mmm… good.” Dazai’s tongue parts his lips, but the brunet draws back after having barely gotten a taste. “That finger… push it in a little more.”

Kunikida doesn’t know why he does, but when he whimpers from the surprisingly good slick slide of his own finger, Dazai kisses him again.

“There you go. That’s it…” Dazai’s fingers skirt along his face. “That’s it, Doppo… nice and slow.”

Beneath Dazai’s encouragement, Kunikida manages to get the whole first finger in and a second besides. The whole time, Dazai murmurs more endearments, more reassurances, words equal parts beautiful and terrifying because of just how deep the love in them goes.

“Good. Take them out. There’s something I want to give you.”

“Dazai—”

“It’s my fingers,” he answers, waving his hand and grinning. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to filling you up one of these days, it’s not something I’d ever force you to do.”

When Kunikida tugs his fingers out, he feels strangely empty. But soon, they’re replaced by Dazai’s. They’re thinner than his. More practiced. By now, he’s fully hard and desperately trying to keep his mind together.

“Let me find your prostate and show you how good it feels.”

His eyes drop shut, and he nods. Part of him wishes he didn’t. He barely has time to cover his mouth and catch the moan that spills out of it. He stops breathing. His toes curl. His vision grows spotty.

“Oh, you like that. Look how much your cock twitches when I do this.”

Kunikida’s eyes wander downward. He feels himself twitch, but seeing it makes his head spin, adding a layer to this strange and unideal reality he’s currently in.

“Keep watching.”

He lets himself obey Dazai’s words as his fingers dig inside of him and find that spot that brings so much pleasure. He watches his erection pulse as a bit of pre-come starts to leak out of it. Shaking, he covers his mouth and moans.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He breathes in through his nose and uncovers his mouth.

“Kunikida-kun.”

“Yeah?”

“Red roses.”

Kunikida nods. “Do it again. I want you to make me come tonight, Osamu.”

“Can we change positions? I want you to be able to touch me without straining yourself.”

“So?”

“So,” Dazai echoes, his brown eyes clouded with lust. “Turn over onto your side.” The moment Dazai’s fingers are out, he finds himself obeying, once again dissatisfied at the emptiness Dazai has left behind. When the fingers return, there’s more lube, and they drive inside him so fast, he forgets where they are and opens his mouth. Dazai devours the sound, pressing against the back of Kunikida’s head with the arm Kunikida is using as a pillow. “Shh… you need to be quiet, remember?”

Nodding, Kunikida reconnects their lips. Dazai catches every noise he makes. His thrusts are gentle. Experimental, almost. Obviously, Dazai has done this to himself, but doing it to someone else must be different. “Move closer,” Dazai murmurs between kisses.

Kunikida’s hands cup Dazai’s face, and he scooches forward, half wincing when their erect cocks brush together.

“Shh…” Dazai’s lips land on his head. “You’re alright. You’re okay. I’m right here…”

Gasping, he leans until his forehead rests against Dazai’s. There’s something wonderful and intimate about this, about the way Dazai’s free hand curls around his shoulder as they grind together, exchanging soft sighs and moans.   

He pulls Dazai into another kiss, this one sweet and sensual, as they continue to grind together. Beyond Dazai’s tongue sliding against his own, he feels Dazai’s fingers go deeper, brushing against his prostate, sending pleasure all the way to his toes. He drops a hand to Dazai’s hip, rolls his down so their slick cocks slide against each other, breaks away with a little gasp, and murmurs, “Come for me, Osamu.” The instant a loud whine breaks from Dazai’s lips, Kunikida catches them and explores every bit of the space as his own orgasm approaches. Dazai shudders first and nails his prostate so hard, he lets his own loud noise out. Not as loud as they normally are, but if he didn’t bite his lip or bury his face against Dazai’s shoulder, he’d definitely hear it. As he’s coming down from his own orgasm, he draws away slightly to find Dazai smiling at him.

“You did so good.”

Those words move him more than most of what he’s been told in his life does, so he goes back to Dazai’s shoulder, sighing, inhaling the clean scent of Dazai’s skin through his shirt.

“I’m going to take them out now, okay? Relax a little.”

Kunikida still whimpers when he’s empty and nuzzles Dazai’s bare neck. He’s surprised to hear a laugh spill out of Dazai.

“Isn’t it funny?”

Shifting, Kunikida directs his gaze at his partner.

“How we trust each other so deeply, yet we both insist on fingering ourselves first before letting the other take over?”

“Huh.” Kunikida shifts his eyes. “I… never thought of that.”

“Well, don’t think too much now that I’ve mentioned it.” Sighing, Dazai adds, “Ah, you feel so nice against me like this… I wish we could stay this way, but we should clean up a bit. And then…” Dazai passes his clean hand through Kunikida’s hair. “I want you to take that shirt off and hold me all night long, your skin on mine.”

He can’t help but pass Dazai a dazed and enamored look.

“You call me a freesia because I’m childish,” Dazai continues, either oblivious of Kunikida’s expression or choosing to overlook it. “That surely makes you a marigold.”

“A what?”

“Stubbornness and determination,” Dazai explains. “Of course, like freesias, they have other meanings, warmth being one of them.”

“Freesias… have other meanings?”

“Yes, the childish aspect comes from their symbolizing innocence, but trust and friendship are other concepts they communicate.” Dazai smiles. “I’d like to think we’re still friends who trust each other despite the fact that we’re also partners and lovers. And, just as you’re stubborn and determined when it comes to your ideals, you’re so startlingly warm sometimes.”

“You’re being the warm one now.”

“Am I?” Dazai answers, emitting a small laugh again. He’s so close, their noses almost brush together. That close, he can almost see his reflection in Dazai’s eyes, watch the sentiments play I in them. He snuggles closer, relishing that feeling of being loved, lingering on the cusp of being overwhelmed. It’s nice to hear directly, but it’s also nice to experience in Dazai’s actions. “Well, I guess there’s something warm and intimate about what we just did, even if it’s not exactly what we tend to do.”

The room feels cold when Dazai pulls away. When he comes back, it’s with a cloth that he uses to wipe Kunikida down completely, then himself. While Dazai tosses the towel he laid down into the pile of dirty laundry, Kunikida peels off his shirt. The light in Dazai’s dorm disappears, making Dazai’s footfall—and the sound of his shirt hitting the floor—almost deafening. Once he’s back, Kunikida believes the whole world feels warm again.

“Did you like it?” Dazai asks out of nowhere.

“Mmm…” Kunikida considers it. “It… wasn’t unpleasant. I just think I’m still more comfortable with being inside of you.”

“Then we can keep doing it that way.”

That almost startles him more than the unexpected floral nickname.

“Doppo?”

“Just… go to sleep, you intolerable freesia.”

Dazai snickers and kisses him again. “You’re a little sentimental tonight, Kunikida-kun.”

“And who’s fault is that?” he mumbles against Dazai’s shoulder.

Before he drifts off, he thinks he hears Dazai say, “Good night,” but he can’t recall in the morning whether Dazai called him his given name or the floral one so recently bestowed upon him. The result is the same: another day of work (fortunately, Ranpo doesn’t seem to suspect anything) punctuated by Dazai’s laziness and shower of affection. Some signs are flippant like loudly complaining about his work wife. Some are soft and genuine like the kiss they steal in the breakroom. Through them all, he puts the disappointment and struggle of finding a property behind him.

In fact, he has almost completely forgotten it when Fukuzawa calls him into his office in the middle of a slow afternoon and adds a request to close the door. Kunikida obeys and approaches his desk.

Without a word, Fukuzawa slides an envelope across it.

“What’s this?”

“An address.” Fukuzawa pauses to take a sip of his tea. “A two-bedroom LDK apartment one train stop down. It has the essentials. And the added bonus of thick walls.”’

Kunikida pushes his glasses up, then clears his throat.

“The building is older than you desired, but it’s small. The owner was kind enough to send a key once I explained I ran the ADA. Apparently, the owner was cleared after one of our cases a few years ago.”

“Ah.” Kunikida opens the envelope and studies the floorplan.

“The key is due back in three days. You and Dazai have tomorrow off.” Fukuzawa looks at him. “The owner is willing to hold the apartment for a week or two while you and Dazai decide. Enclosed is a copy of the contract.”

“President, all of this is…” Kunikida shakes his head. “Is unusual, in my understanding of how the renting process works.”

“Well, being in the ADA has occasional perks. The salary isn’t one of them, but…” The phone on Fukuzawa’s desk rings. “As you were, Kunikida.”

“Yes, sir.”

He leaves as Fukuzawa picks up the phone and tucks the envelope in his desk drawer. He thinks he can sneak it back to his dorm without Dazai catching him.

But god, does Dazai make that difficult, given how he hangs on Kunikida, sing-songing endearments instead of doing his work. Eventually, Kunikida announces, “If you work for the next two hours, I’ll cook you dinner.”

Of course, Dazai bounds off to his own desk. Kunikida manages to duck out early and hide the envelope in his dorm. Better still, he manages to drag Dazai to the nearby grocery, where they spend nearly forty-seven minutes buying dinner. He catches Dazai looking at one of the little pieces of cake and sneaks it into the basket. At the check-out, when Dazai follows it with his eyes and passes Kunikida a look, he retorts, “You worked hard today. You deserve a reward.”

“I thought you were my reward.”

Kunikida shoves his glasses up. “Stop screwing around, you damn waste of bandages.”

“Aww…” He slings his arms around Kunikida’s shoulders. “Is my work wife mad again? I’m sorry, honey.”

Kunikida definitely catches the cashier staring and chases that startled gaze away.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you by helping you cook.”

The cashier interrupts to announce the payment due. “Two-thousand seven-hundred thirty-two yen.”

Kunikida hands over the last ten-thousand yen bill in his wallet and thirty-two yen in coins. Change in hand, he grabs the bags while Dazai continues to hang on him. “Can you at least carry one bag?”

“Then how would I hold you?”

Kunikida catches Dazai’s pout and sighs. There’s really no winning an argument with him sometimes.

For once, they decide cook in Kunikida’s dorm. Dazai pulls his weight with surprisingly few interruptions: the occasional long look, the soft pressure of Dazai’s chin resting on his shoulder, the gentle kiss they share before exchanging smiles.

While they’re putting groceries away, Dazai hands him the carton of Jasmine tea and announces, “Kunikida-kun.”

“Hmm?”

“Red roses.”

“Yeah.” Kunikida sets a tin the fridge and emerges again to take the next item from Dazai. “Red roses.”

Before they cook, they settle on sleeping in Kunikida’s dorm. Dazai disappears down the stairs and returns with a set of pajamas.

“I thought for sure you’d insist on sleeping naked again.”

“Can we?”

Kunikida glances at him. “Something’s wrong.”

Dazai shakes his head. “Nothing. I just want to spend time with you.” He rests his face against Kunikida’s arm and stares up at him. “How’s that thing you mentioned a couple of weeks ago?”

“That thing?”

“The good thing that was making you sad.”

Oh, Kunikida thinks. He’s worried about me.

“You’re studying me pretty closely, Kunikida-kun. You aren’t thinking something dirty, are you?”

He’d shove his glasses up, but he has a container of miso paste in them. After juggling it, he grumbles, “I’m just touched, alright?” before whipping away. Dazai rejoins him before too long, latched to his arm, smiling. The yellow light of the fridge fills the space, and he sets the container on the top shelf.

“Kunikida-kun is still a little shy about it.”

“I’m not,” he retorts, rolling his eyes.

He can catch the playfulness in Dazai’s face, underpinned by something powerful and genuine.

“I just… thank you.” He sighs. “For worrying about me.”

Dazai catches his lips. He doesn’t resist, even when he finds himself backed against the fridge, ensnared in something more passionate than he was planning. He lets himself get swept away in this new, strange side of Dazai, the one that’s more overt when it comes to genuine affection. When Dazai backs away, he follows, trying desperately to prolong the gesture, but Dazai’s fingers finds his lips and stops him.

“Maybe you should have been an orange rose,” Dazai chuckles, skimming his bottom lip with his thumb. “You have so much desire—”

“If either of us is the orange rose, it’s you. You’re trying to get me going,” Kunikida retorts, catching Dazai’s wrist and softly lowering it. Their eyes lock. His drop away first. “We can’t—”

“Why not?”

“We just can’t, alright?” He knows he says it a little too loud because Dazai pulls away, almost like he’s startled.

“You… don’t want me anymore.”

“I want you more than words or flowers can say.”

Dazai glances up at him.

“But,” he says, “I want dinner more. I don’t want to think about being hungry while we’re having sex, or worry that you are because you skipped lunch again. And we can’t do it here at the dorms. Even if Ranpo-san didn’t hear us last time, I want to respect our agreement moving forward.” He swallows and stares at the floor. “If I… upset you or startled you just now, I’m sorry. I just… panicked. Something about you taking charge—I don’t think I’m ready to take you just yet, but—” He covers his mouth, feeling the heat rises in his face. “I… wouldn’t be opposed… to following your lead.” When Dazai grabs his wrist, he lets the brunet lower it, then accepts the gentle kiss he was expecting the first time. Dazai rests against his chest, and he catches his partner in a tight hug. He realizes in that moment that he can’t wait until tomorrow. “How long can you wait for dinner?”

Dazai looks up at him. “A couple hours. Why?”

Kunikida’s anxiety spikes, but he fights through it and murmurs, “There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

To his relief, Dazai doesn’t ask questions when he comes back into the kitchen with the key in his pocket. He just links his arm through Kunikida’s and follows him. They walk the whole way. It seems more romantic than taking a train for some reason. Along the way, Dazai only mumbles something about the city lights one time. Otherwise, they walk in silence. If he’s being honest, he’s pleasantly surprised Dazai doesn’t complain about his feet hurting.

He doesn’t have to know Dazai well to know his partner is surprised when he swivels towards the staircase of a three-story apartment building. It’s clear because Dazai lets go of his arm. “Kunikida-kun, what…”

“Just come with me,” he says.

Frowning, he murmurs, “I thought you were taking me to a love hotel.”

“We can go if you want.” Kunikida extends his hand. “But there’s something I want to show you first, if you’ll allow me.”

In the end, Dazai agrees to come along with Kunikida to the apartment Fukuzawa miraculously found them. Kunikida climbs to the third floor and slips the key into the door. Inside, it’s dark. Unfamiliar. And if Kunikida is being honest with himself, he’s never been more anxious. But he’s sure, and the fact that Dazai is still beside him is enough. The brunet is hanging on his arm, his expression a picture of reluctance and confusion.

“I’m turning on the light,” he says, twisting away from it, watching Dazai shield his eyes. After they’re both inside, Kunikida shuts the door. They pause in the entryway to take off their shoes. “You look confused.”

“Because I don’t understand why we’re here. We walked really far and my feet hurt.”

There’s the complaint he was waiting for. “I’ll explain after we look.”

“What are we looking for?” Dazai pouts. “Kunikida-kun, so mean… you tricked me into coming on a case with you.”

“That’s not it.”

Dazai tilts his head. “Are we here to commit a double suicide?”

“Just come with me.”

The floor plan Fukuzawa gave him was accurate enough to give Kunikida an idea of where he’s going, and that shows as he moves around the space. A still lost Dazai follows, pausing beside Kunikida as he studies the kitchen, the dining and living space, the bedrooms, the bathroom. Kunikida opens the closets. He tests the water. He’s so focused on assessing the space that if not for the occasional glimpse of brown hair or the gentle pressure of Dazai’s arm on his, he would forget he wasn’t alone.

While they’re walking back to the living room, Dazai sighs. “It’s not to your satisfaction,” Kunikida observes.

“It’s not that. It’s just…” He slips his hands in his pockets and smiles. “Did I ever tell you in the Port Mafia, I used to live in a shipping container?”

“A shipping container,” Kunikida echoes.

Shrugging, Dazai glances at the overhead light and continues, “To be honest, the shape and appearance of living spaces doesn’t really matter to me, whether it’s mine or someone else’s.” Dazai’s eyes flit to him. “But you like it.”

“I do.” Kunikida volunteers that information and watches something new fill Dazai’s smile.

“I… can genuinely say I’ll miss having you around the dorms. When it rains, when it doesn’t.”

“What?”

“I understand.” Dazai turns away. “I just don’t see why you needed to bring me down here to tell me you were moving.”

“Dazai, are you playing dumb, or are you actually an idiot?” Kunikida waits for him to turn around. When he doesn’t, he approaches and grabs Dazai’s arm.

“Let go.”

A cold command, one that he follows immediately.

“I’m glad you found a place that better suits your ideals.”

Kunikida blinks. And he sees Dazai truly doesn’t know what’s going on here. “You idiotic waste of bandages.”

“Oh, I’m the idiot?” Dazai counters, passing Kunikida a frigid look. He sees the fury in Dazai’s expression, but the fact that Dazai keeps it out of his voice… it’s unsettling. “I’m not the one who dragged his partner down here to show off his ideal apartment.”

“It won’t suit my ideals unless we’re both in it!” He spits the words out, then groans and takes a moment to recover. In the meantime, Dazai stares at him, slack-jawed. It might just be his imagination, but Dazai’s eyes look almost teary beneath the ceiling light. “You said you wanted me to find us an apartment.”

Immediately, Dazai closes off. “I was joking.”

“I don’t think you were.”

He watches Dazai struggle. “You said it was unfeasible.”

“I thought it was unfeasible,” Kunikida clarifies. “I ran the numbers four times and found out I was wrong.”

“We haven’t even been together that long.”

“If it’s not long enough, then I’ll wait until it is. And if that day comes, I’ll find a way to make it feasible again.” He waits for Dazai to speak, but his partner is just staring at him. Or past him, like some catastrophe is about to unfold. But really, Kunikida can tell he’s looking inside of himself at something troublesome. When he can’t bear it anymore, he approaches and brushes his fingers against the back of Dazai’s hand, drawing him out of his reverie. With the other hand, he tilts Dazai’s face to his. Gently. That close, he can see the tears in them. “Know I gave this thought, and it’s something I want. This isn’t an impulse, and like all of my other desires, it’s not one I’ll ever force you to accept. If you have reservations, say so. If you want to decline, it won’t change what I’m planning for the rest of the night or the way I feel about you. We have a few days if you need time to think. Regardless of what your answer is, I won’t be mad or put off. I’ll still take you to a love hotel. And dinner. We can cook what we bought tomorr—”

“Why?” That’s the only word Dazai manages before he practically knocks Kunikida over with a hug. He can feel the tremors in Dazai’s body and tries his best to put together some set of words that will salvage this situation. Before he can, Dazai snuggles against his chest and mumbles, “God… Doppo, why would you want to live with me?”

“Isn’t loving you reason enough?”

Dazai scoffs and sniffles. “You’ll regret it.”

“Not more than I regret the nights we spend apart.” He catches the little laugh Dazai lets out.

“I leave my socks on the floor after work. I’m a terrible cook. Sometimes, I hog the covers. I get really depressed when it rains. Inconsolable.”

“I already knew all of that, but I asked you anyway.”

Dazai shakes his head. “We can’t—”

“We can,” Kunikida reassures him. “Whatever you say now, if this is ever something you want, I’ll make it happen. It might take time. And it might be less than ideal—”

“For fuck’s sake, stop talking. You’re making it worse.”

“Making what—”

In the matter of one split second, Dazai is sobbing. Loud, unrestrained. Not the way he does when it rains. And for the life of him, Kunikida can’t figure out why. All he can do is console his partner in silence, cradling the back of his head with one hand and hugging his shoulders with the other. It takes time, but eventually, the sobs die off to little shudders and hiccups. Finally, Dazai demands, “Explain yourself.”

“Oh? I’m allowed to speak again?”

“Stubborn marigold,” Dazai retorts. “Kunikida-kun is such a bully.”

“I’m a bully for taking you up on your offer and finding an apartment we could live in?”

“You’re a bully for loving me too much.”

“I assure you,” Kunikida murmurs, drawing back and drying Dazai’s face. “There’s no such thing.”

Dazai pulls away and dries the rest of his face. Kunikida takes a mental note to buy him a couple of fresh rolls of bandages on the way to wherever they wind up. Pouting, Dazai mumbles, “This is the part where you’re supposed to beg me to say yes.”

“Dazai, I’m not going to pressure you. I respect you need time to think. This is a lot.”

“That’s an understatement.” He wipes his eyes again.

“If you want time—”

“I don’t need it.” Dazai is in his space before he can react, their mouths locked together, Dazai’s insistent tongue tasting every corner of his mouth. Like earlier in Dazai’s kitchen, Kunikida leans into it, but he’s not so spellbound that he forgets where he is. He tries to pull back, hums into Dazai’s mouth when he stays trapped in that kiss. After a generous moment to breathe, Dazai kisses him again and backs him against a wall.

The things that does to his body… and it’s nothing compared to when Dazai’s knee presses, giving him contact he didn’t even know he needed. By the time he manages to pull away, his glasses are skewed, his blood is burning, and he’s reacting.

Dazai’s eyes pierce him. He’s out of breath, wiping his mouth, just as worked up as Kunikida is. The instant he lurches forward again, Kunikida swaps their positions, and Dazai’s breath hitches. He doesn’t wince, but his eyes ignite with a cloud of lust and desire. Kunikida manages to pick the least filthy thing he could do out of all the possibilities that crowd his mind. Leaning forward, he murmurs in Dazai’s ear, “Not here.”

“It’s ours,” Dazai answers.

“Not yet, it isn’t.” Kunikida draws away and stares into Dazai’s eyes. “What do you want?”

“You,” he answers.

“How do you want me?”

Dazai smiles. “If I told you that, you’d lock me in here and never let me out.”

Kunikida caves to his own desires and kisses Dazai’s jawline, savoring the way the brunet whines and clings to his shoulders. He pulls the bandages down just far enough to reach Dazai’s skin and sucks.

“Fuck… Doppo—”

“You’re driving me crazy,” Kunikida murmurs, drawing away. “To prompt me to do such a thing here—tell me what you want.”

Dazai, half breathless, smirks and says, “Since here is off the table, how do you feel about me tying you up?”

It’s not what he expects. And yet, that’s what he finds himself agreeing to despite his nerves. Because as hard as it is to actually get to a love hotel while Dazai alternates between shameless flirting and even more shameless sniffles, and as many stares as the brunet’s fluctuating emotions draw, Dazai Osamu is the man he trusts with his heart, his body, and his life. For as much as Dazai jokes, for as often as his partner sing-songs affectionate words or details of their relationship bordering on too much, Kunikida doesn’t question Dazai’s feelings, much less his own.

Which is why, when they get to the love hotel, after paying for the night, he doesn’t fight as Dazai gives him a rough kiss in the elevator or pushes him against the wall again. He doesn’t need to keep track of where their clothes land. The only rush they’re in is to get to the bed, and he’s one waistcoat short of his full outfit by the time he gets there. With each kiss, each insistent tug on his clothing, each little push, he sets aside a few more of his misgivings until Dazai is on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt at a slower pace while they both catch their breaths, occasionally dragging his ass across Kunikida’s groin and working him up. The instant his shirt is completely open, Dazai throws his coat off and bends to kiss the skin. While he still has control of his arms, Kunikida holds Dazai close, whining or moaning with each flick of Dazai’s tongue or press of his lips and teeth.

Admittedly, the thought of letting Dazai guide them the whole way through is still a little nerve wracking, but he feels too good to listen to the tiny part of his brain that still doubts.

“Off,” Dazai mumbles tugging Kunikida’s sleeves down. He unthreads his own arms and lets Dazai press them into the mattress. Between ragged breaths, Dazai’s hands move to the thin temples of his glasses. “Are you comfortable with me taking these off, too?” The request is surprisingly gentle, devoid of the urgent charge filling their actions.

“Okay,” Kunikida answers. He shuts his eyes as they vanish, follows the shifting bed, the sound of fabric falling to the floor and the nightstand drawer opening, the constant light above him. Eventually, a shadow looms over him behind his vision, and the weight of Dazai’s hands fall on either side of his face. That close, he’s grateful he can see Dazai’s features. He also notices Dazai has returned with far less clothing than before: only his boxers remain.

“Just so you know, I’m getting my revenge on you tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“You made me cry,” Dazai retorts, bringing Kunikida’s wrists together. He cranes his neck and spots something red winding around them, binding them together, then to the headboard. “I think that warrants revenge, don’t you?”

“Just—” He bites his lip. “You’ll stop, right? If I… want you to.”

“Oh, Doppo…”

He accepts the press of Dazai’s lips, then parts his own to deepen the kiss. Already, what they’re doing feels somehow more exciting than their usual approach. Not that it’s any less good; it’s just new and thrilling and…

He feels Dazai’s breath against his ear. “Of course I will, but I plan to make it so good for you, you won’t want to.”

Kunikida’s eyes fly up to him. “I’m still not comfortable—” Dazai’s finger silences him, and he smiles.

“So you can relax a little, let me tell you exactly what I plan to do. If any part of it doesn’t appeal to you, say the word. Okay?”

Kunikida nods as Dazai’s fingers disappear from his lips.

“First,” he states, trailing his hand down towards Kunikida’s belt. “I’m taking these off. Mind if I work on them while I talk?”

“Feel free.” He says that, but his fear still spikes when Dazai unfastens his belt. Dazai must pick up on it because he pauses and sends Kunikida a look.

“I want to finger you again. A little rougher than last time. Then, after I get you off—”

“Dazai—”

“Because that’s what you deserve for all your hard work…” Dazai purrs those words, and he falls silent to absorb what they mean. “I want you to watch me open myself up.”

“Then?”

“Then,” Dazai states, tugging Kunikida’s slacks down and resting his gaze on Kunikida’s growing erection. “I want to ride you into this mattress.”

The mere thought punches the breath out of Kunikida’s lungs.

“God, that reaction is beautiful, Doppo.”

“Osamu…”

“Patience.” It’s a demand, not a request, one that Kunikida does his best to remember, but it’s so hard with Dazai teasing him. “Do we need a safe word for this?”

“Marigold,” he answers without hesitation.

“Not freesia?”

“If I use that as a safe word, I run the risk of miscommunication.”

Dazai smiles. “Then can mine be freesia.”

He remembers calling Dazai that, how warm and affectionate it was, and strains against his bonds.

“You’re seeing the merits of this now, aren’t you, Kunikida-kun?”

Kunikida moans when Dazai grinds against him.

“You can’t touch me freely right now, which means…”

He clenches his eyes shut as Dazai palms him through his boxers.

“You get to focus completely on what I’m doing to you. And…” Dazai tugs an end of the bandage loose. “What I’m doing to myself.”

Kunikida has long considered himself a patient man. By the time he has watched Dazai unwrap himself, his mouth is watering and he’s so hard, he’s starting to get uncomfortable. He gasps every time another scar appears, moans when Dazai takes a break to squeeze him through his boxers again.

“You’re getting so hard, Doppo…”

He has to swallow a whine when the pressure leaves again.

“Mmm… are you still alright?”

“Horny, but fine,” he answers.

He doesn’t think it can get any worse, but Dazai murmurs, “I think we should get this color of bedspread, honey. You look so beautiful tied up on top of it.”

Kunikida lets the whine out this time.

“Does that get you going, hmm? Are you horny because I’m about to finger you?” He tugs Kunikida’s slacks completely off, and his socks follow. “Or are you horny because I agreed to move in with you?”

Kunikida presses his lips together.

“Doppo.”

Hearing his voice sing-songed draws his eyes.

“You’re glaring. Do you dislike my teasing? Do you already want me to untie you?”

“I’m fucking horny, you intolerable freesia.”

“Oh! Kunikida-kun has such a potty mouth.” The last bandage slides off of Dazai’s left arm, and he hunches forward, lining their lips up. “Shame on you for sullying the kiss I’m about to take.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” Kunikida grumbles those words in the space between their lips, but he welcomes Dazai back again. And this time, there’s more: the bare skin, the definite press of Dazai’s erection beside his own, the moan they both let out when they grind together. Dazai raises his head, then peppers Kunikida’s neck in appreciative pecks.

“Your skin is so perfect…”

“So is yours.”

Dazai lifts his head. “The scars—”

“Like I said,” Kunikida interrupts, smirking. “Perfect.”

Dazai stares at him for a moment, then murmurs, “Did anyone ever tell you how hot you were when you smiled?”

“I’d be even hotter coming in your hand.”

Dazai must get the message, because Kunikida’s boxers join the rest of their clothes on the floor. The next time he catches a glimpse of Dazai, he realizes the packet of lube is in Dazai’s hand and pulls his legs up. “Eager, are we?” Dazai comments.

“I’m not eager, but you’re working me up too much.”

“Well,” Dazai murmurs, coating his fingers and tossing the packet on the bedspread. “This is supposed to be revenge.”

Even without his glasses, Kunikida can see the deviousness in Dazai’s smirk.

“How about I make you come just from my fingers alone?”

“You can try,” Kunikida concedes. “I’ll tell you if it gets to be too much.”

“Please.”

Kunikida’s toes curl into the bedspread, and he moans as Dazai strokes him.

“As if I can resist this perfect part of you.”

Kunikida sends Dazai a glare as he backs off.

“If it’s revenge, maybe I should make you beg.”

“Then we’ll be here all night.”

“Unlike you—”

Another moan rips out of Kunikida as Dazai’s fingertips trail along the curve of his cock, then skim the head.

“I can be patient.”

“Fine. Finger me.”

“I’m not convinced you’re begging.”

Kunikida rolls his eyes. “Finger me, please.”

“Nice try, but you don’t sound nearly desperate enough.”

To Kunikida’s chagrin, instead of any sort of relief, he’s treated to the sight of Dazai’s two fingers sliding out of view. Dazai leans back, and Kunikida watches them disappear inside of his partner. He strains against the tie around his wrists again, desperate to feel Dazai’s skin. Instead, all he gets is a view while Dazai sighs, tips his head back, and pumps his own erection.

He manages to bite his lip, at least until Dazai squeezes a third one in and moans his name.

“Please.” He chokes the word, and Dazai stops immediately.

“Please what?”

“Finger me open,” Kunikida grumbles, his eyes falling off to the side.

Dazai withdraws his fingers and murmurs, “I didn’t catch that.”

It’s a matter of pride for him not to bend to Dazai’s will so easily, but this is an exceptional circumstance. His arms are tied, and he needs release. So, without shame or hesitation, he spreads his legs a little further and says, “Please finger me open, Osamu.”

“How many do you want, Doppo?”

Kunikida glances up at him. “How many are you willing to give me?”

“Honey, I’d give you everything I had if you were comfortable with it. But.” He cleans his hand off on a towel that Kunikida didn’t even realize was there and recoats his fingers. “I want you to be comfortable and feel safe, so how about we stick to two tonight?”

“Two is fine,” Kunikida murmurs. More would be fine, too, but he reserves that thought, shuddering as Dazai drops some lube straight from the packet onto his skin, then guides it the rest of the way down.

“Are you sure you don’t want more than that? Aren’t you a little curious—”

“Three.” The number breaks out of him. “Three. Three, please—”

“Oh, so you do want more?”

Kunikida feels the tip of one tease him and takes a breath preparing to take it, but it lingers right at his entrance, smearing the lube, teasing him.

“If you were willing to take my cock, how would you want it right now?”

“Slow,” he breathes. “Slow… at first.”

“Then I’ll start slow,” Dazai murmurs. “Are you ready?”

A frantic nod is all Kunikida can manage as Dazai’s fingertip slips inside of him. There seems to be less resistance, but with his hands tied, there’s so much more feeling.

“There,” Dazai says. “How are you doing?”

“God, I need more.”

“Patience,” Dazai murmurs, trailing his fingers along Kunikida’s thigh. “Even if this is revenge, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kunikida doesn’t even bother mentioning his arms are a little sore from being bound above his head for so long, but it’s almost like Dazai can hear the thought.

“I can untie you.”

“After you ride me,” Kunikida murmurs. “Start moving.”

“Bossy,” Dazai retorts, but he obliges, and the slow slide of one digit towards his rim then back into him is mind-numbingly good. “Do you want one thrust that’s a little faster?”

Kunikida glances up at Dazai, who is still moving his single digit in and out.

“How about if I agree to that, you make some noise? I miss your voice, and Ranpo-san can’t hear us here.”

Sighing, Kunikida tips his head back.

“I need you to tell me—”

“Yes.”

Dazai’s finger pushes in fast, hard, without mercy, and nails his prostate head on. He half thinks he dislocates his jaw screaming. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let it out, Doppo. No need to be ashamed. It’s just us.”

“Fuck.”

“Swearing again.” Dazai clicks his tongue. “Maybe revenge isn’t all you need tonight.”

Kunikida rolls his eyes as Dazai resumes his slow motions.

“I cannot wait to do this with my cock.”

“You’re going to have to because fingers are all I can handle.”

“You want another one?”

“Yes. Hard.”

Dazai hums. “Are you sure you can handle that, Kunikida-kun?”

“I’m not fine China, you intolerable freesia. Just—” At the sensation of his own body stretching, Kunikida’s head snaps back and he moans.

“That’s more like it. You’ve almost convinced me you’re actually getting desperate.”

Kunikida twists his arms again and looks up at Dazai.

“How is it, taking two of my fingers?”

“Hurts… a little.”

Dazai frowns. “Well, I can’t have that. I’ll just have to slow down again.”

“No, please—I don’t care—”

“Well, I care,” Dazai states.

Kunikida’s whole body quakes as Dazai resumes his slow, methodical thrusts. His mouth breaks open, and something comes out.

“Did I make you cry?” Then, after a pause, he says, “Don’t answer that. I know you’re frustrated.”

Gasping for breath, Kunikida tilts his eyes down to Dazai again.

“Can you wait for a third one, or am I getting you off now?”

I don’t care, Kunikida’s mind screams. I don’t care. This is so goddamn good, I need—

“Doppo?”

Kunikida’s eyes split open again, and he gasps at the ceiling.

“There you are. What’s wrong?”

“Too good,” he breathes. “Too good. It’s too good. Please—”

Dazai only slows his thrusts down, and before Kunikida knows what he’s doing, he throws his head back.

“God, Osamu, please, I can’t take it. I need you. I need another. I need to come screaming your name. Please…” Shutting his eyes, he pulls in a breath and adds another, “Please,” a little more urgently than the last.

“That’s more like it,” Dazai murmurs. “You deserve something nice for begging so beautifully.”

Kunikida flinches as Dazai’s fingers leave him.

“How about that third one, hmm? Can you take it for me?”

“I can take it,” Kunikida breathes. “I can… take it.”

“Mmm… Kunikida-kun has become so needy. How do you want this one?”

“You pick,” he breathes, because the unknown element only adds to his excitement. “You pick. I’ll take either. It’s so—”

“Shh… I know. I did promise it would be so good, you wouldn’t want to stop. Relax. I’ll give you one more, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dazed, Kunikida aims his eyes at Dazai once again, his partner, his lover, and sees the brunet slicking up his fingers with a focused, almost thoughtful smile, almost like he’s oblivious of his own hard cock. The same one he could push inside of Kunikida if he so desired, but he won’t. Kunikida knows he won’t. Because they haven’t agreed to it.

“Ready?”

Kunikida nods, and he gets the most delicious stretch as more of Dazai’s fingers move inside of him. It’s slow. The opposite of what he was expecting. He moans as they slide fully inside of him.

“There you go. How does that feel?”

“Good,” he rasps. “Feels… really good.”

“Do you miss touching me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to come?”

“God, yes,” he answers. “Osamu, please.”

“Can you scream my name when you do?”

“I can try… ah!” He grits his teeth against the onslaught of pleasure churning in his gut. He feels Dazai’s fingers back off, then thrust back inside.

“You’re still a little tight. Does this pace hurt?”

“No. It’s good. Just…” His voice trails off, and he believes he’s drowning in pleasure.

“Then,” Dazai murmurs when Kunikida is unable to finish. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes!”

Everything stops, and he throws a frantic look up at Dazai, thinking this is his revenge, but he finds his partner’s expression focused and genuine. “That,” Dazai states, “is the proper volume for begging. Remember that, Doppo.”

As soon as Dazai touches him, Kunikida knows he’s done. The pace of the fingers is perfect, the swift strokes Dazai gives his erection, the way he attends so closely to Kunikida’s needs… the rest of his composure flies to some distant corner of the globe, and he becomes a begging mess. “Close!” he chokes. “I’m close. Please—”

“Don’t worry about warning me. I have you.”

Kunikida registers his inevitable fall over that edge between reason and madness as he comes to climax. He feels his own release on his stomach, feels his own muscles tighten and relax. He hears himself breathing. And his throat hurts, because as he reached the peak of his pleasure, he actually screamed. That must be why the room seems so quiet now.

“Doppo.”

Sighing, he glances up to see Dazai fingering himself again, likely without bothering with the towel.

“God, Doppo, you’re so good… my loving work wife…”

Kunikida’s body, of course, responds to Dazai’s display: the sights, the sighs and moans as he touches himself, the high-pitched whine as he slips a third finger inside of him along with the other. The whole time, he watches. But he wants to touch. So desperately.

“We’re going to cook at least three nights a week in that kitchen,” Dazai manages, smirking and drawing in air. “I’ll learn how to make you something properly. Besides your ideal meal… ah…” Dazai’s face scrunches up, but he continues. “I’m going to bathe with you… at least two nights a week…”

“Osamu—”

“And if I don’t make love to you at least that often, it’ll be because there’s something… really heavy on my mind.”

“God, Osamu,” Kunikida sighs.

Smiling, Dazai continues, “I want to fall asleep in your arms every single night for at least the first three months.”

Kunikida feels himself twitch.

“And more than half of that time, I plan to be naked.”

He forgets to swallow his moan, and Dazai chuckles.

“You do get off on domestic stuff.”

“I get off on loving you.”

Dazai’s pupils blow, and he whines as he pulls his fingers loose. Kunikida’s toes curl as the cold lube drops onto his rapidly hardening erection. After Dazai gives him a few pumps, he sweeps his thumb across the head. He waits for Dazai to do something else. When he doesn’t, he sends his eyes towards his partner, who is still holding his almost fully hard erection. “Say, Kunikida-kun.”

Kunikida inhales.

“If I take this in one go, will you let me give you something nice?”

“I thought you were going to ride—”

“I’m not talking sexually,” Dazai states.

Kunikida watches Dazai play with the head of his cock, squeezing it a little, moving his thumb and forefinger back and forth on either side of it. “Fuck. If you keep that up—” The sound that comes out of him when Dazai lets go is ragged and desperate.

“My poor, tied up marigold…” Dazai smirks and shifts, swinging his legs over Kunikida. Like this, Kunikida can see how hard he is. “Let me finish you off. Come inside of me whenever you’re ready.”

Kunikida nods, choking when Dazai grabs him again. He feels his cock nudge against something, guided by Dazai’s hand, and in one startlingly fluid motion, Dazai drops his hips. They both throw something loud and desperate into the room. When Kunikida recovers, he sees Dazai shifting his hips and panting like he’s had the air knocked out of him.

And he’s crying again.

“Dazai,” Kunikida calls. “Dazai, does it hurt?”

Dazai shakes his head and sniffles. “It’s just so good with you,” Dazai manages, smiling at him. “The sex, the fact that you want to live with me. Every way you love me is… so, so good. Better than I deserve.”

“You deserve this,” Kunikida breathes, shifting his own hips and drawing a low whine out of his partner. “You deserve more than a crummy two-bedroom apartment.”

Dazai glances at him. “Even without you in it, it’s not crummy. But with you in it, it’s perfect.” He draws a few more breaths—Kunikida guesses it’s as much to adjust as it is to compose himself—before looking at Kunikida again. “I love you so much.”

“I know you do,” Kunikida breathes. Swallowing, he adds, “I love you, too.”

Dazai barely gives him the chance to finish his sentence before he lifts his hips and sets a pace so fast, it’s incomprehensible. Every shift of Dazai’s hips pulls another noise out of him. And Dazai isn’t much better. He catches the brunet’s vocal expressions of how good it is.

All Kunikida thinks to interject is an order. “Touch yourself.” He catches Dazai’s eyes. “Or untie me so I can do it.”

Dazai opts for the former, letting out a strangled cry of pleasure and picking up his pace. Kunikida focuses on his own building pleasure and tries to observe Dazai’s, but his own grows too great and he throws back his head, pushing his feet into the mattress and rising to meet Dazai’s hips.

For his trouble, he earns a breathy, “Holy fuck, Doppo,” and a wrecked, incomprehensible sound that can only be Dazai coming. The sensation of Dazai’s muscles closing around him brings him close, and the two or three rocks of Dazai’s hips send him into his own climax.

“Osamu…” It’s more a moan than a scream, but he hope's that's enough. Kunikida creeps out of his own haze and feels something hot hit his chest. He looks up to find Dazai crying again. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything is so good.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand again. “I’m so scared I’m going to wake up and it’s all going to be a dream.”

Kunikida sighs and shuffles his wrists again. “Can you pull yourself together long enough to untie me? If you can, I’ll hold you until you’re better.” The whole time Dazai is acting on that request, Kunikida watches his composure waiver, crack, come back together with a determined sniffle, then shatter entirely and drop against Kunikida’s shoulder. Fortunately, his restraints are loosened enough for him to escape and wrap his arms around his partner. “Shh… I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his hands settling in Dazai’s hair and on Dazai’s back. “I’ve got you. It’s not a dream. I promise you’ll wake up and this will still be real.”

“How can you be sure?”

Smiling, Kunikida stares at the ceiling. “Because if this were a dream, I’d have been loose ages ago. God, I missed touching your skin.”

“Dummy,” Dazai retorts.

“I’m your dummy, you intolerable freesia. Cry all you want. However many times it takes to convince you, I’ll keep trying.”

Dazai lifts his eyes. “You really don’t mind.”

“No,” Kunikida answers, wiping one side of Dazai’s face. “I admit, though, it’s… odd. To see you so happy, you can’t control your emotions… it’s something else. A little unsettling, but it’s something I’m happy to help you through.”

“How come you’re not crying?”

“Because I’m too blissed out. Can I pull out? I don’t want to get hard again.”

“You think you can?”

“Dazai,” he retorts. “I think before we have sex again, you need to process your emotions.”

“Don’t wanna process.” It’s somewhere between a whine and a grumble. Still, Dazai shifts his hips, Kunikida slips out with a sigh, and he tries not to think about their state or the state of the bed while Dazai huddles against his shoulder.

“You’re being a little bit of a freesia right now. Not because you’re crying. Because you’re pushing your emotions away.” He trails his fingers along the back of Dazai’s neck and finds a scar. It’s one that has always fascinated him, a grove near the base of Dazai’s spine that runs across his shoulder blade. His fingertips trace that groove over and over until Dazai stops shaking in his arms. “There. Is that better?”

“Mmhmm,” Dazai mumbles.

Sighing, Kunikida stares at the ceiling. “I’ll give you another minute. I want to shower. We’re disgusting. If you want, I can run us a bath.”

Dazai snuggles against his neck for another moment, then says, “I’ll let you go early. I like the sound of a bath. But only if you carry me.”

Kunikida rolls his eyes and scoops Dazai up. He knows Dazai is thin and doesn’t weigh much but he has never seen his partner as fragile. Except for when it rains. Kunikida is grateful the hot water brings Dazai back to life, even if his childish banter is tempered by his sleepy post-sex satisfaction. “So what are you getting me?”

“Hmm?” Dazai asks, peering up at Kunikida.

“Earlier, you mentioned if you could take me all in one go, you wanted me to let you get me something nice.”

“Ah.” Dazai rests against his chest again. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll know when I see it.” He smiles. “Something for our apartment.”

“Yeah,” Kunikida answers. “Our apartment.”

The smile they share in that moment is unlike any other Kunikida can recall, not because it has more love in it, but because the love in it is so clear. Wrapped in hotel robs and their boxers, and after Kunikida insists on doing some spot cleaning of the bedspread, they crawl beneath the satin sheets and try to sleep.

But Kunikida can’t. Because he’s realizing Dazai said yes, and the stress of packing fills him.

“Kunikida-kun.”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t sleep, either?”

“No,” he answers.

He feels Dazai roll towards him. His partner’s fingers slip beneath the robe and rest against his heart. Dazai’s chin winds up against his shoulder. “I’m excited, too.”

Kunikida glances in Dazai’s direction and knows he’s being looked at. “What’s the first thing you want to cook in our kitchen?”

“Your ideal meal, of course. And this time, I’ll show you how to make the yuzu sauce.”

Kunikida smiles.

“I don’t really care about anything else, but I insist we get a bedspread this color.”

“Dazai, it’s purple.”

“So?” he asks. “You looked so stunning spread out on it—”

“Stop joking.”

“I’m not,” Dazai whines. “You were really hot.”

He feels a sigh caress the side of his neck.

“I don’t really care much about what we do with the rest of the space—”

“A photograph.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s this photograph I have in storage of a grandfather and his grandson fishing. I want to hang it.”

“Ah.”

Kunikida feels Dazai shuffle and follows the guide of Dazai’s hand against his jaw. When Dazai’s lips find his, he savors the sensation.

“To be honest, I don’t really mind what we do with the rest of the space. But a bedspread with this purple in it and occupying it with you are two non-negotiable points.”

“Yeah,” Kunikida murmurs. “We’ll have to go shopping for things we don’t already have.”

“Like a bed?”

Kunikida rolls his eyes. Of course that would be Dazai’s first thought. How impractical, he thinks, snuggling closer.

“You put so much thought into this.” He feels Dazai caress his temple. “Go to sleep, Doppo. We’ll figure out the rest in time.”

A few days after Kunikida and Dazai sign the contract, Ranpo pops into the breakroom while Kunikida is there, sipping jasmine tea. He’s brought a file with him, a case that they’re going to start investigating soon.

“You broke your promise.”

Kunikida glances up at him. “Ah. Yes, I did.”

Ranpo frowns and tilts. his head. “It doesn’t bother you that I know that?”

“As long as you don’t tell the entire office, I couldn’t care less.”

Ranpo sits down in a chair and folds his legs, sighing. “I’ll overlook it. Because I didn’t hear you. The only reason I knew is because Dazai-kun came in glowing the same way Atsushi-kun does after a good night with Mr. Fancy Hat.”

Kunikida flips to the next page of the file in his hand.

“But!’ Ranpo pushes the file out of his view and leans forward. “In doing that, you demonstrated you can be quiet, so I suggest you keep your gallivants between the sheets to a suitable level of noise.”

“Or what?”

“Or,” Ranpo says, “I’ll slip a bag of fish heads through your mail slot and Dazai’s. And then you’ll have to leave.”

“We’re moving out soon anyway,” Kunikida says.

“I know,” Ranpo says. “And until you do, I’d like to continue getting quality sleep. By the way, congratulations.” He rises. “I’ll make sure the rest of the office doesn’t find out until you’re ready to tell them, but if I hear one peep, I might reconsider.”

“So you’re blackmailing me.”

“Correct,” Ranpo states, smirking. “I have copies of all the files. So tread lightly, Kunikida-kun. And make sure Dazai-kun does the same, since you’re the only one who can control him.”

Kunikida rolls his eyes and flips to the next page. He knows Ranpo would never really spread news like that, and Dazai hasn’t been begging him for anything besides home-cooked meals for the past few days.

“Speak of the devil,” Kunikida murmurs as Dazai’s bandaged arms wrap around his shoulders.

“Aww… was Kunikida-kun getting lonely? My work wife must need a kiss—”

Kunikida intends to make it quick, but he lingers a little, letting Dazai smooth his face.

“Mmm… I feel recharged. What are you working on?”

Kunikida offers Dazai the file and watches him flip through it. “Huh. It’s not often we get asked to investigate a heart attack.”

“Well,” Kunikida states, rising. “We should go. I don’t want to work late tonight.”

“So we can cook dinner together?” Dazai leaps out of his chair and spins. “Kunikida-kun, why can’t we just skip work and—”

“Come on,” he calls, already walking away.

He doesn’t make it out of the breakout room before Dazai tugs him into one more kiss and gives him a look, laden with love, underpinned by some concern he can’t read. “Please be careful.”

“I will,” Kunikida answers. “After all…” He slides his arm around Dazai’s shoulders and passes the brunet a smile. “My partner will be there to make sure I am.”