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For all of Dazai's brilliance and excellent predictive skills as well as his ability to adapt smoothly to the unexpected, nothing could really have prepared him to find Chuuya at his door in nothing but an oversized grey shirt and black boxers in the dead of night.
It's loose on one of Chuuya's shoulders, hanging over his small frame just down to his mid-thigh.
"Dazai, fuck, I can't stop thinking about you," Chuuya is whispering, breathless, coming inside and onto Dazai just as the door opens, his eyes barely having fully taken in the red hair and blue eyes and flushed cheeks before his hands, bare of gloves as well, grip the front of his shirt and pull him down into a hungry kiss, sliding up his neck and to his hair behind his ears. His body arches against him so Dazai can feel all of him, pleasantly, sweetly.
It's like one of his many fantasies come true, of how Chuuya would show up at his doorstep suddenly and kiss him like this and everything would be okay, they would be okay and together again - but better, since Chuuya is usually dressed more in those fantasies...though not for long.
Dazai kisses him deeper, craning his neck down and gripping the waist of his shirt; something giddy rising in his chest when he realizes it's his own.
It was left behind before Dazai defected, clearly, since he and Chuuya haven't exactly been hanging out much while being on the opposite sides of the organization. The last time was Lovecraft.
(There is something about the fact that Chuuya kept it even after four years since.)
It's a testament to how stupid Chuuya can make him - whether it's the of childish pettiness kind or the 'all I can think about is spreading you out on the nearest surface' kind - because it takes him some seconds later than it should to realize something isn't right. Because really, he would have realized it at one glance in a split-second if it were anyone else.
The second he puts his whole hand to Chuuya's waist, the heat burns his skin.
And just like that, Dazai breaks the kiss, grasping Chuuya's wrists. Chuuya's mouth follows his. His eyes are glassy, now pinched with confusion.
His cheeks are flushed, skin shiny with a sheen of sweat.
"Why'd you stop? Kiss me," Chuuya tries to push through his grip to reach for his shirt again, "Kiss me, damn it, I need - " His words come out in gasps.
"What happened to you?" Dazai asks, just as some type of lust ability passes through his mind. But how did Chuuya get hit with it? Clearly it's not nullified just by touching the victim. They will need to nullify the perpetrator.
The strange thing is that Chuuya does not seem to even realize something happened at all.
"What - ? Nothing happened to me. I just need - God, can you please just fucking touch me?" He grapples frantically for Dazai's hands. They were holding Chuuya's wrists, so he just twists his own around and grabs Dazai's hands to fumble them up his shirt to push them broadly against his bare sides -
Dazai pulls them away like they've been burned, which they kind of have, because Chuuya is so hot.
Chuuya grits his teeth in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with you? You don't want me?"
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?"
"I want you. What the fuck don't you get about that? I tried to wear this stupid fucking shirt of yours because I didn't fucking want to give in to these stupid fucking thoughts I've been havin' all day but it's not enough!"
"What thoughts?"
"You really need me to spell it out asshole? I can't stop thinking about you fucking me on every surface of my house. Or your dorm. Not that there's a lot of surfaces here."
But Dazai's inhale is sharp, taking all of the air in the room into his lungs. He can't breathe.
"Dazai." Chuuya steps closer, turning his body against Dazai's until he's all pressed against him. "Please." He looks desperate, his eyes bright and feverish. His hands shake as they clench around Dazai's t-shirt. "I can't stop thinking about it, you. I - I don't know why I can't stop - " Chuuya's words trail off. And suddenly he looks lost. And then, in a small voice, "What's wrong with me?"
"You've been hit with a lust ability," Dazai says, his voice gentler than he meant for it to be.
Chuuya stares at him. He swallows hard. His hands are still shaking around fistfuls of his shirt. Dazai is careful not to touch him.
It feels wrong. It feels like... a violation of trust.
The last thing Dazai could ever do to Chuuya.
Chuuya, it appears, seems to see it differently.
"But we," Chuuya's voice sounds as if it's coming through a dry throat. He sounds as desperate as the look on his face. "We used to do it, back when we... we used to. You're the only one I'd trust to..."
"I don't know how you feel about me now," Dazai tells him, still in that unintentionally gentle voice. "It's been four years."
"So what? I... I still want you. I want you so bad right now."
"Would you want me if you were in your right mind?"
"I always want you."
They are words Dazai has craved to hear.
But the thing is, the lust ability is doing everything to warp Chuuya's thoughts. Even if he didn't want Dazai when he was sober, the ability can make him think he always has. For whatever reason, it's latched onto Dazai as the object of lust.
He tries not to think about the fact that some choose candidates that the affected already has such feelings for. But that's only some, not all, or even most. There is no real way of knowing at the moment the criteria or basis which it chose Dazai as the object.
Dazai thinks that sober Chuuya would trust him not to take advantage of him.
And there is nothing more valuable to them than that. Trust.
"Please. I need it. Please." Chuuya's head is tilted back to look up at him. He is so tiny, Dazai thinks. He looks vulnerable and lost. He tries to press himself all up against him again, hands on his chest. Raises himself on his toes to kiss him again.
"Not like this," he murmurs, moving his face away, but he lets him put his body to his only because it occurs to him that Chuuya is in pain, that being touched by him relieves something. "I would be forced into it if you keep pushing me."
As Dazai wanted, something shifts in Chuuya instantly. He stumbles back.
"Fuck," he sobs, "fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The truth is, Dazai only said that because it's the only thing that would get through to Chuuya - if it was the thought of him causing harm to Dazai.
Dazai would have wanted it all. Would have let Chuuya do anything to him if he knew he was in his right mind.
But he doesn't know if Chuuya would want that.
"Can I just stay here then?" Chuuya says, swallowing hard. He looks like he is in pain, when he is not touching Dazai; pale and clammy and stark against his glazed blue eyes, neat red brows pinched. "I won't touch you, I swear. I'll sleep in the corner."
Dazai's heart doesn't hurt at much. But he feels a strange emotion pass over him, seeing Chuuya like this.
He feigns contemplation, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "I guess I can spare some space for a tiny little slug."
***
Chuuya sleeps in the corner as he promises. At least at first.
When Dazai wakes up in the middle of the night, it's to Chuuya curled around at his feet on the futon.
Still, there is that tight, troubled furrow between his brows, and he keeps shivering, making small and pained noises in his sleep. His sleeves are past his wrists, fingers fisted around them.
Dazai sighs.
It's a bad idea, he tells himself, touching him in any way.
He knows well to keep his priorities straight, so he turns over to his side and tries to ignore it.
He keeps shivering. Keeps sounding in pain. When Dazai looks down at him, he can see him trying to curl tighter into himself.
Dazai sits up and exhales, close-mouthed, before pulling out of the covers. He crawls over to Chuuya.
His fingers run touch his cheek.
Dazai hates abilities that require nullification of the perpetrator. He wishes he could end this with one touch. Chuuya has told him the Port Mafia's already on the case searching, though none of them really know about the lust ability, so there's just waiting now.
Chuuya settles slightly, quieting.
His eyes also flutter open.
And Dazai knew it was over, as soon as he saw those sea blue eyes.
"Osamu," Chuuya whispers. His red hair is stuck to his cheek, streaked with sweat glistening on the apple of it in the moonlight. Dazai strokes it away, so he could see his face better. It crumples, his breath hitching. "I feel like I'm dying."
Dazai doesn't say a word. He taps Chuuya's wrist, cuing him to sit up. Chuuya blinks, pushing himself up to his hands, shifting so his shaky arms don't let him fall. Dazai pulls at his arm, and Chuuya follows, follows until he is beside Dazai in the futon, leg up over Dazai's hip.
"Other side, chibi," Dazai says, pushing Chuuya around until he was facing the other side, so he could put an around Chuuya's abdomen from behind, Dazai remaining flat on his back. Chuuya is so uncharacteristically subdued, easy to manhandle. "Nothing more than this. Understand?"
It seems to help. Chuuya nods, a relieved, shuddering breath leaving him.
He can feel Chuuya, burrowing back into him subconsciously as he is falling sleep. Dazai is hyperaware of all the places they are touching; the knobs of Chuuya's spine against the side of his ribs, the jut of his shoulderblades, the rise and fall of his belly against Dazai's arm. His tailbone against his hip. His bum against the side of his thigh.
Dazai breathes.
And realizes that it's not sex he is craving.
They were once partners with benefits. There wasn't anything explicitly romantic between them, or at least in Dazai's eyes.
But holding Chuuya like this, Dazai realizes he is starved for exactly that.
All he wants is to bury his face into Chuuya's hair and breathe in the scent of his fancy shampoo and cherry bodywash, and press all of his body against Chuuya's until they're touching as much as they possibly could, until there is nothing between them. He wants to just envelope him whole in his arms. He wants to kiss his skin in sweet ways, in innocent ways; his shoulders and neck and back, all over his face.
Not that it doesn't mean he wants the rest of it too.
But it took Dazai a long time to realize it was all mostly to get to that; kissing Chuuya, trailing them all over his skin, getting to hold him close when he was inside of him.
In the dark, Dazai hears a snuffling sound, a frustrated kind of shifting. He feels Chuuya's hand grasp his, slip it under his shirt to splay it flat against his abdomen. Dazai is tensed, remaining very still, but Chuuya doesn't do anything more - which should mean it's more on the relieving side and less on the aggravating side.
Dazai lets his hand stay there, warming the goosebumps on Chuuya's skin.
***
"Please," Chuuya sobs. This is the second time in the night, teetering onto this breaking point, resorting to begging out of desperation and anguish.
Dazai keeps his heart hard and cold. "No."
"It hurts. Dazai, please... my skin feels like it's on fire, I can't..."
"I'm not interested, Chuuya. Will you force me anyway, just so you can have relief?"
And for the second time, this is the argument that silences Chuuya.
"Sorry," Chuuya chokes out, "Sorry. I keep forgetting - "
Dazai's heart wavers, flushing with an ache.
"Can you kiss me then?" Chuuya says. Before Dazai can protest, "Anywhere. It doesn't have to be..." A helpless, frustrated noise escapes him. "Just something. Somewhere. Anywhere."
Dazai stares at him. In the dark Chuuya would not be able to see what is in his eyes, leaking from his heart.
Quietly, the sheets rustle, as he raises himself up on his elbow, and leans down to press a kiss to Chuuya's throat, right above his choker. It's innocent, but it lingers sweet and long. He can feel Chuuya's hands slip up tentatively into his hair, holding him there. It's trembling. It's not demanding, even despite the need that comes off Chuuya in waves.
The next kiss moves up to the hollow of Chuuya's neck. The next, to the tender part of his bare shoulder, where his shirt is loose over it. A strangled noise catches in Chuuya's throat, a shuddering breath. His shoulders are a weakness. Dazai knows them all. He can feel Chuuya's fingers falling from his hair to his shoulders, digging into the muscles.
His hands run down Chuuya's bare arms, grasp his wrists. He rubs circles onto it.
He moves up and starts a slow, lingering line of kisses; to the underside of his jaw. Up his cheek. The bone of it. Then, eventually, Dazai comes up over his face, breaths over Chuuya's mouth. But he doesn't kiss him there. He rests his forehead and doesn't kiss him. He fears, already, that he caved too much. He can feel Chuuya's arms grasping at him desperately, can feel him tensed with the effort to control himself.
"You really don't want me?" is what Chuuya asks, in a whisper.
There's no hiding it anymore, really.
"Not like this," Dazai murmurs back. "When I can't ever be sure you want it too."
Chuuya swallows hard. He grits his teeth. "You just had to be selfless now of all times, huh, bastard?"
"There are some lines even I wouldn't cross. I thought you knew that."
Chuuya's silent, and a breath of resignation leaves him. He does know.
There is one thing he can do. It's the only thing he has that isn't completely violating Chuuya's trust in him.
"Chuuya," Dazai whispers, fingers featherlight against his cheek. Chuuya's breath hitches, leaning into it. Curses like these make you as sensitive as it makes you starved. The fact that Chuuya is as controlled as he is is a wonder, a testament to his strength. "There's only thing I know to do, that doesn't feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
Chuuya's frown is confused. In the moonlight he looks pale, clammy, a sheen of sweat glistening his feverish skin.
Dazai pulls Chuuya up by his biceps, so he can get behind him and hold him back against his own chest.
"Dazai, what are you..." Chuuya's voice is feeble, interspersed in an uncomfortable groan.
Lust abilities, as far as Dazai knows, are relieved as long as the object of lust is involved in any act. It doesn't mean Dazai has to do anything.
Dazai wraps an arm around Chuuya's abdomen, kisses his neck. It gets him a gasp. He raises his head to press his lips to his ear. His bandaged hand lays against his middle.
"Will you touch yourself for me?" Dazai whispers.
Chuuya's head is turned over his shoulder, looking up at him. His breath trembles.
"Kiss me," Chuuya says, almost a plea, "please."
Dazai can do that at least. He leans down and kisses Chuuya deep and long, stroking his thighs over the covers, his arms over Dazai's own shirt. Chuuya kisses him back with a sharp inhale. He lets go, kissing him under his jaw.
Chuuya's hand slips down into the covers wrapped around his waist, and gasps at the first touch, throwing his head back over his shoulder.
All throughout, Dazai encourages him with kisses; cheek, neck, shoulders, wherever he can blindly reach. Between them, he murmurs words and praises into his skin, that's right, that's good, Chuuya, you're doing so good, and you're so beautiful and that's it, sweetheart, that's it --
In all honesty, it almost drives Dazai crazy, seeing Chuuya like that and not being able to do much about it. But he makes it without completely losing his sanity. And at least Chuuya manages to sleep a few hours, even if Dazai doesn't. It's not the easiest to get some shut-eye having the man he is maddeningly in love stuck to his side after that.
***
By morning tomorrow, Chuuya's phone rings and Dazai picks it up before it can wake Chuuya.
"Chuuya-san, we've killed the one with the unknown ability but kept the other two alive. Would you like to come down for the inter-"
"I'm afraid the chibi is not well right now so he can't come!"
"Dazai-san?" Akutagawa asks, puzzled. "What's wrong? There was a light when the unknown ability user touched him but it didn't seem to have any effect-?"
Dazai briefly contemplates telling the truth just to see what Akutagawa's reaction would be, as well as the glee of having Chuuya call him and scream at him for what he's spread throughout the Port Mafia, and also the implication of him being with Dazai in such a situation. But then he decides to have mercy, since the slug has had a difficult time all night.
And well, it feels like one of those things for some reason. Things that are a little off limits.
"Ah, well, it just made the slug very sick that's all. Like food poisoning. No need to worry!"
"Well, it should be gone now."
"Mhm." Chuuya stirs against him. "I have to go."
Dazai ends the call and waits. Chuuya opens his eyes and they focus when they land on Dazai, his face.
The blue of them are stark in the sunlight, like gems. They were the first thing Dazai ever noticed. How beautiful they were.
The second thing was, of course, how small he was.
"Is Chuuya still going to try and jump my bones?" Dazai asks. His voice is quiet, softer than he means for it to be, facing each other on the pillow.
It takes a while for Chuuya to remember.
He turns onto his back, sighing, hands running up his face. "Fuck."
"Nothing happened," Dazai says. "If that's how you would like it to be."
Chuuya drops his hands and turns to him, frowning. "Seriously? Like I'm gonna believe that shit. You're just waiting to hit me with it when I don't expect it."
"Hit you with what?" Dazai asks, innocently.
He's serious, is the thing. This really does feel a little off limits. Maybe he just can't stop thinking about the way Chuuya looked, drained of color and clammy and the desperation in his feverish eyes as he brushed the hair off his cheek. Osamu.
I feel like I'm dying.
Chuuya swallows hard, when he realizes Dazai is being serious.
"And if I say I don't want to? Act like it didn't happen?"
Oh.
"What do you mean?"
Chuuya closes his eyes, jaw tight. "You're the genius. Figure it out."
Dazai lifts himself up, and now his face is over Chuuya's, their eyes meeting when Chuuya opens them again.
"I'd like to hear Chuuya say it."
Chuuya stares at him a minute, roving a little over his face. Stopping at his mouth.
"I think it latched on to you because I already feel something about you. Because I already want you. I never stopped."
"Is that so?" Dazai asks, breathless.
Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Yeah. So are you gonna kiss me or what?"
Dazai laughs, "Chuuya's been driving me insane ever since he showed up on my doorstep wearing my shirt," he says into Chuuya's lips, just as he kisses him. Chuuya's arms go around his neck. He keeps talking between the kisses, in breaths. "I want you too."
"Then have me," Chuuya tells him, and pulls him closer.