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“Chuuya, you have to help me.”
“I absolutely do not. Get the fuck out of my doorway.”
Chuuya, his last hope, slams the door in his face. Well, attempts to. Dazai stops it with his hand and resorts to channeling his inner wounded animal. He looks at his ex-partner somewhat-acquaintance with his best “Please I am so small and desperate and you have to help me.” look. Really get those heartstrings aching. He can feel the sweat dripping down his temple to complete the impression. He looks sick, feels sick.
Chuuya looks disturbed by the attempt. And still pissed that Dazai showed up to ruin his evening.
In his defense, Dazai also didn’t want to be begging outside of Chuuya’s door, okay. He was just.. nearby. And Dazai didn’t have a lot of other people to go to! The agency would have herded him to Yosano’s office, and Yosano’s scary. He can do doctors, he’s even sat nicely while being patched up by her a few times! He just doesn’t want to know what she’d do when the answer isn’t a band-aid or antibiotics.
Also, he may have been caught going through (stealing) her files again, and she may have told him that she would flay him alive the next time they were left alone together. And he just isn’t particularly interested in finding out if she meant that.
“Chuuya—“
“Leave.”
Dazai rocks back and forth on his feet, hands down now that he’s 60% sure Chuuya isn’t going to try to slam the door again. He’d just stop it anyway. “Chuuya, please, why do we resort to these childish back and forths?”
“Because I do not want you in my apartment and you do not understand the word no.” Chuuya tries to slam the door again. Dazai stops it again. Seriously, why does he bother?
“Please, please. I’ll be nice. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.” The desperation must be visible on his face, because Chuuya looks at him like he’s insane. He is insane, if majority vote is anything to go by. More importantly, he catches the shift in Chuuya’s expression. He’s in.
Chuuya begrudgingly steps back and lets Dazai inside, most likely (definitely) because he’s now too intrigued to tell him to fuck off again.
Dazai brings his hands together in a prayer motion as he walks in, leaning down a bit to get closer to Chuuya’s height. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Chuuya! You've saved me!”
“Stop with that.” The door clicks shut behind them and Dazai spins around to address his host.
“Thank goodness you let me into your home, otherwise I would’ve died horrifically in front of your d—“
“What the hell?” Chuuya interrupts. Oh. He must’ve been looking him over while he was talking, trying to figure out what exactly he needed help with. And evidently, he figured it out.
“Ah, yeah.” Dazai is obviously, achingly, embarrassingly hard. Has been for the last hour, despite many fruitless attempts to bring himself relief. Many, many attempts. He can still taste the lint in his mouth from shoving his face into his pillow, furiously working his hand over his dick.
Eventually he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, got dressed, and went to the only place he could think of.
Fine, maybe Chuuya wasn’t necessarily “nearby.”
“It appears I’ve once again screwed up a suicide attempt.” Dazai puts his palms out as he explains. “This one wasn’t my fault though, my exotic plants dealer completely ripped me off! I should get a full refund, considering I’m very much still alive.” He’s tuning out the arousal the best he can, but he can feel it building inside him, especially now that he’s around another person. The fact that the person is Chuuya is not enough to turn off his drugged up brain, he notes.
“Stop eating weird shit.” Chuuya says through gritted teeth. The Chuuya Mood Meter in Dazai’s mind marks him as somewhere between pissed, confused, and fed up. A bunch of other Chuuya related images flash in his mind too, which he decides to tastefully ignore.
Dazai points at him. “Not the point.”
“No, I think a lot of my problems would go away if you stopped putting weird shit in your mouth.”
“Mm, no, I think the vast majority of your problems are related to not being able to reach things on high shelves at the grocery store.”
“The vast majority of my problems would be solved if I crushed you to death, but instead I have to deal with you popping boners in my living room. What exactly do you expect me to do about this?”
Dazai opens his mouth and closes it. Looking back, he doesn’t remember deciding on Chuuya. He rationalized it once he got here, sure, but before that he can only remember that he couldn’t think of anything else, following helplessly where his feet took him.
Ugh. He presses a hand to his head. His free hand twitches, desperate to touch himself. His dick hurts. Maybe he should’ve just stayed home and waited for it to fall off.
“Maybe you know someone who can help?” is what comes out of Dazai’s mouth.
“Someone who can help? Do you think I have women on call for whenever someone needs to get laid?” Chuuya looks at him incredulously. “Isn’t that your thing? You call a woman to help you.” Before Dazai can respond, he quickly adds “In your house.”
“No, I’m all out.” True, actually. His latest conquest recently threw her (mixed, very sticky) drink in his face whenever she realized that by “the rest of his life” he meant more “until she kills herself with him, preferably within the next month.”
At least he found out that a less direct approach to double suicide also doesn’t work.
“I don’t have anything for you here. You can deal with this problem on your own.” Chuuya’s arms are crossed. He looks kind of cute angry. More images of Chuuya enter his mind against his will, in various positions, with Dazai deep inside him. His eyes widen, looking through the real life Chuuya rather than at him.
The arousal is making him insane, obviously. That’s the only explanation here. It’s entered his brain and turned him into a weird sex zombie willing to jump anyone nearby, regardless of gender or relationship.
He shakes his head to try and clear it, sways on his feet as another wave of desperation crashes into him, drags him under.
“I can’t walk home.” He breathes. “Chuuya, I…”
Chuuya, for the first time since he got here, starts to look concerned. Ah. Chuuya has seen him in some pretty sorry states and has more than once deemed Dazai functionally immortal. Concern from him is a very, very bad sign. His head feels like cotton, it’s a miracle his thoughts are still mostly coherent.
“You need to sit down.” Dazai follows him to the couch, falls down on it. Chuuya stays standing in front of him, watching him. His cheeks are tinted red. “Why didn’t you call your agency doctor?”
“She’s scary.” He mumbles. “Said she was gonna flay me alive.”
“Yeah, that’s what it’s like working with y— Hey.” Chuuya cuts himself off, eyes pointed down at Dazai’s hand, which is now slowly rubbing between his legs.
Ah. How’d that get there?
“Sorry—“ He gasps out. “Hurts.”
“Stop that.”
Dazai nods in response and does not stop. Chuuya grimaces. Dazai’s hand feels wet; He glances down to see that precum has leaked through his pants, making a dark spot where he’s rubbing the clothed head of his cock. Distantly, his face heats up in some shame and mostly more arousal.
“S—Sorry.” Dazai’s brain has been replaced with cotton soaked in pure lust. His free hand finds Chuuya’s wrist, which is met with mild surprise. He opens his mouth before he registers why.
“Maybe Chuuya can help me?”
“What?”
“Maybe Chuuya can help me.” He repeats quieter, farther away. His thumb is rubbing back and forth into Chuuya’s wrist through his sleeve. His other hand hasn’t stopped, presses harder against his erection. He thinks about being inside him, thinks about bending him in half and bottoming out. Filling him with his cum, getting him—
Dazai’s sanity returns for a brief moment to inform him he’s lost his fucking mind and then is promptly drowned out. He throws his head back and groans.
Chuuya gives him the expected reaction of complete disbelief, but not repulsion. Dazai knows what repulsion looks like on him. “Absolutely not.” Chuuya tries to pull his wrist away. Dazai does not let him. He tries again. Dazai’s grip stays strong.
“It hurts.” Dazai whines. It does, aches even worse trapped inside his clothes. He tugs on Chuuya’s wrist. “Please, please, please, please.” He needs to be inside him, his mind is hazy six feet under the surface. Chuuya’s always pulled him out of the water, put air back into his lungs. Chuuya is the air in his lungs, he just needs to breathe him back in. “Please. Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya…” He repeats himself on autopilot, his brain forgets where he started. Memories are moved to the side to make room for more desperation.
Chuuya has been spending this entire interaction looking several negative emotions at once, ranging from Shocked to Disturbed to In Disbelief to Extremely Concerned. Dazai groans again and loses his last shred of common sense, clumsily unbuttoning and shoving down his pants.
His boxers are absolutely soaked and Chuuya stares wordlessly at the outline of his cock. His face flushes even more when Dazai decides to rid himself of boxers too, freeing his dick to the cold air. It’s an angry red, shiny from all he’s leaking. Chuuya’s eyes track the drop of precum at the tip before Dazai wraps his hand around the shaft and groans again, beginning to curl in on himself as he pumps it.
“Please—“ He gasps out again. “This isn’t— Enough. Chuuya—“ He finds Chuuya’s eyes. His expression must be intense because Chuuya visibly falters. Something is stopping him from acting.
Dazai hisses and lets out a desperate “Ahh—“ as he watches the head of his dick peek out from his fist. The slide is easy, and he’s only dribbling more. He can’t think, can only focus on soothing anything he can.
He raises his head to find Chuuya watching his hand with his mouth barely open. His eyes flick up to meet Dazai’s. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’ll pull out— Ah— promise, promise. I’ll warn you. Please.”
Chuuya looks at him. Something is stopping him. What’s stopping him? “No you won’t.”
“Please.” His voice cracks pathetically. “I’ll warn you, I’ll warn you, please. I need—“
He cuts himself off with a moan and a spurt of precum over his hand, speeding up. A beat passes as Chuuya watches him.
“Okay.” Chuuya breathes out, snaps his restraints. “Warn me.”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—“
Chuuya unbuttons his shirt, takes off his pants, and Dazai watches intently as trembling fingers pull down his boxers and reveal his cunt. He takes a moment to remember how to think.
Dazai swears as Chuuya climbs in his lap, grips his hips to line him up. He presses his forehead into Chuuya’s shoulder, feels the cold sweat against his hot skin. Distantly, he realizes he’s shaking.
Chuuya’s hands are on his shoulders, helping him sink down onto Dazai’s cock. The slide is easy, Chuuya is so wet, and Dazai doesn’t breathe as he watches and feels inch by inch disappear inside, only exhaling when he bottoms out.
“Thank you.” He whispers into Chuuya’s collarbone. “Thank you, thank you.” Every part of him is alight with pleasure, with raw emotion.
“Bigger—“ His partner shifts to adjust to the feeling. Dazai’s nails dig into his waist. “Than I thought you’d be.”
His brain kicks on exactly enough to process that sentence. “You’ve thought about it?” He says quietly, meets his eyes again.
“No.” Chuuya replies shakily, his arms are around Dazai’s neck now, so close he can taste him. He’s pollen in his mouth, coating his lungs, seeping into his clothes. “Move.”
Dazai bucks his hips up, bouncing Chuuya in his lap. The way his cunt clenches around him is delicious, incredible, heavenly. He lets out an unabashed moan at the feeling. Chuuya helps keep up the rhythm, steadying himself with Dazai’s shoulders. “Oh god— Chuuya—“ He forces the words like a desperate prayer, like a final plea. “Thank you, oh god, oh god.”
He’s surrounded by Chuuya, mind too far gone to think or focus on anything else but the shine of sweat on his skin and the way his unbuttoned shirt falls down his arm and how good every part of him feels. The very blood running through his veins has been injected with pleasure, with affection, with Chuuya.
“Oh god. I love you.” He looks down to where they’re connected, watches his cock disappear inside Chuuya again and again, looks back up to the shine of sweat on Chuuya’s chin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Chuuya kisses him.
His hands grab Dazai’s face, his tongue shoves into his mouth. Dazai kisses back clumsily, moans into his mouth, and cums.
Chuuya pulls away with a shout while Dazai clings on tighter, wraps his arms around him as he rides out his orgasm. Oh, fuck. He spills inside Chuuya, so much, way too much, his dick throbbing as it spurts out what must be everything he has. He slowly comes back to sentience as his cum starts to leak out around the base of his cock.
“Dazai.” Chuuya gasps. Dazai laughs slightly deliriously. More than slightly. He’s still hard. He kisses Chuuya again and again and again. Presses his mouth into his collarbone and confesses that he feels so good, so good around his cock, so perfect, thank you.
“Cl—Clearly,” Chuuya stammers out, his hand threaded into the back of Dazai’s hair, just for a moment, before pulling him up to make eye contact. “You didn’t fucking warn me, bastard.”
“But I want to get Chuuya pregnant.” He replies without hesitation or any thought at all. The part of him that still remembers who he is grimaces at his disgusting honesty.
“What?” Chuuya looks at him with wide eyes. “Did you not warn me on purpo—Ah!”
Dazai bounces him on his dick again to stifle the arousal clawing its way back up. “Sorry,” He gasps. “No, I meant to— warn you, but—“
“How are you still hard? What the fuck did you take?” Chuuya’s face is red. Dazai wants to lick the sweat dripping off his chin. He thinks Chuuya would let him.
“Sorry,” Dazai repeats, bounces him again. “Sorry. Thank you.”
Chuuya meets his eyes. He doesn’t look mad. “Let me lay down, if we’re going again.”
Dazai happily obliges, flipping them over so Chuuya is laying flat on the couch. This angle is a bit awkward for him, but not awkward enough to deter him. He pulls out to readjust, pauses to pull off his pants and underwear. As soon as he looks up, all of his common sense screeches to a stop.
His cum is leaking out of Chuuya’s cunt— Something in his mind reworks itself around the fact he did that. His hand reaches out and pushes it back in with two fingers and Chuuya groans, tightens his grip on the couch cushion under him.
“You like it.” Dazai whispers.
Chuuya looks at him, his lips pressed tightly together. Dazai finally recognizes the expression on his face as shame . Minutely, he nods.
Fireworks explode in Dazai’s chest, climbing up his throat and rendering him breathless. He grips Chuuya’s hips and pushes back into the wet heat. Their moans overlap when he bottoms out.
“I love you.” He gasps out as he sets a rough pace, his nails digging in hard enough to hurt. “I love you, Chuuya. Chuuya. I love you.”
“Stop t-that.” Chuuya moans, furiously rubbing at his clit. “You don’t—“
“I do.” Dazai leans down to kiss him, babbles against his mouth. “I do, I do. I love you. I love you.”
Being inside Chuuya feels sacred, feels like he’s drinking down liquid divinity, his skin warm and sticky against Dazai’s (somewhat) clothed body. He never wants to be apart, can’t remember what it feels like to live on his own, to not swallow each of his breaths like they’re holy.
“I love you.” He pants out again as he fucks into him. “Let me stay like this, let me stay.”
Chuuya’s arms find their way back around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. “Let me stay. Let me stay. Please.” The pleasure inside of Dazai wraps itself tighter around his heart, exploding and building up at once. “Feels good, Chuuya. It feels good.” He sobs.
“Are you—“ Chuuya’s voice stutters from the movement, interrupting himself with a moan. “crying?”
Is he? The wetness on Chuuya’s face must’ve fallen from his eyes. More tears well up as he thrusts inside hard, desperate to be as close to Chuuya as possible. “I love you.” He tries again. “I love you.”
Chuuya kisses him again, and again, and again. Likely to silence the words spilling out of Dazai, but he whispers them during breaths of air anyway. “I love you, Chuuya. I love you.”
“ Ah—!” Chuuya tenses up as his climax hits, squeezing around Dazai’s dick. Legs wrapped around Dazai’s waist keep him firmly in place as he follows. His eyes close tight as he shakes, cock pulsing as he fills Chuuya again. Dazai gasps through his open sobs. His orgasms feel stretched out in his current condition, dragging on twice as long as they should. His dick spurts out a few last pathetic pumps right as he starts to think it’ll never end, that he’ll die inside of Chuuya.
“Dazai.” Chuuya's voice cuts through the fog in his thoughts. He sounds so caring, his tone wrapping around him like a blanket. Pleasure bleeds away as exhaustion settles in. There’s a hand on his cheek, now. It’s wet from his tears. “Dazai.”
“Dazai…” Dazai repeats.
“That’s your name, stupid.” Chuuya smiles up at him. He looks amused.
He smiles back clumsily as he tries to regain his bearings. He got the aphrodisiac out of his system, now he just needs to wait for his head to stop spinning. He focuses on Chuuya’s breath on his face and tries to match his breathing.
Chuuya lets him stay there for a few more minutes, gently stroking his hair. Eventually he pushes at Dazai’s shoulders. “Okay. Get off of me.”
“Right. Yeah.” Dazai awkwardly maneuvers himself off and out of Chuuya, then freezes as he catches a new look at the cum spilling out of him. He lets out a shaky breath as his spent cock twitches pathetically at the sight. It’s so much. He’s never cum that much. Maybe he could—
“If you eat that thing again on purpose, I will leave you to die.” Chuuya’s propped himself up on his elbows to look at Dazai. He raises his eyebrows. “Look all you want, but it’s not happening again.”
“Ah, you still know just what I’m thinking.” Dazai concedes, slipping back into himself. He does look all he wants, dragging his eyes over Chuuya’s folds. “Don’t say that you wouldn’t enjoy another round though.”
“Absolutely not, every part of me is sore. You need more restraint, you’re way too rough.” Chuuya leans his head back over the armrest, smacks Dazai’s stomach with his foot. Dazai looks back up at his face. “Put your dick away, you need to go get me the morning after pill.”
A wave of completely irrational disappointment falls over him. He tries to play it off the best he can. He would do better with less fetishes, not more. “Oh? Chuuya doesn’t want to carry my—“
Dazai’s voice cuts off when a pillow smacks him in the face. Probably for the best. Chuuya’s aim is impressive for his current state.
“Stop being ridiculous.” He hisses.
“Fine, fine. But it’s not the morning after yet.” Dazai exaggerates a yawn. “I’ll go in the morning.”
“If you’re going in the morning, you’re buying me breakfast too.”
“Deal.” He tries to lean down to cuddle with Chuuya, but is quickly pushed back up.
“You can sleep on my couch if you want. I’m going to bed.” Chuuya slides onto his feet and Dazai gets another very nice eyeful of his naked lower half. Ah, a bed would be more comfortable. Chuuya’s couch is fancy, but it’s still a couch.
Two minutes later, Chuuya doesn’t protest when Dazai wraps himself around him under the covers. He does, however, say something worse.
“When you said that you—“
“Don’t think I said anything like that.” Dazai cuts him off. Chuuya smacks his forehead from where it's laying on his chest.
“Let me finish my fucking sentence.”
Dazai whines at being hit, but otherwise shuts up.
“Did you mean that?” He doesn’t elaborate on what. He doesn’t have to.
Honestly, it was all he could think. An emotion like that, something clawing its way out of your chest, threatening to tear you apart at the seams, could only be described as…
He stays quiet. Both denying and admitting wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Chuuya’s hand is in his hair, eyes focused on the ceiling. Dazai watches him open his mouth like he’s going to say something, anything, and then close it, clearly agreeing with Dazai’s assessment.
Maybe next time, then.
