Chapter Text
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Chuuya’s heart is pounding, side throbbing from where his car almost blew his fucking head off just the night before. The burn is minimal— only an uncomfortable sizzle along his ribs— since he used his ability at the last moment before he could get blown to bits.
He slides between sweat-glistened bodies as the thrum of music ignites his confidence with every step farther into the nightclub. High class, discreet from the outside, and just what he needed.
It’s not Mafia-owned, of course, Chuuya wouldn’t embarrass himself that much. Nobody— if not including Kouyou— knows quite the effect Dazai’s deflection truly had on him. Even she doesn’t know the full extent because no one was there the night before Chuuya left for his mission abroad.
Just Chuuya and Dazai in the comfort of his own sheets. Confessed whispers and stolen kisses. Promises—
What the hell happened?
“Ah,” Chuuya grimaces as he leans his elbows on the sticky bar top, fingers playing with the collar of his black button-up. The first few buttons are undone, showing off his collection of diamond-dripped chains that match the studs in his ears. His black slacks are tight around his lithe waist, held up by a leather belt— he can feel the weight of eyes digging into his backside as he leans against the counter. Was this really the brightest idea he’s had? “Wine. Top shelf, sir.”
The bartender nods, hand already reaching for a glass, “We just had a ‘89 bottle of Pétrus shipped from France the other night.”
“Perfect,” He grins, allowing his eyes to scan the crowd in search of his victim. He rubs his lips together, the slide easy from his rose-tinted chapstick.
It’s busy, a Thursday night, and thankfully, he has off until Monday to recuperate from his long and, quite frankly, boring mission.
He and Dazai were supposed to—
There are a few couples lined up against the bar. Some groups of three or four.
Most are dancing— grinding on each other, moreso— but Chuuya isn’t sure that’s his type of scene. He protects his family and kills those who threaten them. He doesn’t go out, and he never needed to before. Not when Dazai was still—
But tonight’s a different story. He wants to be out. He needs to find someone.
A glass gets set before him, and the bartender moves on to the next patron.
Chuuya slips into an empty high top, hands cradling the cold glass that holds his promise of intoxication in the form of fermented crimson. He doesn’t need more than three.
He lets the liquid coat his tongue and drip down his throat, appreciating some of the best wine he’s had in a while.
The last expensive wine he had, Dazai poured vinegar into it while he was asleep. That asshole had what was coming for him the next morning.
Chuuya chuckles to himself, not minding looking like a lunatic. He lifts the glass in the air to no one in particular.
“A celebration,” He murmurs, “to never seeing your shitty face again.”
His lips wrap around the cold rim of his glass, music still vibrating through his veins as he gulps in large quantities.
His mind wanders against his consent. It wanders to just five or six days ago— the night before he left for his mission.
It was a hard day, with a sweet end. Dazai almost died, that fucking dumbass. He miscalculated on their mission— not a common occurrence— but Chuuya was able to stop the hidden sniper attack at the last minute.
The bullet grazed Dazai’s cheek, and when his head slammed against the concrete after Chuuya pushed him away— he looked at the redhead with wide eyes, as if he were seeing a ghost. Grief and disappointment flashed through those deep ebony irises.
Chuuya can’t get that image out of his head. Dazai wished he were dead, yes, a common knowledge. But he never looked that distraught from failing. He had never shown so much emotion that Chuuya couldn’t handle it.
He screamed, god, he punched the asshole so hard he thought his knuckles would crack with the pressure.
How dare Dazai feel so disappointed that he couldn’t die, all because Chuuya stopped it from happening almost a second too late. Chuuya lost his friends— twice— barely a few years prior, and hundreds more since. How dare Dazai think he’d let him leave just as easily.
He will not lose anyone else—
… Didn’t want to lose anyone else.
Especially not after the realization he had six months prior.
The realization that he was in love with Osamu Dazai. The Demon Prodigy with blood as black as night. Other’s believed he was inhumane. A monster—
But Chuuya knew the truth. He knows the truth.
Dazai has a heart; Chuuya’s felt it beat beneath his palm against heated, scarred skin time and time again.
That night after the asshole almost died, Chuuya wanted to be left alone, but Dazai had never given him the luxury. He came in with that stupid sharp tongue of his and coerced Chuuya back into the sheets as they always find their way to. It was hot, almost suffocating, and then-
Dazai broke.
Whatever demons he kept locked away from prying eyes broke free of their chains and left him vulnerable and scared.
Dazai cried. He sobbed against Chuuya’s neck, their limbs still tangled, and skin against skin. Dazai admitted he wanted to die. He wanted it so bad, but promised he wouldn’t for Chuuya that night. He’d try because-
because he loved Chuuya.
Whatever that meant to him, he felt something, and he wouldn’t leave Chuuya no matter how badly he wished to die.
Chuuya held him through it. Whispered sweet nothings into his ear and told Dazai they’d be alright as long as they stuck together. They were partners- lovers.
No one needed to know. It’s not anyone’s business. They are Soukoku. Twin dark. Dazai and Chuuya; Chuuya and Dazai.
They are two of the same soul.
They -were-
Ah, but what’s the point?
Dazai’s gone. He left Chuuya.
He lied.
He never even said goodbye.
Chuuya has three sips left in his second glass when his eyes connect with another set across the room. Deep gray and heavy with heat.
This is what he came here for.
Anything to not feel-
The man is alone on one of the VIP couches opposite to the bar Chuuya’s at. There’s a bottle of champagne and a very inviting smirk on the man’s luscious lips. His hair is black and graying at the roots. Older, but- does Chuuya even have much of a choice?
He wants this. He wants anything to get Dazai out of his head for just a night.
Chuuya threw back the last dribble of wine he had left.
Fuck it.
He’s not backing out now.
As he slides off the bar stool, those gray eyes narrow— scrutinize— as they travel down his body and back up. They darken with hunger, and the smirk widens.
Chuuya feels a thrill down his spine, but it’s short-lived. Anticlimactic.
Chuuya pushes through and closes the distance between him and his way out of his self-doubt and dwindling confidence. This is his way out, and he’ll take it.
“This seat taken?” Chuuya smirks, head tilted, causing his silky auburn hair to slip off his left shoulder, revealing a glimpse of his sharp collarbone. The man’s eyes flicker to it immediately before slowly traveling back to azure eyes. Good thing, if he lingered too long, he might see the faintest marking that hadn’t healed completely from Dazai’s teeth and tongue.
Not like he cares that it’s still there.
“It’s been waiting for you, angel,” The man says, a deep, throaty voice accompanying it. “Please,” he gestures to the couch.
Chuuya has other plans.
He helps himself to the man’s left knee, which was shifted out, legs spread like the man owns the place. A perfect seat, in Chuuya’s opinion.
Once the look of brief shock passes over the man’s face, he welcomes Chuuya with a bright grin and two heavy hands that slide down his waist.
Chuuya takes that as a good enough invitation to wrap his arms around the other’s neck and lean forward. He tilts his head, lips brushing the shell of the man’s ear so he’s heard over the pounding music. He smells like coconut and a strong musk. Nothing like Dazai’s soft forest rain, woodsy scent.
His fingers scrunch in the scratchy short hairs at the man’s nape, “What’s someone like you doing all alone, Hm?”
The man chuckles, fingers digging into Chuuya’s hips, “Been waiting for you, doll, what’s your name?”
Chuuya leans back, trying to get a breath of fresh air. He’s sure this man isn’t Mafia affiliated or anything of the type. He looks like a sleazy businessman who has nothing better to do on his Thursday than scope out victims of his own for the night.
Luckily, that’s exactly what Chuuya’s looking for.
“Call me Chuuya,” He smiles sweetly. And really, it’s not as hard an act as he anticipated. The man’s hands are sending heat up his spine, and the two glasses of wine are helping enough. Maybe this is a good thing, maybe Chuuya just needed someone who doesn’t constantly grate on his nerves.
With Dazai, they are always butting heads. Affectionately, yes, he could say so in certain aspects. But—
Shut up.
“Chuuya,” The man licks his lips, eyes tracing the sharp bones of Chuuya’s cheek all the way to his long ginger lashes that frame his sapphire eyes, “You can call me Kai.”
Chuuya nods, letting his hands find their way to the man’s muscular shoulders. They aren’t sharp from lack of nutrients or broad like he’s used to feeling, but this isn’t so bad either; he can convince himself. “Well, Kai,” He pauses, eyes sliding to the rounded table next to the leather couch, “Are you gonna offer me a glass of champagne?”
A huff of laughter sounds in his ear as one arm slides up Chuuya’s waist. He grimaces when it rubs harshly against his burn, but Chuuya snuffs out the urge to snap at the man—or snap the man’s hand—in favor of watching him lean over to fill a glass.
This will do.
Three glasses of champagne, and Chuuya’s bones are sated. He’s relaxed, and the soft thrum of music in the background lulls him enough to drape over the man’s side— snuggled in as his mind— well… his mind’s in another place.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” Chuuya’s arm flings, almost spilling the fourth glass of champagne on the man’s jeans. He ignores the heavy hand that plays with the inside of his thigh, “That asshole told me he loved me at fifteen . We had hardly known each other for what— a day or some shit?” Chuuya blinks three times. “It couldn’t have been that long?” He mutters more for himself. No, he can’t go down that rabbit hole right now.
Kai hums, it’s a bored sound, but Chuuya couldn’t care less, “Sweet angel—“
Chuuya scans the crowd of drunk people dancing around them, “Once I took Dazai to a place like this. He doesn’t like crowded places, so it took him a while to agree. I had to bribe him, do whatever he wanted for a whole day in order to get him out of that stupid fucking shipping container.”
“This boy of yours doesn’t sound quite mentally right. Did you say a shipping—“
Chuuya’s head swings, and he almost hits the man in the nose, “He’s not my boy. We already went over this, Kai. He’s nothing to me.”
The older man scrunches his nose in distaste, “Right. Well, I think you’ve had enough champagne, doll, let me take your glass.”
“Actually!” Chuuya curses under his breath, lifting his ass to get his phone from his pocket, “I’ll call him right now and tell him that much.” Chuuya pulls up the contact ‘Mackerel’ and tries his hardest to ignore the sharp knife that stabs him in his chest at the sight. “I’ll call him,” he repeats, more hesitantly.
He pulls the phone to his ear after he hits the button. His breath is held, burning in his lungs as his nails dig into the stranger's shoulder.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.
‘This is Dazai~ I’m too busy trying to kill myself, so don’t bother to call back! And if you’re Chuuya, go bark as someone else!’ Beep—
“Fuck!” Chuuya grunts as Dazai’s stupid voice twists his insides, “Hey asshole, pick up the damn phone why don’t ya?” Chuuya feels the man under him shift, and it reminds him of the whole reason for the call, “Oh! Also, fuck you. Wherever the fuck you are I hope your dying in a ditch,” His breath hitches, biting his lip to keep himself from taking such a statement back, “Just so you know, I don’t care. Leave, and don’t come back. I have Kai here with me!” The man under him stiffens, fingers gripping tight around Chuuya’s thigh, “And he’s gonna fuck me, yeah, he’ll fuck me so good I won’t even remember your stupid name! Shitty fucking… Goodbye forever.”
He hangs up.
Chuuya’s eyes burn, his throat tight as he stares at his phone until it turns black.
“…Are you sure you want to fuck? Maybe it’s not such a good idea…”
Chuuya snaps out of his stupor, turning to the man with a charming smile, and flushed cheeks from all the alcohol he’s consumed in the past few hours, “Yes, I really want to. He means nothing, remember?”
The man frowns, but then, after a moment of silence, his grin is back and heavier than before, “If you say so, doll.”
Chuuya lets his fingertips linger on the man’s jaw. He can feel the prickling stubble as he runs his fingers up them, “Kiss me?”
The man’s laugh gets muffled as Chuuya pulls the man down and drags their lips together. Plump and soft. He tastes like expensive champagne just as much as Chuuya himself does.
It’s different, Chuuya’s traitorous mind thinks, he’s used to thin, slightly chapped lips and the taste of whiskey coating his tongue.
He’s never been a fan of whiskey, but right now he misses the taste more than anything.
Chuuya groans when a slick tongue parts his lips. He swings his leg over the man to straddle him, fingers digging into the man’s cheeks.
This is what he wanted.
He wants this— needs this.
Two hands travel down his back before cupping his ass and squeezing hard. His squeak of surprise gets cut off by the tongue that thrusts into his lips, and now—
Now Chuuya remembers they aren’t exactly alone.
He moves to pull back, but the man quickly surges forward to continue the kiss and cutting Chuuya’s oxygen intake short. His long-awaited reward for listening to Chuuya ramble for hours about the one man he truly wishes to be with right now.
Chuuya laughs into the kiss, before using his strong grip to pry the man’s head away from him. He notices how the man’s eyes widen in shock for a moment as his head gets torn back. Chuuya’s strength is well doubled compared to the man, even with less noticeable muscle mass.
“Do you have somewhere we could go?”
Somewhere more private.
Kai lights up, fingers tilting Chuuya’s chin and leaning in to kiss the redhead’s cheek, “I have a Bentley out back, let me take you there, angel.”
A nervous thrill rolls through Chuuya’s stomach, but he pushes it down with a nod, stumbling to his feet. He’s only ever fucked Dazai. He lost his virginity to the asshole at sixteen and they’ve been sleeping with each other since.
Chuuya almost fucked someone else once back when he thought Dazai was doing the same. A mistake, Dazai somehow showed up and ‘accidentally’ killed the guy. Something about how he was a rat trying to coerce Chuuya into bed for private Mafia intel.
They agreed to use each other for any of their physical desires to keep the Mafia safe. Absurd, now that Chuuya thinks about it. He was so happy to know Dazai wasn’t fucking around with other people just as much as he was happy not having to fuck someone he didn’t know.
He was only a few months away from realizing his feelings for the shitty Mackerel back then.
Now look at them.
Chuuya keeps his eyes glued out the car window as they drive down the block. They aren’t even going far— just a more secluded alleyway.
The man’s car is nice. A Bentley, deep gray that reminds Chuuya of the man’s eyes. He’s used to the Mafia black, but this is just more proof he’s safe from Mafia territory tonight.
He does not need a rumor going around that he drunkenly fucked a mafia grunt while whining about Dazai fucking Osamu. That fishy traitor, that bastard—
“Here.” Kai interrupts his thoughts, shutting the ignition off, leaving them in complete silence.
Chuuya takes in his surroundings. If he were lesser, he’d fear the man would murder him here and get away with it.
Too bad for Kai, Chuuya would beat him to it. He has quite the card up his sleeve if it were to get that far.
He noticed the alley isn’t too dirty. It’s actually fairly clean— no trash and no animals wandering around. There isn’t another soul outside either.
Perfect.
It’s narrow and dark.
Chuuya’s muscles spasm when a hand falls on his thigh, very high up.
He turns to see Kai smiling at him.
“Should we move this to the back seat?” Kai looks so smug as his other hand pulls out a small plastic bag of white powder, “I have a gift to take the edge off, doll.”
Cocaine. Not unfamiliar territory. Chuuya’s in the Mafia for Christ's sake, but he doesn’t indulge often. He’s only tried it twice with Kouyou’s girls at the brothel.
No harm, right?
Chuuya smiles, plucking the bag from the man’s fingertips before crawling to the back.
The moment his ass is between the two front seats, halfway to the back, he feels a hard slap. Chuuya grits his teeth hard. That’s his one stipulation with Dazai. The asshole isn’t allowed to slap his ass. Choking, hair pulling, bruises, blood and teeth are fair game but Chuuya’s never been a fan of having his ass slapped.
But this man doesn’t know that. He needs to remind himself.
Chuuya drops himself in the back as the man follows behind.
“I’ve had my eyes on you since you walked in tonight, now I can finally get my hands on you too,” Kai breathes, getting comfortable in the seat next to Chuuya. He lets his hand trace up Chuuya’s arm, his neck to his jaw, and gripping it firmly, but nothing that would hurt.
Chuuya lets the man pull him in to kiss him for just a second. It’s quick and wet, but he lets go in favor of grabbing the cocaine and patting his lap.
“Hop on, doll.”
Chuuya ends up in the man’s lap, shirt off and new hickey’s sucked into his chest over the faded ones from a week ago.
Chuuya’s breathing is harsh, head tilted back as he stares at the ceiling of the car.
“Fuck,” Chuuya groans, cursing himself for getting in this situation, and letting it happen.
This is the only way to move on.
The man’s wet tongue flicks over his nipple before he pulls back. His skin is sticky with a sheath of sweat, just as Chuuya’s own body is. The car windows are fogged from heavy breathing.
Kai breathes out a laugh, fingers possessively dug into Chuuya’s hips as if the man owned him. Not— but Chuuya allows the man to grind him down against the hard erection beneath him.
“You’re stunning, angel.” Gets whispered in the tight space between them, and Chuuya lets his eyes flutter shut as he feels his core starting to warm.
“The cocaine,” Chuuya hums, cracking his eyes open to look at the man and planting a quick kiss on his cheek, “Let’s open it now.”
“Eager aren’t we?” He watches as Kai finds the forgotten ziplock on the seat next to them, pinching the bag with his fingers before opening it and glancing back to Chuuya, “Tilt your head for me, doll.”
Chuuya does, showing off a column of his neck before he feels Kai’s fingertips press into the junction between his shoulder and clavicle.
Chuuya bites his lip, feeling the cocaine fill the space as the man’s fingers pull Chuuya’s hair out of the way.
His breath hitches when Kai snorts the cocaine off him. A shiver runs down his body as he grips tight onto the man, “Ah, my turn now.”
The man chuckles before tilting Chuuya’s chin down, smiling at him with a boyish grin and pupils dilated. His nose has some leftover powder.
The man puts much less on the back of his hand and offers it to Chuuya. Fine, it’s better than nothing.
Chuuya leans forward, snorting quickly, a shiver wracks his body hard as he squeezes his eyes shut, head spinning for a moment. Shit.
The man quickly wipes his hand off on his shirt and pulls Chuuya in for a wet, slobbery kiss.
Chuuya indulges, letting himself get carried away to bring back the heat of the moment.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.
He’s finally going to get the relief he needs. The relief of having anyone else on his mind that’s not Dazai.
But the hands are too small. The erection under his ass doesn’t sit right beneath him, and the smell intoxicating the air isn’t the familiar forest he’s been dying to smell for a week now.
He’ll regret it tomorrow, but for now—
“Angel,” Kai moans into his mouth, rolling his hips up and sliding his covered erection up against Chuuya’s ass with less coordination. His fingers dig beneath the redheads belt and waistband, “Remind me your name, I want to moan it when I cum.”
Chuuya bites his cheek hard, lower lip trembling in frustration as he looks at the man in front of him through heavy eyelids.
Kai’s tall, his head almost hitting the top of the car. He’s good-looking, sure, not nearly as handsome as Dazai, though. Fuck.
It makes sense he can’t remember Chuuya’s name, they are only meant to fuck then never speak again.
It still makes Chuuya feel shitty.
What is he doing?
Chuuya blinks back to the moment as fingers slowly drift to the front of his belt. He parts his lips to respond. The answer ‘Chuuya’ on the tip of his tongue, but his voice never pushes past his lips when a calm, steady knock rings against the backseat window.
They both stiffen. Chuuya can feel the burning urge to activate Tainted, but reels it in for now. Kai doesn’t need to see that, and if it gets to that point, he’ll have to call it a night and kill the guy.
“Who the fuck-“ Kai curses, angrily moving to roll down the window.
Chuuya watches the man crank it down, ready to call in his losses and go home alone.
What a shit show—
But the moment the window is more than halfway down, Kai gasps, body ridged when a gun gets pressed to Chuuya’s forehead. The action instantly has Chuuya tensing, calling for Tainted, but it doesn’t work—
And his heart drops.
No Longer Human silences the beast inside him through the gun, it’s so cold, and Chuuya could cry.
“Oh? Am I interrupting?” Dazai’s voice sings in his usual grating way, but there’s a strange note hidden beneath the facade. Chuuya can’t quite put his finger on it just yet.
Kai’s gray eyes are wide in horror, staring straight into Chuuya’s azure ones.
Chuuya can’t help the small, deranged grin he gives the man.
“Fuck,” Kai shoves Chuuya hard, surprisingly knocking him off his lap, “Fuck this, why is this happening?!”
Chuuya’s anger flares, steadying himself with one hand on the passenger seat and the other on the back seat. He can see a bandaged hand slither in and flick the lock open.
Great. Just what he fucking needed. Chuuya grits his teeth.
The door flings open a moment later, a gun pressed hard into Kai’s temple. “Move a muscle and I’ll pull the trigger.”
The man whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut— erection gone— and Chuuya feels a little bad for the guy.
Only a little.
“You shitty—“ Chuuya growls, leaning forward, and using Kai’s thigh as a hand rest, trying to duck his head enough to see the tall figure standing stock still out the door.
Though the moment he tilts his head enough to see two deep brown eyes glaring at him, his chest seizes— causing him to choke on his words— and his eyes widen.
Oh.
Dazai is pissed.
But fuck him! Chuuya should be the one who’s pissed!
So why does seeing Dazai make him want to cry so bad?
The unoccupied bandaged hand that’s not currently holding Chuuya’s booty call at gunpoint buries itself into auburn curls and drags Chuuya out of the car. He curses as his body gets thrown out and smashed against the alley’s brick wall.
Chuuya feels the scrape of the wall against his burn, and he sees red. His hands barely stopped him from slamming too hard into the wall as is, and the pain feels accentuated with the alcohol and cocaine swimming in his veins.
His head snaps over in time to see Dazai tossing his shirt out of the car and onto the gross ground, hand steady around the gun still pressed into Kai’s head. “I suggest you take your leave now before someone has to wash your brain off your windows.” Dazai sighs as if this were all a hindrance, that he’d rather be anywhere but here. But what Chuuya is stuck on, is the fact that Dazai hasn’t already killed the man. Surprising, different. “Leave.”
Kai scrambles for the front seat just as Dazai slams the back door shut and turns on his heels to face Chuuya. His mask is cracked. Anger and frustration are most prominent, that much the redhead can see. Though, as Dazai gets closer, there’s a flash of loss, grief. Something barely hidden that Chuuya doesn’t understand.
“What the hell are you thinking?” It isn’t what Chuuya wanted to snap back with, but it’s the first thing that comes out.
It doesn’t get him far, though, not when Dazai shoves him back against the wall harshly, gun emptied and tossed to the side. The air gets knocked from Chuuya’s lungs again as Dazai snarls at him, pressing his knee into Chuuya’s thigh as Kai swerves off, leaving the two alone in the alley.
“What am I thinking?” Dazai laughs, humorless, “I should have known your tiny brain couldn’t keep up—“
Chuuya kicks Dazai hard, sending the brunette flying into the wall opposite of them. He watches as Dazai’s head slams hard into the bricks, bound to give him a concussion.
He stalks up to the man, dragging him down by the collar and slamming his body into the wall repeatedly. He can hear the strangled gasp of pain, but he’s too blinded by anger to care.
“Fuck you, Dazai,” He snarls, voice wet, “Why did you come here. I didn’t want you here!” He glares at the brunette, hoping his look will kill the man, “Why can’t you ever let me have just one damn thing for myself!”
Dazai groans, wincing enough to make Chuuya hesitate on his next slam of the brunette against the wall. Dazai had always been good at hiding his pain. Why is today so different?
“You didn’t want that, Slug,” Dazai breathes, two ebony eyes glaring down at the redhead. It’s odd, he’s not used to Dazai without the bandages covering his stupid, pretty face, “You called me—“
“I was drunk!” his voice cracks, fingers trembling as they slide higher and dig into Dazai’s shoulder blades, “It’s not like I want you . I was so close,” Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut so no tears escape to give Dazai any more ammo to tease him with, “I almost had an out.” He whispers into the space between them, his barely concealed secret.
He should have known he couldn’t hide anything from Dazai.
Dazai stays silent for a moment, but Chuuya never had the luxury of silence around his ex partner for long, “Don’t be stupid. You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t want me to stop that man from fucking you,” he snarls, fingers quick to snatch Chuuya’s jaw and dig his blunt nails into him until it stings. He pulls Chuuya’s face closer, they glare at each other; their hot breaths mingling in the small space between them. “You don’t want that.”
It sounds like Dazai’s trying to convince himself more than Chuuya.
“And you left.”
It hurts to say out loud, especially when Dazai doesn’t deny it.
Instead, the brunette pulls Chuuya in the last inch by the jaw and smashes their lips together.
It hurts. It’s relief, but it also rips Chuuya in two.
He inhales sharply, arms frantically wrapping around Dazai’s nape as he pulls their chests together to keep the other from running again. Their lips slide together with ease, just like every other thing Soukoku has done together.
From day one, they have known every piece of each other. The way they think, move, breathe.
The way his lips wet Dazai’s chapped ones with each drag against each other ignites his insides all the way down to his core. He exhales shakily as Dazai’s hands wrap around to the back of his head, fingers carding through his silky auburn hair.
When Dazai pulls his head back, Chuuya takes it, moaning into the other’s mouth. It gives Dazai the perfect opportunity to shove his tongue down Chuuya’s throat, sending each nerve in Chuuya’s body on overdrive.
It tastes like home.
“Daz—,” He arches into the pull on his hair, feeling Dazai’s hard erection rub against him.
The brunette groans, stumbling forward until Chuuya’s forced to the wall behind them on the other side of the alleyway.
Not the cleanest, but they’ve fucked in worse conditions.
It comes with the territory.
“He touched you,” Dazai notes as soon as he pulls back, eyes lingering on Chuuya’s naked chest to the few hickeys dotting him.
“Not enough.”
Dazai’s eyes snap up, dark and full of rage. It looks good on him. He should be angry, and Chuuya relishes in the emotions Dazai’s giving him tonight.
It’s not often.
Chuuya yelps when heavy hands drag his shoulder, turning him around and slamming his chest into the wall, causing his eyebrow to nick the wall just as hard.
“Fucker,” Chuuya curses under his breath, hands quickly moving down to his belt to start undoing it as his forehead rests against the cold bricks.
As he works on dropping his pants, he feels Dazai’s fingers featherlight down the burn on his side. It sends the rest of Chuuya’s blood rushing straight through his core as a shiver rolls up his spine.
“You’re handy work,” He offhandedly offers as his belt finally unclips. Before he can pull his pants down, however, Dazai’s hands stop him at his hips, “What—“
“Where’s your lube? I know you have some since you were so ready to whore yourself out—“ Dazai groans when Chuuya’s elbow connects with the asshole's ribs.
Whatever happened to Dazai the week Chuuya was gone really made him think he could talk to Chuuya this way. Fuck no.
As if Dazai hadn’t just broke down, sobbing in his arms a week ago.
“Cut the shit, Dazai,” Chuuya turns his head to see the man looming over him past his shoulder, “Left pocket.”
He’s satisfied when Dazai’s lips twist with distaste, but the traitor reaches into Chuuya’s pocket anyway and pulls the travel-sized bottle out. He makes a displeased noise when he finds a condom alongside the lube, tossing it to the floor before helping the redhead drop his pants down to pool at his ankles.
Dazai curses under his breath, head dropping until his mouth latches onto the side of Chuuya’s shoulder. The redhead groans as he feels a hot tongue and sharp teeth travel up from his shoulder to the side of his neck; the sensation distracting him from the sound of the lube bottle clicking open.
“I’ll make sure mine lasts longer,” Dazai whispers before he bites hard into the crook of Chuuya’s neck.
“Fuck!” Chuuya moans, knees buckling. He tilts his head to the side to give Dazai easier access. Yes , he wants Dazai’s marking to last forever.
He’s so distracted by the soothing licks Dazai gives his neck that he can’t hide the strangled noise of surprise when a hand pulls his cheek to the side, revealing his hole as a finger traces his rim.
He keens, forehead dropping to the wall as he braces himself for something rough and painful.
But surprisingly, or maybe not— it’s still Dazai after all— the finger slowly slides past his ring of muscles, and Chuuya can’t help the moan that slips past his lips from half sounding like a sob.
“I can’t—“ He gulps the gross alleyway air like a fish as he lays his palms flat by his head on the wall, leaning his ass out as Dazai’s finger slides completely to his knuckle inside of Chuuya, “Dazai.”
“I hear you,” Dazai breathes into his ear, automatically sending Chuuya’s spine into an arch.
The feeling of Dazai’s finger sliding in and out of him, and slowly starting to work him open is enhanced with what’s left of the drugs coursing through his veins. It heightens everything. The way Dazai’s breathing is fast and heavy in his ear. The way he can feel Dazai’s hand tremble as he pulls on his ass to keep him held open. He can feel the pressure of Dazai’s finger curl against his walls. The way his emotions can barely stop his heart from beating rapidly in his own chest.
He feels everything.
God, he hates it, but he loves it just as much.
“Then you’d give me more if you could hear me,” Chuuya chokes out, grinding back into the one finger that’s working him open. He needs more, a lot more, and Dazai isn’t giving it to him. “I— Fuck Dazai, I can handle it, come on.”
The dark chuckle he receives grates on his nerves, but it’s quickly sated by the second finger prodding its way inside him along with the first.
“F- fuck.”
Dazai picks up the pace fast, now almost slamming Chuuya into the wall he’s up against. Yeah— that’s what he needed. Those long fingers curl and scissor him open ruthlessly. The pressure builds- simmering in his blood and throbbing in his cock.
Fuck, he needs more.
Chuuya bites his lip to keep himself from begging Dazai for more, eyelashes fluttering when Dazai’s other arm slides up his waist, and wraps itself around his middle to hold him closer as he continues to abuse his hole.
“Shit,” Chuuya groans, wishing more than anything to have his lips on Dazai’s.
But of course, Chuuya should know well enough now that Dazai knows him just as much.
He can feel Dazai’s lips against his cheekbone, and Chuuya immediately turns his head just enough to smash his lips into Dazai’s.
If he looks desperate, he doesn’t care.
Dazai indulges in the kiss just as much anyway, biting and sucking on his bottom lip as he shoves a third finger inside Chuuya.
The mafioso’s teeth clank against Dazai’s own hard when his body jolts from the sensation of his prostate getting brushed up against.
“Yes, yes, yes. There, fuck! Yes, there, Dazai,” He moans into the other’s mouth as he continues to grind back while Dazai’s finger repeatedly hits his prostate. “Holy shit.”
“Fuck, Chuuya,” Dazai licks into his mouth before pulling away— both his hand inside Chuuya and his mouth— leaving only his arm wrapped around Chuuya’s stomach keeping them from falling. “You drive me crazy.”
He turns his head, leaning his sweaty forehead against the bricks as the sound of Dazai’s slacks get unzipped.
It hasn’t even been that long since they last fucked, but he’s missed it so much. Will Dazai come back with him after this? Can they clean each other off in the shower and snuggle up under the covers like they always do?
Or will Dazai leave again? Leave him standing alone in this alley, covered in the ghosting traces of Dazai’s heavy hands all down his body, and a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Before he can let those thoughts get to him, the heat of Dazai’s thick erection slides in the crack of his ass causing Chuuya to bite his tongue in surprise.
“Hold onto me,” Dazai whispers. The hand that was just inside Chuuya comes up to wrap around Chuuya’s wrist, moving his hand to the redhead’s forehead. Chuuya gets the hint, putting his palm against the bricks and setting his forehead on the back of it. His other hand finds the bandaged arm wrapped around his waist and digs his nails into it.
Before he has a second to breathe, Dazai lines up and slams into him in the blink of an eye. It punches all of the breath out of Chuuya as his forehead digs into his hand, thankfully not into the brick wall.
His nails claw enough to draw blood through the bandages as Dazai’s hips slam into him repeatedly from behind. It’s a choppy rhythm, deep on some thrusts, shallow on others. He can feel the head of Dazai’s cock slide against his walls, causing his eyes to roll back as his head hits his hand again.
“More,” he grits through his teeth, unable to hold back his moan when the brunette's cock hits his prostate dead on.
Dazai’s own chorus of small grunts and moans is enough to make Chuuya’s knees buckle; the only thing saving him from dropping is the arm tightening around him, holding him flush against Dazai from behind.
When will they be this close again?
Fuck. He’s so close to the edge, but doesn’t want this to ever end.
“Please,” Chuuya’s breath hitches with a thrust of Dazai’s hips, “Tell me why you left me, are you coming back— ack!”
Dazai hits him hard enough that Chuuya uses his hands to catch himself on the wall, his head hitting it hard enough to blur his vision for a split second.
“I didn’t leave you,” He hears Dazai say, strained and out of breath, “Only the Mafia.”
“What happ—“
Chuuya’s words get cut out with a sharp cry as Dazai’s hand wraps around his neglected cock, his other hand sliding up Chuuya’s side.
“Not right now,” Dazai breathes out, shakily, “I can’t— I won’t last.”
“Me neither,” Chuuya curses, bucking his hips forward into Dazai’s hand.
They can have that conversation after that. For now, Chuuya will focus on chasing his own orgasm and hope Dazai doesn’t run the second it’s over.
“Can I cum inside?”
“Fuck,” Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut, “You better.”
Dazai curses, fingers digging into Chuuya’s side, right where his burn is as his other hand pumps his cock sloppily. The pain shoots straight down Chuuya’s back, causing his head to drop against Dazai’s chest and his orgasm to hit him full force.
He cries out, a string of broken curses and Dazai’s name dripping from his lips. His cheeks are wet with tears, ones from both pleasure and pain.
He can barely focus on Dazai’s hips coming to a stop, his cock buried deep inside him and spilling his seed deep inside his ass.
Having Dazai this close again, after just a week, feels like home. This is where he belongs; in Dazai’s arms, without anything else keeping them apart.
The way Dazai’s cock twitches inside him, the name Chuuya falling from his tongue like a prayer as he comes, the grounding weight of the man behind him, and the cooling sensation of No Longer Human coursing through the both of them— tucking Arahabaki away for the time being.
This is Chuuya’s sanctuary.
And of course, it ends too soon.
He can feel Dazai’s arms unwrap from his body, and his softening cock slipping out of him. The warmth of Dazai’s fluids dripping down his thighs send a strong shiver down Chuuya’s spine, leaving him cold and dreading what’s to come.
He turns from the wall, chin held high to keep some of his dignity, even if the light makeup he put on earlier got smudged around his eyes and on his cheeks from his tears.
He watches as Dazai avoids eye contact, slipping himself back into his pants and snatching Chuuya’s shirt off the dirty floor before tossing it to the redhead.
Chuuya catches it, clearing his throat as he shakes it out and throws it on before picking his pants up, cringing as he puts them on over his dirty skin.
He’ll wash up as soon as he gets home.
“If you’re going to leave,” Chuuya breaks the silence, “then go now and fuck off. I don’t care; just get out of my sight.”
Dazai’s eyes linger on him, and it makes him uncomfortable. He’s not used to two of them—only when they’d shower together and not for longer than that— and it will take a long time to get to the point where he's used to this.
He can’t lie, though; he likes the way it makes him feel.
Dazai’s beautiful, devastatingly so.
After all, Chuuya is madly in love with him.
He stiffens the moment Dazai decides to take a step. He fears that look of pain in Dazai’s eyes would be the last he’d ever see of him, but thankfully—
Thankfully, Dazai takes another step, and another— and it’s toward Chuuya— one more and he's standing before him, his arm lifting, fingers tracing Chuuya’s sharp cheekbone.
Chuuya holds his breath, eyes hardened in a glare, but he can feel himself crumbling with each second.
Dazai’s hand slowly wraps around a red strand of hair before curling behind the nape of Chuuya’s neck.
This here is familiar, so Chuuya gives in to the pull and raises himself on the tips of his toes until he meets Dazai’s soft lips.
It’s excruciating. It’s loving.
Chuuya’s breath hitches without his consent, fingers wrapping around Dazai’s wrist to hold him there just a little longer.
It tastes like a goodbye.
And when they do end the kiss, their foreheads lean against each other, breathing the same air for one last time.
“I’m not staying.”
Chuuya scoffs, but he knew that. “I know, asshole.”
“But I need you to wait for me, Chuuya,” Dazai quickly says. When Chuuya blinks his eyes open, he can see Dazai already staring into his soul, and it squeezes his chest. “I promise, I’ll explain everything, but I need you to wait for me because I can’t right now. It’s not the right time.”
“Why—“ Chuuya whispers,” Why would I do that?”
“Because I love you.”
Chuuya’s heart stops for just a second before restarting to skip a few beats.
Shit.
He’ll never get used to Dazai saying that to him.
But when will he hear it again?
“I love you, too, Osamu.” Chuuya leans back, pushing Dazai away altogether and crossing his arms over his chest, a shiver wrecking his body as the cool wind breezes across his sweaty skin, “I don’t want you to disappear again.”
Dazai takes three steps back, and Chuuya knows he won’t get to hold him again for a very long time. He’s just not sure how long it will be.
He watches as those thin lips curve at the corners in a painful, broken smile. “Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
He doesn’t hesitate, no matter how much the word hurts.
Dazai betrayed him— no, the Mafia— and isn’t coming back. He’s a traitor in the eyes of everyone Chuuya loves, and everyone he’s loyal to.
He should kill Dazai on the spot.
But he can’t.
“Then give me a few years. When the time is right, I’ll find you.”
“Will I know?”
Dazai shrugs one shoulder, smirking, “You’ll sense it. Dogs have strong senses, you know. They can’t be too far from their owner for long.”
“Fuck off.”
“Goodbye, Chuuya.”
His eyes blur as he watches Dazai turn on his heels, headed out of the dark alley. Chuuya fights the urge to yell out; he fights the urge to run and follow Dazai.
He’s leaving, and there’s nothing Chuuya can do about it.
“...”
He’ll trust Dazai will find his way back.
He can feel it in his soul because Dazai is so deeply intertwined in him like a deadly root with thorns. He knows their paths will cross again.
When they do, Chuuya will determine whether he’ll kill him or kiss him.