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Atsushi has felt like he’s been losing a shred of his sanity every day since he first joined the ADA.
Dazai has a limp.
Which wouldn’t be that weird, not when it’s Dazai you’re talking about. It felt like it was most days that he showed up to work with a cast around his arm and a new patch of bandages over his skin.
But this felt different. The casts would stay on for maybe three days (nowhere near long enough to actually have been encasing a broken bone) then disappear after Dazai had gotten his fill of attention or done whatever it was he needed to do and the bandages were so typical that no one would bat an eye at the sight of a few more.
So why was the limp any different?
To that, Atsushi has three points:
One, Dazai hadn’t been sent on any combat-heavy assignments in quite some time.
Two, it couldn’t have been like the casts, no, he would’ve said something by then, worked Atsushi into a worry until he panicked and asked what happened (to which he would receive a nonsensical lie about how Dazai had come to acquire the injury).
If anything, it seemed like he was trying to hide the limp.
And three, Atsushi had asked Dazai what happened to him, and the answer he got was… unsatisfactory… to say the least.
He didn’t even respond at first, just staring at Atsushi with an incomprehensible look on his face before a Cheshire grin sprouted on his face. He then proceeded to launch into a dialogue commending Atsushi on his virtuous behavior and admirable empathy for others, expertly avoiding the question with his praising deflections.
Then he got up and practically skipped off to the door with yet another half-assed excuse to Kunikida– who didn’t even spare him a glance, already long past the point of caring for his shenanigans– leaving Atsushi without a second to react.
Still caught up in the absurdity of his colleagues' antics, Atsushi scanned the room in hopes of at least one person who might validate him in the crowd of Dazai-exhausted faces. And after seeing the way that no one even bothered to bat an eye to it all, Atsushi started to consider whether or not he was blowing the whole situation out of proportion–
Wait.
Not no one.
Leaning an inch too far back in his seat across the room with candy on his tongue, Ranpo added another tally to one of the many loose papers over his desk and let out a quiet snicker.
Atsushi had already seen the paper a few times– the tallies had to have been somewhere from thirty to forty in total– and while it could’ve been anything (as the paper had no title and was literally the backside of a missing person’s flier), he found it hard to dismiss the cheeky look Ranpo had begun to don a few weeks before when Dazai’s random abandonments of his responsibilities spiked.
Or the fact that the total number of tallies on the paper seemed to match the estimate Atsushi had made when he too started counting Dazai’s disappearances.
Ranpo probably– no, definitely– knew what was going on much better than Atsushi did.
Which was comforting, to be completely honest.
Guessing by how he was handling it, it wasn’t anything serious. If it had been and he knew it was happening, the issue would’ve been addressed ages ago.
Even so, Atsushi found himself with two questions weighing on him:
What was Dazai doing and why the hell was he limping?
—
Great question!
Well, there, in an old, run-down room with nothing but a dusty table and three broken chairs in which two teenage mafia members used to meet up for hushed makeout sessions and other not-just-friends activities…
“F-fucking watch the teeth, would you?”
…Dazai sat on his knees before that same executive with a dick shoved halfway down his throat.
He also disregarded the other’s request about the teeth, instead raking his canines over the length as he took him in further, earning a nasty tug to his hair that made him wince.
“Does it hurt you to listen to me? Or are you just that much of a brat?” Chuuya scolded, grinding his hips into the other’s throat until he gagged (which didn’t seem to take much effort at all, Dazai was still not used to being on the giving end of a blowjob).
The mafioso’s point seemed to have gotten across, as seen by the way Dazai’s cheeks hollowed and jaw widened to accommodate him all the better. Chuuya loosened the grip on his hair, allowing him to continue at his own pace. It was the first time Dazai had ever offered to go down on him after all, he figured he should probably go easy on him.
And while teaching Dazai how to suck someone off wasn’t necessarily what he had expected when he got a message asking for him in one of their old meet-up spots, Chuuya couldn’t say he was opposed to it.
He groaned, head hitting the old and rickety foundation behind him.
No matter how bad he was at it.
Chuuya tightened his hand over the top of Dazai’s head, guiding him through the motions and setting a comfortable rhythm that left the redhead biting back a moan. Better.
“Try to relax your throat,” he glanced down at the detective, checking in on him.
He hadn’t tapped out or tried to pull away, but Chuuya couldn’t find a reason not to make sure he was still holding up all right.
And by God, the sight that laid before him made his gut twist with wicked desire. Dazai met his eye when he looked down, those brown eyes staring up at him clouded with a thick haze and glossed over with unshed tears (likely a byproduct of Chuuya’s rude triggering of Dazai’s gag reflex), but the brunette’s eyes were the last thing on Chuuya’s mind at the time.
A pink hue dusted over his cheeks and nose, complimenting the shade of his spit-slicked lips which appeared all the more vibrant after having his mouth fucked open for the past fifteen minutes, and saliva dripped down from the edges of his mouth and spilled down his chin, his flushed skin glistening in the limited light of the room.
He was the picture of debauchery.
He always was, whenever the two of them found themselves entangled once more, reduced to a barely constrained mess with just a few thrusts.
Most of it could be attributed to Dazai’s inexperience when it came to men– specifically when it came to bottoming– and Chuuya would be a liar to say that he didn’t enjoy the fact that he and he alone was allowed to see Dazai this way (because he knew damn well Dazai hadn’t been with any man besides himself).
Chuuya subconsciously rolled his hips into Dazai’s warm mouth again, apologetically petting the other’s hair at the pathetic sound he made, the ball of his piercing dragging slowly over the back of his throat.
The grip on Chuuya’s hips tightened, the brunette still hesitantly bobbing his head up and down, even with the repeated pushes past what he could handle.
He was pretty damn determined, he at least at to give him that. They must have been going at it for (as was evident by the tent in the middle of Dazai’s lap) upwards of twenty minutes and not once had he asked to stop or pulled away.
Save for the way he struggled to take it in initially, yanking his head back with a theatrical cough and gag.
Chuuya slid further down the wall, willing himself to let Dazai take the reins for a second and just enjoy himself (even if his body screamed at him to pull the taller off of him, pin him against the wall, and ravish him).
He was getting better at it, more confident, sliding his tongue over Chuuya’s slit and veins each time he pulled back and sucking him in with hollowed cheeks. Shit.
His eyes– fuck, those eyes– were still fixed on Chuuya’s own, intent to show he could do it (or maybe to rile Chuuya up, either way, he was determined); And to his credit, it was riling Chuuya up, as proven by the way his cock twitched in his mouth and his fingers tugged on his hair again, head falling back onto the wall to break away from the lewd sight beneath him.
Head lolling off to the side, Chuuya could see the various pieces of clothing the two had discarded in a pile to his left– a corner of the room the both of them knew wouldn’t leave unfortunately placed stains on the fabric (lesson having been learned from the first time around).
The pile consisted of two coats, a jacket, Chuuya’s vest, and Chuuya’s hat (taken and thrown off to the side by Dazai with a quip on the other’s fashion sense, as per usual), which left the mafioso in nothing but a white button up and his undone pants.
Dazai had seemed increasingly eager to get him in as little clothing as possible since their first encounter, quickly waving off Chuuya when he noticed with a complaint about his virginity being taken by someone who couldn’t even bother to get naked for him. The virginity comment warranted a raised brow.
Either way, Chuuya was bearing much more skin than Dazai, who was only free of his coat with two buttons done off the top of his vest, his bandages only adding to the lack of bare skin.
Which was a shame. He liked him with less on.
Chuuya pulled Dazai back by the hair, enjoying the look on the brunette’s face at the feeling of his dick sliding out of his throat.
“Couldn’t have given me a heads-up first? Geez…” his voice cracked halfway through, one of his hands coming down from Chuuya’s hip to rub at the outside of his throat.
Chuuya scoffed, “Heads up for what? I was pulling out, not fucking your throat.”
Dazai sighed dramatically, removing his other hand from Chuuya and letting them rest on the floor next to him, “Already done? You didn’t even cum yet.”
He made little effort to hide the disappointment in his words.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re being intentionally dense…” Chuuya murmured, reaching to undo the rest of his shirt buttons. “Prep yourself.”
The detective made a face, “Chuuya!” he drawled. “Someone at the agency pointed out my limp today, you can’t seriously expect me to use my spit again.”
Chuuya wheezed, “You were limping?”
“Not my fault that you’re sadistic and like watching me suffer…”
Pulling off his shirt and tossing it off with the other items of clothing, Chuuya reached into his pocket and took out a small bottle of lube. He threw it to Dazai, who caught it with ease.
The relief at the sight of the lubricant was evident, Dazai making quick work of his pants and popping off the top of the bottle to squeeze out a generous amount of it onto his fingers. Chuuya watched expectantly as he shuffled around, bracing himself with one hand on the floor and the other wrapping around behind him.
He couldn’t see it when Dazai sank his fingers into himself, the angle obscuring the view, but the way Dazai’s breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment was proof enough. His head dropped, disheveled hair covering his face and small moans disguised under breaths slipping from his lips.
He had started with two fingers, already used to doing so when Chuuya would prep him. He did, however, start a lot slower than the other would, taking the time to drag his fingers over his pleasure spots and to slowly scissor himself open.
He’d be needing it, considering the fact that he was having sex with Chuuya of all people.
A hand slid under Dazai’s chin, lifting his head back up so he could see the other; Chuuya had the fingertip of his other glove caught between his teeth, his hand slowly drawing back and pulling the leather from his hands.
He tossed the first glove when it was off, moving his other hand from Dazai’s chin and repeating the motions from before, all while watching to make sure Dazai’s head didn’t drop back down.
After both his hands were left bare he brought his hand back to Dazai, this time right below his mouth in a manner similar to the first time they were together. He spat into Chuuya’s palm obediently.
Huh. He finally learned something, hadn’t he?
Retracting his hand and using Dazai’s spit as lube, Chuuya began to stroke himself to the sight of Dazai stretching himself open on his fingers (which had progressed to three rather than two since he first started to fuck himself open).
“Didn’t care to take them off when it was m-me you were touching?” his words snapped to allow room for a barely concealed whine as he spoke.
Chuuya smiled tauntingly, “Nope.”
Dazai sank further down on his fingers, mouth dropping open at the feeling.
“You liked it though, didn’t you?”
Dazai didn’t say anything.
The two fell into a rhythm, Dazai’s hand fixed on the floor jumping with each hit to his prostate and his face scrunching up with bitten-back moans, and Chuuya watching him while he jerked himself off.
Dazai shifted around his weight as he fingered himself, unable to get a proper angle or to get his fingers to sink into him as deep as Chuuya’s were able to. He couldn’t help the frustrated sounds that escaped him.
Even so, the pads of his fingers brushing over his prostate were enough to bring him to the edge, Dazai blinking his eyes rapidly at Chuuya for either permission or denial of his orgasm. He suspected it would be the latter, as per their typical routine.
But instead, Chuuya made no move to stop him.
“Go on.”
And that was all it took.
Dazai squeezed his eyes shut, mouth twitching as he moaned, splotches of white staining his vest, “F-fuck…”
Chuuya stopped his hand, the image of Dazai squirming over his own fingers sending sparks of something lascivious through his flesh; He didn't want to cum, not yet at least.
The hand behind Dazai’s back slumped to the side, fingers slipping out of him and hand hitting the floor. Despite his orgasm just seconds before, his erection remained.
“Still gonna fuck me? Or did just watching tire you out?” he smiled, a challenge.
He was probably going to regret that.
“Get on the table if you feel like finding out.”
He didn't need to be told twice, practically jumping up onto the table. Chuuya didn't waste a beat, turning on his side and pinning Dazai’s wrists to the surface.
“You still have the lube with you, or do you feel like spitting in my hand again?”
The threat was effective, Dazai slipping from Chuuya’s grasp to reach into his pocket for the bottle and hand it over to the redhead. He popped it open, spilled some over his palm, and spread it over his length in a way that felt like it was for show (or perhaps it just felt like that to Dazai because of how intensely he was staring).
Chuuya’s hand returned to Dazai’s wrists, both bandaged arms held above his head while his other hand worked on removing the last of Dazai’s clothing.
First, his vest came off, then his undershirt, and his pants, leaving him as bare as he was willing to be and revealing the fading bites and hickeys from past excursions.
One, in particular, caught Chuuya’s eye, “And who’s this from?”
He moved his hand from the brunette’s wrist and took a fistful of Dazai’s hair, yanking his head to the side and coaxing his bandages to reveal a fresh-looking hickey– fresher than the last one he had given him.
“Ow, ow, ow! Chuuya!”
“Answer me,” he said breathily, letting Dazai fall back onto the table and bringing one of his legs over his forearm.
He pulled him down the surface of the table until his ass was set right at the edge.
Dazai yelped, caught off guard by Chuuya’s eagerness to continue despite the sight of someone else’s marks on his skin, “Some girl I slept with a couple of months ago…”
His other leg was pulled over Chuuya’s arm, “…she showed up and was pissed about something I did. I think I promised her another date or something… Anyway.”
Chuuya cocked a brow, “So you fucked her?”
That familiar, aggravating little look came over Dazai’s face, “What, is Chuuya jealous?”
He dragged out his words, propping himself up on his elbows to get a good look at the other man…
Who looked entirely unamused.
“No,” the answer came later than it should’ve, but neither said anything. “But if you’re still sleeping around, you should tell me.”
Dazai just barely hid his reaction behind a light twitch in his eye as Chuuya lined the head of his cock up against his ass and pressed in.
“Might have to start using a rubber.”
The sound of the top of the bottle of lube being popped off rang through the room again, earning a reaction of both confusion and anticipation from Dazai, whose back was flat on the table again and who was unable to see what was going on.
A hand wrapped around his dick at the same second that Chuuya bottomed out, wet with cold lube, stroking him at a comfortable pace. A small sigh left Dazai’s lips at the feeling, thighs tensing just so when Chuuya began to retract his hips.
The push back in wasn’t fast or rough, nor was it slow, feeling closer to the pace Dazai usually chose for himself when he wasn’t with someone else. There was no clear answer as to how Chuuya would know about Dazai’s personal preference– perhaps just from watching him prep himself– but the detective found it almost impossible to worry about that when Chuuya’s piercing was catching on his sensitive insides and sending jolts of pleasure up his spine.
He was gonna cum embarrassingly fast.
Dazai twisted off to the left and away from the ministrations below the waist in an attempt to stave off his orgasm, trying to think about anything other than the way Chuuya was deftly taking him apart.
It was pointless, one of his hands shooting up from the table and sliding over his face to muffle the noises that escaped him as he painted his chest white again.
Chuuya didn’t show any signs of stopping though, fucking him through his climax– going as far as to actually speed up when Dazai clenched around him, earning a choked-up noise from the taller.
It was notably more difficult to recover from his second orgasm, hand still clasped over his face to catch his sounds.
The speed Chuuya had chosen fell back to the pace he had prior once Dazai’s body relaxed again, his hand still moving up and down on his (just barely) half-hard cock.
The feeling of constant stimulation so soon after an orgasm was closer to pain than pleasure, causing Dazai to retreat.
(Though, he didn't try very hard, merely scooching up the table an inch or two only to be pulled back down by Chuuya.)
“Too much already?” Chuuya’s words provided an out, but they were far from caring.
“N-no,” Dazai writhed, the ball of Chuuya’s piercing swiping over his prostate and coaxing out a pathetic dribble from his cock. “Is that all you've got, Chuuya?”
The mafioso laughed, “Strong words coming from someone who just tried to crawl away from me because he came a little too hard.”
Suddenly Chuuya was pulling out, moving faster than Dazai could process (in his current state, that is, you'll have to cut him some slack) and flipping him onto his stomach with his fingers in his hair to shove his head violently into the wood.
But not violently enough to cause Dazai any actual harm.
Then he was hammering back inside, relishing in the way Dazai had tightened up at the rough handling.
“Let's see how much more of what I’ve got you can handle, hm?”
The pressure keeping his head down remained when Chuuya began to piston his hips in and out of him, each thrust aimed directly at his prostate (which was beginning to feel almost sore).
He'd thought of it as a nice change of pace at first– being able to cum instead of being cruelly denied a climax for up to hours– but with his ex-partner pounding into him through his refractory period, he was starting to wish that he’d never cum again.
Wet kisses and painful bites were pressed to the expanse of Dazai’s back, old marks being renewed between the creation of fresh ones.
“She must've been really mad at you, huh, Dazai,” Chuuya remarked, fingers digging into his hip while slamming into him and his breath fanning over that same hickey from before. “Looks kinda gnarly.”
Without missing a beat, Chuuya bit down on the patch of purpled skin. Dazai seized, the bite carrying so much aggression that the other nips and gnaws looked like love bites in comparison.
Chuuya pulled off of him, hips still keeping a steady pace (which was slowly turning back into something enjoyable for Dazai, who ground against the table in a way that he hoped was subtle, desperate for some attention to his dick). Blood dripped down his shoulder, tainting his bandages a deep red.
“Bet you kind of bribed her out of doing you one worse though, yeah?” his next thrust was particularly rough and targeted. “Left that one in her honor, what she would’ve done if not for your manipulative ass.”
“Ch–” a moan slipped through the brunette’s teeth, “–uuya’s so mean to me…”
“Mean?” Dazai felt his lower half being hoisted up from the table, forcing his back into an arch.
A hand grabbed at his (now fully hard) cock, stroking him in time with Chuuya’s thrusts.
“I wouldn't really classify what I'm doing to you as mean, idiot.”
It felt too good, throwing Dazai hurtling toward another orgasm. He buried his face in the table again, the scent of old, worn down and dusty wood filling his lungs as he whined against the surface.
A tut of disapproval could be heard from above him.
Chuuya’s fingers curled around Dazai’s hair, tugging his head back, “Come now, I’m being nice, aren’t I? Hiding away from me now would be impolite.”
A thumb slid over the slit of Dazai’s cock painstakingly slowly before returning to his shaft and stroking him quickly. Dazai keened, leaning his head back and pushing his body further into the arched position it was in as he spilled over the table.
The detective thought that maybe he heard Chuuya whisper something approving as he came, but he also thought himself to be three steps away from insanity, so he couldn’t be sure. Chuuya continued to pound him, hand still moving over Dazai’s flaccid cock.
Dazai braced himself on one arm, bringing his other down to tug at Chuuya’s wrist in an attempt to get him to pull his hand away from his dick, the feeling of overstimulation biting at his nerves and leaving him hot with discomfort.
Chuuya obliged the silent request, bringing his hand back to Dazai’s hips and helping him down into a less strenuous position, his feet on the floor once again and his stomach flush to the table.
His body lay directly over the smear of white from his last orgasm. The cum sticking to his chest and bandages was starting to feel uncomfortable and tacky on his skin.
Adding to his discomfort, his hypersensitive dick was still rubbing against the table with each push forward from Chuuya’s hips. He could barely keep up.
But God, he couldn’t deny that it felt good; Every slide into him, every hit to his prostate that filled him with a kind of pleasure he could never get quite right when he was left to himself and his own two hands.
And so it was, Dazai was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
The rock being painful overstimulation and the hard place being, well, pleasurable overstimulation.
Chuuya pulled out almost all the way on his next thrust, movements suddenly slowing, Dazai letting out a gurgle-like noise at the feeling of the tip of his cock catching on his rim. Oh, fuck…
A quiet grunt left the other when he pushed back in, rocking his hips in and out with a strained grip on Dazai’s hip and his hair. The brunette squirmed, his hair being pulled roughly.
“Chuuya!”
The words came out as more of a whine than Dazai would like to admit.
“S-sorry,” the words sounded uncharacteristically genuine for how domineering Chuuya typically was when they found themselves like this. He let go of Dazai’s hair, sucking his teeth guiltily when the detective’s head smacked down on the table from the sudden release.
Dazai didn’t comment, too lost in the feeling of Chuuya’s sloppy movements behind him to care about the small mishap. He found some comfort in the fact that Chuuya was going to cum soon, feeling less exposed with the knowledge that the other wasn’t so unaffected by him.
But the end of the session was far from sight, a sudden feeling of emptiness hitting Dazai when Chuuya pulled out in a hurry, the hands on his body leaving him altogether so the redhead could muffle his (rather obscene) moans and to prevent himself from finishing.
Dazai would be a liar if he said that he didn’t get a feeling of gratification from hearing Chuuya like that– feathers all ruffled and face painted pink– from fucking him.
The groans behind him were calming gradually, replaced with long, controlled breaths. Chuuya stepped back to where he had left Dazai, but he didn’t fuck his length back into him like Dazai had expected him to.
A shrill gasp left the taller one at the feeling of two (ungloved, which was a first for them) fingers sliding into him. Knuckle deep, further than Dazai could manage earlier, and deep enough to massage his (definitely sore by now) prostate.
“You can manage another, can’t you?” Chuuya asked, voice conveying just how out of breath he was.
“Can’t even manage one, Chuuya?” Dazai bit back.
Chuuya didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, instead twisting his fingers just so to make Dazai…
Well.
He had intended to make him squirm a little, maybe even get him to let one of his pretty cries slip, but…
Making him cum for the fourth time in a row wasn’t an unwelcome advance.
He also… got that cry he wanted.
Dazai practically wailed at the feeling, shoving his head into his arms and convulsing. It had to have been somewhat painful, especially so soon after his third, but shit did it make Chuuya’s cock throb to be inside of him again.
This one seemed to last longer than the others, Dazai still shaking almost a minute later and clenching a vice around Chuuya’s stalled fingers.
The fight he had in him when clapping back at Chuuya seemed to have disappeared once his body relaxed, no smart words left, all replaced by breathy whines and small twitches.
It was different from anything Chuuya had seen from Dazai before– even in the bedroom where he was able to break him down into something akin to obedient.
It was unsettling.
Chuuya withdrew his fingers, gaining a whimper from the other.
“Dazai?” he tried, leaning over the other and being cautious not to touch him as he tried to get a look at the other’s face.
No response.
“Hey, idiot, answer me.”
Nothing.
The redhead placed a hand on Dazai’s shoulder– careful not to startle him– and flipped the other over, eyes raking up from his chest where his bandages had begun to bunch together.
“Dazai.”
His eyes landed on his face, practically flushed red, with eyelids hanging so heavy he could’ve passed as asleep.
“Are you okay?”
Dazai blinked twice, looking like the words had just clicked with him.
Chuuya cocked a brow, signaling that he was still waiting for an answer.
“Is Chuuya really that worried about me?” he smirked. “Come on,” he drawled, “why’d you stop?”
He was suggesting that it was an act, a ruse to get Chuuya to dote on him worriedly, but in all honesty, Chuuya wasn’t buying it. His voice was anything but steady, and his words were so slurred that they stuck together (far from how Dazai typically spoke). Not even Dazai would’ve been able to fake something so primal.
Either way, he was given the green light.
Chuuya aligned himself with Dazai’s hole, sliding back in with minimal effort, and with Dazai now on his back, he was able to see the way his ex-partner’s eye twitched and drool dripped from the corners of his mouth in response to his movements.
He decided he liked this more.
“Try not to go silent like that again, yeah? It’d be a real mess if you passed out and I had to carry you home or some shit…”
Dazai smiled, a trembling thing, with his much-too-sensitive insides being abused once more, “How ch-chivalrous.”
Chuuya was fast– too fast– to shove his fingers into Dazai’s mouth, muting the rest of the nonsense that was undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue.
He mentally noted that Dazai didn’t gag that time.
The redhead could feel himself slipping, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold out much more, not with how sporadically Dazai’s walls would clench around him, leaving his head reeling and his body screaming for more, more, more.
Chuuya was impressed with how quickly Dazai recovered this time around, dick already hard again with the tip an angry shade of red from the sheer amount of times he’d already finished.
He couldn't be far from what Chuuya was waiting for.
The fingers plugging Dazai’s throat were shoved deeper as one of his legs was propped up over Chuuya’s shoulder, giving his ex-partner a better angle to fuck him. The detective whimpered at the feeling, noises becoming more and more pathetic by the second.
The sound Dazai had made vibrated around Chuuya’s finger, the sensation reading as even more erotic than it usually would've, with the way he was drilling into the other factored in.
“Shit…” Chuuya’s head dropped, cock instinctively slamming into Dazai as far as it could reach.
The garbled noise that Dazai made upon the movement did something to Chuuya’s brain; It must have, or else he has no reasonable explanation for what he did next.
Hips stilling save for small grinds against Dazai’s ass, Chuuya leaned over the brunette, mouth catching and teeth sinking into an uncovered piece of skin above the bandages on Dazai’s neck. He sucked down hard on the skin, set on leaving an obnoxiously pigmented hickey on the other.
Sometime around when he sank his teeth into the other, Chuuya came, finishing inside of Dazai and earning a tight squeeze from the other.
Dazai said something unintelligible between sighing breaths and hitched gasps, the only word Chuuya was able to recognize being his own name (which even then was said so whiny and wanton that it sounded closer to gibberish). Chuuya bit down harder.
Once he was sure the mark he was leaving would stay for at least the rest of the week, Chuuya removed his mouth from Dazai’s neck, but he didn’t stand back up.
No, Chuuya just moved to his mouth instead, pressing his lips to the other man’s and effectively swallowing down the rest of his mindless moans.
It felt like a rarity that he got to do that, the both of them usually too caught up in trying to tear off the other’s clothes. And sure, he couldn’t say that he minded the sex (because that would be a flat-out lie), but sometimes he found himself wanting to do more– or rather, less– than just shoving his dick in Dazai, like back when they were just teenagers.
He tried to snuff out that thought as quickly as it came.
In any case, it was a relief to have his lips on the other’s (much too soft and kissable for someone so dreadful) own, the act feeling like a release in its own right.
And, well, Dazai could probably agree with that statement, spasming beneath Chuuya with yet another orgasm.
Chuuya pulled away, wanting to watch Dazai’s face.
It proved to be a great decision.
Dazai’s mouth hung open just so, leaving room for his sweet cries to escape him, his eyes were a hair away from closing, irises set on someplace below Chuuya’s face, like he was trying to get a look at how he’d been fucked silly, and his brows created a rather dramatic crease on his forehead, exhibiting just how intense the feeling overtaking him was.
His cock gave two weak spurts before it gave out (yet remained hard, somehow), and Chuuya started to draw back his hips. Dazai whined dramatically, face contorting further into dramatized satisfaction (if that was even possible).
His dick gave another two spurts, both significantly thinner than from his first couple of orgasms.
Chuuya stopped pulling out.
“Did you just cum?”
The embarrassment was evident on his ex-partner’s face, “Yeah, no shit, slug.”
“I mean did you just cum twice within the same second.”
Chuuya rolled his hips back into Dazai when the other refused to comment despite his own overstimulation that was beginning to set in.
“Chuuya.”
He said it like a warning, but it was kind of hard to take him seriously with all that spend on his chest.
The mafioso noticed something.
He barely restrained his smile, “I’m only helping. You’re still hard, Dazai.”
The detective’s face dropped when he heard that, somehow unaware of the state of his own body.
“What kind of man would I be if I just left my partner high and dry?” he finished pulling out, stretching his fingers showily before pushing open Dazai’s thighs further.
“Far from dry,” Dazai retorted, squirming when three fingers were pushed into him.
“Alright, smartass,” Chuuya muttered noncommittally, thrusting his fingers in and out of Dazai with ease, entrance slicked and relaxed with leftover lube and his cum.
“F-fuck… softer!” he yelped. "Softer– I…”
He was barely coherent– but that much could be expected with how sensitive he was– and when given the word, he calmed it down, not slowing his hand but making sure to be gentle to Dazai’s bruised walls.
Probably wasn’t great for the limping situation, but that wasn’t exactly his problem.
“M-mph,” Dazai leaned back, twitching unpredictably.
“You can manage just one more, can’t you?”
Dazai went quiet again, face more red than pink now, before forcing out his words, “If you don’t shut up, I won’t.”
Chuuya chuckled, but to his credit, he did as he was asked.
Sure, he could have ignored the other's request, and continued with his meaner, more forceful persona that he typically put on (in a loose definition, it was also typical for the brunette to grind on his nerves as much as possible in hopes of working him up into a mood) while they were together, but he didn’t, finding it to be much more tasteful to actually consider the other person allowing him to see him in such a state.
The detective’s whines bounced off the walls, filling Chuuya’s ears and encouraging him to bring Dazai to the edge for the last time.
The brunette brought the back of his hand to his head, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “Chuuya…”
He arched his back, leaning further into the touch and staring into Chuuya’s eyes with an unreadable look.
Chuuya took his other hand which rested against the inside of Dazai’s thigh and moved it up to his waist, petting gentle circles into his side and his middle, avoiding the dried cum on his chest.
Dazai was straining, writhing in a way that told Chuuya he was close.
“I-it feels– weird,” he cursed, body jolting. “Chuuya–”
“I can stop,” he tried to offer–
“No.”
– but the thought was quickly thrown out.
His fingers sped up, “S-shit!”
And there he was again, face scrunched up and his body convulsing with the intensity of his orgasm. He always looked so good when he was lost in the feeling, irresistible.
Except, there was a small difference this time.
It was dry.
His dick was finally going down, but there was nothing to show for it save for the way he cried out pitifully.
Holy fuck.
The feeling was different from the others, sensitivity already heightened from the others before it, and it felt almost painful, his dick essentially twitching out and his muscles moving the same way they would’ve for any other, except there was nothing left to come out.
He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t like it though.
Maybe a bit more than just a typical one.
“There it is.”
Dazai didn’t have the energy to, but if he hadn’t just had the hardest orgasm of his life, he would’ve shot up from where he was laying instantly, “You were planning that?”
“Come on, Dazai, aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius? The second you tried getting smart with me after prep I was already planning on making you do that.”
“Asshole.”
“Shithead.”
“Shortass!”
“Slut.”
That was enough to get Dazai to pop his head up, sticking his tongue out at the other.
Chuuya snickered, pulling his fingers out and wiping them down on Dazai’s already soiled bandages, “Think you can get back, with your limp and all?”
He was provoking Dazai on purpose.
“Funny. Get me my pants.”
That he did, grabbing the rest of Dazai’s clothes and throwing them at him. He started putting back on his own.
“Think the agency’s caught on?” Chuuya asked cautiously.
Dazai did up the button on his pants and pulled back on his shirt, “Not the entire agency, but Ranpo knows.”
Chuuya shot the other a glance of warning.
“Come on, Chibi! What was I supposed to do? He’s too smart for anything I could do to throw him off.”
The redhead didn’t respond, only continued to dress himself.
“Besides, maybe I want to show you off.”
Chuuya made a slight face at the admission, the tone of his voice sounded playful and almost experimental, like he was testing the waters.
…
He decided it was nothing.
“The only thing you’re showing off is the fact that you’re getting screwed. I’ve had the mind to be discreet, so I don’t know how they’d know that I have anything to do with your limp.”
Dazai stared for a split second, looking almost disappointed. He was quick to shrug it off, though, returning to his clothes.
…
“Aw, crap! There’s cum on my vest!”
—
Roughly an hour and a half later, Dazai returned to the agency in all his limping glory without his vest and a bit sweatier than he had been when he left.
No one seemed to care. He sat back down at his desk and started on his work (well, pretended to) without a word.
…
Across the room, Ranpo smiled at Atsushi while making a rather lewd thrusting motion with one finger through an ‘o’ made with his other hand.