Chuuya, I can get you done with just your hand! I know your secret now ♡ You wouldn't be able to keep up with me! La~la~la~♡
(ah, man, putting shoes on bothersome. much like the poor teacup, so goes it over his shoulder, slamming against the window and bouncing off. no shattering this time.
dazai's boney fingers undo one of the rolls on his neck, but oh, yes. there's a scar there. back up he goes.)
Ah, I can't. I forgot! Can't, can't, can't, nope, nope, nope. I'll look difficult again. No~pe. Ugly, ugly, u-- Chuuya. Chuuya, Chuuya. Do you think they're very ugly?
(as if dazai's let chuuya see other than snippets.)
Like hell you can!!! I'd wear you out, you fucking mackerel.
[...No one's ever tried that admittedly, but Chuuya refuses to let Dazai be the first!!
But the sudden turn of Dazai's mood to something almost fretful makes Chuuya pause, shifting up to sit gingerly. He's ignoring his dick for a moment, okay.]
No, why would I? They're just part who you are.
[Chuuya's got Strong opinions on scars, and they're all fairly positive ones. They were a map of who you were, your identity and triumphs. 'This did not kill me' emblazed on your flesh.]
(he doesn't mean it in a sad way, nor to drag down the mood. it's just how he feels. chuuya's seen dazai waste bullets out of frustration, some people die so easy, and in so long trying, dazai's only left with "this didn't kill me", to much of his despair.
after a slow spin, he'll drop on the bed next to chuuya, his chin on the man's shoulder, an open hand offered for chuuya to give him his own.)
[Chuuya knows there's a part of Dazai-- a very quiet part, that still wants to find something to live for. Dazai's scars were from a different kind of battle than Chuuya's, but they were marks of victory nonetheless... even if Dazai himself couldn't bring himself to view it that way.
Still, he's not going to push that topic anymore than what he's already said. He's still jittery and flustered, still half-hard, and now Dazai is coming back over like this is a totally good idea right now.
...And saying that. He knows Chuuya's weak to challenges, damn it! And oh, the things he could make Dazai do if he won--]
You're high as fuck, Dazai. You're gonna regret the hell out of this later if I take you up on that.
(unfortunately, he'd like to say. there's nobody who has seen how deep it runs, how corrosive and rotten his brain can get. who had to keep him from walking on a rain of bullets? dazai would have thanked them, if chuuya didn't pull him the moment he saw dazai's foot think of moving forward.
some days, it's better. he feels glad he can walk this earth, only for that to be taken away from him shortly after.
the hand goes ahead to wrap around the bare wrist.)
[Chuuya would always pull him back from the brink-- he would always see those signs, know when Dazai was going places in his mind that meant no good. As long as Dazai was within reach, Chuuya would pull him back every single time.
He couldn't not, after all. Not that he'd ever acknowledge that, never aloud.
But that is then, and this is now. Right now, Dazai's hand is wrapping around his wrist, and he hates how much his mind focuses on the sensation, the warmth and feel of his fingers. Hates how natural it feels. He knows why, of course, but--
Chuuya swallows tightly, trying to focus on Dazai's words and not the pavlovian effect his grip tended to have.]
(dazai's a coward. he's high, but he's still dazai, and the racing in his brain had reached a sure conclusion - if they go for it like this, he has an excuse to like it. an excuse to want it. truth be told, it's only helping him to drop his pride enough to make intentions known. he'd want it sober, too.
it's safe like this for him. the grip loosens, his palm joining the other to intertwine fingers, bringing a knuckle to lips to press a lingering kiss. then another. then another.)
[Chuuya's also a coward: He's too sober for this, but Dazai keeps touching him like that, and Chuuya's treacherous brain starts to want. Starts to wonder, even if it's an incredibly stupid idea.
Maybe he needs this. Just once. Just to get it out of his system. Between Fyodor and Dazai, he's pent up, frustrated and angry about it, angry at himself for being so affected.
Every lingering kiss to his hand feels like little cracks spreading across his self control. His breath catches, speeding up with every warm press of lips against his knuckles.
Some of that anger might show as he shifts, shoving Dazai off him only to try and switch their positions-- pinning Dazai down.] You are infuriating.
(all according to his damn plan, as usual, as it should be. it would be naive to think dazai didn't do all this with this outcome in mind - so he could do this guilt-free, gaslight it later, pretend it meant nothing, you name it! because he wants it! very much! and some of us are chickens, who cannot say that out loud, so! he gets free reign to not feel it later, because, well. look at his great excuse.
which is why he looks so damn happy once chuuya is on his hips again, using his elbows to lift himself up just a little bit.)
Show me.
itt: unresolved tension and questionable excuses to fuck
[It's not like Chuuya doesn't want it-- Dazai's been a feature in some of his fantasies since he was a teenager, much to his eternal mortification. There's something to be said for proximity and knowing someone so intimately, combined with hormones: an unfortunately potent combination. He's furious, he's horny, and it's all Dazai's fault, so he doesn't hesitate to grind down in Dazai's lap without mercy.]
But between you and Fyodor I'm going to go insane.
(this pinning situation, although asked for, is not exactly what he wanted in the first place, considering the bet. with hands out of the picture, it's not like he can have a fair trial, but you know? loophole. chuuya is not letting him.
there's a gasp that he holds in his throat at the grinding, and it's a shift motion that he turns them around, his own turn to pin, a hand on hips and cheeks to bring him a little higher, a little closer to his own.)
[Dazai can learn to be flexible, surely. Chuuya grins in triumph when Dazai makes that sound, but it doesn't last for long: Dazai's shifting and pushing, and suddenly Chuuya's trapped beneath him with hips pulled up and arching against Dazai's own with a heated gasp torn from Chuuya's throat.
His legs shift and spread, giving them both a little more area for some much desired friction, hands reaching up to grab at Dazai and pull him closer if Dazai allows it.]
(both of them know just how much dazai's into his theatrics, don't they? he'll allow chuuya to bring him closer, a grip against a cheek, lips coming so close to finally touching after all these years of pining, of wanting, denial and betrayal finding themselves as a wall between them.
kissing, however, isn't for the lips. it's the hand that he has pinned, still covered by the gloves that he bites at the edge, not the tip. as he unrols it, dazai's going to let a lip run across the palm.)
Wanna call off the bet? I'm really going to do it!
[He almost thinks for a moment that Dazai is going to kiss him, something they've danced around once already while here. But Dazai diverts his path, teeth digging into the leather of his glove, tugging it off and running warm lip over his palm. Chuuya's breath catches, electricity running from the very tips of his fingers to his head, his gut, hand curling in Dazai's grip as if to cup his face. Chuuya's dick twitches in his pant, something Dazai might very well feel with their proximity.
Any second thoughts Chuuya might have had are swept under the rug when Dazai asks if he wants to call it off. They're always like this, petty little challenges and pushing each other to see who snaps first, and Chuuya refuses to back down when challenged by Dazai.]
(with how pent up chuuya is, dazai's sure this is going to be easier than he expected. chuuya showed his cards when he mentioned his frustration with him, with fyodor, and this is dazai, who's spent a lifetime watching chuuya wear his emotions on his sleeve.
his body also betrays him, that twitch nothing but encouragement and certainty he can win this. a slow, torturous pace is going to ensure, as his teeth run ghost-like against skin, barely touching, a hint of tongue.)
[Unfortunately, Chuuya was very bad at hiding his own emotions, especially for a mafioso. He grits his teeth to muffle the sound that crawls up his throat at the barely there drag of teeth against his skin, the hot-wet flash of tongue scalding but gone in an instant.
His legs shift beneath Dazai, rearranging themelves so he's more comfortable with the growing pressure.]
I'm not that easy, you know. a little tongue isn't going to be enough to get me off.
(and here's the loophole, chuuya should have really listened to the terms and conditions of this little competition they had on. dazai's said he would only use chuuya's hands, so, it's well within the rules to bring the one that's pinned to chuuya's crotch, a guiding motion of his own on top of knuckles.
and while that distracts him, that's when the finger he's been toying with makes its way into his mouth with a strong suck.)
You can totally give up and have that elsewhere, you know!
[Chuuya's pretty sure a long as Dazai focuses only on his hand, he can make it. He's got excellent stamina and endurance after all, and it's just his hand.
Of course, he really hadn't realized that there was a loophole in their bet. So when Dazai guide his own hand to his crotch, Chuuya's eye go wide, a choked out, high pitched growl escaping as Dazai manipulates his hand, his knuckles as much his touch as Dazai's own like this. He's fuming, but there's no hiding the way his hips jerk ever so slightly upward at the touch.]
You fucking-- hah!!!
[And then there's the heat sucking his finger in, and fuck that feeling is entirely too arousing, warmth kindling in his veins into a blazing fire.]
It's not my fault you didn't pay attention, Chuuya. Blame yourself, not me!
(if only chuuya knew just how warm he feels. a very nice combo of electrifying arousal, deniability, the satisfaction of being right, and watching, technically, chuuya please himself. all so well organized, a plan with no flaws.
it's so hard to resist the impulse of grinding against the other, though, with how his brain is also screaming for release, risk-taking qualifiers affected by the same substance that left his pupils wide. that does mean he has to redirect the attention, so he'll give the hand as much attention as he needs, and while it is dazai who is controlling the other, well.
might not take too long for chuuya to take over that one.)
[Not a very convincing rebuttal, when the strain of trying not to thrust up into the pressure on his dick is evident in his voice, tight and pitched, breath coming short and fast.
What Chuuya can do, though, is curl his fingers around Dazai's jaw, pressing his thumb against the underside.]
Am I? What kind of satisfaction would you get if I just played with your hand? It's not going to solve your current situation, is it? You should be glad I put small printing in there!
(it's hard to talk with that pressure on his sharp jaw, but with how fast he's speaking, it takes virtually no time before he's back to sucking on chuuya's index finger like his life depended on it.
he can't feel the twitching, the pressure, but what he can do is push chuuya's hand against himself harder, keeping a pace that is faster than what he's been employing, synched to his hand.)
And this has nothing to do with you wanting to win, huh?
[Dazai sucking on his finger might get him a bit more than he bargained for-- Chuuya's finger sliding deeper, pressing down against his tongue. It's clear he'd love to be doing this with another appendage entirely, but fucking Dazai's mouth with his finger is good, too.
Until Dazai pulls back and says that.]
You--
[High. Dazai is high, he doesn't mean what he says. But that declaration is not helping how aroused Chuuya is right now, the hot flush of his cheeks, or the way his hips jerk sharply up into his own hand.]
Come on, Chuuya. I won't do anything else before you let me.
(that means he won't kiss, he won't touch, he won't grind, nothing. chuuya knows that dazai won't back down from negotiations, never lie about them, so he's only at a word's notice from taking chuuya as his own.
he doesn't even mind how the finger is exploring now, because he takes the middle one into his mouth, too.)
[Chuuya makes a noise of heated frustration, because he knows Dazai isn't about to back down, no matter how horny they both are. Asking, though? That feels like losing.
So instead he thrusts his fingers deeper into Dazai's mouth, vexation evident in the rough movements. The mental image of Dazai choking on his cock is so damn alluring that he is absolutely sure if they stop now he'll end up jerking off to it anyway, as much as it pisses him off.]
(the way the fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and forcefully, he slams the bare hands against their, ugh, mattress. he knows chuuya can free himself very, very easily, but also, why would he? after all this anticipation, all this teasing, the tension since they've arrived, it's with such unspeakable hunger that his lips meet the other's, a kiss as intense as them, in a way that it makes his own head spin.
everything he's ever wanted to do, he'll do. bless drugs, really, is the thought he has as his hips grind against the other's, replacing a bit of the friction chuuya's hand's absence left behind.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(ah, man, putting shoes on bothersome. much like the poor teacup, so goes it over his shoulder, slamming against the window and bouncing off. no shattering this time.
dazai's boney fingers undo one of the rolls on his neck, but oh, yes. there's a scar there. back up he goes.)
Ah, I can't. I forgot! Can't, can't, can't, nope, nope, nope. I'll look difficult again. No~pe. Ugly, ugly, u-- Chuuya. Chuuya, Chuuya. Do you think they're very ugly?
(as if dazai's let chuuya see other than snippets.)
no subject
[...No one's ever tried that admittedly, but Chuuya refuses to let Dazai be the first!!
But the sudden turn of Dazai's mood to something almost fretful makes Chuuya pause, shifting up to sit gingerly. He's ignoring his dick for a moment, okay.]
No, why would I? They're just part who you are.
[Chuuya's got Strong opinions on scars, and they're all fairly positive ones. They were a map of who you were, your identity and triumphs. 'This did not kill me' emblazed on your flesh.]
no subject
(he doesn't mean it in a sad way, nor to drag down the mood. it's just how he feels. chuuya's seen dazai waste bullets out of frustration, some people die so easy, and in so long trying, dazai's only left with "this didn't kill me", to much of his despair.
after a slow spin, he'll drop on the bed next to chuuya, his chin on the man's shoulder, an open hand offered for chuuya to give him his own.)
If I can't, I'll be your dog for a week.
no subject
[Chuuya knows there's a part of Dazai-- a very quiet part, that still wants to find something to live for. Dazai's scars were from a different kind of battle than Chuuya's, but they were marks of victory nonetheless... even if Dazai himself couldn't bring himself to view it that way.
Still, he's not going to push that topic anymore than what he's already said. He's still jittery and flustered, still half-hard, and now Dazai is coming back over like this is a totally good idea right now.
...And saying that. He knows Chuuya's weak to challenges, damn it! And oh, the things he could make Dazai do if he won--]
You're high as fuck, Dazai. You're gonna regret the hell out of this later if I take you up on that.
[It's not a 'no', but it's also a warning.]
cw suicide and depression
some days, it's better. he feels glad he can walk this earth, only for that to be taken away from him shortly after.
the hand goes ahead to wrap around the bare wrist.)
Chuuya, now or never.
no subject
He couldn't not, after all. Not that he'd ever acknowledge that, never aloud.
But that is then, and this is now. Right now, Dazai's hand is wrapping around his wrist, and he hates how much his mind focuses on the sensation, the warmth and feel of his fingers. Hates how natural it feels. He knows why, of course, but--
Chuuya swallows tightly, trying to focus on Dazai's words and not the pavlovian effect his grip tended to have.]
Is that what you want?
no subject
it's safe like this for him. the grip loosens, his palm joining the other to intertwine fingers, bringing a knuckle to lips to press a lingering kiss. then another. then another.)
Do I look like I don't? Pin me again.
no subject
Maybe he needs this. Just once. Just to get it out of his system. Between Fyodor and Dazai, he's pent up, frustrated and angry about it, angry at himself for being so affected.
Every lingering kiss to his hand feels like little cracks spreading across his self control. His breath catches, speeding up with every warm press of lips against his knuckles.
Some of that anger might show as he shifts, shoving Dazai off him only to try and switch their positions-- pinning Dazai down.] You are infuriating.
DUBCON.... KINDA...
which is why he looks so damn happy once chuuya is on his hips again, using his elbows to lift himself up just a little bit.)
Show me.
itt: unresolved tension and questionable excuses to fuck
[It's not like Chuuya doesn't want it-- Dazai's been a feature in some of his fantasies since he was a teenager, much to his eternal mortification. There's something to be said for proximity and knowing someone so intimately, combined with hormones: an unfortunately potent combination. He's furious, he's horny, and it's all Dazai's fault, so he doesn't hesitate to grind down in Dazai's lap without mercy.]
But between you and Fyodor I'm going to go insane.
no subject
(this pinning situation, although asked for, is not exactly what he wanted in the first place, considering the bet. with hands out of the picture, it's not like he can have a fair trial, but you know? loophole. chuuya is not letting him.
there's a gasp that he holds in his throat at the grinding, and it's a shift motion that he turns them around, his own turn to pin, a hand on hips and cheeks to bring him a little higher, a little closer to his own.)
no subject
His legs shift and spread, giving them both a little more area for some much desired friction, hands reaching up to grab at Dazai and pull him closer if Dazai allows it.]
Fuck.
no subject
kissing, however, isn't for the lips. it's the hand that he has pinned, still covered by the gloves that he bites at the edge, not the tip. as he unrols it, dazai's going to let a lip run across the palm.)
Wanna call off the bet? I'm really going to do it!
no subject
Any second thoughts Chuuya might have had are swept under the rug when Dazai asks if he wants to call it off. They're always like this, petty little challenges and pushing each other to see who snaps first, and Chuuya refuses to back down when challenged by Dazai.]
Like hell I am.
no subject
(with how pent up chuuya is, dazai's sure this is going to be easier than he expected. chuuya showed his cards when he mentioned his frustration with him, with fyodor, and this is dazai, who's spent a lifetime watching chuuya wear his emotions on his sleeve.
his body also betrays him, that twitch nothing but encouragement and certainty he can win this. a slow, torturous pace is going to ensure, as his teeth run ghost-like against skin, barely touching, a hint of tongue.)
no subject
His legs shift beneath Dazai, rearranging themelves so he's more comfortable with the growing pressure.]
I'm not that easy, you know. a little tongue isn't going to be enough to get me off.
no subject
(and here's the loophole, chuuya should have really listened to the terms and conditions of this little competition they had on. dazai's said he would only use chuuya's hands, so, it's well within the rules to bring the one that's pinned to chuuya's crotch, a guiding motion of his own on top of knuckles.
and while that distracts him, that's when the finger he's been toying with makes its way into his mouth with a strong suck.)
You can totally give up and have that elsewhere, you know!
no subject
Of course, he really hadn't realized that there was a loophole in their bet. So when Dazai guide his own hand to his crotch, Chuuya's eye go wide, a choked out, high pitched growl escaping as Dazai manipulates his hand, his knuckles as much his touch as Dazai's own like this. He's fuming, but there's no hiding the way his hips jerk ever so slightly upward at the touch.]
You fucking-- hah!!!
[And then there's the heat sucking his finger in, and fuck that feeling is entirely too arousing, warmth kindling in his veins into a blazing fire.]
no subject
(if only chuuya knew just how warm he feels. a very nice combo of electrifying arousal, deniability, the satisfaction of being right, and watching, technically, chuuya please himself. all so well organized, a plan with no flaws.
it's so hard to resist the impulse of grinding against the other, though, with how his brain is also screaming for release, risk-taking qualifiers affected by the same substance that left his pupils wide. that does mean he has to redirect the attention, so he'll give the hand as much attention as he needs, and while it is dazai who is controlling the other, well.
might not take too long for chuuya to take over that one.)
You sure? So sure?
no subject
[Not a very convincing rebuttal, when the strain of trying not to thrust up into the pressure on his dick is evident in his voice, tight and pitched, breath coming short and fast.
What Chuuya can do, though, is curl his fingers around Dazai's jaw, pressing his thumb against the underside.]
The letter but not the spirit, huh?
no subject
(it's hard to talk with that pressure on his sharp jaw, but with how fast he's speaking, it takes virtually no time before he's back to sucking on chuuya's index finger like his life depended on it.
he can't feel the twitching, the pressure, but what he can do is push chuuya's hand against himself harder, keeping a pace that is faster than what he's been employing, synched to his hand.)
Give up, Chuuya. I want this, too.
(SELFISH ASSHOLE.)
no subject
[Dazai sucking on his finger might get him a bit more than he bargained for-- Chuuya's finger sliding deeper, pressing down against his tongue. It's clear he'd love to be doing this with another appendage entirely, but fucking Dazai's mouth with his finger is good, too.
Until Dazai pulls back and says that.]
You--
[High. Dazai is high, he doesn't mean what he says. But that declaration is not helping how aroused Chuuya is right now, the hot flush of his cheeks, or the way his hips jerk sharply up into his own hand.]
no subject
(that means he won't kiss, he won't touch, he won't grind, nothing. chuuya knows that dazai won't back down from negotiations, never lie about them, so he's only at a word's notice from taking chuuya as his own.
he doesn't even mind how the finger is exploring now, because he takes the middle one into his mouth, too.)
no subject
So instead he thrusts his fingers deeper into Dazai's mouth, vexation evident in the rough movements. The mental image of Dazai choking on his cock is so damn alluring that he is absolutely sure if they stop now he'll end up jerking off to it anyway, as much as it pisses him off.]
This is a stalemate, do you hear me?
no subject
(the way the fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and forcefully, he slams the bare hands against their, ugh, mattress. he knows chuuya can free himself very, very easily, but also, why would he? after all this anticipation, all this teasing, the tension since they've arrived, it's with such unspeakable hunger that his lips meet the other's, a kiss as intense as them, in a way that it makes his own head spin.
everything he's ever wanted to do, he'll do. bless drugs, really, is the thought he has as his hips grind against the other's, replacing a bit of the friction chuuya's hand's absence left behind.)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)