
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8922733.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      文豪ストレイドッグス_|_Bungou_Stray_Dogs
  Relationship:
      Dazai_Osamu/Oda_Sakunosuke_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Dazai_Osamu_&_Nakahara
      Chuuya_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs)
  Character:
      Oda_Sakunosuke_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Dazai_Osamu_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs),
      Nakahara_Chuuya_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Mori_Ougai_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs)
  Additional Tags:
      Gentle_Sex, Body_Worship, post-coital_snuggling, Odasaku_is_a_Saint,
      Chuuya_the_exasperated_frenemies, Mentions_of_soukoku_and_akutadazai, Is
      16_underaged?_It_is_in_my_country
  Series:
      Part 1 of Beads_of_Light
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-20 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 13435
****** Between The Stardusts ******
by Raven_Rein
Summary
     “Dazai,” he said, voice full of that new resolution, his hand found
     the other male’s and squeezed gently “Do you trust me?”
     For some reason, his mouth became dry when that gaze was solely
     directed at him. He somehow managed to bob his head down once, a
     parody of a nod.
     “Then trust me with this,” he said, lifting Dazai’s hand and
     whispering the next words on his skin “Trust me with your body.”
Notes
     So, another monster fic not even two weeks after the first one,
     written in less than 24 hours. If I didn't have a proof that this
     pairing has destroyed my life before, I certainly do now.
     But, well, here's 10.000+ words of these two having sex. //tips wine
     glass at you//. My life is complete.
***** Between the Stadusts *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
                                       .
                                       .
                                        
The breeze is chilling, as is fitting for a midwinter dawn. The sun has yet to
 rise from its quarters deep within the embrace of the horizons, and the stars
                are visible in a sprawling march of Milky Way.
  The dark haired boy with too many bandages breathes in the salty air as his
gaze roams the unending expense of the seas and the skies in front of him. His
 toes are on the edge of a cliff, one step away from the freedom that he longs
  for. When the first hint of yellow light touches the edge of the skies, he
         lifts one foot, intending to carry on with the final plummet.
 The beautiful sunrise don’t deserve to be the last thing these wretched eyes
                                    behold.
                                        
                                       .
                                       .
                             Between The Stardusts
                                       .
                                       .
                                        
 
If you ask Dazai what moment is the most precious memory in his life, you will
get a different answer depending on his opinion of you. Become someone he does
not trust and imminently dislike and you’ll get yourself an eerie smile that
doesn’t reach his cold eyes. Be someone he trust yet dislike and you’ll get
teasings and theatrical, dramatic lies. Be someone who he doesn’t trust but
likes and you’ll get lies flung at your face along with words designed to cut
you open.
But be someone trust and likes, and you’ll get yourself an honest smile and
silence; but that lack of words are also a lack of lies, and that’s the mercy
he’ll give to the people privileged enough to gain both his trust and
affection.
There are only two people in this world that can get that reaction from him,
and he wished that both or at least one of them was beside him, chatting away
the darker hours of the night.
But Dazai was alone, surrounded by people he trust yet dislike, the people he
distrust yet don’t dislike, and a man he distrust and despise. He tapped his
fingers impatiently against the handle of his favourite gun, but his face was a
mask of neutral indifference.
It was one of those days, where Dazai was unable to even stand without wanting
to roll into the ground and stay there until he turns to dust with the insects
and eaten by maggots. One of those days where he can’t even see into the mirror
without wanting slam his fist into it and watch the dazzling brightness of the
overhead lamps glinting off the red of his blood or shooting himself in the
head to embrace the darkness that lurks on the fringes of his sanity.
He was just about to press a dagger into his wrist, hoping that if he doesn’t
die from blood loss the blood poisoning will do him in, when the phone rang and
Mori Ougai’s sweet sharp voice requested his assistance with a prisoner.
Dazai closed his eyes and fought off the urge to sigh. This was not the place
to show weakness, not where Hiryuu Seira hatefully glared at him from beneath
blood-encrusted bangs, tied up on a chair in front of him with blood streaking
down her face and dripping off her fingers.
This was not the time, not when the remaining four Executives and the Boss were
watching his every movement as he drew the gun and placed it on the Fifth
Executive’s head.
His face almost automatically pulled itself into a parody of a sweet smile,
eyes too dark and too bloodthirsty for him to smile quite so innocently. What
he gained in return was nothing but a split-second reaction, the fear and shock
that caused green eyes to widen and blood-red lips to part, before a look of
grim resignation replaced them on the older woman’s face. 
The bang that followed a single twitch of his fingers was not as satisfying as
watching blonde hair flew off from the force of impact, neck violently snapping
backward from the point-blank headshot. Like a doll cut off from the cruel
hands of the puppeteer, her body fell limp. Unliving. Unanimated.
How easy it was to take life when a human body was so fragile. How enchanting.
How paradoxical.
How utterly boring.
Dazai was careful; careful to not let the smile slip off of his face, careful
to not let his fingers tremble or his eyes flicker. He held his posture,
something graceful and dangerous, as he replaced the tool of execution back
into its holster.
There was no applause or loud exclamation. There were only eyes boring holes
into his visage, minds calculating the turning tides. And then there was Mori’s
satisfied smile as he placed a hand on Dazai’s shoulder like he earned it.
Dazai fought off the urge to break that wrist, just as he always did whenever
that hand touched any parts of his body.
“Congratulations, Dazai-kun. You are now an Executive of the Port Mafia.” The
line was delivered too happily, the tone was a touch too soft, too fatherly,
for it to be real. So Dazai answered with a laugh, all the while knowing how
hollow it rang.
They knew what this rise through the rank meant. It was one step closer for a
blade to press into Mori’s jugular, for Dazai to wrench the throne and crown
from his cold dead fingers. The flicker of darkness in his eyes told Dazai that
he recognized the danger that this promotion brought in its wake.
So he smiled something cutting and poisonously sweet for this man whose blood
will someday coat the tips of his blade, will someday paint his hands and
elbows as he laugh and laughs, tumbling down the inescapable path of insanity.
Outside of the room, Chuuya was waiting, foot tapping impatiently into the
concrete. He was just about to open his mouth and shout at Dazai like he
usually did whenever Dazai suddenly called him in the middle of a cold night to
pick him up from some location so far away from human civilization, when he
froze as the remaining four Executive stepped out from behind him.
Dazai watched with amusement as Chuuya’s eyes widened comically and he
practically snapped at the waist to deliver a bow when the Boss stepped out of
the room, all elegance and deadly measured steps.
When the others were gone with a nod to Dazai’s direction, Chuuya finally
lifted his head.
“What the hell was that, Dazai? Why were all of them in the room with you?” he
asked, slightly breathless.
Dazai tuts and giggle, it sounded fake even to his own ears. “Is that really
how you’re supposed to talk to your new superior, Chuu-ya?” he drawled out his
name teasingly because he knew how much his partner hates it when he did that.
“What—wait, you--?!” It was funny to watch him fumble for words like he always
did when something particularly nasty decided to surprise him. But to Dazai’s
disappointment, he recovered quickly, which in Chuuya’s language meant he
already expected the development but was only surprised over how quick it
actually came.
The shorter half of Double Black huffed and rubbed the back of his neck, Dazai
knew he would have seen Hiryuu Seira, bloodied and dead, from the opened door
behind him and understood what had happened in that room.
“So you’re an Executive now?” he groaned. “God, you’re going to be even more
unbearable, aren’t you?”
“That depends on how high your tolerance is. If it’s as short as your body,
then probably yes.”
Chuuya glared at him with a twist on the edge of his lips that told Dazai that
he didn’t deliver his lines right, that he can see the signs of exhaustion on
the lines of his body; that the gaping hole and abyss of emptiness threatening
to consume Dazai whole is as visible for the blue eyes of this boy in front of
him like a sprawling mansion from behind the curtain of mist.  
Dazai realized that this partner of his who saw too much but not enough at the
same time noticed the wrongness in him. He would know that this was one of
those days, when he would turn the red-haired boy into a ball of spitting,
dark-eyed ball of rage and fire and will goad him into strangling the taller
boy, into beating him, breaking him.
Killing him.
“Shut your trap, shitty Dazai. The night’s way too late for that.” He growled
without heat, stomping out of the abandoned house Dazai was called to. Outside,
between the fresh car tracks, was Chuuya’s beloved new car that the owner
stroked like a long-lost lover before he opened the door and slid inside.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He shouted to Dazai who lurked on the
doorway, out of the moon’s shadow.
“Are you offering to take me away, Chuuya? Elope to Europe, maybe? How
romantic.” He purred as he walked to the navigator’s seat and slid in.
“As if! I’d rather take that mission involving decimation of Ability User group
all by myself rather than eloping with you.” He growled in his characteristic
irritation. “So, where should I drop you off, bastard?”
“Hmm? You’re not offering to get drunk together on your wine collection as
celebration, Chuuya?” Dazai asked because normally, the two of them would go
drinking in celebration when one of them rose through the rank. It was one of
their questionable tradition. “We can also fuck afterward; I promise I’ll be
extra nice.” He offered with a purr.
“Not today, I’m tired.” He grumbled as he started the car and backed the
vehicle. “Wait until when the asphalt doesn’t seem like five star hotel’s bed
in my eyes. And I have a mission tomorrow, asshole. I need my hips not aching
when I’m trying to kick asses.”
Dazai stomped on that feeling of rising gratefulness, reminding himself that
that feeling has no place in his relationship with this other boy. Entrapped in
the same darkness as he is, Chuuya thrived in the violence, relishing every
drop of blood that stained his hands in this cage that Dazai desperately longed
to struggle against.
He might trust him with his life when it counts, but Dazai will see that the
world ended, would probably have a hand in speeding it along, before he grew
any sort of affection for him.
But the thing was, despite the mutual hatred between them, Chuuya understood
him worlds better than much of other people, an instinct to catch his mood
borne from having to suffer living side-by-side with him for years. And it
meant that he also understood that it wasn’t him whom Dazai needed right now;
understood that if he spent anymore time with him when Dazai’s in this mood, he
would be cutting him open with words, abusing him using nothing but the things
that fall off his mouth, goading him into putting his hands on Dazai’s neck
with the pure intention to kill.
It would spell disaster for the both of them.
 “Any beds would indeed feel like five star hotel’s bed for someone your
stature.” Dazai hummed and grinned at the answering growl “Drop me off by the
red-light district, won’t you. I’m not feeling up to spending the night alone.”
“Fine, you womanizing shit.” He grumbled loudly. The rest of the drive was
spent in silence, and Dazai didn’t thank him when they stopped and he slid out
of his seat. He didn’t react with anything other than his usual fake smile when
he realized Chuuya dropped him off two blocks away from the red-light district
despite getting here without crossing the actual district means a longer
circling route and waste of gas.
His partner truly knew him far too well.
He waved to Chuuya enthusiastically when he drove away, shouting “Too bad about
tonight, I would have let you fuck me!” and got a fist flipping him off from
the open window before it retracted and the glass rolled up.
Dazai dropped his hand and almost immediately his smile disappeared. He sighed
and turned around, walking away from the direction of the red-light district.
This close to the slums of Yokohama meant drug dealers on every corner, muggers
who waited on shadows and perverted rapist leering at passerbies. But this
close to the centre of darkness in the city also meant that everyone knew his
face, his bloody reputation and were apparently smart enough not to try
anything suicidal.
But there were still amateurs and idiots who jumped into the madness of the
criminal world without taking advices and warning from the more seasoned, and
Dazai ended up arriving to his destination with even more blood staining the
bandage on his right hand and shirt from three different people that he placed
back to their places with apathy.
He knocked the door in front him, fully knowing that he could just pick the
lock and be done with the cold and the darkness. The person who owned the
apartment in this dangerous, dirty part of the town is probably asleep anyway.
It’s that late.
But light spilled from the gap beneath the door and muffled footsteps thumped
against the floor on the other side, the thin walls and thinner door not giving
any privacy.
With the click of a lock, the door opened and Odasaku’s face appeared.
“Hey, Odasaku!” Dazai grinned something less burdened than the last one he
pulled on his face, already comforted by the familiar furrowing of brows.
“Dazai.” Odasaku said as a way of greeting, voice calm and neutral for anyone
who doesn’t know him. But Dazai detected the underlying hint of concern in the
subtle tilt of his voice. The older man pulled the door wider to let him into
the slightly warmer room. As he put off his shoes and plopped them carelessly
on the genkan, Dazai watched as Odasaku placed back his silver gun into the
holster that hung on a rack beside the door.
The newly-named Executive has been in his friend’s apartment before, but the
spartan space is captivating no matter how many times he’s been in it. It was
nothing but a single six-and-a-half tatami room with a kitchenette on one
corner. A door on the side will give way to a shower that rains shitty water
pressure that was perpetually cold with enough space to stand but not for much
of anything else. Beside the door to the bathroom is a sliding door to a small
closet where Odasaku kept his futon and what spare clothes he had.
And everywhere, littering every possible surface, overflowing from a large
shelf and piling against four walls, was various novels and books. They made
small room seems even smaller, but Dazai enjoys the simple room, simpler
lifestyle and ideals, and the obvious love for literature, because all of it
was just so Odasaku.
“Would you like anything to drink?” he asked as he padded barefooted back into
the room, opening curtains and turning off the light as he went. Dazai
recognized it as the tactical move he always made whenever Dazai came by his
apartment to give himself a better view of the world outside. After all,
there’s a possibility that Flawless wouldn’t activate in a critical movement as
long as he’s in the room with him, so if worst came to worst, they’ll be able
to see the attacker from the window and knew the direction they’re running to
without being blinded by the overhead light.
“No, thank you.” Odasaku didn’t have to know that Dazai’s stomach was rolling
and folding in on itself. He’d just barf anything that came into his mouth, so
it’s better not to even try.
The taller man nodded and began walking to the kitchenette but slowed his steps
when he heard Dazai laughing.
“Odasaku, I just bought you this shelf three months ago.” Dazai poked said
thing as he stood in front of the overflowing bookshelf that was taller than
him and thrice wider than his frame. “How did you get so many books so
quickly?”
“There was a series of sales nearby and work was slow.” Odasaku answered as he
shuffled to the kitchenette and began heating up some water. “I’m thinking
about giving away some of them.”
Dazai snickered at the underlying note of pain and reluctance in his voice.
“No need for that. I’ll just get you another shelf, the rest you can stash over
at my apartment. I’m sure Chuuya wouldn’t mind.” He hummed and flopped down to
sit on the thick futon spread out on one corner of the room, partially hidden
in the shadow of the looming wooden shelf. It’s typical of people who lived a
life like his and Odasaku’s; the niggling incapability of sleep without the
cold comfort of a wall pressing against their back.
“You don’t have to do that for me.” Odasaku interjected softly.
“But I want to!” Dazai exclaimed while ghosting his fingertips on the cover of
a book near his knee. “It will be such a shame if any of these gets injured,
won’t it, Odasaku?”
“My heart will break.” Odasaku answered with no change on his facial expression
or tone of voice. Normal people will think that he’s injecting sarcasm into the
conversation, but Dazai knew him well enough to recognize the simple honesty of
those words.
“Thought so.” He cheerily replied as he opened the book to a random page with
his socked toes. Odasaku would flip if the blood still on his hands got on his
beloved books.
Dazai spent the next moment humming and flicking his eyes on the content. It
was a collection of poetry, the words flowing and subtle, like fine mist on the
break of dawn that left the aftertaste of dew when breathed in. When he got to
the third poem, Dazai wondered who wrote the book, piecing together words like
building rain one drops at a time.
When Odasaku sat in front of him, Dazai offered a smile. “This book is good!”
“Spring Birds? Ah… yes, the poetry in them is good.” the older man eyed the
fraying book while wringing a small hand towel from the lukewarm water where
they were soaking. “I heard the writer of that book is the same age as you.”
“Really?” Dazai hummed as he extended both hands so Odasaku can clean them with
swipes and dabs of the damp towel “He’s talented. What’s his name?”
“I think it’s Kunikida Doppo.” He answered while dipping the towel back into
the small bucket which water rapidly got redder before pressing the towel to
Dazai’s cheeks and neck where drops of blood were drying off.
“I’d like to meet him someday.” Dazai remarked as Odasaku stood up to throw
away the water on the sink and retrieved some bandages. “I wonder what sort of
person can write poems like this.”
“Someone’s not good at choosing a Publisher Company, apparently. Only a few
dozens of his books came out because it went bankrupt almost right after
publishing them because of an internal conflict.” Odasaku came back, this time
with multiple rolls of fresh bandages that he left in front of Dazai before he
turned back and crossed the room to open the sliding door of his wardrobe and
searched through them for an extended period of time.
When he finally turned back after ten minutes of meaninglessly shuffling things
around, he raised an eyebrow on the rolls of bandage still sitting untouched in
front of Dazai.
“You’re not changing them?” he asked.
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to help me with it.”
Odasaku blinked and stared at him with his steel blue eyes while Dazai kept the
smile on his face.
“You’d want me to?” he asked carefully, like a man threading thin ice.
“Yes.” Dazai answered with a tilt of his head. It was enough.
Odasaku blinked once again as his hands moved to slide the wardrobe closed,
flicked his gaze to the locks on the door before moving to pull the curtains
closed.
When he returned to the futon in front of Dazai, the younger male already
divested himself from his coat and suit jacket and was pulling off his trousers
and socks. Odasaku helped him by unbuttoning his shirts. Throwing down the
trouser and socks in the general vicinity of the door leading to the bathroom,
Dazai leaned back and rested his weight on his hands to make Odasaku’s task
easier.
When the bloodied shirt has been thrown to the same general direction as the
trousers, Dazai was sitting on Odasaku’s futon in in his boxer and the rolls
upon rolls of bandages he wounded across his whole body this morning, hiding
his skin with their opulent white.
The younger male scooted back to sit on the middle of the futon so that Odasaku
can also sit atop the soft surface. He detected the warmth between the sheets
and wondered if his friend was sleeping before he showed up here unannounced.
Odasaku’s calloused hands gripped one of his feet gently and drew it to rest
atop his own crossed legs, methodically unwinding the bandages. Dazai stared at
his hands, transfixed as they took away the layers of defence he had built
around himself for so many years, the unrelenting wall from which he never let
anyone entered.
But if it’s this man, with his gentle fingers and gentler eyes, then maybe he
can make an exception.
“Dazai, why did you came here?” Odasaku asked in a low voice as his hands
worked on the bandages across his calf. The younger male was too focused on the
alien feeling of fingers pressing against his bare skin that he needed a moment
longer than usual to register the question.
“Oh, well.” He chuckled “I just became an Executive, you see.”
Odasaku’s eyes shot up to his face in a momentary expression of shock before
the ripples faded out and returned to its usual calm.
“I see. Congratulations.” He said in a tone that said he expected this to
happen. But maybe he did, after all it was well-known in the whole Port Mafia
that Hiryuu Seira’s work was getting sloppy and that she will soon be replaced.
Who else can fill that position other than their very own Demon Prodigy?
Dazai sighed and closed his eyes, grounding himself on the touch that brushed
against his knee, winding steadily upward until those calloused fingers brushed
against the inside of his thigh.
The boy bit the insides of his cheek to control himself, silently cursing his
teenage hormones when those innocent brushes against his skins were enough to
send sparks of electric heats up his spine.
It was not the first time he had these sorts of thoughts; about Odasaku’s large
hands holding him down, his weight pressing him against some surface, those
silver eyes heated and watching him writhe. It would be a lie to say that he
didn’t let himself got fucked by men with wide frame in dark rooms, pretending
the hands closed over his hips were a bit more calloused by frequent handling
of guns. But this was the first time Dazai let his guard down so much around
another person, and it was enough to cut loose some of the careful control in
his brain. 
Those hands didn’t falter, didn’t stop. Dazai waited with his heartrate
steadily increasing as it reached the tops of his thighs. He would be lying if
he said he didn’t know what he expected to happen, but Odasaku abandoning the
careful unwinding for uncultured tugging on the bandage when he reached the
bottom of his boxer is not what he had in mind. 
Dazai had to stop himself from glaring at the man when the bandage gives and
the rest of it was pulled away without those hands touching anywhere under the
last remaining article of clothing. But when he opened his eyes and found
Odasaku’s face, he found the other man staring at him intently, pupils blown
wider than it normally was.
The younger male finally noticed his heated cheeks and subtly swallowed before
offering a smile. It seemed like he was not the only affected by this
situation. He had his suspicions that Odasaku’s attracted to him the same way
he’s attracted to the ex-assassin. It was painfully not obvious and even Dazai
sometimes doubted his own observation, wondering if he mistook the signs
because of his own biased desire.
But right now, as Odasaku placed his bare legs back to his futon with what
seemed like an unaccidental stroke of the back of his knuckles against the skin
of his inner thigh, Dazai can barely supress his shiver as he recognized that
his observations were right after all.
The other leg was pulled into Odasaku’s laps, deft hands immediately finding
the end of the strip of bandage tucked on the sole of his feet and began baring
his skin.
This time, the older man took more time to roll away the bandages. The brushes
of his hands were even more frequent; sometimes fingers would press into his
skin for one moment before fluttering away, touches brief and maddening. This
time, when half of Dazai’s thigh has been uncovered, a palm pressed almost
ghostly on the tops of the exposed skin, like maiden’s hesitant first kiss, and
it made Dazai’s heart lurch.
He tried to supress his gasp as that hand inched higher, following every strip
of bandages that left his skin. Suddenly, it slipped to the side to palm his
inner thigh and he had to bit his lips to keep from actually moaning. Dazai’s
skins were sensitive from being hidden underneath his bandages for so long, and
his inner thigh is doubly so. The simple touch of warm palm against it was
nearly enough to make the whole limb tremble.
This time, Odasaku’s other hand followed the bandage under Dazai’s boxer,
unwinding in steady manner until it reached the end of it, tugging it free from
the place where his hips met thigh.
“Dazai,” that voice was deep and rough, rougher than Odasaku’s usual voice like
he hadn’t been using it for years. His name spoken in it was enough to make a
shot of heat travel down Dazai’s spine. “is this alright?”
And that question, asked directly against his ear, was enough to make Dazai
unable to suppress a gasp. He can feel the man froze when he let out the sound
and can almost taste his shudder on his tongue.
“Dazai,” he said in a voice even lower, even deeper, almost a growl from the
depth of his throat.
Dazai didn’t answer him verbally because he knew that his voice will fail him
if he tried to speak. Instead, he raised his right hand and offered it without
opening his eyes.
And then Odasaku was ghosting his lips on the tip of his ear, hand coming up to
accept the offered wrist while the other one gave a long stroke against his
inner thigh before parting from his skin. Dazai’s legs pressed into the futon
as he tried not to writhe and he bit his lips to keep the sounds from spilling
out.
Then that warmth and all-encompassing presence retracted as Odasaku pulled back
and sat with crossed legs, back to his original position, this time with
Dazai’s hand in his. The brown-haired boy’s eyes flew open when warm lips
pressed themselves against his knuckles, pressing soft kisses into each of his
fingers.
Odasaku’s eyes were open, and the silver that glints in them was almost wholly
swallowed by the ink blackness of his pupils. They captured Dazai’s and refused
to let go as the older man peppered kisses on his wrist, lips following every
unravelled bandages that fell away from his skin, pressing gentle yet firm
kisses into the scars that littered his forearm.
Dazai licked his lips unconsciously as he enjoyed the contrasting sensation of
soft lips and the scratch of coarse stubble against his skin.
The brunette sucked in a breath when the older man pressed his lips against a
new scar, still sensitive and pink, before his tongue flicked out to drag over
it. He let out that breath in his first actual moan, soft and barely audible.
But Odasaku’s ear perked up and he captured the end of that scar to suck on it
gently; he heard it.
The rest of his right arm was bared that way, kisses pressing into scarred
ivory, lips sucking on the sensitive skin on the inside of his upper arm as
hands deftly uncovered the bandages on his bicep.
When Dazai’s entire right arm was free from the blood-stained bandages, Odasaku
still hasn’t let up his gaze into Dazai’s eyes. As he leaned forward, Dazai
automatically closed his eyes, instinctually parting his lips. Then Odasaku’s
lips were touching the edge of his, and he recognized the offer to choose as
what it was. He turned his head slightly to slide their lips together, moaning
into it.
Odasaku kissed exactly like how he imagined him to, soft, warm and without
expectation. Their lips moved in sync, coming apart for a moment before closing
back together, movement unhurried.
It was one of the chastest kiss Dazai ever had. Used to not kissing any of his
one night stands, exchanging violent lip-punches with Chuuya or having his lips
chewed bloody by Akutagawa’s sharp teeth rather than actually kissing, the
sweet pressure and warm wetness of Odasaku’s where there were not even a hint
of tongue or teeth was more than enough to undone him quicker than Dazai even
thought he could.
When Odasaku pulled back, Dazai followed him with a high, needy sound that had
him immediately opening his eyes and flushing from embarrassment. But the older
man didn’t ridicule him for it or even throw a smug smirk his way, he just
lifted Dazai’s right hand and began picking on the bandage.
At that point, the both of them were breathing heavily. With Dazai worrying his
lips cherry red as he watched Odasaku showering the same attention he did to
his other arm. But there were more tongue added in, licking stripes on razor-
thin scars and porcelain skin. And after his lips stopped on his elbow to lick
and suck as his hand worked on the bicep, Odasaku parted from the skin with a
sharp bite that made Dazai whine.
Hands rested on his chest, radiating warmth that his skin greedily soaked up
from beneath the layer of bandages separating them, Odasaku pressed kisses on
his cheek, mouthing a nearly invisible scar there before sloping down to press
kisses to his jaw. Dazai moaned when the red-haired man went down to suck on
his neck, movement languid and unhurried.
The hands that were resting on his chest began sliding down, contouring his
torso with the bandages on the way. They finally came upon his hips, where his
bandages ends and skin began, a thin streak of pale porcelain visible above his
boxer.
“Come here, Dazai.” Odasaku whispered something low and rumbling against his
skin as he pulled Dazai into his laps. Now, with Odasaku between his legs and
those hands slowly unwrapped his torso, Dazai took the chance to capture those
lips back with his again.
They gasped into the kiss, leaning into each other. Odasaku’s hand never
stopped, they took detours by pressing into his muscle, stroking his back and
feeling up his stomach, but they kept unravelling the bandages higher and
higher as they kiss.
Dazai whined into the kiss, impatient. Whenever he tried to deepen it, making
it slightly faster, licking against Odasaku’s lips, the older man would pull
back, separating them. It was unsatisfying and frustrating, but after however
many times the other man pulled back, Dazai sulkily followed his lead, kissing
with lips closed. As if rewarding him, Odasaku pulled his bottom lips into his
mouth and sucked gently, drawing a moan from the dark-haired male.
The bandages is now covering only his chest and neck, and Dazai has never been
this bared in front of another person for many, many years. He’s both grateful
and disappointed that those eyes are closed and not gazing at his skin with
that heat burning within the gleam of grey and silver.
But then, as all of his concentration was completely absorbed with the warm
lips and hands taking away his defence that he offered up willingly, one of
Odasaku’s thighs moved and pressed upward. Dazai froze for a split second
before letting out a long, drawn-out groan, knocking his forehead into
Odasaku’s collarbone as he melts down to that thigh pressing against his hard
arousal.
Odasaku let him ride his leg as his lips wandered to his neck, biting his
Adam’s apple to taste the vibrations of Dazai’s moans directly against his
tongue. He squeezed Dazai’s side briefly, earning a hitch of breath and a
barely audible mewl, before tugging at the remaining bandages, freeing Dazai’s
body from every strip of the defensive method he protected himself with over
all these years.
Without wasting any time, Odasaku pressed kisses down the column of Dazai’s
throat, the younger male tilting his head back to bare it to his mouth. He
found Dazai’s pulse point and sunk his teeth into the skin, careful not to
apply too much pressure, and enjoyed the cries he drew from that abused lips.
As Odasaku lapped and kissed the place where he bit as if in apology and sucked
more marks into the sensitive skin of his collarbone, Dazai clutched a hand
into red hair, twisting his fingers blindly as his rhythm broke apart, vision
blackening as the heat in him intensified, leaving him tethering on the edge.
Without any warning, Odasaku’s teeth sunk into his skin again, this time on the
spot where his shoulder and neck met, and Dazai came apart with a choked,
broken cry.
 He kept riding Odasaku’s thigh with shameless noises escaping his throat until
the last wave of white-hot pleasure surged through him, leaving him breathless
and limp against Odasaku’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the white
sleeping shirt soaked with sweat and breathing with heavy, quick gasps as he
tried to regain his breath.
Dazai felt a motion and slight wind passing him by before his back was pressed
down into the soft futon. Hands began to wander the uncovered expanse of his
torso, stroking and caressing every bit of skin. A thumb caught on the bud of
his nipple and despite the orgasm he just had, Dazai weakly moaned and pressed
up against the touch.
He heard a soft gasp from above him and struggled to open his eyes, to see
what’s happening. The sight that greeted him was more than enough of a reward
for his effort.
Odasaku was hovering above him, hands pressed into the futon on both sides of
his head. His hair was dishevelled and messy from Dazai’s fingers twisting
mercilessly into them, lips bitten red, eyes wide and dark, the ring of silver
on their edges nearly swallowed by the dark of his pupil.
But it was Odasaku’s expression, the part of his lips and the adoration in his
eyes, focused solely on him and nothing else as if he’s the single most
beautiful thing he had ever seen, that stole the breath from Dazai’s lungs.
With a whisper of Odasaku’s name on his lips he caught white shirt between
fumbling fingers and let gravity help him drag down that handsome and adoring
face above him to reachable distance where Dazai can press his lips against
warm ones without having to crane his neck. Odasaku complied and kissed him,
deeper this time.
Dazai groaned when a tongue slipped into his mouth, sliding slickly against
his. He gripped Odasaku’s neck in a vice grip as he sucked on that tongue and
let it roam the entirety of his mouth a whimper.
Odasaku kissed him until he’s panting for breath, and when he pulled back,
Dazai can barely see past the haze of desire that returned to cloud his sight.
He can only watch as the older man sat back on his haunches, hands that had
been roaming his body ceaselessly slid down to hook thumbs into the elastic of
his boxers. The brunette shifted his weight and lifted his hips an inch away
from the futon, letting the taller man slid the last remaining article of
clothing from his body with relative ease.
Dazai shivered as he lied back down on the soft surface, breathing heavily as
he watched Odasaku’s eyes roam all over his body, taking in the messy dark hair
fanned out on his white sheets, the dazed look on his face and unfocused eyes,
parted red lips that he had just tasted, the scarred lithe torso, the graceful
sloping of waist. His gaze travelled down the trail of hair and slick from the
younger male’s navel and finally rested on his cock, slick with cum and already
half-hard again.
A low whisper of his name fell from Odasaku lips; it was almost reverent, the
way every syllable rolled off his tongue, the tone adoring and eyes transfixed.
“Dazai”
When Odasaku scoot back and placed both hands on Dazai’s thigh, he thought he
knew what was coming, closing his eyes in anticipation. But then then opened in
confusion when the expected sensation didn’t come, but the lips he was wanting
somewhere else littered kisses on his thighs softly, almost gently.
He writhed and mewled Odasaku’s name, hoping to get him to speed up, bite him,
touch his cock. But Odasaku gripped his hips firmly to stop the motion as he
continued mouthing the back of his knees, licking and sucking a mark on the
side of his knee. Lifting the leg and folding it into half, he let his palm ran
over the smooth skin as he bites and lick the other one, drawing sharp gasps
and whines from boy beneath him as every press of his lips were spots of
concentrated fire that tingles long after the contact was gone.
The taller man sucked what would left a sure mark on his hips before moving
upward to place light kisses on the soft skin of his belly, drawing an
impatient groan from Dazai.
“Odasaku—“ he gasped, voice shaky and scratchy from the cries he dredged up
from his throat earlier “—what-, what are you doing?”
The older man who seemingly determined to press kisses into every bit of his
skin pulled back slowly, looking up to him with those dark, and heated eyes.
But something else was dancing on their surface, something Dazai never saw from
any eyes directed toward him.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asked back with his voice deliciously rough.
“I don’t—know.” Dazai gasped out when a thumb pressed into his sensitive nipple
and flicked it.
“I’m having sex with you.” He answered with that voice he always used when he
answered something that would be a sarcastic answer from anybody else but fell
with dripping honesty from his lips. “Is something wrong?”
“This is,” he groaned when a palm slid beneath his thigh and squeezed, tickling
the skin on the insides of it with calloused fingers as the other slid all the
way down the other leg “—supposed to be sex?”
Every movements stopped, leaving Dazai whimpering at the lack of stimulation.
Just as he was about to be trembling and opened his mouth to say something,
demandsomething, But Odasaku’s voice cuts him off before any words can escape
his lips.
“What do you mean? You don’t like this?”
For the first time, he can feel hesitation in Odasaku’s hands was still pressed
into his skin. He shook his head weakly.
“I… I don’t dislike it, I just… I don’t—understand.” He breathed out finally.
The older man frowned, leaning down to press his forehead against the boy’s.
“Dazai,” he breathed warm against his lips “tell me, what is sex supposed be
like?”
“That’s—“ his brow furrowed, trying to fight off the sluggish haze on his mind
to answer the question properly. “For one, you’re supposed to fuck me, or let
me fuck you, not, well—this?” he ended it with an upward tilt of tone, ending
up more asking than answering. The furrow between Odasaku’s eyebrows became
deeper.
“Dazai…” he said carefully as if choosing his next words, ice blue eyes
searching into his, “No one has ever done this to you?”
Dazai answered with a confused look and a subtle shake of head “No… you’re the
only one who’s ever done this for such a long time without even a penetration.”
Odasaku closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing them sweetly warm
against Dazai’s lips. He lifted himself up, breaking the contact between his
foreheads. When he met Dazai’s eyes again, there was still that something
dancing in his eyes, just out of reach for his lust-addled mind to identify,
alongside something new and burning.
Dazai knew that look, can spot them from a mile away, usually followed by him
forming deductions of the cause and how to subtly help his friend because he’s
righteous and honourable and helping him openly won’t make him happy.
It was the look that Odasaku had in his eyes whenever he decided to do
something that he will do his damnedest to fulfil.
“Dazai,” he said, voice full of that new resolution, his hand found the other
male’s and squeezed gently “do you trust me?”
For some reason, his mouth became dry when that gaze was solely directed at
him. Somehow, he managed to bob his head down once, a parody of a nod.
“Then trust me with this,” he said, lifting Dazai’s hand and whispering the
next words on his skin “trust me with your body.”
His breath caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, eyes widening. To
trust someone else with his body… can he do it?
But then his eyes caught the hand Odasaku still had pressed against his lips,
the lack of bandage, the visible skin of his wrist, full of marks from when he
needed to pull his concentration from the thing snarling within him and knew
nothing else on how to do but by grounding himself to reality with physical
pain.
He showed all that and more, he bared his whole body to this man. Hasn’t he
already trusted him with his body?
So Dazai nodded, this time more surely. His answer seemed to take some of the
tenseness coiling on Odasaku’s shoulders, very slightly they slumped from
relief. He offered a smile to the boy beneath him and dipped down to give him a
kiss, the sweet tang of gratitude coating his tongue.
But those lips went as quick as they came, venturing lower to adorn his chest
with marks of possession that Dazai rarely let anyone else leave on his skin.
His hands palmed his sides, running down slowly as if worshiping the skin.
Dazai gasped and moaned loudly when Odasaku’s mouth found one of his nipples,
the pleasure blazing from that one point when a tongue flicked and a mouth
sucked on it, sinking gentle teeth to the tip while its twins were toyed with
by a hand which callouses rubbed wonderfully against the sensitive nub.
Dazai writhed on the futon, hands finding Odasaku’s hands and torn between
pulling him off of his nipples or pushing him down so he’ll never stop.
But the older man decided for him, peppering kisses and bites and laved every
inch of skin that he can reach with love, never getting anywhere close enough
top the one place Dazai wanted him the most.
When he lifted his head from Dazai’s skin, it was when the boy was choking on
his words and tears were hanging precariously on his delicate eyelashes. The
hand twisting in his hair hurts, but it was one endurable if he can listen to
more of the mewls and cries of this boy, so beautifully, willingly spread out
beneath him.
Letting a smile tug on the corner of his lips as he watched Dazai’s chest,
littered with bite marks and hickeys, fell and rose arhythmically. His hand
slid down the heated skin and stopped at the narrow hips where he pushed down
and gripped a bit firmer in preparation.
Dazai was calming down from the overwhelming feeling of Odasaku simultaneously
everywhere when his mind suddenly blanks and turned into white noise. When his
brain can register the world once again, the first thing that assaulted him was
the pain of his throat as if he’d just been screaming. After that, came the
pounding, crashing waves of pleasure that made him choke on moans and deep
groans, head trashing wildly and back arching of the futon as he pushed
desperately into the warmth of Odasaku’s mouth enveloping him. But the strong
hands on his hips pinned him in place and drew a frustrated cry from the boy.
When Odasaku sucked his cock and let it slid deeper into the heat and
unbearable tightness of his mouth until the older man’s fully swallowed him,
Dazai’s legs trashed and hit him on the back as his cries rose in volume and
intensity.
Finally he hummed against the length in his mouth, watching with rapt attention
as this time no sounds came out of the boy’s opened mouth, a silent scream as
saltiness exploded on his tongue.
Odasaku swallowed every last drop of his cum, not letting up on sucking and
stroking the length with his tongue until Dazai went limp and shaking, pushing
his shoulders weakly like a new-born kitten. He released the cock from his
mouth and licked his lips, watching Dazai melting into the futon with glazed
eyes.
Dazai was lost in the white noise that his mind has become; wiped clean of
anything and everything that he thought was important. But his serenity was
disturbed a familiar voice, rougher and lower than usual, calling his name. He
forced himself to focus on Odasaku’s question as his eyes slowly came into
focus and registered both the question and the small thing held between his
fingers.
“Can you still go on?” was the question. And there, hanging on Odasaku’s
fingers, were a clear tube of lube. His breath came in shorter pants and Dazai
felt his cock impossibly twitch up again in interest.
Odasaku seemed to take that reaction as a ‘yes’ as he wryly smiled and kissed
his forehead gently. Dazai’s heart pounded in his chest and the world came into
focus as he heard the cap of the tube snap and felt a hand sneaking between his
spread thighs.
He raised both legs with a whimper, exposing himself to the steel grey and inky
blackness of Odasaku’s eyes that burned with lust. His eyes flickered down and
with a start realized two things.
One, that despite all the things he had done to his body, Odasaku is still
fully clothed.
Two, the undisturbed pants was a clear indication that the man was so focused
on Dazai he neglected his own literally pressing--and visibly dripping--needs.
But all that thought was chased away from his mind with a finger stroking the
cleft of his ass slowly until they brushed against his sole and circled there,
slick and perfect. A moan left his abused throat, sounding scratchy and wet.
“You ready?” was Odasaku’s first words after who knows how long, Dazai already
lost track of time long ago when the first brush of Odasaku’s hand on his legs
first sent electric shocks up his spine. His voice was as scratchy as Dazai’s
with a desperate undertone to it that had the boy wanting to press their whole
bodies together. He whispered a broken yes.
When that first finger breached him, Dazai gripped both Odasaku’s biceps
tightly as the man leaned over him, as if hiding him from the world with his
own figure. Soft gasps and whines escaped from his lips, all attention sucked
by that finger twisting and pressing into him., that he barely register the
words tumbling off Odasaku’s lips.
“Dazai…Dazai, so beautiful, so good, just like that, yes.” He whispered
heatedly with his eyes burning the entirety of his torso. The younger male
whimpered lowly and spread his thighs father apart, enjoying how Odasaku’s
finger stopped momentarily so the owner can watch the glitter of fluid running
down the insides of his thigh as he moved them.
The finger inside of his kept pressing deeper and deeper, and Dazai groaned
when it slid all the way to the knuckle. When it retracted from the grip of his
body, the boy fully expected another finger to join in, but that single pushed
back, dragging calloused pads of fingertips on the soft walls, exploring the
deepest parts of him.
It continued like that until Dazai is a gasping, moaning mess, mind furiously
considered begging, something he’d never done in or out of bed, for more. All
the while Odasaku kept whispering praises that made something dark and twisted
inside of Dazai purring and slumber, letting him bask in those words without it
snarling in his ears.
But as if knowing his inner conflict, that finger retracted fully from his
hole, drawing an impatient whine as the emptiness registered in his clouded
mind. But his protesting sounds were cut short by two fingers pressing against
him, slowly breaching his muscle ring with a sweet burn that had his head turn
to the side to pant into the sheets.
Those two finger trailed fire all over his insides as they explored and twist.
Dazai’s back arched off the futon with a hoarse cry when they scissored,
spreading him apart. Odasaku’s fingers were firm but careful, touching him
without any of the pain and bone-deep aches Dazai associated with fingers in
his ass and he wondered if this is how it’s always going to feel if he’s ever
going to sleep with this man again.
But then those fingers nudged something inside of him that sent slams of
unrelenting heat all over his body, and Dazai couldn’t think of anything
further. His cries as he trashed his head and writhes on the futon seemed to be
particularly pleasing to Odasaku who let out a low groan at the sight.
Those fingers rubbed firmly against the bundle of nerves, sending his back
arching cleanly off the futon with a cry, before pulling out. Odasaku’s clean
hand roamed the soft scarred skin of his torso in the intermission where Dazai
couldn’t do anything but weakly moan into the sheets, impatiently waiting as
the snap of lube cap was heard and this time three fingers pressed into him,
warm and freshly slicked.
At that point Dazai already gave up from trying hold back any of the debauched
sounds he made at every touch, every stimulation. The rapt attention Odasaku
had on his face also made him unrestrained his expression, letting them twist
with every wave of pleasure.
Dazai’s hand that were clutching the futon like a lifeline lifted and draped
across Odasaku’s shoulders, weakly tugging him down with a needy sound. The
older man complied, letting the younger male ravished his mouth as he likes as
his fingers scissored and thrusted shallowly, drawing vibrating moans to cross
between their lips.
This time, when Odasaku pulled back from him and retracted his fingers with a
debauched pop, Dazai struggled to open his eyes. His arms flopped back to the
futon, not having enough energy in them to follow the man.
The boy watched with fascination when Odasaku touched his own abdomen and
blinked down in confusion at the scratch of cotton. A hysterical part of his
mind that was somehow still capable of logical process laughed something manic
when it realized that Odasaku himself hadn’t noticed the clothes still covering
his body.
And yet, despite being something so small and insignificant in the grand scale
of things, it sent something warm and tingling to Dazai’s toes; that this man
hadn’t noticed anything else other than him, focused on his sounds and his
enraptured by his skins and nothing else.
Dazai watched with rapt attention as the man pulled off his own shirt with a
barely suppressed hurry, muscles that were hidden underneath the white cotton
finally visible. They bunch and ripple following every movement, every roll,
and Dazai’s mouth watered when he imagined the taste that would coat his tongue
if he licked that sweat rolling down strong neck to pool on the dip of
collarbone despite the lingering chill of the room.
Odasaku noticed his burning gaze and answered with a crack of a smile that shot
something through Dazai’s heart, enough to make it skip a painful beat. The
older man rose to his knees, hands travelled down his own abs and belly slowly
to hook on his trousers. The boy’s mouth dried when he realized that the other
man is giving him a show.
He watched with enough concentration to burn a hole through the fabric as it
was dragged down. Dazai hissed when Odasaku’s cock sprung free, slapping
against his own abdomen wetly. The older man was biting his lips, shoulder
trembling with fine tremors from keeping himself in check.
Dazai’s brown eyes followed a bead of precum as it formed on the red tips and
rolled down the side, longing to lick it away from salty skin. The shaft
throbbed when Dazai whimpered in want, the click of closing lids went unnoticed
so did the roll of the empty tube to the unknown, not by the two men enclosed
in each other.
The younger male watched in growing hunger as a hand slick with lube closed
over his cock, Odasaku throwing his head back and groaned something deep and
primal that vibrated in his own spine. He thrust into his fist once before
abruptly pulling his hand off with a pained hiss, visibly struggling to keep
himself away from the rapidly approaching edge.
Afer he calmed himself, Odasaku leaned down to press a forearms beside Dazai’s
head, kissing him with desire thick in every lave of his tongue and panted
breath against the younger cheek. When a hand grabbed a leg and lifted it to
expose his private parts, Dazai groaned loudly and trembled in anticipation.
Odasaku lined himself up and the younger male had to stop himself from pushing
down on the head pressing against his hole, radiating intense heat.
Suddenly there was a palm against his cheek, damp with sweat, and a sweet voice
calling his name. Dazai struggled to dredge his focus away from that pressure
on his entrance and actually look into Odasaku’s eyes as the older man stroked
his cheek lovingly.
“Ready?” he asked in a husky voice. Dazai knew his own limits and weaknesses,
enough to know when he wouldn’t be able to speak properly from all the
stimulations his body endured. So he nodded jerkily. But Odasaku frowned,
unsatisfied despite his own blood roaring at him to take that consent and run
with it.
“Say it.” He whispered into the younger’s chin, hand travelling down to press
at his pulse point where bruises was blooming like springflowers. Dazai let out
a protesting sound, but a hand stroking his Adams’s apple turned it into a
hiss.
He opened his mouth, fully intending to demand and order, but what slipped off
past them was a breathy “Odasaku” and an equally pathetic “please”.
In answer, the man growled into his neck, the vibration sending jolts of
electric spark down the boy’s spine. The hand on his leg clutched together as
he finally, finally put enough pressure to breach the outer ring of Dazai’s
entrance.
Dazai’s eyes widened, glassy and unfocused, as he threw his head back and cried
out loudly as the sweet burn that followed the initial penetration spread all
over his body; the other man gasped something stuttered and absolutely
delicious in the voice that was usually unflappable. But then Odasaku stopped
with a pant when only the head was inside, drawing a protesting growl from the
boy beneath him and a leg kicking his bicep in frustration.
“Are you… okay?” he asked breathlessly, voice even coarser than it as before.
Dazai considered cursing him with a string of choice words he picked up from
living with the Mafia for so long.
“Yes, oka—I’m okay. Ahh.. no, no don’t—stop, Odasaku. Don’t stop.” The word
tumbled off his lips in a hoarse whine, unfiltered and without thought.
But that proclamation as they were was enough to placate the man above him as
he began moving again with the same maddening slowness, opening him up with
constant pressure that slid the thick cock into him almost gently.
It was both a relief and utter torture when Odasaku was finally sheathed fully
inside of him. The man let out a shaky groan from the depth of his throat and
rested his head on a sharp collarbone, listening to the gasps and small moans
escaping the boy. From this angle, he can plainly see the trembling of
Odasaku’s shoulder as he fought to control himself, can feel every throbbing of
his cock buried deep inside of him as a clear indication of impatient lust.
Inwardly he wondered if this is one of Odasaku’s strange ideals; he definitely
had enough raw strength to just pin Dazai to the futon and use his bared body
as an instrument to please himself, and the young prodigy would have willingly
allowed him, would have enjoyed the heat and pain as he was trapped under his
weight and fucked roughly. He knew he would, the experiences with gloved hands
pressing tight into his neck as the owner mercilessly slammed into him spoke
for themselves.
“Dazai.” he whispered lowly into the crook of the boy’s neck, bringing him back
to reality where there were no bloody bites and stinging finger marks on his
skin, just Odasaku’s warm breath brushing his neck and his hands soothingly
drawing circles where they rested. One stroking the back of his raised thigh,
the other caressing his sides with careful fingers.
He flexed around the cock in him and was almost amused at the tensing of those
shoulders. Dazai wrapped his arms around them, palming the older man’s sweaty
back and explored the slick skin.
“I’m ready.” He said in a voice still wavering but not as broken as it was
before.
Odasaku nodded against his neck and Dazai can feel the movement as he gulped.
His leg was raised a bit higher as the man finally moved his hips backward,
drawing his cock out with a sharp, long moan.
Dazai slammed his head back to the futon; eyes squeezed shut as his fingers
grappled for purchase on sweaty back and coarse red hair, pleasure rippling
through his body.
When only the head was inside, Odasaku pushed back in just as slowly, letting
Dazai feel every inch, every contour of him as he slid back inside so
intimately. Trashing his head to the side, the boy wrapped his longs legs
around the older man’s waist, insistently pressing with his heels on the small
of his back to go faster.
But Odasaku didn’t, he slid out until only the head is inside then slid back in
just as slowly, driving Dazai crazy with the heat shimmering under his skin
without enough stimulation to tip him off the edge.
And then brown eyes flew open as the angle changed and Odasaku bumped against
his prostate, a shrill cry escaped past his lips as his nerves was assaulted
with pure waves of blinding hot pleasure, hips would have arched out if a large
hand hadn’t pressed them into the futon firmly. From the fogged mind, Dazai can
barely register the huff of pain on his shoulder as his nails clawed long
streaks of red against a broad back.
“Ahh ahh, Oda….saku—uhn, please, please—“ he begged in choked voice as that
shaft slid against his prostate. It was too much and not enough at the same
time, the white-hot pleasure curling his toes and fanning the fire in him
without allowing release.
But Odasaku didn’t answer, not with words or with movements. He still moved
against Dazai, around him, inside of him, with the same pace and excruciating
slowness that threatened to drown the mafia executive in its sweet gentleness
and intimacy.
As lips skimmed his collarbone and cock brushed against his prostate at the
same time, Dazai cried out, realizing that that’s the point of all this. The
careful touches, the nearly loving embrace, the ceaseless mutterings of praises
against his damp skin. He can feel the weight of intimacy and emotions in every
movement, the love in every kiss on his shoulder,
Odasaku trailed his lips up to the boy’s jaws to leave some marks there, and
then travelled upward to his temple. He let out a confused noise when he tasted
salt and opened his eyes.
Dazai’s tears were leaking from his eyes in slow, rolling beads as the boy bit
his lips and let nothing but choked, muffled whimpers escape.
The young executive felt the flash of hesitation and concern in Odasaku from
the immediate ceasing of movement and the sudden return of clarity in his steel
grey eyes. A hand cradled his cheek and Dazai leaned into it, turning his head
to press desperate kisses against the salty skin.
“Oda—Odasaku please, please.”He mouthed against that palm without noticing the
violent shudder that went down the man’s spine in answer. He answered his
affirmation into Dazai’s lips.
The older man lowered his body and pressed their chest together, skins sliding
slick with sweat, entrapping heat in between. His hips picked up their slow
torture, drawing gasps and broken groans from his lips. His lips, though, his
lips returned to chanting praises against his skin—
Dazai, yes, yes, just like that. So beautiful, so good for me. You don’t know
how beautiful you look right now. Dazai, Dazai--
Dazai didn’t understand how such simple words can bring light to gaping abyss
on his chest that the world forced open. It was a single firefly in the
infinite darkness, small and fragile and short-living but light nonetheless. A
warmth he can close his hands around and keep close to his chest.
 His edge was finally creeping closer, making his weakening mewls and whimpers
even more frequent, his grip on strong shoulders tighten. And then a hand
closed over his cock, giving a single wide stroke from bottom to tip.
Dazai screamed as light overtook his sight, stealing away all breath in his
lungs. The pain from being neglected was nearly buried in the back of his mind,
but now they came pounding back incessantly. He thrust up into that fist in a
frenzied manner, grabbing Odasaku’s cheeks to pull him up so that he can chew
and bite on his lips as the edge zooms closer and closer.
And then Dazai was thrown off the edge. Soundlessly, he threw his head back,
mouth open in silent scream as heat and pleasure overtook his reality.
Odasaku fucked him through his third orgasm with the same steady slowness,
milking him off with a hand slick with sweat and cum. He stopped when Dazai
writhed in overstimulation, pulling back from the boy’s body.
But then the legs around his middle squeezed with what remaining strength they
have and a pair of chocolate brown eyes slit open in irritation.
“Don’t,” he rasped with badly abused vocal cord “keep going.”
Odasaku hesitated, the rational part of his brain urged to him pull out of
Dazai, but the darker, more primal part in his blood was howling at him to take
the offer. In the end, Dazai decided for him by chanting his hips up,
swallowing more of his painfully hard erection and drawing a choked moan from
his throat.
He gripped the sheet beside Dazai’s head and rolled his hips.
While enjoying the voice of the man above him breaking apart more and more,
choked off groans, stuttered moans, heavy breathing, Dazai marvelled at the
irony that Odasaku only let himself go faster, thrusting into him with fervour,
when he already came.
Thrice.
Well.
Huzzah for teenage sexual drive and recovery time.
Dazai moaned with Odasaku when he felt heat bursting in him, the hot shaft in
him pulsing as the older man pressed as deep as he can go, movements stilling
with the force of his orgasm.
And then he nearly fell atop Dazai, but quick hands caught himself before he
can squeeze the smaller male under his considerable weight. What a
disappointment, he would have loved to be pressed into the futon by Odasaku’s
whole body weight.
He waited for the older man to come down from his high while drawing
nonsensical pattern on the skin of his back and breathing in the crook of his
neck, subtly rubbing the side of his face against the damp skin to wipe away
the tear track he knew still visible on his skin.
After the small eternity of just breathing together, Odasaku pulled away from
him with a debauched squelch that shot another spark of heat into the younger’s
belly. But one look to the exhausted lines on the older man’s figure was enough
to tell him that nothing else will be happening tonight, so he’d better not get
excited again unless he wanted to take care of it by himself. Possibly while
Odasaku sleeps, because no matter how good he is with that nearly uncrackable
poker face, he couldn’t hide the minute drooping of his lids in exhaustion.
Dazai closed his eyes, enjoying the heat and familiarity between them before
opening them again when he felt fabric rubbing gently against his stomach and
between his thighs, taking away the cum that splattered itself all over his
body. Odasaku was cleaning him up with his own bloodied white shirt.
Whatever, that thing was going to be burned anyway.
He hummed in gratitude when he was decently cleaned, but groaned in displeasure
when Odasaku dislodge himself from the futon.
He glared at the man with tired eyes, who glanced at him guiltily and moved
with long, fast stride to the kitchenette across the room as if he, too,
couldn’t bear to be parted from Dazai for long.
But maybe, Dazai mused as he watched the bare, firm ass moving away, he just
couldn’t stand the cold of walking around naked in a room with shitty heater.
Odasaku returned with a glass of water in his hand that he passed to Dazai who
gulped the content down with a grateful moan. The fresh, cool water was heaven
on his abused throat. Dazai placed the empty glass down and expressed his
gratitude by groping the firm bottom he had been eying ever since so long ago.
The flesh felt just like how he imagined them to be, soft and supple with hard
muscles that rolled underneath the layer of skin. Mmmm….
The older man blinked in his nearly undetectable expression of momentary shock
before quickly calming down and cracked a smile to answer Dazai’s shit-eating
grin.
“Now this is quality right here.” Dazai quipped happily, voice still slightly
hoarse, while squeezing the handful of flesh in his palm.
“I can say the same about yours.” He countered with a calm voice, letting the
boy grope him all he wanted. “Do you want me to wrap you up now?” he gestured
to the forgotten rolls of bandages beside the futon.
Eying the bandages and frowned at them, Dazai shook his head, opting instead to
shimmy his way under the blanket. Empathizing with the struggle of moving heavy
limbs and jellified legs, Odasaku helped him until he’s a warm and happy
burrito.
Scowling up playfully to the older man he scooted until his back hit the cold
wall before patting the warm space in front of him. “Snuggle with me, you
heathen. Don’t leave me hanging like this.”
Odasaku huffed out a breath in amusement which would equal to a chuckle on a
more expressive individual, but he complied and slid underneath the blanket
before pulling it up, sealing the heat of their bodies. Almost immediately,
Dazai latched to him, the two of them shuffling around on the futon until they
found a comfortable position.
With his head pillowed on a hard chest—damn it’s really hard, he’ll probably
wake up with a migraine tomorrow but it would be totally worth it—Dazai stared
at the closed windows with Odasaku’s arms encircling him and their legs tangled
together. Odasaku’s warm breath puffed into his hair as the older man nuzzled
into the brown nest of messy brown locks.
It’s really, really nice. The warmth, the companionship, the knowledge that
Odasaku can protect him in case the world decided to become shit tonight.
The Port Mafia’s Demon Prodigy doesn’t have many experience with post-coital
snuggling. He didn’t really have a chance since it’s too intimate to be done
with the prostitute and one night stands that would probably stab him in the
back on the first chance, trying to do it with Chuuya will result in a dagger
actually embedded in his back, and he’d shoot Akutagawa dead if he even
breathed the suggestion. 
He snuggled deeper into that hug, humming contently, sated and warm. Suddenly,
Odasaku huffed and rolled to the side, bringing a squeaking Dazai with him. He
shuffled forward until the boy’s blanket-covered back hit the wall and curled
around him there, one arm pillowing Dazai’s dark head and the other thrown
across his hip to pull him into an embrace.
Dazai blinked. In this position, his lithe body was completely covered with
Odasaku’s, so much that if another person would look at them, they’d have to
really look closely to see him pressed against the wall.
It was incredibly warm, too, with Odasaku’s whole body covering his, curled
around him in a protective embrace. He smiled something secret and soft, not
meant for anyone’s eyes, comfortable and feeling a whole world better than he
was before he came to this apartment. Despite the knowledge that he’d have his
back unprotected in this position, Odasaku choose to make him feel completely
safe, protected from all angles.
Odasaku fell asleep almost as instantly as they stopped shuffling, soft snores
ruffling his brown locks. Dazai giggled and have loved to just bask in the
comfort for a while longer, but the exhaustions of the day combined with the
warmth and sheer comfort of Odasaku being there for him dragged him under
quickly.
As he nodded off into the crook of Odasaku’s neck, he wondered how many times
this has made it that Odasaku had somehow saved him, and whether he should love
him or hate him for that.
But in the end, he can only wryly recognize one thing.
If you ask Dazai what moment is the most precious memory in his life, you will
get a different answer depending on his opinion of you. Become someone he does
not trust and imminently dislike and you’ll get yourself an eerie smile that
doesn’t reach his cold eyes. Be someone he trust yet dislike and you’ll get
teasings and theatrical, dramatic lies. Be someone who he doesn’t trust but
likes and you’ll get lies flung at your face along with words designed to cut
you open.
But if you’re a man with gentle hands, gentler eyes, who would protect him
without question and whose presence comforted Dazai just by being there, maybe,
just maybe, the Demon Prodigy would drop all his mask and lies and tell you the
truth.
                                        
                                       .
                                       .
    Just as he was about to step into off the beautiful cliff and greet the
             rolling, roaring waves, a voice calls out behind him.
                           “Are you going to jump?”
The fifteen-year old Mafioso turns back to see an older boy with messy red hair
 and blank expression, wonders if that’s concern he sees creasing his eyebrows
                 since they’re really miniscule to be certain.
 “Well, yes. I’m going to commit suicide, you see. Are you going to stop me?”
                  “I don’t know. Do you want me to stop you?”
“Maybe…” Dazai muses with a smile as he stares the strange boy who doesn’t jump
                at the chance to be a hero “and if I say I do?”
  “Well,” ah, that’s definitely concern creasing his eyebrows. “I’d say you’d
 have to hang on to something, anything’s fine, and keep living. And then wait
       to see what happen afterward, because… it will certainly happen.”
     “Oh?” Dazai offers a smile at the poetic choice of words “Like what?”
The boy points behind Dazai and he turns around to see the sun rising from the
faraway horizons, erasing the blinking stars and chasing away the deep purples
                   and blues with warm hues of gold and red.
“I was actually going to jump before the sunrise, I guess I’m too late now!” he
  exclaims cheerfully and skips away from the edge toward the older boy. This
close, he can see that his eyes are a mesh between ice blue and grey, a strange
                 mixture for an obviously Japanese individual.
    “I’m Dazai Osamu!” he sticks out a bandaged hand happily “And you are?”
 “Oda Sakunosuke.” The boy answers and accepts his hand, Dazai’s grin widens.
                           “Do you like spicy food?”
                      “Hmm? No, I prefer sweets myself.”
 “Okay, then I knew a place that sells good pancakes around here, want to grab
                                    some?”
   “Hitting on a guy you just met and asking him out on a date are you? How
  forward!” Dazai laughs, expecting the boy finally break his admirable poker
           face in embarrassment. But he just stares at him and nods
              “If you want to consider it a date, then alright.”
Dazai stops and stares at this boy, this Oda Sakunosuke, and laughs and laughs
until his stomach are hurting with a laughter that rings with honesty. He can’t
         remember the last time laughed this loudly or this genuinely.
    Maybe this is what Oda was talking about earlier; maybe this boy is the
  something that happened afterward. He lifts his face with a full-on beaming
  grin and is graced by the first expression he ever sees on the other boy’s
                    face, a genuine smile, soft and sweet.
                                       .
That was the first time Odasaku saved him from himself and it was far from the
                                     last.
  It’s beginning of many more savings, of warm protections and gentle guiding
hands. He keeps protecting Dazai from himself and guides him to the light even
 after the only thing left of him is the beloved box of matches Dazai keeps in
                       the pocket closest to his heart.
                                        
                                       .
                                       .
                                        
                             Between the Stardust
                That was where our miraculous meeting occurred
                                       .
 I thank you, for having found me even though I am such a small constellation.
                                       .
                                       .
 
Chapter End Notes
     ....Somehow, Chuuya and Dazai gained the status of frenemies with
     benefits in this fic. I regret nothing.
     I was going to make Dazai wear a gaudy underwear like a neon blue
     thing from hell with red vivid red crabs all over it or something.
     But I decided that would probably ruin the mood I was going for, so /
     /shrugs// have Dazai in an undetailed boxers.
     The quote and title are taken from the song Rokutosei no Yoru by
     Aimer. I strongly urge you to listen to it and read the lyrics
     because it's just so heartbreakingly Odazai, I'm still sobbing
     whenever I listen to it.
     Come and shout Odazai at me http://raven-rein.tumblr.com/
     IMPORTANT
     (second chapter is a short omake, read if you want to wash your mouth
     from this melancholic thing.)
***** Omake *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                       .
                                       .
                             Between The Stardusts
                             Omake - Orange Peels
                                       .
                                       .
 
Dazai hummed in obvious good mood as he skips through the HQ, scaring the shit
out of all underlings that was conditioned to associate the prodigy’s good mood
with terrible disaster. Because of this, no one noticed the shadow of a certain
lowest-ranked member of the mafia trailing him.
It was like this that they stumbled with Chuuya who raised an eyebrow at the
genuine shit-eating grin decorating his partner’s face.
“Chuuya!” he waved his arm excitedly at the smaller boy who rolled his eyes and
turned away from him “No, wait! Wait! Are the offer for wine still on tonight?”
That definitely caught the gravity manipulator’s interest, he glanced back just
in time to have Dazai skipping in pace with his walk, cerulean blue eyes
catching Oda Sakunosuke’s and seeing his own confusion reflected back at him.
“Oh, you know Odasaku don’t you? Surely you don’t mind him joining us in
our…celebration tonight.” He purred the word in a tone he knew to affect his
partner no matter the time of day nor situation.
Chuuya’s eyes flickered to him before they lightened up in understanding. It
was practically a ritual between them to drink wine, or any available alcohol
in the near vicinity really, after a successful mission or ascending of rank,
and it would always be followed by fucking or being fucked on Chuuya’s large
bed depending. The fact that both had just happened, with Dazai becoming an
Executive and Chuuya accomplishing his solo mission, meant a double reason for
a celebration.
He calculated that the other boy would think that him inviting Odasaku meant
they’re having a drunken threesome tonight, which is not rare for them. And he
wouldn’t be wrong either.
“Huh, alright. Just let me take this to the boss and we can go to my
apartment.”  Chuuya parted from them with a long look to Odasaku that dropped
to his firm body with a certain intention in them. He walked away with an air
of satisfaction and anticipation for tonight.
Dazai was just barely able to hold back his dark, evil chuckle as he watched
that small back walking away.
What Chuuya didn’t know, however, was that the man he just invited was someone
who was capable of breaking his mental barrier apart so quickly last night with
nothing but his hands and mouth. Him. The Demon Prodigy of Port Mafia with
legendary patience in getting what he wanted and getting his revenge so cold
and sweet they’re practically ice cream.
Now, what would happen if he sick him to the other half of Double Black who was
infamous for a temper as short as his body?
Dazai’s grin turned darker as he thought to the silk length of red fabric he
kept stashed away in Chuuya’s closet. Or, hmm… maybe he should pull out the
chains tonight since he’d probably struggle extra hard. 
Everyone in the near vicinity ran away crying when a dark chuckle managed
escape the newly-named Executive’s lips, even Odasaku seemed disturbed by the
laugh that seemed to herald an upcoming apocalypse.
But for his credit, Dazai did manage to keep himself from rubbing his hands
together like a villain in a cheap horror flick.
                                       .
                                       .
 
The following night, Ango blinked and aborted his swing when Odasaku stepped
into the bar. Unseen by the eyes of people who didn't know him as intimately as
he did, his steps were far lighter than usual.
Ango smiled as he sat down on the stool beside him , the bartender immediately
sliding a glass of whisky in front of him.
"Good evening, Odasaku-san. You seems happy tonight, did something good
happen?"
"Yeah" the older man answered and took a small sip of his drink, resting his
elbows on the gleaming countertop. "I got laid."
"Really." Ango huffed, marveling at the fact that his friend is so happy and
relaxed because he got laid of all things. "Who's the lucky lady?"
"Not a woman, actually." Ango's eyebrows shot up.
"...Okay." he quickly shook off the shock, something unbecoming for someone who
had his eyes on the position of Intelligence "He's must be good."
"Them. It was a threesome."
Ango abruptly decided he's not drunk enough for this conversation and downed
his glass, immediately requesting another from the sympathetic-looking
bartender.
He gulped half of the glass's content and sighed, deciding he's now buzzed
enough for whatever Odasaku threw at him and finally asked "That must have been
nice. Who was the other two?"
Ango made the terrible, terrible decision of sipping the whisky when Odasaku
answered plainly with three words "The Double Black."
Odasaku stared in concern at his friend when he snorted whisky out of his nose,
even the usually unflappable bartender was wincing in sympathy.
Being said, that was not a good night for one Sakaguchi Ango.
                                        
                                       .
                                       .
                                        
Two weeks later in Chuuya’s apartment with the two of them half-drunk from
expensive vodka after a successful mission, his partner asked him which bar is
it that that bastard with clever hand Oda Sakunosuke frequents.
The thing was, Dazai knew Chuuya better than he knew the back of his hand,
which meant he knew that the hat-loving, wine-adoring shit does not sleep with
anyone twice unless he planned on keeping them.
His retribution of pouring half of his wine collection into a single bucket and
left them on the foot of the bed where a naked Chuuya was still snoring away so
that’ll be the first thing he sees and smells the moment he wake up, was just
the right amount of revenge and warning from further advances, served steaming
hot, Port-Mafia style.
                                       .
                                       .
                                       .
                                 Orange Peels
Chapter End Notes
     I was this close to actually writing a whole chapter detailing their
     threesome, but then I glanced at the word count and went lol nope.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
