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Sometimes, death was preferable to waking up with the level ten hangover that was currently throbbing behind Chuuya’s eyes. He kept his eyes closed and his head very still and tried counting to fifteen, and then twenty-five, but no matter the number the fully grown African bull elephant thundering around inside his skull was still trying its damnedest to gouge its way out via his temple, so he groaned softly and considered, distantly, the ordeal of sitting up.
The mattress behind him shifted when he groaned.
Interesting.
That provided enough impetus to get him out of bed before Dazai fully woke and got handsy, so Chuuya hauled off to the bathroom without looking back and immediately turned the shower on full blast. The steam and the water helped marginally, and he at least felt on the pathway to functional for the day, which was better than nothing.
Fuck, he hadn’t gotten blackout drunk in a long time. Chuuya surveyed the purpling bruises running down his neck and chest and rubbed his hand over the one on his throat that felt more like fingerprints than a love bite. Damn, he’d been had and handled, and now that he was mobile his ass was on fire. Maybe he didn’t bring Dazai home last night, Dazai at least knew better than to leave marks.
Toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and towel cinched securely around his waist, Chuuya opened the bathroom door to see, surprisingly, that the bed was already empty. The covers were pulled back and there was movement shuffling around on the floor on the other side of the bed: someone looking for all the pieces of their outfit. “Good morning,” Chuuya said, shoulder leaned against the doorframe. The movement immediately stopped.
There were a few heartbeats of silence that stretched on just a little past comfortable before a familiar head popped up from the other side of the bed and gave Chuuya the most panicked look he’d ever seen. Chuuya stopped brushing his teeth and stared as Nakajima Atsushi rubbed the back of his head and refused to look directly at Chuuya, face a blinding, brilliant shade of red. “Ah, good morning, Nakahara-san.”
Chuuya took a step back into the bathroom and closed the door.
Shit. Chuuya pushed a hand back through his damp bangs. He’d fucked Dazai’s kid. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Wait. How the fuck old was he, anyway?
Chuuya yanked his bathroom door open and zeroed in on Atsushi, who was now standing, part of the way through pulling on his pants and freezing in place like every time the bathroom door opened he would lose a game of Red Light, Green Light. “Kid,” Chuuya barked, pointing at him. “How the fuck old are you?”
“Uh,” Atsushi blinked those wide, violet-and-gold doe eyes in delicate confusion. He twisted slightly, wobbling on one leg, and the morning sun slid over the numerous, already-healing red scratches. Shit fire fucking hell. “I just turned twenty…?” He trailed off like Chuuya was supposed to already know that, but his head was already swimming in a sea of Bad Decisions and so it sank quietly below the surface.
Chuuya contemplated this, and nodded once. “Okay,” he said and closed the bathroom door again. He whipped the toothbrush out of his mouth, flung it in the direction of the sink, and promptly sat down, back against the door.
Okay.
He’d woken up with worse in his bed before, way worse, and yes Dazai was at the top of that list no matter their relationship nor how many times they’d fucked—but this one really rattled him for some reason. He listened to Atsushi stumble around through the door, clearly still trying to make himself presentable.
Then, there was silence.
Was he waiting for Chuuya to open the door again? He wasn’t going to do that. He was, unfortunately, sober now, and didn’t want to face the fact that he’d let Dazai’s kid fuck him stupid, so he was going to sit here in silence like a teenager terrified of being caught by his partner’s parents and hope that Atsushi got the hint and left on his own.
The silence stretched long. Chuuya flexed his hands, looked down at his chest, and rubbed his palm over what was clearly a bite mark. Jesus fuck, the kid had done a number on him.
When the silence remained unbroken for nearly ten minutes he gave in and cracked the door, to find the room empty. Of course, he was a cat, after all. Chuuya returned to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, still in his towel, and stared blindly at the wall for a minute.
Okay. So, he got blind drunk and they’d fucked. His one-night-stands didn’t usually come from a pool of ‘people Dazai knew’ but he barely saw the kid. And he had the feeling that Atsushi wasn’t about to go telling everyone he’d fucked a Port Mafia executive. This would end up just a blip on the radar. He’d been drunk, and horny, and picked up a guy in a bar. That was it. Nothing else to it.
Chuuya put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and groaned.
Fucking hangovers.
There was a bar cut between the kitchen and the main sitting room of his apartment where Chuuya typically ate if he stayed in. He sat on one of the stools, drinking his coffee and trying to put his life back together.
As he’d suspected, Atsushi had vacated the premises in record time, which told him exactly what he needed to know—the kid hadn’t expected to wake up in his bed any more than he expected to see him there. Now he just had to keep Dazai out of the loop until it was old enough news that no one would care.
Chuuya looked for his phone on its charger but didn’t see it. He frowned, sighed, and schlepped back into the bedroom, the covers still pulled down and began rifling through the pockets of his trousers from the previous night.
After some thought and digging around, he found his phone pinned between the headboard and the mattress, which was weird enough because he didn’t take his phone to bed with him, but whatever, any weirdness from the last twenty-four hours was getting promptly deleted tonight when he uncorked a few bottles of wine.
The battery was beyond low, and, amazed it was still on, Chuuya carried it back out to the kitchen and attached it to the wall charger before risking a look at the screen.
There were 126 notifications on his phone.
There wasn’t enough coffee in the world.
He put another pot on and sat down with his phone. Nineteen of the messages were legitimate, various work-related texts, which he glanced at and closed, but 105 were from Dazai. The other four were from a number he didn’t initially recognize in his phone, with no current contact information. Chuuya massaged his temple and started with Dazai.
Their shared chat was full of the usual bullshit from last night. He scrolled through half a day’s worth of texts about the most inane, annoying shit that Dazai liked to send him because he was bored and annoying Chuuya was his favorite pastime. He ought to change his phone number again, not that it would do any damn good—it only took Dazai four hours to get his new one last time, and the benefit of annoying Dazai and making him do a few hours of actual work didn’t outweigh the hassle.
After one a.m. the texts started to get interesting. There were pictures.
“Oh, fuck me,” Chuuya groaned, leaning his head on his hand as he kept scrolling.
Photos from the bar he and Dazai usually frequented this time included Atsushi, who looked very much like he Did Not Want to Be There and was likely dragged, unwilling, by Dazai. The types of drinks on the bar started changing from whiskey to shots—explained the blackout—and suddenly they were sitting far too close, Atsushi looking at him with a startling intensity despite the clear flush of intoxication.
The second to last picture was of Atsushi carrying a clearly wasted Chuuya on his back. The very last one was a selfie of Dazai with his tongue out and fingers in a victory sign, Atsushi with Chuuya on his back in the background, clearly headed away toward home.
Chuuya laid his phone back on the counter, and then put his head face-down beside it, groaning long and low.
Fucking Dazai.
After a few minutes of self-pity and a fresh cup of coffee, Chuuya glanced at the texts from the unknown number and confirmed that they were, in fact, from Atsushi. They were from last night—well, this morning, technically, dated not long after Dazai’s last picture, so he probably got Chuuya’s number from his phone directly. They were apologetic in tone and described rather lucidly that Atsushi was going to put him to bed, and he was going to sleep on the couch until he was sober enough to get home safely.
Things that clearly did not happen.
Chuuya sighed; after a moment of consideration, he added Atsushi’s number to his contact list. Might as well, he never knew when an ADA contact that wasn’t that fucking shithead he was going to straight-up murder the next time he saw him would come in handy. At least this one-night stand only ended in awkwardness and not homicide, he’d definitely had worse.
Well, it also explained why his phone was in the bedroom, too.
On a sudden, morbidly curious impulse, Chuuya opened his photo reel. Oh, fuck him there were seven blurry flesh-colored thumbnails and two videos. Why was there so much evidence of this bullshit. Four years ago, he could and did wake up with worse mistakes and there was nary a record of his idiocy to be seen but this, this had fucking video?
His thumb hovered over the delete button. He looked around his apartment as if there were any unseen witnesses, sighed, and opened the shorter of the two videos.
It was clearly taken by accident, mostly of the covers, but the audio was of Chuuya breathing heavily, sucking in his breath, and cut off just as he said, “oh fuck—”
He deleted it.
The other was slightly over a minute in length, and after a hesitation longer than the video itself Chuuya finally played it.
This one seemed less an accident, Chuuya’s breath stuttering, and the camera pointed at the ceiling. After a moment the angle shifted and the camera caught a hand on Chuuya’s knee, skin that wasn’t quite as tan as his own—and then Chuuya’s voice, cut on a gasp, saying “jesus fuck, kid, that thing is huge—” and Atsushi’s voice, annoyed, “Chuuya, stop squirming.”
The video stopped.
Chuuya immediately deleted it. He put his face in his hand for a moment, then opened one of the travel apps on his phone. This felt like as good a time as any to check out how the Okinawa branch of the mafia was faring.
“You’re not allowed to go out of town again,” Dazai whined, sitting at their favorite bar, and bouncing his foot against Chuuya’s calf. “Two whole months? Really?”
“I had shit to do,” Chuuya said gruffly, nursing a bourbon and wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to get with Dazai for drinks again. “I have a job, you know.”
“Meh,” Dazai waved his hand dismissively, elbow on the bar. “You missed out on the dragon.”
“No one missed out on the dragon. The dragon was on television. Everyone saw the dragon.”
“You missed out on punching the dragon.”
Chuuya took a drink. “I don’t have to punch every dragon.”
He looked over his glass at the wall of bottles behind the counter. He’d watched some of the footage from his phone, on the private jet, an earbud in and blatantly ignoring a debriefing. It bothered him, a little bit—that tiny blue blur against the green-gold scales—and he didn’t like that.
Really didn’t like the fact he’d caught himself biting his bottom lip.
He was good at ignoring these sorts of things, at least. “Besides, your Agency took care of it. No need for the mafia to dip a toe in the limelight.”
“Yeah.” Dazai raised his drink and looked through the amber liquid within, clinking the round ball of ice against the glass. “Atsushi-kun has gotten really strong, hasn’t he? He’s a good kid.”
Chuuya kept his eyes on the bottles. “Yup. Sure is.”
Dazai let out a soft, amused sigh; but didn’t say anything else regarding Atsushi, so Chuuya let it settle as well. It had been two months and change, and despite the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the world had moved on around him. So, good. He’d move on as well.
Or at least, he’d try.
He let Dazai take him home but wasn’t that into it. “Something going on with you?” Dazai asked lazily, Chuuya’s head pillowed on his lap and playing gently with the ends of Chuuya’s hair as he stared at the ceiling. It was the nicest way he could have asked the question, and still Chuuya felt the sting of it.
“Just tired, I guess,” he muttered. Wouldn’t be the first time that too much drink soured a quick fuck. “You don’t have to stay, it’s fine.”
“Mm.” Dazai didn’t abandon his position on the couch, Chuuya’s head still resting comfortably in his lap. He brushed his fingers back through Chuuya’s bangs. “I don’t want to stay either, but I seem to be trapped in place by this annoyingly tiny but still somehow heavy musclebound slug—”
Chuuya screwed his eyes shut, arms folded. “Now I’m definitely not moving,” he snarled, and Dazai laughed softly and continued to comb his fingers through Chuuya’s hair, the gentle tease of his touch eventually lulling him off to sleep.
Chuuya leaned against the railing, chin in his hand and cigarette between his fingers as he stared out at the water. It wasn’t a particularly nice day, overcast and grey with choppy waves slapping hard against any surface they encountered, but it suited his mood well enough. He stared darkly out over the water as if he could see right through it and blowing smoke through his clenched teeth.
He'd “run into” Dazai while shopping today, which he hardly considered a spontaneous event and would absolutely not be shocked in any way if there was security footage showing Dazai lurking like the stalker he was, and yet…it was normal. He teased Chuuya as normal, followed him around annoying him as he bought some wine for the evening, and they argued in that normal way they always did, full of sharp barbs long emptied of poison.
And then, they parted ways. Dazai off to drink with his coworkers and not with Chuuya; there was something almost like pity in his eyes, which rankled him deeply. He couldn’t stand to be pitied, and if he’d put the pieces together quicker, he would have introduced Dazai’s face to the sidewalk. As it was now it sat with him, that disquiet, and he couldn’t ditch the feeling.
Dazai, the fucking rotten rat bastard, pitied him.
Why?
There was yelling somewhere nearby, which, being Yokohama, wasn’t that entirely out of the realm of the unusual and didn’t even draw his attention until behind the yelling came a thud-thud-thud that shook the ground enough to jostle him out of his existential ennui. Chuuya glanced over his shoulder in time to see an enormous pile of rocks that were vaguely person-shaped go running past, shimmering in the tell-tale golden glow of an ability.
The entire moving mound of rock looked like it was made from largely decorative stones from the park; and it wheeled about on one leg as a much smaller black-and-white blur ducked between the legs and started running back the way they’d come, yelling something incoherent the entire time.
Chuuya, without moving, watched Atsushi run past, a child’s stroller held in two tiger-striped arms above his head, and still yelling wordlessly: the golem-creature thundering immediately behind him.
They lapped the shockingly now-deserted park. Chuuya finished off his cigarette, stubbed it out into the pocket pouch he carried with him, and as the great ability creation thundered in his direction again, shattering the pavers with every step, he moved in fluidly, planting himself in its path, one hand out to stop him.
The creature slapped a rock arm at him. The moment it made contact with Chuuya’s arm red rippled immediately over the golden glow, overriding it completely and stopping the creation in its path. The pavers started to thud to the ground, the shape of the creature becoming undone, collapsing in on itself. After the largest ones in the center fell away, it revealed a small, disheveled man with cracked glasses.
“My daughter,” he screamed, struggling to lift an arm in the direction he’d been running.
Chuuya glanced that way, to see Atsushi approaching, still holding the stroller aloft. “Nakahara-san,” he said, surprised, as he gently placed the stroller containing a wailing infant on the ground.
“What is going on?” Chuuya asked.
Atsushi nodded at the man, still screaming, and struggling under Chuuya’s gravity ability. “His daughter is dead,” he said grimly. “And he’s been grabbing various kids off the street and doing who knows what with them. His file didn’t mention that he was an ability user, though.”
Chuuya twisted his hand and the man’s screaming abruptly ceased.
“Nakahara-san.”
“I didn’t kill him, I just made him go to sleep for a bit. The screaming was getting on my last nerve.” He released his hand, and the ability; all the rocks thudded to the ground, the ability user landing half under one. They both winced. “That might have, though. Sorry.”
It was not Chuuya’s intention to get caught up in anything that came after, but the police and government agents were on the scene faster than he anticipated. When no one came at him with cuffs Chuuya slunk back to the railing and lit another cigarette, watching the clean-up progress as the streetlights came on.
Eventually, Atsushi approached him again and bowed. “Thank you very much for your assistance, Nakahara-san. I was in a bit of a bind, I couldn’t juggle both the stroller and defending against his ability.”
Chuuya waved his hand dismissively. “I was just in the right place at the right time,” he said and put the cigarette back against his mouth. Atsushi’s clothes were, unsurprisingly, in shreds—and Chuuya forgot how small he looked, sometimes. “You okay, kid?”
Atsushi blinked wide eyes at him. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Shit gets weird when kids are involved,” he said, finally, and saw something flicker behind Atsushi’s eyes that he understood all too well. He flicked his cigarette into the sea. “Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Ah,” Atsushi said, and Chuuya looked at him, eyebrow raised. Atsushi looked down at himself and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m a bit of a mess, Nakahara-san, that’s very kind, but I should probably get home and change….”
“My place is closer,” Chuuya said, and Atsushi’s head jerked. He met Chuuya’s eye for a split second before looking away quickly, cheeks coloring pink. Ah. Chuuya coughed. “It’d be quicker to clean up there,” he offered. “I’m certain I can find you something to wear that doesn’t look like it’s been run through a document shredder.”
Atsushi, cheeks still pink and still very resolutely not looking at Chuuya, said, “Well, I am hungry…”
Chuuya stood out on his balcony and chain-smoked frantically. What the fuck was he thinking? What the actual literal unfathomable fuck? He’d brought the kid back to his place again, why? He slapped the railing with one hand and sucked the cigarette down to its filter, almost sweating through his shirt in the humid evening air.
This was stupid, wasn’t it? It was stupid beyond all measure. Chuuya hung his head and listened to the shower distantly through the open balcony door; Atsushi had trailed him here quietly, obediently, closing the bathroom door behind himself to clean up as Chuuya gathered up his old clothing and made a few quick calls to get something tailored and here quickly.
What the fuck was he doing?
He heard the shower cut off and stubbed his last cigarette out in the ashtray he kept on his balcony. As he closed the sliding door behind him, the bathroom door cracked open, steam escaping. “Nakahara-san? Do you have clothing for me…?”
“Ah, not yet.” Chuuya looked at his phone. He heard the noise of confusion from Atsushi and scrolled through his messages. “Said they’d be ready in about an hour, so we still have a little time before they’re delivered.”
Atsushi leaned out of the bathroom door, and Chuuya glanced up at him, down at his phone, and then up again before dragging his eyes with much protest back to his phone and hoping against hope that he’d manage to restrain the flush from jumping to his cheeks as well. Augh, this was so bad.
“What do you mean, delivered?” Atsushi asked, eyes wide. “You ordered me clothes?”
“Well, duh,” Chuuya slung himself onto the couch and tried not to look up at Atsushi’s half-naked, damp form. He had a towel cinched around his waist, thank god—but he looked smaller in his tattered clothing, more delicate, somehow, and this was incredibly distracting. “You save a kid, the least I can do is gussy you up nice and treat you to a fancy, expensive meal.”
Atsushi ducked his head, the movement catching Chuuya’s eye. He inhaled, very raggedly, as if bracing himself for something. “Why are you being so nice to me, Nakahara-san?”
Chuuya blinked, confused. “I thought I just said…?”
Atsushi shook his head sharply, damp hair flopping. He pushed himself the rest of the way through the door, and that made Chuuya look up at him fully, damp skin shining under the overhead light. “I took advantage of you, why don’t you hate me?” His hands were curled into fists, expression plaintive, and it took Chuuya a solid minute to register what he even meant.
“Eh?”
“You were drunk, and I—” Atsushi covered his face with both hands, the flush escaping confinement, up to his ears and down his neck. “I took advantage—” He took a deep breath and bowed low, bending at the waist. “I’m so sorry.”
Chuuya wheeled himself entirely upright, staring at Atsushi with a startled expression on his face. God, how could he have been such a fucking idiot? He should have checked in sooner—not that he usually checked in with one-night stands, but he also didn’t usually bring them back to his place a second time. “You,” he said, the words all bouncing against each other inside his skull until they tumbled out of his mouth. “Are you fucking stupid or something?”
Atsushi startled.
Chuuya stood up, staring over the back of the couch at Atsushi. “You didn’t take advantage of shit, what the fuck? Have you been thinking about that all this time?” Like he was one to talk. “What the fuck?”
Atsushi raised his head, and swallowed. “You didn’t bring me back here to yell at me?”
“Well, I’m gonna yell, but that’s because you’re fucking stupid as fuck!” Chuuya pushed his hand back through his hair, the hand with his phone braced against his hip. “First, you didn’t fucking take advantage of me.”
“Your reaction that morning, though—”
“For fuck’s sake,” Chuuya groaned and shifted his weight, folding his arms and tucking his chin down for a moment while he reviewed the memory. “I was just surprised to see you, I expected—”
“Dazai-san?”
Ugh, perceptive little shit. “I take home more people I don’t know than I do,” he said, finally, and jabbed his finger at Atsushi. “And the only thing I regret here is that I was so blacked out I don’t remember any of the fun we had. Not that it happened in the first place. Capisce?”
Atsushi nodded his head silently, and Chuuya pushed his hand back through his hair again and grunted in annoyance. Atsushi watched him shuffle around, tilted his head, and said, “You really don’t remember any of it?”
Chuuya beelined for the liquor cabinet he had pushed against the wall because he was going to need a drink or three to get through the rest of this conversation. “Only how fucking sore I was after,” he said, staring at the amber liquid he was sloshing into a glass. “Either you have a fucking enormous cock, or you don’t have any idea what the fuck you’re doing; but, whatever, I’ve had worse.”
He looked up, prepared to offer Atsushi a drink as well but there was now an Atsushi-sized vacancy in his room. He blinked and then took several large steps forward so he could see over the furniture, to where Atsushi was crouched behind the couch, face in his hands. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Nakahara-san,” Atsushi mumbled from behind his hands. “I’ve never…I’d never done that before, but you sounded like you were enjoying it and I just kind of went along with it…”
“Stop, stop,” Chuuya said. “Hold up. Wait. Wait a fucking minute.” He leaned his hip against the couch because, no. No way. “You’re…you were a virgin?”
Atsushi silently nodded his head without lifting his hands from his face.
Chuuya stared at him.
The silence stretched long enough that it was the knock at the front door that broke it. Chuuya startled and moved quickly, to accept the delivery of a zipped-up garment bag on a hanger. He walked it past Atsushi, who hadn’t moved, and hung the garment bag on the hook on the wall in his bedroom.
Then he walked past Atsushi again, back to his liquor cabinet, and downed the drink he had just poured in three quick swallows. He poured a straight shot of bourbon, knocked it back, and then fixed two glasses. He returned to Atsushi’s side and sat heavily on the floor near him, his back to the back of the couch. He held out a glass to Atsushi.
Atsushi lowered his hands and stared at the proffered glass.
“If you don’t take it, I’m going to drink it too,” Chuuya said ominously, and Atsushi reached out to take the glass tentatively.
A few minutes of silence passed as they drank together—well, Chuuya drank. Atsushi took a few small sips of his drink, but the level of liquid didn’t seem to change much at all. Finally, Chuuya let out an annoyed huff. “I want you to know that I really did intend to just take you out for a meal,” he said. “No ulterior motives, I didn’t want to yell at you, heck I wasn’t even thinking about that.” Liar.
Atsushi looked into the glass he was holding, still crouched, but didn’t say anything. “And I mean,” Chuuya continued, and he probably needed more liquid courage for this, but he owed Atsushi to not be blackout drunk for what was coming next. “I feel terrible that your first time was that.”
Now Atsushi’s head shot up. He shook it sharply, that length of hair slapping the side of his face with the gesture. “No! No, Nakahara-san, it’s okay, that’s not that important to me. I was just upset because I thought…” he looked away again. “I’m glad that you don’t regret it,” he finished instead and took another small sip of his drink. Then he set it on the floor and started to get to his feet. “Were those the clothes you ordered for me? I should get dressed—”
Chuuya’s hand shot out and caught Atsushi’s wrist as he stood, and he froze in place, staring at Chuuya like a rabbit in the headlights.
“If you want a do-over,” Chuuya said, “we can have a do-over.”
Atsushi stared at him, wide-eyed. Chuuya didn’t release his wrist, and they remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity, eyes locked on each other. “Nakahara-san,” Atsushi said finally, shakily, and Chuuya released his wrist entirely. Atsushi straightened, cheeks gone pink, and looked away—as demure as one could be wearing only a towel.
“Sorry. Sorry, I…” Chuuya pushed his palm against his forehead, staring at the floor. “That was inappropriate,” he said, defeated. He drew his leg up, draping his elbow over his knee, and startled when Atsushi’s shadow crossed him. He jerked back in surprise, Atsushi slamming both his hands on the back of the couch above Chuuya’s head, staring down at him and trapping him in. “O-oi—”
“You’d really,” Atsushi breathed, staring down at him intently, the color of his eyes shifting in a way Chuuya had never seen before, “you’d let me do that to you again…?”
There was a change in his voice, a tremor that Chuuya recognized as hunger, and he tilted his head back so that he could meet Atsushi’s eye properly. His head knocked against the back of the couch as he smirked lazily at Atsushi, challenging him. “Do what to me?” he purred, because watching the hunger grow was fascinating. He’d never seen the kid look like this before and it was folding his stomach in knots. He knew what he wanted out of this, at least.
Atsushi sucked in a breath through his teeth, and the back of the couch cracked as Atsushi clenched his hands tightly. “Fuck you,” he breathed, like he barely dared to think the words, never mind say them.
Chuuya bit his bottom lip and didn’t break eye contact. “I said what I said,” he breathed. “You wanna fuck? Let’s fuck.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Chuuya said, strangled, Atsushi’s towel in his hand. Atsushi looked nervous, sitting on the edge of the bed, cheeks still brushed pink, but Chuuya’s eyes were locked between his legs. “You’re bigger than I am soft, tell me it doesn’t get bigger.”
Atsushi covered his face with his hands.
“It gets bigger?”
Maybe being blackout drunk had actually been a blessing. Chuuya put his hand on Atsushi’s thigh and leaned in close. Atsushi jumped at the contact, especially when Chuuya ran his finger along his length, but managed not to make an additional sound as Chuuya started stroking him, getting a feel for his size.
Chuuya glanced up at him, and Atsushi flushed a determined red down to his chest but didn’t break eye contact.
“Fuck,” Chuuya muttered. “Let me make sure I’ve got enough lube. Gonna need an entire gallon to take this fucking beast of a cock.”
That made Atsushi cover his face again and Chuuya laughed. “Dazai would piss blood if he knew how big you were, he’d be so fucking jealous.” Chuuya’s eyes drifted to what he was doing, and he rubbed his thumb over the head of Atsushi’s cock, smearing the fluid that was starting to drip from the slit.
“You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
Chuuya was, in fact, already composing the gloating email in his head; Atsushi’s tone was panicked, though, and he sighed, the composition breaking into a thousand fragments and gone just that quickly. “Nah, I won’t spill. You’re obviously sensitive about it.” He stroked again, slowly; before making eye contact with Atsushi and licking the head of his cock clean.
Atsushi let out a strangled noise and thumped backward into the mattress, both hands over his mouth, now. “Ah, don’t worry about that,” Chuuya waved his hand, as if Atsushi could see him in the position he was in now. “Entire apartment’s soundproofed. You can be as noisy as you want. In fact,” he leaned in again, trailing his tongue up the underside of his shaft, “I recommend it.”
He never did lift his hands from his mouth, which was a pity, but Chuuya was more interested in mapping every inch of his thickening cock with his tongue, tracing the length of every vein, and wrapping his mouth around the head. Atsushi grunted and groaned and whined until Chuuya finally backed off with a wet pop, licking sticky fluid from his lips. “How many you think you got in ya?” he asked, and Atsushi lifted his head, clearly dazed.
“How many what?”
“God, you are a fucking virgin.” Chuuya ran his palm up the inside of Atsushi’s thigh, watching the muscle jump with interest. “Orgasms.”
“Oh, uh,” Atsushi hugged a pillow he had pulled from the head of the bed to his chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had more than one, is that possible?”
“Do you think I would have asked if it wasn’t?” Chuuya snorted. He backed off Atsushi’s cock entirely, draping his arms over Atsushi’s spread legs. “We’ll leave it at that for the moment, then.” He got up and stretched his arms over his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood between Atsushi’s spread legs and grinned down at him, before starting in on the buttons of his shirt.
Atsushi swallowed hard and stared at him as he undressed; he wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but the intensity of Atsushi’s gaze was a little unsettling. Chuuya kicked his trousers away last of all, and before he could turn entirely to face Atsushi again, he heard the mattress creak, and Atsushi’s arms folded over his stomach.
Chuuya let himself be pulled on Atsushi’s lap, straddling his thighs—and Atsushi stared down between them, Chuuya’s cock laying against his own. He was very focused on it, not touching—and Chuuya folded his arms over Atsushi’s shoulders, which finally made him drag his attention away from their dicks and lock eyes with Chuuya instead, pupils dilated.
“You okay?” Chuuya asked carefully.
Atsushi wet his lips, eyes glimmering in the overhead light. “Can I touch…?” he asked tentatively, and Chuuya laughed, which made Atsushi frown.
“You don’t have to ask, at this point,” Chuuya said, clearly amused. He rocked his hips, which rubbed his cock over Atsushi’s and made them both shudder. “But we do need to get the—”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his thought; Atsushi moved him effortlessly. Chuuya went from straddling him to flat on his back in the covers, and it knocked the breath out of him—even Dazai didn’t manhandle him as if he weighed nothing at all. Atsushi loomed over him, propped up on both arms, eyes gone entirely to gold.
There was a noticeable shift in the air, as he brushed his palm over Chuuya’s navel, before finding his cock and gripping it. It was all Chuuya could do not to yelp at Atsushi’s touch. It was steady and tight as he stroked Chuuya, eyes locked on his face, and Chuuya grunted, pushing both his hands against Atsushi’s shoulders. “Lube,” he bit out, breath stuttering in his lungs and eyes drawn down between them, locked in on Atsushi’s cock hanging against his leg, tip glistening.
Atsushi dropped down onto his elbow. “You showed me where it was the last time,” he breathed, and his voice had shifted too, huskier, and it did something to him, Chuuya’s gut twisting into a pretzel. He wanted, suddenly, to cover his face with his hands and hide from those burning golden eyes; instead, he curled his fingers into Atsushi’s shoulders and turned his face away, flushing furiously.
“Then go get it,” he muttered, insistently. He felt perilously close, suddenly, and didn’t want to go off without Atsushi inside. Atsushi kept stroking him as if in defiance of Chuuya’s order, and he wondered, sliding closer to the edge, if he knew how much control he had in this moment. Chuuya panted shallowly through his mouth, eyes fixed on the dresser beside the bed.
Suddenly, Atsushi stopped, and without a word pushed up off the bed. Chuuya exhaled loudly, surprised at himself, before propping himself up on an elbow and watching Atsushi move to the dresser, opening drawers until he located the correct one.
God, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Chuuya hadn’t expected Atsushi to take charge at all, figuring he would be the one climbing onto Atsushi’s cock instead, but damn. Chuuya curled his hand over his chest, and only realized what he was doing when Atsushi turned and looked at him.
“Are you okay?” Atsushi asked him, and Chuuya felt a flash of annoyance at the question, because he was more than okay, thank you, just a little flustered which was the most ridiculous thing ever.
“I’m fine,” he grunted, as Atsushi returned to the bed with the lube. Before Chuuya could open his mouth to issue instructions Atsushi pushed his legs apart. “Hey, hey—”
Atsushi looked up at him with a questioning expression, already uncapping the lube with one hand. Chuuya swallowed again, pinned by those golden eyes, and didn’t know what to do about it. Atsushi could ask him to do anything, and he would, for those golden eyes…
“Go slow,” Chuuya croaked finally, slapping the bed above his head to locate a pillow and sliding it under his own hips, lifting them off the mattress for better access.
It was weirdly some relief that Atsushi wasn’t particularly good at this; he was clumsy with his fingers, too hurried. Chuuya grunted in pain and kicked him, and Atsushi backed off, a little abashed. “I said slow,” Chuuya heaved through his teeth, “that doesn’t mean jam three in all at once.”
Atsushi swallowed and nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I just—I want to be inside you so bad, it’s twisting me up, and—” Atsushi let out a little yelp when Chuuya sat up and grabbed him by the longer length of hair, yanking his head. “Nakahara-san!”
Whatever he planned to say next was entirely muffled by Chuuya’s mouth on his.
Atsushi gasped against his mouth and Chuuya took full advantage of it, licking his tongue into Atsushi’s mouth as they kissed. He was very clumsy in this, but a quick learner, moving with Chuuya; once he was certain Atsushi wasn’t going to yank himself away, he released his hair and wrapped his arms over Atsushi’s shoulders.
When he finally drew back, they were both flushed and panting, and Chuuya licked his lips lazily. Atsushi nosed in close, clearly seeking more. “There’s plenty of time,” Chuuya breathed, eyes on Atsushi’s. “It’s gonna be good, just go slow.”
Atsushi nodded shakily, and Chuuya released him, dropping back down onto his elbows as Atsushi pushed fingers into him again—two this time, but it was better; he moved slowly and used most of the bottle of lube. Chuuya hung his head back, staring at the ceiling and thinking of nothing but the sensation of Atsushi’s fingers slowly fucking into him. When he added the third back, it was tight but didn’t hurt nearly as much.
“Better,” Chuuya grunted, and then Atsushi crooked his fingers just right, by accident or design he couldn’t tell. Chuuya’s shoulders locked, and he shuddered, clamping down on Atsushi’s fingers and gritted out, “Don’t yank,” right before Atsushi was clearly going to pull them free.
Atsushi stared down at him, wide-eyed. “What was that?”
Chuuya, breathing harshly through his mouth, said, “The best fucking thing about bottoming.” He shifted and looked down his body at Atsushi. “You gonna put your cock in now, or what?”
Atsushi blinked, as if he had forgotten that part of the equation; then he let out a ragged groan and shifted up on his knees, pushing Chuuya’s legs further apart. Chuuya slid slightly off the pillow, knocked his knee into Atsushi’s side and said, “hang on, hang on—” but instead Atsushi caught him by the hip and pulled him up the bed. He was singularly focused on his goal now and didn’t even seem to hear Chuuya, so Chuuya caught his hands behind his knees instead, shuddering when Atsushi nudged him with the tip.
“Oh,” he said, remembering far too late, in that split second before Atsushi pushed in. “Condom, forgot the—ahh, fuck!”
Chuuya inhaled sharply, fingers digging into his own skin, head pushed back into the covers and jaw tight. The stinging stretch burned through him, a live flame; he distantly heard Atsushi say, “fuck,” and then the burn grew deeper, plunging directly into his core. He choked on air, desperate, and rolled his head because it wasn’t ending, he was being stretched to his limit, so full.
“You’re so,” Atsushi grunted, and the burn lessened as he pulled out somewhat. Chuuya heard the lube bottle complain as he slicked himself with more. “Tight.”
Another thrust, all the way in, and Chuuya squalled. Atsushi’s hips settled against him, and he shook, waiting on his body to adjust to the intrusion, for the stretch and burn to ebb from pain to pleasure. He was aware Atsushi was staring down at him, and Chuuya groaned, finally meeting his eye.
“Okay…?” Atsushi managed, panting. Chuuya wet dry lips and nodded.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” he groaned, shifting enough to settle his legs over Atsushi’s hips, keeping him in close and snug. “And deep.”
Atsushi swallowed hard and rocked his hips slightly; Chuuya arched his back. “Can I?”
With a nod for confirmation, he started to pull out slowly and Chuuya hissed in disappointment as the heat withdrew, his body already aching for it—and the next thrust in made him shudder and arch his back again.
Atsushi set a good pace, steady and controlled, grunting softly as he snapped his hips against Chuuya. Chuuya panted raggedly, rolling his hips to match Atsushi’s pace, which seemed to surprise him—it surprised him more when Chuuya surged against him and rolled them both, thumping Atsushi onto his back in the sweat-damp sheets and sinking all the way down on his cock himself.
Chuuya rode him, head back, hands braced on Atsushi’s thighs and spine curved into a bow. He moaned when Atsushi stroked his dripping cock and looked down at him; his eyes were pinned on Chuuya, captivated. Chuuya ran his palm down his belly, imagined if he tilted his hips back far enough that he could feel the shape of Atsushi’s cock inside him, pressing against his inner walls, and he tightened enough that Atsushi gasped and swore, head thudding back into the sheets.
He had no idea how long they were at it; they switched positions again, Atsushi pushing Chuuya’s face into the covers with one hand, the other tight on his wrist as he fucked into him from behind. Chuuya panted raggedly as each punishing thrust sent fire crawling up his spine.
Atsushi’s breath boiled over his skin, sweat sliding down the back of his neck, damping his hair. “Close,” he breathed, stirring the hair on the back of his neck. Chuuya laughed wildly, wanted it all. “Fuck, Chuuya, I’m gonna—”
He wished for the barest moment that he could see Atsushi’s face; the way he choked out Chuuya’s name and the ragged growl against his skin that sounded properly feral as he released. Chuuya shook as he poured hot inside, and Atsushi groped at him blindly, hand wrapping around Chuuya’s cock and stroking with barely any rhythm, trying to pull him along after.
Chuuya wasn’t the least bit ashamed of how quickly it sent him right over the edge as well, Atsushi’s chest pressed to his back, still pumping his release into Chuuya; so much that it felt like his skin bowed out. He was so full, and it felt like it just kept coming, and coming….
“Fuck,” Chuuya sobbed, unable to get away, Atsushi’s arms wrapped around his chest now, holding him on Atsushi’s cock until he was through. “Let me, ah, it’s too much—”
“Stop squirming,” Atsushi breathed into his ear, hot and low, and fuck, Chuuya’s head smacked back against his shoulder, shuddering as another burst of lightning cascaded through his nerves. “I’m almost, ngh—Chuuya—”
Atsushi gave a full-body shudder, his cock pulsing again, and then passed completely out against Chuuya’s back, dropping them both flat into the bed with force. Chuuya panted hoarsely into his arm, pinned by Atsushi’s dead weight, his cock still buried deep, plugging him up.
After a few moments, when it became apparent Atsushi wasn’t stirring, Chuuya groaned and tried to shift himself but realized he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled into his arm, still trembling with the aftershocks of his own orgasm; then rolled his cheek, turning his head away from Atsushi’s face, and began to laugh.
Yeah, he was fucked.
Literally, and figuratively.
Chuuya had never seen this much spunk all at once, and he’d fucked two guys at the same time once. He braced one hand on the shower wall as he dealt with the clean-up, laughing quietly to himself at the absurdity of it all; he ached a little bit but not bad at all, he was mostly sore in the well-fucked kind of way.
God damn, if that kid wasn’t going to make someone very happy one day.
When he emerged from the bathroom Atsushi was sitting up in the bed, looking out the open window with a distant expression. “How’re you doing, kid?” Chuuya asked, rubbing his head with a towel, and Atsushi looked over him, surprised out of his reverie.
“Oh! Um.” Atsushi shifted a little on the bed, and then pushed himself up onto his knees, bowing slightly. “I’m very sorry if I hurt you, Nakahara-san.”
“Huh?” Chuuya lifted his head, the towel still draped over his hair. “I just got the best fucking of the year so far, you kidding me? Hurt.” He snorted. “Look, if you need to get laid any time you can absolutely call me, got it? I will gladly take that monster cock any day.”
Atsushi turned bright, bright red. “Nakahara-san—!!”
“And would you fucking can it with that crap? You have the balls to call me Chuuya when you’re nutting in me but not any other time?” He waved his hand dismissively. Atsushi hung his head. “Don’t apologize for that either,” Chuuya added, vaguely threateningly, and Atsushi nodded.
Chuuya walked past the bed, pulling the towel to his shoulders while he rooted around for something clean to wear. “And I mean it, too,” he added. “I’ll give you my number if you don’t still have it.”
“Ah.” Atsushi didn’t move but he kept looking at his knees. “What about…Dazai-san?”
“What about him?”
“Aren’t you two together?”
“Eh, I guess you could call it that.” Chuuya pulled on boxers and leaned back against the dresser to face Atsushi. “We have an arrangement, I guess.” He shrugged. “He has a girlfriend.”
Atsushi’s head jerked up, and he stared at Chuuya, eyes wide. “Dazai-san has a…who would…!?”
“It’s not a serious thing, I guess. Not my business to spill.” Chuuya grinned sharply. “Besides, what about Akutagawa-kun, hm?”
Atsushi jumped. He looked away, blushing heavily, and scowling at the same time. “Akutagawa hates me,” he said darkly. “And that’s fine because I hate him too. He can fall off a pier and drown.”
“Really? While blushing, you said that.”
“I’m not blushing, I’m angry!” Atsushi folded his arms and huffed, still looking away so that his eyes were shadowed. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about him, because he does hate me,” he said, finally, quietly. “And that won’t change.”
Chuuya opened the window so that the cool evening breeze off the bay drifted in. He lit a cigarette and leaned his back against the wall. “I think you might be surprised,” he said, and Atsushi scrunched up his nose and frowned in an endearingly cute expression that made Chuuya cough a little. “Maybe you should ask him.”
“Do you have any idea how many times he’s stabbed me?” Atsushi folded his arms and sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know how I actually feel about him. We’re not friends, we’re not even on the same side. Really, I just want to punch him in his stupid face. Repeatedly.”
“Ah,” Chuuya sighed. “That’s definitely love.”
“Chuuya-san, I think your definition of love might be a little skewed.”
“Probably.” He blew smoke out the window. “But I know a little something about these weird fucked up relationships we tend to get into, and I think you do, too. And I think you should talk to him.” He waved his cigarette at Atsushi. “I’ll teach you how to fuck him good, too. Ruin him a little, that should set his head right.”
“Chuuya-san!”
Chuuya took another drag and smirked, the smoke filtering through the window and into the pitch-black night sky.
“Well, you look like the canary that ate the cat,” Dazai said, elbow on the table as he watched Chuuya eat lunch. He nudged Chuuya’s leg under the table with his foot, and Chuuya tucked his legs under his chair.
“That turn of phrase goes the other way,” Chuuya said absently.
“Does it? I get so confused.” Dazai’s foot missed his leg this time and banged solidly into the table support. “Come on, spill.”
“Lips are sealed.”
“That’s no fun,” Dazai said, winding up full-on pout mode. “I always tell you about my great lays.”
“In excruciating and unwanted detail.” He slurped his noodles. “Have I ever kissed and told?”
“Uh, yeah you have.” Dazai held up his drink and gestured with his glass. “I heard everything about that week with the Russian chick in Belarus.”
“You made most of that up. I don’t have to fuck my partner on every mission like some people I know.”
“You butt-dialed me while you were fucking her.”
Chuuya shrugged, because he wasn’t wrong, but also wasn’t going to give him the benefit of being right. “How goes your plan at getting Akutagawa together with Atsushi?”
Dazai groaned. “You are changing the subject.”
“So I am.”
“Akutagawa-kun is so thirsty. If only he could express himself in ways other than violence.”
“And whose fault is that?” Chuuya moved his leg when Dazai attempted to kick him again. “If you keep kicking me, I won’t blow you.”
Dazai sighed, long suffering. “That is very unfair.”
Chuuya’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He put his chopsticks down and slid his phone out just enough to see the tail end of the message—free tonight? He smiled, sent a thumbs-up reaction, and returned his phone to the safety of his inner jacket pocket, where Dazai couldn’t easily snoop.
“Who was that?”
“Turns out I have to take a rain check on that blow job anyway,” Chuuya said. Dazai frowned at him. “Work stuff.”
“Really? Work stuff. At this hour.”
Chuuya stared at him for a solid minute, and Dazai sighed and hung his head. “I will not admit to that being a stupid response, but can’t we just, I don’t know, hit the bathroom? I miss your mouth.” Dazai made eyes at him, and Chuuya rolled his in response. “Your lovely, perfect, fits-my-cock-like-it-was-made-for it mouth…?”
“Control yourself, you stale can of mackerel, we are in public.” Chuuya took a final sip of his tea. “Besides, we’re going to that onsen this weekend, and we’re going to fuck so much and so long you’ll turn into an actual mummy. You’ll live until then.”
He stood and pulled on his coat as he made to leave, he put his hand on the back of Dazai’s chair and leaned in. “You are going to live until then,” he repeated, vaguely threatening, and Dazai smirked up at him. They held eye contact for a moment before Chuuya broke it and let out an annoyed tch.
“Have fun, Hat-Rack-kun,” Dazai said, cheerfully.
Chuuya lingered, feeling caught—but then he rolled his eyes again, irritated. “Fuck you, Dazai,” he grunted and felt Dazai’s eyes on him all the way to the exit. He exhaled, standing just outside the door, and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl into the early afternoon.
A smirk escaped despite himself, and he turned to go. He had somewhere he had to be.