Archive of Our Own

But this one might just take the cake.

It’s the first ball of the season–a chilly autumn, this year, but not quite chilly enough to dampen any moods, from what Dazai can see. Nothing inherently special about it, he muses, as he glides past yet another lovely lady with a smile and a feather-light kiss upon her glove.

None have been as bold or daring as previous balls–as to go up to him directly, asking for his hand in either a dance or something more–but their stares truly never lessen. Not that he minds, really, but that doesn’t mean he’s not aware of them. They follow him throughout the ballroom, at every table and around each corner.

So, he’s not exactly surprised when there’s a light tap on his shoulder, a polite invite to turn around. Plastering on his best royal airhead smile, he smoothly spins on his heel, ready to affably turn down the lovely lady requesting his attention. Only he comes to face with–

“Yosano,” he says, his posture loosening at the sight of his sister, in all her purple gown glory. Her hair is tied up into a neat bun with a butterfly clip to match her hand fan. His suggestion–and his hair handiwork. His smile bleeds out its tightness too, whether he fully registers it or not, at the thought of doing her hair once again. Yosano’s looking at him with a more sly smile if anything, a clear glint of mischief in her eyes. He’s almost afraid to ask; “What brings you to me?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she replies, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Drop that polite talk with me, Dazai. I’m just here to inform you that there’s been some… changes, to the guest list. Dad told me to tell you.”

“Changes?” Dazai echoes, a tone of surprise in his voice. Changes to the guest list during the event are practically impossible. “How’d that happen?”

His sister gives nothing more than a light shrug in response. It hardly explains her playful expression or the fact that she had clearly insisted on being the one to tell Dazai this information. Normally, he’d be told by a maid, servant or similar. Yosano herself, though…

He narrows his eyes, suspicion evident. Yosano seems to catch this movement because her smile widens before it’s suddenly hidden behind an elegant, purple fan. He raises an eyebrow in question, met only with a soft flap of the fan.

“Okay,” he drawls, straightening his posture once more. “I will see you later, then?”

Yosano giggles–not suspicious at all–and nods. “Naturally,” she chirps, “be sure to have fun, starshine. It’s not every day we see a ball quite like this one.”

With that, she leaves. Physically–and Dazai with far more questions than answers. It only takes him one look towards his sister’s new position to confirm that he definitely should be worried. Yosano quickly slides back into place next to Ranpo, who smiles in his direction innocently. So, certainly not innocent.

He racks his brain for anything that could’ve possibly happened for the guest list to be altered this late–or at all, really. It’s not every day you see a finalised guest list be altered just like that. And since this is the first he’s hearing of it, it had to happen very recently… almost last minute. He glances back at his siblings–but they’re long gone, leaving only a vacant area where they previously stood. He shakes his head lightly, biting down on his lip. Of course.

Dazai doesn’t realise just how oddly quiet the entire ballroom has gone until it’s far too late. At the sound of the doors opening, his head whips around; no one would enter half-way through a ball, so it must be–there’s been some… changes, to the guest list–someone important.

Dazai’s breath catches somewhere in his chest, unable to get past his lungs; because there–standing as gracefully as ever in the large entrance to Dazai’s very own ballroom–is Nakahara Chuuya. And it is him because Dazai would know that striking, auburn hair anywhere. Nothing else had ever caught Dazai’s attention quite as quickly as the gentle dazzle of Chuuya’s hair.

He suddenly understands why the ballroom’s gone quiet–all eyes are on Chuuya, watching his every move, listening to his every word–and Dazai can’t blame them. Chuuya’s presence could rival Dazai’s tenfold; and tonight is no different.

Chuuya has never been one to dress down. Everything he wears is always the finest quality, Dazai knows, because Chuuya wouldn’t settle for less. Hell, Dazai wouldn’t let him settle for less.

And the Chuuya of the present is certainly no exception. The young prince of the rivalling kingdom is dressed in wine-red dress-shirt–Chuuya’s favouritism for wine is showing–complete with a frilly, lacy collar and matching sleeves. Fitted black trousers complimented by laced black boots, Chuuya’s signature black choker and;

Chuuya, you absolute fiend.

The outfit is entirely pulled together by the sleek, ornate black corset settled around Chuuya’s waist as if it belonged there just like any of his limbs. Suddenly, Dazai feels much too hot and idly wonders if it truly is a chilly autumn.

Even so, tearing his gaze off Chuuya is excruciatingly hard as the redhead glides through the crowd, his smile shining brighter than the literal sun. He shakes a few hands–his usual gloves are missing, replaced with a gentle lace–greets plenty of attendees–if Dazai has a silver tongue, Chuuya might as well have solid gold–and cordially bows to a number of ladies in attendance–effortlessly, even with the corset attached to his waist.

It’s graceful, it’s elegant, and it’s something no one but Chuuya could ever dream to achieve.

“Well, he’s here.” Dazai almost jumps at the sudden voice behind him, shoving his pounding heart back down his throat. He turns towards the sound, meeting the brown and green eyes of his older brother. Ranpo grins at him, leaning on a nearby table like he didn’t just turn Dazai’s entire night upside-down. “You gonna go greet him?”

Dazai opens his mouth to reply but Ranpo beats him to it.

“Just kidding. You’ve got to,” he says, far too chipper. “Crown prince and all that, right?”

Dazai glares at him, pushing forward the clear message of I know you did this.

Ranpo chuckles, leaning forward and grabbing Dazai’s tie before beginning to fiddle with it. As he does so, he continues talking. “Don’t look at me like that. I thought you’d be happy to see your little prince charming, no?”

He fixes Dazai’s tie firmly into place before moving his own one side-to-side idly. “Plus, he wanted to come. All Yosano and I did was put him on the guest list. No need to thank us.”

Yes, Dazai wanted to see Chuuya. What sane person would pass up an opportunity to see Chuuya? That isn’t the part that’s bothering him at all.

“Right,” Dazai replies, sarcasm lacing his voice, “I’m absolutely jumping with joy at the sight of my rival.”

He practically seethes the last part with how much emphasis he puts on it. Yes, Chuuya is his, basically always has been. But outwardly their kingdoms are rivals in terms of about everything. On the surface that is seen by most, Chuuya and Dazai are constantly butting heads. It doesn’t matter what gentle whispers are exchanged behind closed doors–once they’re open, it’s all an act of deep-rooted dislike.

“Ah,” Ranpo says, putting a hand on his hip. He never loses the grin, though, the bastard. “Yeah, you’ve got that whole thing going on, don’t you? Can’t be overly friendly or it’ll be suspicious. Welp.”

He pats Dazai’s shoulder in sympathy that Dazai can see right through; Ranpo’s only emotion right now is amusement. Dazai turns away from his brother before he can say anything else, stalking off in Chuuya’s direction.

Unfortunately, Ranpo is right about one thing–as crown prince, it’s Dazai’s job to greet new guests upon their arrival. If Dazai can survive greeting this particular one, that is. The crowd parts for him easily, as it always does, and he makes it to the entrance in record time. In just a few strides, he’s standing face to face with simultaneously his most wonderful dream and his worst nightmare.

Chuuya’s strong, bi-coloured gaze examines him and Dazai must be hiding his state worse than he thought because that’s definitely a smirk pulling on the corner of the shorter prince’s lips. Then, to the absolute death of him, Chuuya bows.

Chuuya’s bowing, looking up at Dazai with those striking eyes of his, eyelashes fluttering and not an ounce of discomfort even when the corset hugs tight, a show of elegance with practised ease; practically handing himself over on a platter and–

“You’re all very welcome,” Dazai says with a civil nod of his head, focusing entirely on keeping the shake out of his voice and the butterflies buried deep in his stomach where they may or may not belong. The company behind Chuuya gives small bows and nods of their own.

“Thank you,” Chuuya replies, straightening back up almost excruciatingly slow and it takes everything in Dazai to keep up eye-contact with him. “It’s such an honour to be invited, despite the short notice.”

You know that wasn’t me, Dazai thinks, his eyes narrowing slightly. Chuuya is certainly in on the crap his older siblings are pulling. Chuuya’s following amused expression practically confirms it.

“It was hardly a problem, truly,” Dazai says, smiling, “it’s just as much of an honour to be graced with your presence.” He gives a small, slow bow of his own and watches Chuuya’s amusement flicker. Bingo.

Chuuya swallows, hard, his choker bobbing along with his throat and Dazai inhales a sharp breath.

“Well!” He announces, startling a few behind Chuuya. Chuuya himself, though, only turns his head in mild curiosity. “I must attend to a few other things. You are free to mingle as you like, alcohol is on me, this time.” This brings out a few chuckles from the surrounding crowd before Dazai quickly makes himself scarce, his throat closing up more with every step away from Chuuya he takes.

When he’s finally a sufficient distance away, he stops, leaning on a table for balance. What is Chuuya thinking, coming here like this? He grabs a chute of champagne from one of the butlers, giving his best and most polite smile in thanks. Taking a large sip, he closes his eyes and collects himself.

There is no way he will last the entire night like this. Not with Chuuya here. Not with Chuuya dressed like that, everyone’s eyes on him throughout the whole ball. His grip on the glass tightens as he removes it from his lips and swallows.

Fine, he thinks. Chuuya wants to play? Let’s play.

Chuuya wasn’t originally set to come to this ball. In fact, he had politely denied the initial invitation–deciding to focus on his own kingdom instead. He had a lot of work to do, and him showing up to Dazai’s ball would certainly distract not only him but Dazai, as well. It wasn’t like Chuuya would miss much; after all, they’d usually avoid each other during events. It was the aftermath that they had always looked forward to.

However, when he received a text message from Yosano, pleading for him to come to the gathering, solely to mess with his boyfriend, who was he to say no? So, he had obliged; put on his best clothes, his brand new corset–Dazai had always liked his waist–and completed the look with a loose braid over his shoulder.

Yosano herself had whistled appreciatively when he first arrived at the kingdom, just a few hours ago. He had given her a small chuckle in return. They exchanged a few words and a hug before she scurried off, telling Chuuya that he’s welcome to make his entrance whenever he liked.

So here he is, smiling softly at other attendees even as he keeps Dazai within his peripheral vision. Predictably, the corset had done wonders. To anyone else, Dazai may seem perfectly composed–but Chuuya knows better. The slight tint to the brunette’s cheeks, a stronger grip than usual, periodic lip biting; Dazai’s flustered, likely attempting to piece his scrambling, genius thoughts together.

Although, despite Chuuya faring better than Dazai, his thoughts aren’t the most quiet, either. Dazai almost always looks good–a literal prince charming in his own right–but something must be in the chilly air because the best word Chuuya can use to describe his partner tonight is ethereal.

He can see hints of Yosano’s fashion influence in Dazai’s white, lacy shirt fitted over a dark undershirt, high-waisted black trousers that show off Dazai’s long legs in a way that’s crushingly unfair, the pearly buttons hidden under the fixed black tie–all complimented by a black jacket draped over Dazai’s shoulders complete with fur-lined pads.

That’s not even mentioning the subtle hints of glittery makeup dusted over his cheeks or the gentle hints of silver jewellery–things you can only see from up close.

To put it simply, he’s gorgeous.

Chuuya gets brought out of his thoughts by a fair lady appearing in his line of sight. She takes a shaky bow right before him, clearly quite shy. Chuuya gives her an affable smile with a nod and she straightens back up, giving him a nervous smile in return.

“Can I help you, Miss?” He asks, extending a hand out. She seems surprised for a moment at the movement, but slowly places her hand in his own. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the soft material of her glove before tenderly letting the hand go.

She seems to flush almost instantly and Chuuya can’t help the rush of pride he gets from it. Too easy. A few moments pass, and she seems to realise that she should be the one speaking. Chuuya smiles encouragingly.

“I was wondering–well–” she stutters out before shaking her head and starting over, “you seem to be lacking a partner at the present moment, and I was wondering if… you’d grant me this dance?”

She extends a hesitant hand forward once more. Chuuya blinks at it a few times. Usually, he’d politely laugh and turn the offering candidate down, offering them a drink instead before leaving swiftly. He’s not one to particularly mingle. But the hairs on his neck stand up and he can feel that Dazai is watching them, wherever he’s lurking now. So, taking the girl’s gentle hand in his once again, he smiles in agreement.

“So I shall,” he says and watches as her face practically lights up. Enjoy this, you bastard, he thinks, as he leads the lady away from the tables and towards the middle of the ballroom, a taste of your own teasing medicine, for once.

Dancing comes to him naturally, of course–and although the same can’t be said for his current dancing partner, Chuuya appreciates the effort. Chuuya continues to smile reassuringly as they twist and turn, taking step after step. It’s second nature, at this point.

That may be why he focuses less on the dancing itself, his body doing it automatically for him–while his mind is somewhere else.

And if somewhere else just so happens to be a certain chestnut-haired prince, well… sue him.

He can’t actually see Dazai anymore, the man having left his vision after the lady entered it–but he knows. He can feel the heavy weight of Dazai’s attention on him, as terrible of a sense it is to have. It doesn’t stop his gaze wandering around the large ballroom, though, in search for his tall partner.

His eyes never find him–but his body does.

With a small ‘oomph’ and a quiet curse, his back hits something solid, interrupting his steps. He’s about to turn around and apologise; but an annoyingly familiar voice beats him to it.

“Ah,” Dazai says, from behind him. “I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The lady Chuuya had been dancing with blushes and Chuuya immediately knows that Dazai is flashing his charming smile behind his back. With a deep breath, he turns around and–yep, there it is. Dazai beams at him even as Chuuya levels him with an unimpressed look.

You’re not fooling anyone, he thinks, a bit smug. I can see the stupid jealousy in your eyes.

He and Dazai only stare each other down for a long moment but Chuuya can pinpoint the moment his partner’s resolve breaks. Dazai exhales–only slightly shakily, to his credit–and the next moment Chuuya’s waist has a familiar hand on it. He yelps as Dazai pushes their bodies together.

“Hey–!” He exclaims, frantically looking around him in case someone sees because they’re still in public, damn it, but the reprimand is lost on his lips because–

Oh. Oh.

His lips turn upwards into a sly and victorious smirk as he finds those chocolate-brown eyes once again. He licks his lips and watches as Dazai’s eyes narrow.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” Chuuya drawls, pushing against the newfound pressure near his abdomen and his smirk grows. “Aren’t you?”

Dazai’s grip on his waist only tightens. Chuuya clicks his tongue in reprimand but he can’t remove the fond undertone it holds, not to mention his persisting grin. There’s a dark undertone to Dazai’s gaze that Chuuya is sure can be seen from across the ballroom.

“Bold,” Chuuya teases, tapping Dazai’s nose. It’s a bit cruel, he knows, but he can’t help it. Both of them are aware that they’re constantly being watched one way or another; that appearances need to be held up.

That doesn’t mean Chuuya won’t take any chance to mess with his partner he can find.

He moves his hand down, caressing Dazai’s cheek and holding his jaw just firm enough to keep the taller man looking at him. Not that Dazai would–could–look away.

He looks deep into Dazai’s eyes, and the look he gets back lets him know he’s perfectly understood.

Either you do something, or we don’t.

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared behind Chuuya and he blinks, forgetting about the lady for a moment. Dazai’s hands quickly leave his waist as Chuuya spins around.

“My apologies,” Chuuya says, flashing a charming smile. He can hear Dazai walk away, probably disappearing into the crowd. Cheeky bastard.

“It’s... alright,” the lady replies with a meek nod. Chuuya nods in return.

“I must get going, though, I’m sure you understand, m’fair lady?” He says, giving her the most innocent expression he can muster.

It seems to work, because after a moment of staring she flusters and nods again, this time much more rapid. “Of course,” she says, “I’ll excuse myself, then.”

The moment she leaves, Chuuya spins on his heel with a sigh.

He needs a drink.

Turns out getting a drink was the one thing he should’ve probably predicted wouldn’t have gone well.

Well, getting the drink wasn’t a problem. In fact, he made it to the beverage table quite smoothly, pouring himself a drink without a hassle.

It was what came after that didn’t go well.

After all, he would be foolish to think that Dazai would back off after the quiet scene he caused earlier. No, he was ready for the bastard to once again rear his head from within the crowds. Still, he didn’t quite manage to suppress his startle when he heard Dazai’s voice in his ear, low and taunting.

“Don’t get drunk now, Chuuya, it’s too early.”

Chuuya’s head snaps to the side and he frowns, holding his hands as still as possible to prevent the drink from spilling.

“Bastard,” he whispers, followed by a scoff. He swats at Dazai’s cheek to get him to lean away, then he turns to face him. “Who are you to tell me what I should be doing?”

Dazai hums, and Chuuya notices that he, too, has a drink in his hand. It’s barely half full, which to anyone else would indicate Dazai has drank most of it—but Chuuya knows better. Dazai hates being drunk at these kinds of balls, he just pours just about half the glass on purpose so he can act drunk if he needs to. Clever, but annoying.

“Well, it’s just advice,” Dazai says with a light shrug, but his smile tells much more, and Chuuya’s always been good at reading in-between the lines. Dazai wants Chuuya sober, and Chuuya can definitely guess for what. So he tilts his head, his lips forming a lopsided smirk.

“Oh?” He says, pointedly glancing at the glass in Dazai’s hand. “And what about you, hm? Not following your own advice?”

It seems like a good move when Dazai’s eyes narrow a little, but Chuuya is quickly overcome with a sense of oh, shit, when Dazai smiles impossibly wider.

“Oh, this?” The taller prince says, waving the glass around a little too erratically, the liquid threatening to spill despite the glass not being full. “It’s just—”

Then he leans a bit too far forward and before Chuuya can move he has half a glass full of alcohol covering the front of his shirt. He can feel his face warming up as he stares at Dazai with a scowl; the brunette in question has his eyes wide and his expression is apologetic, but Chuuya can see the stupid amusement behind those pupils.

“God, I fucking hate you,” Chuuya mutters, placing his own drink somewhere on the table behind him. He can feel people staring, and just about manages to mentally curse Dazai out before the bastard in question is talking obnoxiously loud.

“I am so sorry!” Dazai exclaims, not sounding sorry at-fucking-all. “Here, I’ll—oh, dear—I’m sure I have a spare shirt you could borrow, I can accompany you to get it.” He even bows for extra effect, and if Chuuya wasn’t, well, Chuuya, he might actually believe the fucker feels guilty.

As it stands, though, his name is Chuuya Nakahara, so he grits his teeth instead, fist clenching.

“You motherfucker—”

But Dazai stops his rant there before it can spiral by grabbing his arm and squeezing it, then leans forward to whisper in his ear.

”Play along.”

And he sounds so wrecked, so hoarse, so starved—that who is Chuuya to deny his plans, in this situation? He pointedly ignores the shiver threatening to trickle down his spine. Screw you, Dazai.

“What a gentleman,” he replies, trying his best not to sound strained as he attempts a polite smile. By the continued amused twinkle in his partner’s eyes, he’s probably failing. But now that he gets a closer look at Dazai’s expression, it’s obvious why this stunt was necessary. Dazai is desperate.

Dazai holds out an arm for Chuuya to take. Chuuya does, grip tight and signifying fuck you, those were my good clothes, and Dazai huffs a laugh before starting to pull him away almost too fast.

Chuuya holds back his own laugh as Dazai navigates the crowd expertly, not wasting another single second. They make it about half-way to the nearest exit when the laugh comes bubbling up his throat.

“Hey,” he manages through it, “hey, slow down. Dazai—I won’t disappear if you slow down, you know—!”

“Chuuya,” Dazai cuts him off. He doesn’t even look back, still walking, but Chuuya’s mouth still clamps shut as he listens. “I’ve been holding back the whole night. Don’t. Don’t do this to me.”

And, well, that’s as close to begging that Dazai will get, in public.

“You’re kiddin’, right?” Chuuya taunts anyway, little bouts of laughter spilling from his lips every few moments. “We’ve been practically eye fucking for half of it.”

Dazai shakes his head and keeps his eyes trained forward, leading them in a beeline towards the exit. Chuuya lets him, albeit not without more laughter.

They make it to one of the side doors of the ballroom in record time, Dazai practically slamming it open with how fast he pushes it. Chuuya doesn’t even get to be surprised before it shuts closed behind them, and suddenly there’s a cold surface pushing against his back and Dazai is much closer.

He smiles as Dazai pins him to the wall both with his hands and his eyes, shallow breaths tickling Chuuya’s skin.

“Very happy to see me,” Chuuya says, echoing his words from earlier, and Dazai flashes him a smile before his lips are on Chuuya’s, attempting to consume him. Chuuya giggles into the kiss as Dazai’s desperate grip finds his waist, Chuuya’s own arms easily looping around his neck. He indulges every single kiss Dazai presses to his lips, despite the intensity of them leaving him breathless.

Dazai’s kisses slow down eventually, becoming longer and deeper instead. He steals Chuuya’s air as if it belongs to him, sucks on Chuuya’s lips as if they’re the sweetest thing in the world. It makes Chuuya dizzy, and it’s not from the lack of air.

After some time Chuuya nibbles on Dazai’s lip and pushes him away, both of them breathing heavily in the small space between them. Chuuya’s tingling lips form into a smirk as he takes in the sight of Dazai with blown pupils and rosy cheeks, a pout upon his lips.

“Your lip gloss is different,” Dazai whispers into the quiet, licking his lips.

Chuuya blinks, mirroring the action. “Huh?”

Dazai presses another chaste kiss to Chuuya’s lips while he’s distracted, and smiles a bit right after. “Your lip gloss. It’s not your usual one.”

And Chuuya can’t help it, he laughs, pinching Dazai’s cheek lightly. Of fucking course. “Yeah? How’d you figure that out?”

Dazai hums before pressing his lips to Chuuya’s, swallowing the leftover laughter whole. “Different colour,” he murmurs, breathless, before kissing him again. “Different taste.” Another kiss. “Different texture.” Kiss. “More shine. Less glitter. Sweeter. ” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Chuuya beams into the kisses, cupping Dazai’s face. “Someone’s been looking at my lips, huh?”

“Not just looking,” is Dazai’s instant reply before he’s pulling Chuuya in again, this time for longer, sucking even more air out of Chuuya’s lungs as he takes his fill.

Chuuya’s hands easily find their way back around Dazai’s neck, landing in the soft, brown hair at his nape before finding their way even higher, wrapping around the crown atop Dazai’s head and tilting it sideways.

By the way Dazai grins into the kiss the movement was definitely noticed, and the way Dazai’s body pushes into his own tells him it was certainly appreciated. Chuuya lets a small groan escape his throat as Dazai connects their bodies together fully, desperate in an attempt to leave not a single inch between them. The sound is immediately swallowed by Dazai’s mouth and rewarded with a low sound from Dazai’s own throat.

A soft “Chuuya,” is mumbled against Chuuya’s lips and he lets out a little gasp as he pulls Dazai down, closer, to kiss him deeper. Dazai, in response, pushes him harder against the wall, which hastily reminds Chuuya of where exactly they are.

It takes everything in Chuuya to break the kiss but he manages, especially as he feels his own body start warming up to unimaginable levels. Dazai already looks like a mess, and he can’t say he’s faring much better.

“Wait,” he pants, trying to ignore the way Dazai’s gaze lingers on his lips. “We’re not doing this here.”

Dazai’s eyes meet his and his lips fold into a pout, but Chuuya shakes his head before he can even try and protest. “No, Osamu, absolutely not. I am not letting you fuck me in some random hallway with a party on the other side of that door.”

He points to the door they came through, standing his ground. He has some standards, thank you very much.

Dazai hesitates for a moment but nods, immediately grabbing Chuuya by the hand and taking off towards the royal family wing of the building. Chuuya doesn’t try and make him slow down, this time. The walk to Dazai’s room lasts less than a minute and yet still far too long.

When they finally do get there, Chuuya finds himself immediately pushed backwards onto the giant bed in the centre of the room as Dazai slams the door closed behind them. Chuuya kicks his shoes off as the brunette places his crown aside and shrugs his coat off, letting it fall to the floor.

Chuuya giggles throughout the whole thing, heart racing and skin eager to be in contact with Dazai’s after so long. Because as composed as he was trying to be at the party, now they’re completely in private–and Chuuya has missed his boyfriend. More specifically, his boyfriend’s soft lips.

As if reading his mind, Dazai walks over and instantly clashes their lips together again, not wasting a single breath.

Chuuya melts into the kisses, pressing their bodies together as Dazai positions himself on top of him, both of them lying on the bed now. He can just about feel himself running out of air when Dazai moves a way, an involuntary whine leaving Chuuya’s lips as a result.

Dazai chuckles as Chuuya’s cheeks flush and he swats Dazai’s head. Dazai just hums before he starts peppering Chuuya’s jaw with soft kisses, lips brushing every angle of Chuuya’s chin. Then the kisses go lower, and lower, until Dazai’s lips are on his neck, surrounding Chuuya’s thin lace choker.

Chuuya cranes his head to the side almost instinctively and Dazai makes a soft noise of gratitude as he wastes no time covering Chuuya’s entire neck in kisses.

“Dazai—” Chuuya starts, a bit breathless, as one of his hands starts carding through the brown hair. The word cuts off as he groans when Dazai sucks on his neck.

“Other one,” Dazai mumbles against his skin, licking and kissing the spot that’s definitely going to leave a mark later. Chuuya mutters something along the lines of “needy bastard” but does indulge him.

So, as Dazai’s lips find the edge of his collarbone where Chuuya’s clothes start, Chuuya meets it with a soft “Osamu,” instead.

There’s a quick intake of breath and Dazai is back in front of his face, and Chuuya’s lips are being kissed again. There’s a new hint there, though, a twinge of possessiveness and glee that Chuuya’s heart jumps at.

“Osamu,” he says again, between kisses, only making Dazai kiss him harder. He giggles. “Osam—” he tries, but Dazai steals his air before he can even finish.

Eventually, Chuuya takes a breath when Dazai pulls away, lowering to start fiddling with the strings of Chuuya’s corset. His fingers are twisting around the black strings almost desperately, trying to fumble them open.

Chuuya laughs, bringing his hands forward to cup Dazai’s face to make him look up at Chuuya. Dazai does, eyes clouded over with love and lust. Chuuya coos, caressing his cheeks.

Despite the soft gestures, his voice is teasing. “Slow down, Osamu. We have time.”

This only seems to rile Dazai up more, though, as he lets go of the strings and moves forward to capture Chuuya’s lips again, trapping them in an endless cycle of languid kisses.

“God, you’re beautiful,” are his words when he finally lets Chuuya breathe, staring at him with sparkling eyes. “Let me love you, Chuuya. Please.”

Chuuya stares back at him, eyes wide and heart rate rapidly quickening. Fuck it. It’s not often that he hears Dazai actually say the world please, especially not in such a starved tone. As such, in lieu of an answer, Chuuya just locks their lips again.

Dazai takes it as all the permission he needs, going right back to his previous task. He takes his time now, meticulously turning the threads, but Chuuya can still see the impatient desperation behind the movements.

“I thought you liked the corset,” Chuuya says amusedly, watching Dazai undo knot by knot. Dazai doesn’t look up at him as he undoes another.

“I do,” Dazai replies, movements not ceasing as he works to actively remove it. Once all the strings are undone he opens the corset, Chuuya dutifully lifting his hips so that he can slide it off.

As soon as it’s off, Dazai wastes no time undoing the buttons on the black pants. Chuuya grins at the shamelessness, but makes no move to stop his partner. If anything, he helps out, lifting his hips once again as Dazai strips him of his lower outerwear just like that.

Dazai immediately lifts his shirt a little and lowers to press his lips to Chuuya’s bare waist, just about where the corset had previously been.

“I do like the corset,” Dazai says against his skin, sending a shiver down Chuuya’s spine. He looks up at Chuuya through his eyelashes, lips still gently grazing Chuuya’s waist. “But I like this much better.”

Chuuya giggles and gasps as Dazai presses kisses all over his stomach and abdomen, soft moans leaving his lips when a few are pressed on his bare thighs.

When Dazai finally lifts his head and looks at Chuuya from above, he stays there; staring and breathing as his gaze lazily scans Chuuya’s face and features. And, well, Dazai’s not the only impatient one in this relationship right now.

Chuuya’s arm raises as his hand loops around Dazai’s already loose tie, pulling him down until their lips are just a breath away from touching.

“Yer takin’ too long,” Chuuya whispers eloquently before he connects their lips with a harsh pull on the tie. He’s immediately rewarded as Dazai moans into his mouth and files that away for later.

His tongue continues exploring Dazai’s mouth as his hands stray down, away from the tie, and begin to unbutton Dazai’s dress shirt. He feels Dazai smile into the kiss but there’s no protests, so he easily continues until he slips the shirt off, throwing it aside.

Chuuya whines at the presence of an undershirt and Dazai chuckles into their kiss, using one hand to help Chuuya take that one off too.

Chuuya considers undoing the tie fully and taking it off too, but decides against it. It seems to be useful, after all, so he’ll leave it for now.

His hands find their way back to Dazai’s hair, holding it as their mouths clash. The grip tightens significantly when Dazai presses a leg between both of Chuuya’s, Chuuya’s hips bucking into the movement to chase the friction.

A breathless moan trickles out of his mouth and right into Dazai’s as he unashamedly bucks his hips again, on purpose this time.

Dazai dares to leave his lips, then, both of them panting as they separate.

“Slow enough?” Dazai asks between breaths and Chuuya rolls his eyes. Cheeky bastard. Chuuya reaches to pinch Dazai’s nipple in retaliation, relishing in the small yelp it pulls out of the younger prince. Serves him right.

Dazai then shuffles lower, tracing small circles on Chuuya’s waist just above the hem of his underwear. Chuuya bites his lip as Dazai’s hand slides lower, palming over his growing erection.

He immediately moans at the touch, a sound Dazai grins at as he strokes Chuuya through the soft fabric. Pants and mewls leave Chuuya’s lips as Dazai stretches out the actions, excruciatingly slow. He’s just about to start pleading when Dazai graces him by pulling down the underwear.

Chuuya hisses in relief as his dick hits the cold air, already leaking precum from the tip.

Dazai wastes no time, giving the tip a kitten lick before quite literally taking Chuuya’s entire dick into his mouth in one go.

“Jesus fuck.” Chuuya gasps, gripping onto Dazai’s hair like a lifeline as his hips buck up, pushing his dick even further down Dazai’s throat. He immediately frowns at the other man, worried. “What the fuck, Osamu? Don’t choke yourself, relax!”

Dazai just hums, seemingly unbothered, as he swirls his tongue almost expertly around Chuuya’s length before pressing a soft kiss to the tip. “It’s fine. I’ve done this before, remember?”

And Chuuya hates how impossible it is to be mad at Dazai when he looks up at Chuuya through his eyelashes like that. “Yeah, but not like that! I don’t want you choking on me.”

“I won’t choke,” Dazai reassures before taking the tip in his mouth again, making all of Chuuya’s next protests die on his tongue as all that comes out is a breathy moan. He almost wants to curse Dazai out for being so good at this, head bopping up and down perfectly and stringing noises out of Chuuya that the redhead didn’t think were possible.

Chuuya’s moans continue to fill the room as they mix with the wet sounds of Dazai’s throat—but true to his word, not once does Dazai falter or choke, only sucking on Chuuya’s dick like it’s the most delicious candy in the world. It’s both terribly impressive and unfairly attractive.

Chuuya’s grip on the brown locks tightens with every passing moment, the warm coil in his gut growing as soft pleasure buzzes under his skin.

“You’re so good,” he manages between moans, petting Dazai‘s hair a little. “So fucking good, Osamu, please—“

He’s cut off as a moan rips from his throat, Dazai speeding up his movements. He practically tugs on Dazai’s hair then, feeling a familiar pull near his gut as the pleasure grows and grows.

“Yes, yes,” he pants, hips bucking a bit erratically as he tries chasing the pleasure. Dazai still doesn’t falter and his given name spills from Chuuya’s lips over and over. “‘Samu! Fuck, yes—yes—I’ll–”

And his boyfriend, ever in tune with him, instantly lifts his lips off Chuuya’s dick before replacing the motions with his hand, pumping Chuuya up and down in an even and hasty rhythm.

Electricity shoots up Chuuya’s spine as he comes, spilling all over Dazai’s hand in the process. His back arches from the bed and he gasps, blissful haze taking over him. Dazai continues his movements through Chuuya’s high, slowing them down as Chuuya blinks back into the present.

He immediately grabs Dazai by that stupid tie and pulls him forward into a deep and breathless kiss.

“Fuck, you are too good at that,” he says, Dazai giggling in response.

“Only the best for you, love,” Dazai replies, voice low and hoarse. Chuuya smiles at him, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips before smugly saying, “naturally. How about you fuck me properly now, yeah?”

He emphasises the point by placing his own hand over Dazai’s crotch, pulling a groan out of the taller man.

“Cheeky,” Dazai scolds, but the shake in his voice betrays him as he presses a parting kiss to Chuuya’s lips before moving.

With a few swift and precise movements he manages to wipe down his hand with a tissue and throw said tissue away, unbutton Chuuya’s dress shirt, pull it over his head and throw it aside before Chuuya can even say anything. He presses kisses all the way down Chuuya’s chest and stomach until he’s back near his dick, pressing a few soft kisses to the base and earning a twitch and a few sweet sighs from Chuuya before going even lower.

His lips graze Chuuya’s lower thighs and Chuuya spreads his legs wider in eager response, Dazai giving a little chuckle. If Dazai was looking at him, Chuuya would glare at him. As it stands he just rolls his eyes. Dazai promptly dives in, circling his tongue around Chuuya’s entrance.

Chuuya lets out soft moans and strings of quiet curses as Dazai slowly works him open with just his tongue, because that mouth can’t be bad at anything, can it?

His moans are muffled when Dazai presses his fingers to Chuuya’s lips, but doesn’t stop lapping at his rim. Chuuya almost scoffs at the audacity but does take the two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them.

There’s drool on the corner of his lips once Dazai pulls his fingers away, leaving them coated in Chuuya’s spit. He finally moves his tongue away from Chuuya’s entrance but doesn’t let Chuuya feel empty for long because it’s quickly replaced with Dazai’s wet fingers.

Chuuya keens as he clenches around the digits, his body trying to consume Dazai whole. Dazai’s fingers work gracefully and efficiently as his lips suck marks into Chuuya’s waist, claiming every inch of skin they can find.

It’s not long before there’s a brush against his prostate, sending sparks up his spine as he moans, reaching out to grip whatever part of Dazai he can reach. Dazai smiles and dutifully moves forward to let Chuuya wrap his arms around his neck, trapping Chuuya’s mouth in a kiss and swallows every moan and whine that leaves it, kissing Chuuya deeper every time he twitches from pleasure.

Chuuya feels himself tense as he gets close, desperately grinding down on Dazai’s fingers and pulling at his hair as he chases his release—all of his senses feeling smothered by Dazai, Dazai’s fingers, his scent, his love, his lust—only to whine pathetically when Dazai slips his fingers out, entrance clenching around nothing but cold air. He bites Dazai’s lips and pulls his hair harder, because what the fuck.

“Osamu,” he growls against Dazai’s swollen lips, hoping to convey the desperate displeasure, but Dazai just shushes him; which is when Chuuya notices just where Dazai’s hands had moved to.

He had, at some point during Chuuya’s pleasureful haze, slipped out of his shoes and had unbuttoned his own pants, now pulling them down along with his underwear, freeing his own dick. All of Chuuya’s complaints die in his throat as Dazai pumps himself once, twice, before very gently pressing his tip to Chuuya’s entrance.

Chuuya’s gripping the soft bed sheets, now, due to Dazai being out of range, his nails digging into the silky fabric. Dazai’s tip slides fully in and they moan in unison at the connection, tears building up in the corners of Chuuya’s eyes. Fuck, he’d missed this.

Dazai’s moans compliment his own as he pushes further in, slowly and carefully. When he’s fully sheathed inside, Dazai lets out a long breath, meeting Chuuya’s eyes as he leans forward. There’s some concern etched into his expression, no doubt because of Chuuya’s tears, but Chuuya just smiles and cups his face, smoothing out the worried creases.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, tender and soft, as Dazai kisses away a stray tear that’s rolling down his cheek. Chuuya hugs his shoulders, holding Dazai still and close for a few moments. “I love you, so much.”

He can feel Dazai smile against his cheek, short breaths near his ear as Chuuya speaks. Dazai rises after a moment, warm brown eyes staring into Chuuya’s own, reflecting his love right back.

“I know, Chuuya,” he whispers, starting to move his hips a little, tickling a small gasp out of Chuuya. “But I might just love you more.”

Chuuya moans as Dazai’s hips rock—perfect angle, as always—and lets his head fall back, pleasure flooding his senses. His legs lift to wrap around Dazai’s middle, pulling him closer as he rocks into him, Dazai falling forward leave trails of kisses on Chuuya’s chest.

“So pretty,” Dazai chants between kisses, breathless and supple. He lets out small groans when Chuuya clenches around him from the praise, his hips rocking faster and faster. Chuuya moans, tears sliding down his cheeks as his brain clouds over with nothing but Osamu, nothing but the feeling of coming home—of being in Dazai’s arms—of having Dazai inside him again.

He only realises that he’d been repeating Dazai’s name over and over again when Dazai keens from above him, wrapping his arms tightly around Chuuya’s middle as he pistons into him almost desperately, flooding both of them with hot pleasure.

Chuuya curses as the warm feeling in his stomach coils and coils, tightening with every pinpoint hit to his prostate and every moan Dazai breathes against his chest. “Fuck,” he pants, legs clamping around Dazai as his heels dig into his back. “Fuck, Osamu, faster—please, please—!”

Dazai, bless him, doesn’t even hesitate before obliging, thrusts turning more erratic as he pounds into Chuuya so fast that he sees stars. It sends him right over the edge, back raising off the bed as his orgasm washes over him, swollen and numb lips leaking with a mixture of moans, curses and Osamu.

Dazai doesn’t slow down though, arms tightening around Chuuya’s chest as he chases his own release, Chuuya twitching and heaving from the beginnings of overstimulation.

With a few more deep thrusts a moan claws itself out of Dazai’s throat and he goes to pull out, only to be pinned in place by Chuuya’s legs. His wrecked and slightly panicked gaze meets Chuuya’s, who just shakes his head, tears still pooling in his eyes. Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something so badly in his life.

“Inside,” Chuuya croaks, fisting the bed sheets, “please. I need it, Osamu, please.”

Dazai takes a few laboured breaths as he nods, pushing back into Chuuya as the latter hisses. With a hoarse cry of Chuuya’s name Dazai buries himself as deep as possible before Chuuya feels a comfortable warmth spill inside him. Dazai almost immediately deflates and falls flat on Chuuya’s chest, Chuuya chuckling as he places a gentle hand in his hair.

“You did so good,” he says softly, one hand running through the brown locks as his other wipes his own leftover tears away. Dazai hums in response and kisses Chuuya’s chest, sweat lining his forehead. Chuuya watches his boyfriend fondly as his mind comes down from his high, breaths evening out. “Fuck, I love you.”

Dazai looks up at him, eyes sparkling and Chuuya swears he feels the younger man’s dick twitch inside him. He snorts, tugging on Dazai’s hair a little. “Someone likes that, huh?”

“Chuuya’s one to talk,” Dazai mumbles, moving to face Chuuya directly and making them both hiss as a result. He chuckles against Chuuya’s lips before kissing them a few times. “Chuuya did so well, too,” he whispers into the shared air, making Chuuya shiver. “So perfect, so pretty...”

“Okay,” Chuuya whispers breathlessly, playfully pushing Dazai’s smug face away. “I get it. Stop before we get roped into another round.”

Dazai pouts almost childishly. “Does Chuuya not want another round?”

Chuuya smiles at him, cupping Dazai’s face with his hands as he presses a kiss to his nose. “I do, darling, but we have a ball to get back to before someone comes looking for us.”

A small whine comes from Dazai’s throat, followed by an annoyed groan.

Chuuya coos at the sounds, kissing Dazai’s forehead, now. “Hey,” he says, waiting for Dazai to look at him before he continues, “don’t worry. I’m staying in the kingdom for the week, we’ll have plenty of opportunities.”

Dazai’s eyes immediately light up, a grin splitting his face. He catches Chuuya’s lips in an eager kiss, Chuuya grinning right back into it. Then Dazai’s grin drops a bit as he comes to a realisation, Chuuya’s upcoming laughter sweet in his throat.

“You planned this,” Dazai says, sitting up a bit and staring at Chuuya with wide eyes. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you if I thought you’d only be here for tonight.”

“Would you be able to resist me, either way?” Chuuya questions between quiet laughter, eyebrow raised and hand caressing Dazai’s cheek.

“Fuck you,” Dazai says, no heat behind his voice as he sighs, Chuuya’s laughter only growing. “Only you, Chuuya, only you.”

“Only me,” Chuuya agrees softly, pulling Dazai back down by the tie, making Dazai hiss a bit; but the brunette makes no protesting movement, simply falling limp in Chuuya’s hold.

“No second round, but can we stay like this for longer?” Dazai suggests lazily, hope lacing his voice. “We have some time to spare.”

Chuuya hums, playing with Dazai’s hair. “Sure. I don’t feel like moving yet, either.” There’s a short pause, then he adds; “but you’re cleaning us up, ‘Samu. Least you can do for dragging me all the way here.” Not that Chuuya disliked it.

Dazai lets out a content sigh, eyes slipping shut as he relaxes, clearly happy with this compromise and the position. Chuuya can only smile at him, slow and equally as content breaths leaving him as he savours the feeling of being full and the gentle scent of home.

Later, Dazai will walk back into the ballroom, glistening, sparkling and as perfect as ever, blending back into the scene of the party as if he’d never left it. Later, Chuuya will re-enter through a difference entrance, wearing a different shirt and his hair up in a different hairstyle, but otherwise just as ethereal as when he left. They won’t talk to each other for the rest of the ball, hours flying by as the music comes to a stop and goodbyes are exchanged between respective royals.

Even later, they will find themselves in a tangled mess of limbs as their souls attempt to intertwine in the comfort of Dazai’s bed. Later, their breaths will even out as they slip into sleep in each other’s arms, no one to interrupt them for the rest of the night. Later, Chuuya will wake up to everything cleaned up and wiped down, his own self changed into gentle pyjamas and water and food on the large bedside table. Later, Dazai will call for no one to bother him for the rest of the week unless it’s an emergency.

But that will be later. For now, they’re content to relax in each other’s presence for the short time they currently have.

Home is secured, after all.