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Dazai Osamu is flirting with the threshold between tipsy and drunk as he maneuvers around a pack of giggling women, an objectively horrendous sugary cocktail of juice and beer sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the plastic cup glued to his hand. He made it for Atsushi—an academics driven freshman he saved from the wrath of Akutagawa at the beginning of the year and therefore adopted—as a joke that was ultimately pushed back at him after one uninformed sip and a (very real) threat to vomit before presumably running off to the bathroom. Never one to waste perfectly good alcohol, Dazai has been sipping on it for the last hour alongside the three normal cans of beer he’s finished while waiting for something or someone interesting to fill his time.
College house parties are rarely thrown in Yokohama, given the lack of accommodations for such things, so imagine the pleasant surprise Dazai felt when he got a word-of-mouth invitation to one. Some rich American transfer student with more money than Dazai can visually conceptualize had taken that personally for some reason and decided to host an all-out costume party in their obnoxiously fancy home to “rectify” the situation. The only downside for Dazai is that absolutely nothing worth keeping his attention longer than five seconds has happened since he arrived with his group of friends.
Said friends who have long since ditched him to catch up with other people they recognized, inevitably getting sucked into idle conversation, even though they all came in matching costumes. Atsushi pitched the idea to come as a swarm of angels because it meant cheaper execution than anything else, and no one had any qualms about that, considering broke and college student tend to be synonymous. Getting separated kind of defeats the swarm aspect of it all, but caring about that would take up energy Dazai doesn’t have to spare when he can be turning three beers into thirteen the way the budding alcoholism within him demands. Ah, yes, the first step to getting alcohol poisoning and having an actual good time is looming promisingly in the distance.
The elastic bands keeping the cheap wings strapped to Dazai’s back dig into his armpits uncomfortably as he ventures toward the kitchen with little light to guide his way—it’s like he’s been trapped inside a trashy western movie. He discreetly adjusts the elastic bands thoroughly annoying him while moving through the crowd, stopping abruptly when he catches sight of a familiar man across the room. One Nakahara Chuuya, a man Dazai has known since they were both fifteen and who he’s recently fallen into a friends with benefits sort of relationship with over the last month or so, is engrossed in conversation with some guy sporting silver hair that Dazai doesn’t recognize. Long black horns decorate a liberally freckled forehead, forcing shiny auburn hair into perfectly sectioned bangs, and a matching black arrowhead tail, likely made out of wire given the playful curl, is attached to the back of unassumingly expensive jeans.
Dazai changes course, barely making it into Chuuya’s line of sight when mismatched eyes—one blue and one brown—flick over to him with all the intensity of an apex predator, studying every bare patch of skin offered to him. To complement the demon currently staring him down with hellfire in his gaze, Dazai is, as stated before, dressed as an angel, wrinkled white clothing hanging loosely off his frame, complete with an open button-up showing off his bandaged chest and the start of his hip bones. It wasn’t planned by either of them; Dazai didn’t even know Chuuya was going to be here, but the coincidence warms his gut with anticipation. Especially when the other man ditches the poor bleach job to meet Dazai in the middle of the room among everyone mingling.
“Oh, Chuuuuu-ya!” Dazai greets, fingers laced behind his back as he leans down until he and the shorter man are at a shared eye level.
“The hell are you supposed to be?” Chuuya snaps, tone annoyed, but the placement of his gaze on delicate collarbones between lines of gauze suggests otherwise.
“Chibi can’t tell?” Dazai pouts before straightening his posture so he can look down at Chuuya over the slope of his nose in a way he knows drives the other man insane. “I’m an angel.”
“Yer missing a halo, dumbass,” Chuuya (un)helpfully informs him, and Dazai looks up without moving his head, eyebrows raising like he didn’t know that simple fact already.
“Well, maybe I’m a fallen angel then.” Dazai grins, taking in how broad the other man’s shoulders look covered by his red leather jacket, intricate stitching throughout the material. “By the end of the night, I might even be a demon like you.”
The subtle inhale of breath, and further dilation of enlarged pupils, is like a reward to Dazai as hands confined beneath high-quality leather gloves settle against the curve of his waist and squeeze the slight padding of flesh there. It may not be much, but there’s more than when this thing between him and Chuuya started after a few too many drinks in the other’s apartment, and Dazai never fails to be fascinated by how a few measly extra pounds can drive the man in front of him so feral. He leans down again, awarding Chuuya with a kiss as he wraps his arms around the redhead’s neck to pull him closer until no part of them isn’t touching. His own neck is bound to ache in time, but kissing Chuuya is worth a bit of pain when he tastes like revelry and revolution with an undercurrent of discount beer.
People brush against them, sweaty, intoxicated, bumbling nobodies, but Dazai can’t bring himself to care when Chuuya licks into his mouth, and his fingers dip under the band of his boxers the same way they do whenever they’re alone. Smooth, cool leather soothes his heated skin, one hand gripping his ass and the other growing bold enough to continue its descent lower as it comes around to Dazai’s front. Chuuya’s palm rests flat against Dazai’s pubic mound as two of his fingertips begin circling the taller man’s clit slowly, a pace he knows drives Dazai to the edge of begging.
Dazai groans, hips grinding down, uncaring if the movement is obvious to the strangers surrounding them, and he savors the sting of Chuuya sinking sharp teeth into his bottom lip. His groan pitches up into a whine, hardened clit twitching underneath skilled fingers, and Dazai can feel the annoyingly smug smile against his mouth—handjobs and oral sex their only familiar territory.
“Do you like that, angel?” Chuuya whispers, the tacked on pet name mocking as he releases Dazai’s lip and speeds up the circling of his fingers.
“I’d like you a little further down and higher up if you know what I mean,” Dazai replies breathily, tone already turning bratty when this encounter has barely begun.
“Oh?” Chuuya pushes his fingers lower, merely gathering slick along them before moving them back up to rub Dazai’s clit even slower.
“If you tease me too much, I won’t let you cum inside,” Dazai leverages, knowing full well how to catch the gnat-like attention span of a drunk man—if he had a functioning flesh and blood cock, Dazai thinks he would be much the same, perking up at the implication.
Chuuya freezes when the words hit open air, fingers stalling and breath stuttering as Dazai chuckles darkly before stepping back far enough that Chuuya’s hand is forced out of his pants. Glancing down reveals the growing tent restricted inside the confines of tight jeans, and Dazai is satisfied with how openly consistent Chuuya’s body is about wanting him. Dazai starts walking backward out of the room, overtly aware of where the exit is, Chuuya following him like a dog on a taut leash. The image of his cum slowly dripping out of what’ll soon be the abused, slick cunt between Dazai’s legs is probably the only thought ringing through his mind.
They weave through the other rooms of the house easily until they make it outside, where everyone’s cars are boxing everyone else’s cars in like a real life game of Tetris. It takes a couple of seconds for Dazai to fish the car keys he stole from Kunikida, his easily pickpocketable roommate, out of his sweats and unlock the blissfully unaware man’s Subaru smack dab in the middle of the driveway.
“I’m gonna pretend you weren’t planning to drive yourself home drunk,” Chuuya grumbles as he roughly pushes Dazai against the back passenger door before attaching his lips to the side of his neck.
“My little chibi knows me so well,” Dazai hums, pleased, and angles his head to allow Chuuya more access as his assault becomes rather aggressive at the pointed nickname.
When his neck is sufficiently sore with pulsing bruises, Dazai separates from Chuuya just enough to open the door behind them and fall onto the leather backseat before beckoning the other man inside the vehicle. It doesn’t take anything further convincing than a single crook of his index finger for Chuuya to obey Dazai, hovering over the taller man and impatiently slamming the door behind him. It’s quite funny actually, a demon following an angel to sin when it should be the other way around.
With the outside world successfully shut out, Chuuya surges forward, forearms settled on either side of Dazai’s head, and kisses him with a growing hunger that has effectively been building over months of teasing and backhanded flirting. The only form of romance Dazai has deemed desirable, and not many people can do the art form justice.
Dazai gently slips his fingers under the hem of the tight black tank top covering the torso above him and drags the tips of his nails up sculpted muscle, which causes Chuuya to fully body twitch as if his spine momentarily detached from his body. That earns Dazai a deeper kiss that has him moaning into Chuuya’s mouth, and he scratches harder in response until light-hearted kisses turn into feral mauling with claws and teeth itching for blood. It feels so fucking good, skin burning, mind buzzing, tongue melting.
When Chuuya comes up for air, a few of his baby hairs stick to his forehead where sweat is starting to shine, and the remaining blue of his left eye, unobstructed by a blown pupil, seems to glow in the darkness. He doesn’t look nearly as debauched as Dazai feels, and that needs to change immediately, or else this game they’re playing isn’t fair. Chuuya winning their hookup tonight would mean the world is surely coming to an end. No thought process precedes the decision to wedge one of his fingers underneath the elastic band keeping Chuuya’s hair in a ponytail before pulling it loose, messy auburn waves framing a flushed, freckled face and softening sharp features.
Oh god, Dazai didn’t think Chuuya could become any prettier; this is blasphemy.
Chuuya leans down to kiss Dazai again, slower this time, before he pulls away slightly, their lips brushing as he whispers, “Can I suck you off?”
The eye contact between them makes the edges of the world blurry, unimportant.
“Yeah,” Dazai whispers in return, distracted by how soft the other’s hair is between his fingers before they travel along the side of his jaw, departing at his chin.
Chuuya keeps eye contact as he ever so slowly moves down the length of Dazai’s body until his face is level with his groin, no words passing between them as he pulls off his partner’s pants. They bunch around his ankles, but the awkward position of his legs doesn’t deter Chuuya as he leans forward to mouth at Dazai’s cunt through the thin material of his briefs. His mouth is so wet and so warm, and oh god, no one has ever sucked Dazai off with as much intention as Chuuya does.
Dazai feels weak, legs shaking when Chuuya pulls him closer with a harsh grip on his thighs, and Dazai tips his head back to escape the stare eating him alive as a throaty moan spills from his mouth. He tugs on Chuuya’s hair for some sort of stability as he starts getting worked up from the feeling, wrists knocking against the horns. In what could be seconds, or minutes, or years, Chuuya leans up to pull Dazai’s boxers down to his ankles as well. His hands feel like molten fire as they run along newly bare skin, and his eyes feel like melting ice as they sink lower, lower, lower.
“God, your body,” Chuuya mutters reverently into the void that only exists during these moments, ready to swallow any incriminating sentiments of gentle, careful intimacy not fit for a pairing like them.
Dazai feels the heat in his stomach spreading through him like syrupy honey as Chuuya relaxes between his legs again, one hand splayed on the taller man’s lower stomach and the other holding his thigh to the side. Chuuya closes his eyes as he licks a long stripe from Dazai’s entrance up to his clit before swirling his tongue around it in circles. The constant stimulation has him full-body twitching already, and if Chuuya keeps doing what he’s doing, Dazai might be able to secure an orgasm early in the night.
All Dazai has to do is focus, focus, focus, and when his body goes taut, balanced perfectly on the precipice of salvation, Chuuya squeezes the meatier part of thigh under his hand. He continues to use his tongue without speeding up or slowing down, and within less than a minute, Dazai’s back curves into an arch as the building pressure between his legs releases in the form of a full body trembling orgasm. Then, Chuuya licking his clit starts to become too much, and he twitches away with a whine as the demon’s mouth detaches with a soft chuckle.
“Feeling good?” Chuuya hums, voice all deep and velvety.
Dazai blinks down at his partner, chest heaving as his legs twitch with faint aftershocks thrumming under his skin.
“Of course I am, Chuuya just made me cum,” Dazai grumbles, lips turning down in a pout as Chuuya grins.
“There’s the bastard I know,” Chuuya remarks, grin turning smug as he discreetly moves the hand resting on his thigh higher before slipping two fingers inside the other man.
The first time this happened, Dazai was surprised to learn Chuuya possessed thicker fingers than him that easily stretched his cunt to a level unachievable without assistance from toys while masturbating. He also learned he quite enjoyed the feeling of Chuuya spreading him wide with his hand, frying up his thoughts with pleasure while the other pet his tongue and made him drool.
“Oh, wait, fuck, Chuuya!” Dazai gasps when Chuuya starts grinding his fingers against the spongy spot inside him.
Dazai grabs Chuuya by his hair and pulls him higher so he can seal their mouths together again in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Chuuya moans into the kiss when Dazai clenches around his fingers, and Dazai feels drunk off the sound. If he could replay that sound and keep it his ringtone, he’d never answer the phone again; he would put the microphone right over his clit and let it vibrate. His brain is swimming with thoughts of Chuuya and his mouth, and his fingers, and his cock. God, he wants it inside him so bad. Maybe not in the backseat of his roommate’s car though, but in a bed with the lights on without these stupid wings digging into his back. Dazai has never felt this needy before with any of his past hookups.
A third finger slips in beside the first two, and Dazai feels so full as Chuuya pumps his fingers. In and out, in and out. They massage his insides better than any vibrator Dazai has in his collection, and he whimpers against Chuuya’s mouth.
Dazai bites Chuuya’s bottom lip before licking shallowly behind his front teeth, tasting all the jagged edges and wanting more.
“Yeah, just like that, there you go,” Chuuya coaxes gently, groaning as he presses against Dazai’s lower stomach with his free hand. “Are you gonna cum again for me, Dazai?”
“No, no,” Dazai whines as the pressure builds faster than before.
“No?” Chuuya coos, and Dazai pulls the hair knotted between his fingers hard before biting at his partner’s jaw this time. “Fuckkkk.”
Chuuya twists his fingers just right, and Dazai swivels his hips to ride them on each upward stroke. The pressure increases further, and Dazai tenses again as he cums, voice spilling out of him pathetic and wanton. The demon above him fucks Dazai through his orgasm before removing his fingers, and Dazai would chase them if he weren’t so sated. Chuuya licks into Dazai’s mouth and pets his tummy soothingly. The action almost makes Dazai want to purr as he runs his hands along Chuuya’s clothed biceps, marveling at the shape of them.
“How’re you feeling?” Chuuya asks as he presses a lingering kiss to Dazai’s collarbone that he chooses to ignore for now.
“Really fucking good,” Dazai sighs as his body sinks into the stiff leather seats.
Chuuya hums, leaning down for another kiss as he keeps gently rubbing Dazai’s stomach, maintaining consistent pressure as he moves his hand in circular motions.
“Are you feeling good?” Dazai tacts on, uncharacteristically self-conscious that he hasn’t done anything for Chuuya’s pleasure yet.
Chuuya chuckles, his other hand gliding up and down Dazai’s side. He moves to hover higher over the other man with a lopsided grin and mussed hair courteously of Dazai.
“I’m feeling so good.” Chuuya moves his hips forward until their crotches grind together, and Dazai can feel just how hard the other man still is in his jeans. “Watching other people feel good makes me feel good.”
One moment, followed by another then—
“I wanna have sex.”
“We are having sex.”
“Is Chuuya so single-minded that he already forgot I told him he could cum inside?” Dazai smirks, one corner of his lips turning up farther than the other as his head lolls to the side.
Chuuya makes a noise in the back of his throat, a cross between a whimper and a moan, fully aware that this is Dazai taking whatever they have going on to the next level.
“Here?”
“No, take me back to your apartment.”
“What about your car?”
“Oh, this isn’t my car, it’s Kunikida’s.”
“That man is going to murder you before I ever get the chance.”
Dazai cackles, tossing the keys in the passenger seat before he and Chuuya trek to the train station to catch one back to campus, where Chuuya rents an apartment with Sigma, who Dazai knows for a fact is still at the house party. Most of the ride is spent stealing kisses and making rude assumptions about the other passengers, but none of it dulls the anticipation coiling around his ribs like a serpent waiting to strike. Making it to the actual apartment takes a lot longer than it would under different circumstances where Dazai isn’t trying to shove his hand down Chuuya’s pants at any given opportunity, but eventually they do wind up in Chuuya’s bedroom.
They’re making out in the redhead’s bed, nothing between them as Dazai grinds the lips of his cunt along the underside of Chuuya’s cock. Obscene, slick sounds resonate between them with every subtle movement, and there’s this pulsing vein that feels like an ecstasy trip every time Dazai’s clit brushes against it. Saliva is pooling on his tongue, and Dazai wants the weight of Chuuya’s cock, hot and heavy, in his mouth so badly that he can hardly form a coherent thought.
“Can I suck you off now?” Dazai blurts as Chuuya bucks his hips to meet his downward movements.
“Next time,” Chuuya promises, and Dazai feels himself slick further as he wonders if Chuuya will let him clean off his cock with his mouth when they’re both spent. “Can I fuck you now, Dazai?”
The mere mention of moving forward with the plan Dazai set in motion the moment he saw Chuuya on the outskirts of the party has his insides pulsing with the desire to be used until failure. He rolls onto his back with a stuttered gasp, and Chuuya follows easily, hovering above his partner before leaning down to taste the fascination swirled into soft, parted lips. Greed is an emotion that both of them are intimately familiar with, and it has pushed them to meet over and over and over again, so it could lead to this very moment.
“Can I please fuck you?” Chuuya repeats the query on a stray breath as he pulls away, eyes screwed shut with his eyebrows pinched together.
The question of consent has Dazai dripping, and he can feel it gathering below his ass in a puddle on the sheets. In a fit of prolonged desperation, he pulls Chuuya in closer with a possessive grip on his hips before guiding him inside, skin on skin, raw. They groan in unison when Chuuya bottoms out, their hips flush, and a foreign heat floods the depths of Dazai’s cunt that aids in untethering him from full consciousness.
“What the fuck, you’re so deep,” Dazai whines, almost in disbelief, as his head drops into the pillows and his fingers thread through his own hair, tugging.
“Never fucked someone with a big dick before?” Chuuya chuckles, grinding his hips subtly and stirring up the pressure in Dazai’s belly.
“Oh shut up, slug, your dick is average, it just feels different.” Dazai takes a deep breath, focusing on the expansion of his chest rather than the warmth starting at his sex and spreading throughout the rest of his body like sticky-sweet molasses.
“Dazai—” Chuuya leans in close, his breath tickling Dazai’s ear, and a smirk carved into his lips— “Have you never been turned on during sex?”
“Huh?” A shuddering whimper forces itself into the minimal space between them, and Dazai dampens the need within him to claw vicious lines down the expanse of his partner’s back as his fingers move to grip the pillow case.
“You know,” Chuuya begins as he leans back onto his knees, one hand gliding over the twitching muscles of Dazai’s stomach. “Your womb descends when you’re turned on, and it’s supposed to make you feel even fuller.”
And if Dazai feels all the air leave his lungs at the visual of Nakahara Chuuya fully seated inside him, auburn hair tangled and grinning all smug with sweat on his brow, that’s between him and Eros. Rough hands slide along Dazai’s thighs, and the promising touch sends twinges of pleasure to where they’re connected.
“Just shut up and fuck me before I find someone else to do it,” Dazai threatens as his eyes wander the dips and curves of Chuuya’s muscles.
“Careful, I’d think you meant that if I couldn’t feel you twitching around me,” Chuuya whispers, another subtle roll of his hips, and Dazai wants to choke him out with both hands.
Then Chuuya pulls out until just the tip rests at Dazai’s entrance before pushing back inside, deep and slow. He keeps thrusting like that, and Dazai feels dizzy as each stroke floods his brain with oxytocin.
Teeth sink into flesh, and nails leave indents along pale skin—marks that, if they're not careful, will live on until tomorrow.
Chuuya speeds up the pistoning of his hips as he grabs ahold of Dazai’s waist and moans into his neck. He’s been vocal since the start of this, and each little noise that leaves his lips has Dazai feeling animalistic. The need to draw out more praise about how good it feels to fuck him grows with each passing second, and Dazai wraps his legs around Chuuya’s middle, ankles locked.
“Chuuya, oh, Chuuya,” Dazai gasps, choking on the sounds when Chuuya somehow begins to move even faster. “Please, please. You feel so good.”
The other man groans long and low, using his full body weight to keep hitting that perfect spot inside Dazai’s cunt. He feels so fucking good, and Dazai feels like his walls are melting to accommodate Chuuya stretching him so wide.
Dazai’s fingers finally find purchase in Chuuya’s hair, and he tugs on the strands to hear the way Chuuya whines. Fucking whines. It’s so incredibly hot how vulnerable and transparent he is with the way he’s feeling.
“You can pull harder. I like it,” Chuuya assures, and Dazai moves one hand down to circle his clit.
The eye contact is starting to feel more natural between them, and Dazai finds himself craving it. He pulls a bit harder on Chuuya’s hair, testing the waters, so to say, but Chuuya just grins as his eyelids flutter.
He looks so euphoric, and Dazai finds himself riding back on Chuuya’s cock as everything all at once brings him closer to the edge again.
“Oh god, you’re so fucking tight, just like that, I’m gonna cum,” Chuuya babbles, and Dazai whines in response.
He’s about to cum again, too, so he keeps rubbing his clit with two fingers, and he pulls Chuuya closer with his legs.
“Can I? Can I?” Chuuya’s thrusts turn sloppy as he reaches the end of his begging.
“Yeah, yeah, please,” Dazai nods rapidly before his body tenses, orgasm ripping through him violently as if struck by lightning.
Dazai can pinpoint the exact moment Chuuya cums by the high-pitched moan that escapes him and how he pushes as deep as physically possible into Dazai’s cunt. He can feel Chuuya shake, cock twitching as he throbs around the demon, and he mourns the feeling when Chuuya begins pulling out. The slide has Dazai whining as each centimeter leaves him, like his body isn’t even remotely satisfied empty, and something liquid-y follows in dripping out of him. Distantly, Dazai remembers telling Chuuya he was allowed to cum inside, and he lazily brings a hand down to drag his fingers through the other man’s release. He smears it against the folds of his cunt and shivers when he brings it to his clit, overstimulation kissing his nerves.
This was nothing like having sex with Fyodor when Dazai was begging the gods to make his partner finish faster.
“So, on a scale from ten to ten, how good was that?” Chuuya asks as he rolls onto his side and presses a trail of kisses from neck to shoulder.
“Nine point five.” Dazai rolls his eyes. “Don’t get a big head, slug.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Chuuya grins before shimmying off the bed and searching the ground for his previously discarded boxers before pulling them back up his toned legs.
Dazai just rolls his eyes again as he sits up, leaning his weight on his elbows.
“Go piss already, I don’t need you getting a UTI.”
“How romantic, Chuuya.”