Work Text:
“And here I thought your handwriting couldn’t get any worse,” Atsushi grimaced, looking down at a poorly folded, sad-looking piece of paper.
“Oh!” Dazai chirped from the other end of the couch, “You’ve found a report I completed already. That’s good—less work for us.”
“I disagree,” Atsushi held the document out like it had personally offended him, “this is completely unreadable. And you didn’t even fill out the most important parts of the form—”
“Ehhhh,” Dazai flapped his hand dismissively, “I wrote down the basics. It’s fine.”
“You don’t even know which report this is—”
“Here, let me see it.” Dazai reached a hand towards him. Atsushi handed it over with a dubious frown.
Dazai’s apartment was quiet, on most days. Sparsely furnished, but with enough of the basics to pass as a normal, lived-in dorm. Atsushi didn’t mind, though. He liked it because it was Dazai’s. Atsushi associated the familiar scent of his apartment with security, safety, and on nights like tonight, a vulnerability he didn’t care to reveal to most people.
They sat on each end of Dazai’s couch, facing each other, a mess of papers littering the cushions between them, some having fallen to the floor in disarray.
They were two hours into one of what Dazai fondly called their “paperwork parties,”—which were just a glorified excuse for Dazai to rope Atsushi into helping him file the mountains of paperwork he had chosen to neglect for too long.
Atsushi didn’t agree to them often, but they were a pleasant distraction when he’d had a bad day. Or, more often than not, when his fights with Akutagawa got bad enough to where his self-esteem took a nosedive, being “useful” was one of the only coping mechanisms that worked to calm him down.
Dazai very likely knew this, and took advantage of this coping mechanism with relish.
Atsushi didn’t mind, though. It was still quality time with one of his favorite people, so the strange, work-heavy hangouts didn’t really bother him. He only agreed to it when he knew the work would soothe him, after all.
“Yep, I was right,” Dazai handed the document back to him with a smug grin, “that one is already filled out, you don’t have to do anything further.”
Atsushi huffed, looked back down at the illegible form. He could never tell when Dazai was talking out of his ass, but he heavily suspected he was doing it now.
“Oh well,” he shrugged, giving up, “if you say so. Kunikida gets to pulverize you if I’m right.”
Dazai leered at him.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Ugh,” Atsushi threw a highlighter at his head, which caused Dazai to dodge out of the way with an overdramatic wail, “Leave that man alone.”
Atsushi didn’t quite understand Dazai’s relationship with Kunikida, but he figured there were probably details he didn’t need to hear, even if they were one-sided.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dazai asked instead.
“What?”
Dazai’s playful appearance smoothed out, leaving his body language neutral and still.
“About Akutagawa,” he clarified, without clarifying anything at all.
Atsushi’s stomach clenched.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he deflected.
Dazai stared at him from his end of the couch. He had one leg folded onto the cushion, and one foot on the floor. They were both dressed in casual clothes, since it was a Saturday night. He waited patiently for Atsushi to continue.
“It’s…” Atsushi straightened his back against the armrest of the couch, his legs folded in front of him, “It’s nothing, we just…we broke up, again.”
Dazai raised an eyebrow, an indirect suggestion to keep talking.
“I don’t want to talk about why we fought this time, Dazai,” Atsushi sighed, tired, “but some of our fights just…don’t have a resolution. He just makes me so crazy—”
“You were the one that ended it?” Dazai asked, his voice even.
“Yes,” Atsushi ran his hands through his hair, “this time, at least.”
That information seemed to satisfy him, somehow. Atsushi was running out of the emotional capacity to look further into it, however.
“I’m…” Atsushi heaved a great sigh, “I just want to keep my mind off of it, if it’s alright with you.” He pulled a new piece of paper close to his face for emphasis, hoping it would discourage Dazai from asking any follow-up questions.
He didn’t see it, but he heard Dazai hum to himself from across the couch.
Atsushi suddenly felt very cramped, consciously (or unconsciously) uncomfortable with the attention. He squirmed, and ultimately decided to rearrange himself so that he was sitting on the floor, his back against the couch.
He got comfortable, filling out the paperwork on autopilot. Some of these assignments had been horribly dull, and therefore didn’t require much of his attention to fill out and file. Those were the ones Atsushi liked best.
“There are other ways you can keep your mind off of it, Atsushi.” He heard Dazai’s voice speak from somewhere behind him
“Yeah, I know,” he answered distractedly, “this is just easiest.”
“Is it?” his voice was closer, but quieter, like Dazai was looking over his shoulder, ignoring his own paperwork.
Atsushi stopped writing.
“What are you getting at?” He turned to look at Dazai over his shoulder, who had begun to sprawl out onto the cushions behind him.
Lazy.
“I just think you’re a bit tense, that’s all,” Dazai fully spread himself across the couch, folding his arms behind his head as he looked down on him with a familiar, knowing expression.
“Well, yeah,” Atsushi tried for nonchalance, but it came off flat and bitter, “I’m having a rough time, Dazai, of course I’m tense.”
Dazai hummed, his eyes shining with something that made Atsushi’s stomach tighten and his pulse speed up. He turned away from him faster than was strictly necessary, focusing back on the file in front of him.
“Do you know what Chuuya does when he and I are broken up?”
The question caught Atsushi off guard. He was too surprised not to quirk his brow and look back at him in curiosity.
“He fucks other people.” Dazai said simply.
Atsushi blinked, unsure what he should say in response to that.
“Uh…good for him?” he paused, reconsidering, uncertain of what Dazai actually wanted out of his reaction, “I mean…sorry?”
Dazai smiled.
“Can you believe it?” his voice rose in volume. He put the back of his hand to his forehead in a mock swoon, facing the ceiling, “No regard for my feelings at all, that ugly slug.”
Atsushi rolled his eyes, back in familiar territory. If Dazai was complaining about Chuuya, it meant whatever strange feeling he felt just now was just…a fluke. He shook himself.
“You poor thing.” Atsushi smirked at his page on the floor.
He knew Dazai and Chuuya had broken up again last week. Dazai had swanned into his apartment demanding attention when it had happened, after all. At the time, Atsushi had suggested they put on one of Dazai’s favorite movies while they ordered take-out. It wasn’t the most eventful evening, but Dazai had more experience with on-again-off-again relationships than Atsushi did.
“So do you know what I do to make myself feel better, Atsushi?”
He looked to Dazai expectantly.
“I fuck other people too, to get back at him.”
Atsushi scoffed, unimpressed. Typical Dazai.
“That’s hardly an accomplishment,” Atsushi smiled, “everyone knows you’re a bit of a playboy, Dazai.”
“It’s all in retaliation, I assure you.” Dazai put his hand to his chest demurely, “If that awful little hat rack could keep it in his pants between our relationships, I would be a saint.”
“I doubt that,” Atsushi grinned back at him affectionately, “besides, he’s single when he does it, right? He can do what he wants.”
“Hmmm,” Dazai looked smug, for some reason. Atsushi had the distinct feeling he was walking into a trap.
“By that logic,” Dazai turned towards him, laying on his side as he propped himself up by his arm, his face in his palm, “couldn’t you do the same thing?”
Atsushi made a face at him.
“What, have sex with other people when Akutagawa and I aren’t together?” He scrunched his nose in distaste, “That wouldn’t accomplish anything.”
“It’s a nice way to blow off steam, and you look like you could use it.”
“I’m literally doing the work you don’t want to do,” he gestured at the paper in front of him, “you don’t think that’s a good use of my time?”
Dazai pursed his lips, like he had a juicy secret he may or may not reveal.
“It definitely is,” he handed Atsushi another file (another grossly underwritten file, but completed nonetheless), “but I think you should mix things up sometimes.”
Atsushi leaned his arm against his knee, uncomprehending. He chose to ignore him. Dazai’s voice was calm and neutral when he spoke again.
“It was a pretty nasty break-up this time, wasn’t it, Atsushi?”
He felt his heart stop in his chest, before he felt trickles of anger lick through his limbs. The temptation to lash out was excruciating. He defensively wondered if Dazai was mocking him, but he knew better. He knew Dazai cared, in his own, weird way.
“Yes,” Atsushi replied stiffly, “It was.”
He placed the file Dazai had handed him into the haphazard stack of completed paperwork he’d begun to pile next to him.
“Atsushi.”
He didn’t want to turn around. Dazai’s voice was close. He didn’t respond.
“You should consider other ways of releasing your stress.”
Atsushi rounded on him, his patience evaporating.
“And who’s going to give me that—”
As soon as he saw the look on Dazai’s face he stopped short, his temper fizzling out into stunned silence. He didn’t know what he was looking at, not really. But he understood.
“You’re…” Atsushi felt pinned in place, wholly unprepared for this conversation, “You’re not…”
Dazai always had a bit of a predatory look to him, even on his best days. He was a strategist, a planner, and from what he’d seen in combat, very talented at mind games and manipulation. The way he was looking at Atsushi now reminded him of the way Dazai looked at his enemies—the people he knew how to trick, how to fool. But something about it now was different. A bit more manic, a bit more unhinged.
“Cut it out, Dazai,” Atsushi felt his breaths come shorter, his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage.
“I’m not joking.”
“That’s…” Atsushi floundered, shaking his head, “whatever game you’re playing right now, I’m not falling for it.”
“Haven’t you ever thought about it before?”
Atsushi had—of course he had—but he would never, in a million years, admit that to Dazai. He loved his mentor very much—trusted him indiscriminately—but the man was insufferable once he had the material to tease someone. There was no way he would ever allow Dazai to know that he’d absolutely thought about it before.
It had started with the occasional sex dream, which alarmed Atsushi at first, but he was able to write it off as a subconscious desire for closeness with someone he cared for. But everyone knew Dazai was an attractive man, and Atsushi wasn’t blind. It didn’t help that his mentor was so flirtatious and cuddly by nature. It made his imagination creep into forbidden territory, when he felt lost and confused.
Dazai had always been a source of safety, protection, stability. He was his savior, the first human being to show him affection, praise, or basic kindness. Of course he’d thought about it.
“What?” Atsushi asked instead, terrified of how long he took to answer.
His throat felt dry. He swallowed.
“I know you have,” Dazai said.
Even though Atsushi was facing him, he failed to notice until it was too late that Dazai had moved a little closer, despite seemingly not having moved at all. How did he—
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Atsushi croaked.
Dazai smiled, his eyes darkening.
“I think you do.”
Atsushi couldn’t move. He couldn’t tell if he was terrified or turned on. Perhaps it was both.
“I…” Atsushi came back to himself, even for a moment, grasping at straws, “I don’t think it would be a good idea,” he felt face flush at the fact that he was admitting out loud that he was actually considering it—
“Why not?” Dazai cocked his head languidly, “it doesn’t need to be anything important to you, if you don’t want it to be. Think of it as…revenge sex. Payback for all the times he made you angry.”
“That’s a terrible way to look at it, actually.” Atsushi blushed in consternation, belatedly, shamefully accepting that yes, he was actually considering this.
“I don’t think so,” Dazai mused, “it’s a break-up, Atsushi. They hurt. You’re allowed to cope with it however you like.”
Atsushi blinked up at him, surprised by how emotionally self-aware the sentiment was. He wasn’t wrong, really. Dazai was playing Atsushi like the cheap kazoo he was, but he wasn’t wrong.
But surely there were limits to what a person could do to soothe themselves after a particularly ugly break-up. Though, he didn’t really know what those limits looked like. It did seem awfully petty to seek out sex as an act of vengeance, though.
“But this isn’t about me,” Atsushi tried to redirect him, “this is about you wanting to get back at Chuuya.”
“Well, it’s a tried and true method, I’ll give you that,” he curled himself inward a bit, inching himself closer—and this time, Atsushi noticed it.
“But it’s not like Chuuya or I ever find out who the other one sleeps with when we’re broken up. We don’t talk about that.”
He looked past Atsushi for a moment, considering.
“We’ve tried having that conversation before, but it just causes another fight.”
Makes sense, Atsushi thought.
“Besides,” Dazai brought his attention back to him, “Just because you won’t admit you’ve thought about it, that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
His eyes wandered down Atsushi’s body, shameless and slow.
“Stop that,” Atsushi chided, his skin hot.
“Stop what?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“Looking at me like that.” Atsushi felt far more flustered than he felt was appropriate. Dazai was a menace. He wasn’t being serious, he couldn’t be. “Like you…”
Dazai pushed himself up by his arm, looming over him, his hair in his eyes.
Like you want to eat me alive, Atsushi did not say.
“It’s because I do,” Dazai answered, as if he’d read his thoughts.
Atsushi realized what he was feeling wasn’t quite anxiety, not really. It was anticipation. And how humiliating was that? Falling prey to Dazai’s whims, of all people?
Dazai’s face still hovered near his, but inched closer.
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Atsushi’s limp excuse of a refusal sounded half-hearted, even to his own ears. It still wasn’t a “no”, and his friend surely knew that.
Dazai was a shark that smelled blood in the water, and Atsushi needed to find a reason—a better reason—to refuse him before he could be pulled under.
“I would…” Atsushi’s voice was scratchy, thin, “I would just be some…some plaything to you…”
Dazai actually had the nerve to chuckle in his face, his voice low.
“Isn’t that part of the appeal?” his eyes were pitch black, “I think you’d quite like getting used by me, Atsushi.”
Atsushi felt paralyzed. He couldn’t deny it.
He wanted to, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He just focused on trying to breathe through his tumultuous feelings, which were probably being broadcast all over his face. He wasn’t known for being able to hide his emotions, after all.
“I think,” Dazai continued, “that you’d enjoy yourself quite a lot, if you let me have my way.”
Atsushi released a ragged exhale, struggling to break eye contact. He just couldn’t look away—
“Do you trust me, Atsushi?”
“No.”
Yes.
Dazai’s eyes lit up at whatever he saw in Atsushi’s face. Damnit, he’d definitely given himself away. He was so bad at this.
“Your lying needs some work, but don’t worry, I can teach you.”
Atsushi did his best to scowl, but he suspected he looked no more menacing than a recalcitrant housecat.
It felt like a battle of wills, at this point. He couldn’t let Dazai know how tempting this was for him. Atsushi would never hear the end of it. But all five of his heightened senses were sharply honing in to the man in front of him. He physically fought the urge to lick his own lips as he stared at Dazai’s, who drifted nearer. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
“And,” Dazai crept closer, but stopped, hovering, inches from his face, his eyelashes sweeping down to hide his eyes, “I’ve always wanted to—”
Atsushi closed the distance without thinking, impulsively pressing their mouths together in one warm, quick kiss, before flinching back like he’d been burned.
He audibly gasped, falling back onto the floor with his hand over his mouth, his eyes large. He heard the crinkling of paper beneath him, felt his unfinished reports scatter and crunch.
How could he be so stupid? He played right into Dazai’s hand, like an idiot. Shit, shit…he inwardly panicked. Dazai was never going to let him live his down; his life was over now. He was going to die of shame.
When he chanced a look back up at Dazai, his face was alight with a greedy, pleased gleam that made Atsushi shiver. His breaths came heavy from his mouth as Dazai slunk from his place on the couch and onto the floor with Atsushi.
“Now, now…” Dazai reached for him, and Atsushi let him.
He pulled Atsushi forward, turning him around so that he was sitting back the way he was, on the floor, against the couch, but this time, with Dazai at his back. His long legs stretched out on either side of his own. Atsushi tried not to stare at them.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Atsushi,” Dazai wrapped his arms around his waist, speaking the words into his cheek, “You can just keep filing, if you want.”
The disheveled paperwork lay in chaotic swaths across the floor. Atsushi, for lack of knowing what to do, or how to recover the situation, gingerly leaned forward to collect a piece of paper near his knee.
He felt Dazai’s chin tuck into his neck, as his right hand moved to the inside of his thigh, causing his legs to widen on reflex. His other hand drifted into Atsushi’s hair.
Atsushi couldn’t help himself, he rocked back into Dazai, and immediately felt the hardness pressing into him from behind.
He felt a harsh hiss in his ear, before a strained, “Is that a yes, Atsushi?”
Atsushi bit his lip, releasing the last shred of stubbornness he had left. He nodded.
“Gonna need you to say it, Atsushi.”
Fuck, he thought, squirming in his hold. Did he have to?
His voice came out in a rushed, embarrassed whisper.
“Yes.”
A low, guttural noise rumbled into his ear as he felt the hand at his thigh clutch him tighter, pulling him back against Dazai’s front, hard. A shocked moan was punched out of him at the action, which quickly died off into a soft whimper.
The hand in his hair moved to the collar of his hoodie, pulling it down and away from his collarbone. He felt Dazai’s hair tickle his cheek as his mouth latched upon his neck, harsh kisses burning brands into his feverish skin.
The hand at Atsushi’s thigh clung tighter, holding him in place. Dazai’s kisses on his neck were rough, giving the distinct impression that he meant to leave marks behind. Atsushi’s eyelashes fluttered as he felt teeth on his shoulder, gentle at first, before biting down at his throat with a possessive snarl. Atsushi gasped, bucking backward, his head falling back.
It was like a fuse had been lit within them both that Atsushi never realized they had. Did Dazai know? Had he always been aware of the chemistry they shared? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.
Dazai did not draw blood, but continued to kiss and bite along his throat, his jaw, his shoulder. The hand at his thigh crept to his crotch, palming him through his jeans.
“Do you want me to stop, Atsushi?” he heard in his ear.
Atsushi was openly panting, now, struggling to keep his eyes open. He shook his head—words were too hard.
At his lack of verbal response, Dazai’s hand left his groin, sliding away. Atsushi’s eyes flew open.
“No,” he wheezed, unable to filter himself, the desperation clear in his voice, “no, don’t stop.”
The hands returned, quickly unbuckling his pants to move them aside. One hand slipped under his boxer briefs, clutching his cock tightly. The contact felt electric, warm, and Atsushi fought the urge to cry out in relief.
Dazai’s hands were big—much bigger than his own. He stroked Atsushi languidly under his clothes as he held him around his waist, kissing hickeys into his skin as Atsushi writhed in his arms.
He was completely out of his depth, here. He’d only ever had sex with Akutagawa before; it wasn’t like he had any other sexual partners or experience. And Dazai definitely knew what he was doing.
He released Atsushi to turn him around. Atsushi tried not to chase the feeling of his hands and mouth on him, feeling terribly cold and empty in the brief seconds he wasn’t being touched. He was quickly forgetting to care how desperate he looked, how eager he sounded.
Dazai was fast, though, kissing him on his lips with a force that almost bowled him over. Dazai’s hands were on his cheeks, one moved to hold him by his neck. He pried Atsushi’s lips open, licking along his lower lip until he opened his mouth wide enough for Dazai to slip his tongue in. He kissed him with a ferocity that surprised Atsushi, with a hunger that sent his addled brain buzzing with questions.
How long had Dazai wanted this? Was this a new desire for him? Atsushi assumed he was just something fun to pass the time to Dazai, a distraction from Chuuya, a petty act of defiance to make his ex-boyfriend angry. And maybe he was.
But there was something restless, something gluttonous, deep beneath the surface that lurked in his mentor’s expression as he forced Atsushi backward, onto his back, their mouths glued together as Dazai’s body draped over his own. He curled over Atsushi, caging him beneath him, and the action felt…almost protective.
Dazai kissed him, pinned to his living room floor, and Atsushi felt every ounce of resistance abandon him.
He felt Dazai’s arms leave the side of his head as they drifted down, back to his open trousers. He felt Dazai shrugging his jeans and underwear down. Atsushi took the hint, keeping their mouths connected as he lifted his hips, helping him take them off.
As Dazai leaned back over him, his weight on one arm, he took Atsushi’s cock back in hand. He slowly jerked him, twisting his wrist with tight motions that made Atsushi moan into Dazai’s open mouth.
Before he could get himself too worked up, though, Dazai sat up, leaning back on his haunches. His face looked covetous, unrestrained in a way Atsushi had never seen before. It almost frightened him. Almost.
Atsushi moved to sit up, subconsciously following him. Dazai pushed him back down with his palm on his chest.
“Hold on,” he rasped.
He twisted around to reach towards one of the side tables that rested on either end of the couch. He opened the only drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom.
“You keep condoms and lube in your living room?” Atsushi’s filter was still missing, it would seem.
“I keep condoms and lube in every room of this apartment,” Dazai countered, his smile salacious, “I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
Honestly, that was a fair point. Atsushi wasn’t sure what he had expected, really.
Dazai took the opportunity to shuck off his own clothes, tossing them aside. Atsushi followed suit, discarding his hoodie, which was all he had left to remove, anyway. He and Dazai had seen each other naked before, in the public baths, so this wasn’t exactly new territory. But public nudity and private nudity were two very different things.
Dazai was back over him in an instant, the bottle of lube in one hand. Atsushi fought the temptation to cover himself with his hands, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Dazai must have sensed this, for he kissed him again, letting their now exposed cocks rub together as he laid across him.
Atsushi groaned into the kiss, wanting so very badly to demand more, but unwilling to ask. He’d always deferred to Dazai; it was how things always worked between them. Atsushi wasn’t even sure what he wanted, but he knew, deep down, that Dazai would take care of it. He did trust him, even though he denied it minutes ago. He always had.
Dazai released his lips, rolling Atsushi over onto his stomach. He was too dazed and turned on to have much of an opinion on the matter. Atsushi was finding that he did quite enjoy being manhandled by Dazai. Damn him for being right, as usual.
Dazai sat up behind him, holding Atsushi down with a hand on his back. He heard the cap of the lube bottle open, and widened his legs to show him that he was ready, that he wanted this.
He heard Dazai take in a slow, quiet breath behind him, felt his fingernails tighten on his back. Dazai’s voice was quiet, but pulled taut with a restraint that sounded close to slipping.
“So eager for me, Atsushi.”
He said nothing back—did not get the chance—for he felt the first, lubricated finger enter him slowly, but going all the way to the last knuckle.
Atsushi keened beneath him, surprising himself with the volume of his own reaction. Dazai’s finger was slow and methodical, though the hand at his back betrayed his true feelings, clenching ever so often when Atsushi cried out.
Dazai added a second finger, moving his hand a bit faster as he scissored him open. Atsushi tried holding back his lewd noises at first, his cheeks hot on the wooden flooring, but Dazai’s breathing was heavier behind him when he was loud. And Atsushi couldn’t help it; when he could tell that Dazai was affected—even in his own, subtle way—it just set something loose inside of him.
Dazai was three fingers deep, now, as he wrapped his body around Atsushi’s leaning close to his ear.
“You look so pretty like this, Atsushi,” he whispered.
Atsushi shuddered, arching his back into him with a suppressed whine. He felt his cock twitch at the praise as he clenched around Dazai’s fingers.
“Oh…” his voice stuttered, his nose in Atsushi’s hair, “…you really like that, huh?”
Atsushi felt too good to complain about his teasing, nodding belligerently.
Dazai nipped at the nape of his neck, pumping his fingers in and out of him as Atsushi rocked back onto his hand. It felt so good it almost hurt.
“M…more…” Atsushi muttered, “…Dazai…please…”
Dazai groaned into Atsushi’s shoulder blade, sending pleasant vibrations down his spine. His voice was constrained when he moved back, but not without its teasing lilt.
“So polite…”
He removed himself from Atsushi’s back, settling somewhere behind him.
“On your hands and knees, Atsushi.”
He obeyed him without thinking, and felt Dazai’s hands spreading his ass cheeks. Atsushi’s train of thought fizzled into high-pitched static as Dazai licked the whole flat of his tongue from his balls, up over his taint, and ending at his entrance.
Atsushi made a very undignified sound at that, every nerve ending alight with pleasure at the thick, wet intrusion inside of him.
Dazai licked into him, taking his time to swirl his tongue around his rim before dipping it in and out, fucking him with his tongue as Atsushi fought to keep himself still. He thought he would cry from how good it felt. He was grateful that Dazai couldn’t see his face, for his mouth hung open, slack-jawed, mindless with how gone he felt, his hands clenching into the floor. Dazai kept him still with one hand fast around each of his thighs, holding him up when Atsushi tried to squirm.
But once Atsushi started bucking back onto Dazai’s face, he probably figured out that Atsushi was close to coming. He felt little puffs of hot air on his exposed skin as Dazai chuckled, catching on. He brought his mouth back to his rim for one long suck—forcing out a pitiful wail from Atsushi that made it sound like he was dying—before withdrawing, sitting up behind him.
Atsushi looked over his shoulder, his entire body on fire with embarrassment, confusion, frustration at being denied when he was so close—
“You’re evil,” Atsushi seethed at him, his face burning.
Dazai wiped his mouth, an unrepentant and brazen leer on his face. He didn’t deign to respond to Atsushi’s complaint, merely smirked at him as he pulled his hips backward, closer to his body.
Dazai paused, picking up the condom where he’d left it on the floor, and tearing it out of its wrapper before rolling it on. Atsushi was mesmerized. He wasn’t used to using a condom, but he figured it was the smartest choice, given the circumstances.
Dazai lined himself up, keeping Atsushi on his knees as he slowly pushed into him. Atsushi’s breath fled from his lungs as his exhale was forced out of his mouth. It hurt, a little, but Atsushi always liked a bit of pain during sex, so he only groaned louder as Dazai sank the rest of the way in.
The stretch burned just right; Atsushi had to hold back from moving before he could properly adjust. Dazai was bigger than what he was used to. He didn’t want to tear, but the temptation to pound himself backward onto Dazai’s cock, to fuck himself until he bled, was very hard to resist.
Somehow, Dazai could sense his intentions, and grabbed his hips with bruising force before he could move.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided, “If you want me to hurt you, you’ll have to work your way up to that.”
Atsushi looked back at him with a pout. Dazai’s smile was placid.
“It won’t be tonight,” he shook his head with that same, calm grin, “but maybe next time, if you ask nicely.”
Without further preamble, Dazai pulled all the way out before roughly slamming back in. Atsushi completely forgot everything else that had been in his head until that point, moaning obscenely through his shock.
Dazai broke out into a bruising pace, driving harshly into him over and over, slapping their hips together with sharp precision.
Atsushi felt helpless, but in the most delicious, freeing way possible. His legs widened as his body subconsciously, instinctually, adapted to fit more of Dazai inside of him. The quick, powerful thrusts were sparking pleasure through his body faster than he could make sense of it.
One of Dazai’s hands was at his hip, and the other landed on the back of his neck.
“You take me so well, Atsushi,” Dazai’s rough, low voice sent shivers down his spine. He clenched around him, horribly, terribly receptive to the praise.
“I wonder…”
Dazai pulled him backward and up, changing their position so that he was now kneeling in front of Dazai as his cock rammed into him at a new angle, striking his prostate head-on. Atsushi shouted, startled by the abrupt and immense spike of pleasure ripping through him. Dazai, understanding what he’d found, immediately slowed his movements, so that he could spear directly into that spot with careful, direct thrusts, the sensations intense and sparkling. He was so close. So close.
“…do you like being dominated, Atsushi?” Dazai’s breath was hot on his skin, “Or do you just like it so much because it’s me?”
Atsushi’s head fell back, falling onto Dazai’s shoulder as his orgasm was torn out of him with a pained, plaintive cry.
“Fuck,” Dazai hissed as Atsushi clenched around him, hard.
Dazai shuddered behind him, a muffled grunt smothered into his shoulder and his arms clinging tight to Atsushi’s waist. As Dazai lazily pumped himself through the final rungs of his own release, Atsushi belatedly realized that he’d made Dazai come just through the intensity of his own orgasm alone.
“Shit…” Dazai’s voice was dazed, winded. He released a heavy exhale, then fell back onto his haunches, bringing Atsushi with him, their bodies still connected.
He gave Atsushi a quick squeeze around his middle, and a light peck on his cheek, before lifting Atsushi up so that he could carefully pull out of him. Atsushi hissed, oversensitive.
“Here, let’s get cleaned up.”
Dazai led Atsushi with a hand on his lower back to the bathroom. He retrieved two washcloths from his cupboard and wetted them both with soapy, warm water, before handing one to Atsushi.
As they wiped themselves down, Atsushi grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. He had come all over his chest and stomach, so it was a relief to get rid of all the stickiness. Though a sharp thrill buzzed through him at seeing the dark, purpling hickeys his mentor had left behind. After Dazai was done with his own cleanup, he tied off his condom and threw it away as Atsushi dropped off his washcloth in the laundry basket.
“You’re staying the night, aren’t you?” Dazai asked as they wandered out of the bathroom and into Dazai’s bedroom, the tatami mats cushioning their footsteps as they walked.
“…uh…” Atsushi didn’t know the first thing about casual sex etiquette. Was he supposed to stay the night? His dorm was just a few doors down the hall.
“You’re tired, right?” Dazai began pulling him towards his futon in the center of the room.
Atsushi paused, considering, before realizing that yes, he was tired, actually. He nodded wordlessly to Dazai, letting him pull him down and under the blankets.
Dazai laid down onto his back, maneuvering Atsushi so that he was laying on his front, with his head resting against his chest. Atsushi knew Dazai was a cuddly person, he did, but this was...
“Did you have sex with me just so that you could have the excuse to cuddle afterwards?” Atsushi asked, a smile in his voice.
“What?” Dazai’s voice rose, gasping dramatically. His histrionics were back, one hand coming up to rest at his chest in mock offense, “You kissed me first, Atsushi—”
“Oh come on—” Atsushi tried wriggling out of his arms in retaliation, but Dazai’s hold was surprisingly strong. Dazai continued, unbothered, with that smug expression still on his face.
“If I’d only known earlier that you—”
“Shut up, Dazai, you're so embarrasing—”
“—You’ve come so far—”
“—Stop talking!—”
Dazai’s laughter—his real laughter—was something that the members of the Agency got to see and hear every once in a while, but only if they were paying close attention. Dazai’s amusement wasn’t the same thing as his joy. One was far rarer than the other.
It shut Atsushi up immediately when he saw it, stricken mute with what might have actually been embarrassment at witnessing it so close. He felt his face flush.
Dazai looked so…unguarded. Did he show this side of himself to everyone he slept with? It seemed unlikely. Dazai didn’t seem the type of person to let his guard down just because he wanted to have a good time.
Dazai playfully shoved his head down, forcing him to lay back onto his chest so that he could hold him tighter.
Once Atsushi stopped wiggling, Dazai spoke up again, quieter.
“Do you feel better?”
His voice was calm, as if he hadn’t been relentlessly picking on him seconds before. Atsushi couldn’t see his face, but he suspected this was deliberate, on Dazai’s part.
“I…what do you mean?”
“Atsushi,” he scolded, his fingers in his hair, but still keeping him still, so he couldn’t look up, “you know what I mean.”
Akutagawa.
Dazai had been right about this break-up being particularly nasty. The memory of their last fight still pained him, but…
But his head was pleasantly empty now, his tumultuous thoughts and anxieties calmed in the soft, fuzzy haze of his afterglow. His body was sated, physically spent, leaving him without the care to think deeper on his problems—at least for tonight.
“Yeah,” Atsushi whispered into Dazai’s skin, surprising himself with the revelation, “I think I do feel better.”
He sat there, blinking at nothing, listening to the beat of Dazai’s heart. He wouldn’t admit it, but Dazai was more comfortable to cuddle with than he expected.
“You know I love our paperwork parties,” Dazai’s voice was light, but held the tone Atsushi quickly identified as the one he used when he wanted the illusion of indifference, “but it wasn’t working for you, this time.”
Atsushi furrowed his eyebrows, but didn’t interrupt.
“This particular coping mechanism isn’t infallible,” Dazai clarified, more serious, “but I want you to come to me, if you think you need it in the future.”
Atsushi knew Dazai was proud of his promiscuity, but that didn’t mean sex meant only one thing to his mentor. Atsushi had never had casual sex before, and knew next to nothing about how it worked, in practice. But from the way Dazai spoke about it, and from the way he handled things tonight, it gave Atsushi the distinct impression that Dazai saw sex as more of a display of affection, in circumstances like these. Or an unorthodox show of support. Maybe both.
He could be misreading the situation, of course, but he wasn’t going to ask. He’d been mortified enough for one evening.
Atsushi nodded, his eyes drooping as he slowly nodded off.
“Okay.”
Atsushi didn’t even realize he was awake until he heard his own voice ringing out into the morning air, his nerves alight with sensations he couldn’t categorize.
He was too disoriented to decipher what was going on until he realized that Dazai’s mouth was wrapped around his cock. Somehow, Atsushi had ended up on his back during the night, and as his half-conscious brain attempted to make sense of what was happening, his eyes honed in on Dazai, the blankets of the futon wrapped around his shoulders, his hair a mess in his face.
He jolted, crying out in surprise, almost bucking Dazai off of him.
Dazai, undeterred, tightened his hold on Atsushi’s thighs, holding him firmly down onto the futon as he sank all the way to the base of Atsushi’s cock and back, his pace unhurried and slow. He was taking all of Atsushi down his throat with every bob of his head.
Atsushi felt like he was going to pass out. Of course, of course Dazai knew how to deep-throat. Did he even have a gag reflex? He was so turned on, so disoriented, he didn’t even know what time it was—
As Dazai made obscene, slurping noises on his cock, his eyes closed, Atsushi became quickly overwhelmed. His orgasm was wrenched out of him quicker than he’d been ready for, his release mind-numbing in its intensity.
Dazai swallowed it all, licking his cock clean in lewd, thick laves of his tongue until Atsushi shivered in overstimulation.
Finally coming back to himself, he tried to reach for Dazai, sitting up groggily. The sudden movement made him light-headed.
“Let me…” Atsushi pulled at him, trying to bring him forward, but Dazai waved him off.
“Mmmm,” he licked his lips, a cat that got the cream, “I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t want to come, too?” Atsushi asked, muddled, still waking up.
“I don’t think I need to this time,” he looked rather pleased with himself.
Before Atsushi could argue further, Dazai had already flung the blankets off of himself, wandering around his room as he put on some pyjamas.
“Want breakfast?” he asked as he walked out of the room.
This seemed to be one of those times where Dazai asked a question merely as a formality; he was going to feed Atsushi anyway, whether he said yes or not.
Atsushi also didn’t think Dazai knew much in the way of cooking, but he was curious to see what he would come up with.
As the smell of eggs wafted throughout the dorm, Atsushi slowly collected the remains of his clothing where they lay scattered across the living room from the night before. He leisurely put them back on, mentally looking forward to the nice, hot shower he was going to take later.
As he put on his jeans, he felt his phone in his pocket. He checked his notifications, subconsciously hoping that there would be some calls or texts from Akutagawa, but there were none.
That was odd. But they were broken up now; he shouldn’t expect contact as often as before. Maybe Akutagawa was trying to be respectful of his space. But Atsushi found that he…didn’t quite want Akutagawa to be respectful of his space right now.
He missed him. Maybe he had been too rash in ending things this time. He should text him, see if they could meet up later today.
No.
Not when he was still at Dazai’s apartment. He would know, he always did. He’d probably be supportive, in his own, bizarre way, but he wasn’t ready to talk about Akutagawa with other people yet today. It was too early.
As he wandered into the kitchen area, he noticed that the table hadn’t yet been set for breakfast. That was the only thing he had time to think before a hand shoved him down onto the table by the back of his head.
Dazai was behind him, folding him over the kitchen table, with one hand holding him by his neck and another moving to yank down his jeans.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Dazai muttered above him, “I think I would like to come, after all.”
Atsushi gasped, horribly, astonishingly turned on again by the rough handling. He gaped, his cheek against the wood of the table, as he distantly noticed the two plates of eggs and rice that lay innocuously on the kitchen counter, near the stove. They were ready to eat, but Dazai clearly had other plans.
He released Atsushi’s neck to pull his pants and underwear the rest of the way down so that they pooled above his knees.
Dazai shoved two fingers inside of him, lightly lubricated (Dazai did say he had lube and condoms in every room in this apartment, Atsushi thought dimly), but he was still pretty loose from the night before, so they went in easily. Dazai switched to three fingers, digging deep, causing Atsushi’s cock to fill up embarrassingly quickly. He never explicitly told Dazai that he liked rough sex this much, but at this point, he doubted that he needed to.
Dazai wasted no time. Atsushi had no idea when he put the condom on, but he clearly had, for Dazai sank into him in one smooth, harsh shove.
He jostled Atsushi across the tabletop, thrusting into him hard, with a purpose that Atsushi did not yet understand.
“You were going to text him, weren’t you?”
Atsushi didn’t respond—couldn’t even if he wanted to—he felt too good to focus. He shuddered, letting the sensations take him.
“I know you were,” Dazai said.
He drove into him over and over, the table shaking beneath him, but still supporting the weight.
“I don’t blame you, of course,” he continued, between pants, “You’ll probably make plans to see him, later today.”
A sharp thrust aimed at his prostate made Atsushi gasp in pleasure, arching his back. Dazai kept one hand in between his shoulders, holding him down.
“But when you do,” his voice was low, quiet, and dripping with something Atsushi couldn’t name, “the reminders of the last twelve hours will be all over you.”
Atsushi exhaled, tears prickling at his eyes from the onslaught of stimulus. Even through the fog of pleasure he still had the presence of mind to turn his head around.
He knew Dazai was a possessive person, and he knew that he was petty. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He shouldn’t have been so turned on by it, either.
“You’re…” Atsushi huffed, his breaths heavy, the table rocking beneath them, “…not being fair.”
Dazai fisted his hand into Atsushi’s hair, pulling back sharply, eliciting a high cry. The pain was fantastic.
“You see, Atsushi,” Dazai’s voice was as erratic as his breathing, his restraint slipping, “it’s very hypocritical of me, but I really don’t like to share.”
Atsushi let out a strangled, lustful noise, meeting Dazai’s harsh thrusts with his own.
“T-t…” Atsushi groaned, his own self-control nearly non-existent, “…tough shit, Dazai.”
“I know, I know,” he felt Dazai drape over his back, their skin covered by their clothes, but the contact burning him regardless, “it won’t change anything. You’ll still go back to him, like you always do. I know that.”
Dazai, with one hand still in his hair, reached his other hand around to grip his cock below the table, jerking him in time with his thrusts.
“But remember,” he tugged harshly, his lips scorching the skin of his shoulder, “a jealous man never plays fair.”
Dazai bit him on the shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and Atsushi was gone.
His climax crashed into him, spilling into Dazai’s hand, splattering up onto the underside of the table. He heaved through it, blinking dumbly, as Dazai chased his own release behind him. He was close, too, Atsushi could tell, by how uncoordinated he’d suddenly become. With a final thrust, he came with a repressed groan, riding out his orgasm with languid, sluggish movements until he exhaled with a heavy sigh.
Dazai held them both still until they could catch their breath. He gingerly pulled out of Atsushi after a few moments, and moved off to throw away the used condom.
Atsushi took a little longer to come back online. He stood there, dazed, his hands supporting him on the table, his jeans and underwear still abandoned at his knees.
“You’re gonna have to put your pants back on to eat your breakfast, Atsushi.”
Dazai had already reappeared, his plate in front of him, and his mouth full of eggs. He looked pleasantly rumpled, with his fuzzy bedhead and his loose pyjamas, but he had already righted himself.
The promise of food got him moving. He tucked himself back into his clothes, and pulled his pants back up. He took the plate Dazai offered, wolfing down the meal with fervor.
The eggs were bland, but Atsushi didn’t care. Dazai had enough talents.
“Aren’t you supposed to go to the zoo with Lucy today?”
Atsushi choked on his food, panic slapping him across the face. He’d completely forgotten.
“Oh no, oh no, what time is it—?”
“Don’t worry,” Dazai sat him down at the table, took his empty plate, and filled it with more rice and eggs, “It’s only 11:00 in the morning.”
Atsushi heaved a sigh of relief. Lucy would have murdered him if he’d have stood her up without telling her anything.
“You said yesterday that you were meeting her at noon,” Dazai put the refilled plate in front of him, “it was part of why you said you could come over at all. Because you knew you could sleep in if the paperwork kept us up too late.”
That’s right, he had said that last night. That had obviously been before he and Dazai had—
“Oh,” Atsushi stared forward, processing, “thank you for waking me up.”
He hadn’t even remembered to set an alarm.
“My pleasure.” Dazai’s grin was lecherous.
Atsushi blushed through his embarrassment, his face undecided on whether it wanted to scowl or smile.
“You're such an ass.”
“So I'm told,” he held out his hands placatingly.
As soon as Atsushi had finished eating, Dazai swiped the plate away.
“Alright now, off you go,” he gestured towards the door, “best not to keep dear Lucy waiting.”
Atsushi stole a glance back into the living room, which was still completely covered in disorganized piles of papers.
“Don’t worry about those,” Dazai shooed him towards the door, “we can have another paperwork party again next weekend. They aren’t going anywhere.”
The implication was that they wouldn’t be going anywhere because Dazai was still not going to file them himself, but whatever.
“Alright,” Atsushi smiled, relaxing, as he let Dazai open the door for him.
“See you at work tomorrow, Atsushi,” Dazai called.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Atsushi slipped out the door and into the hallway, walking back to his dorm in a loose, easy daze.
He didn’t know what to make of this new addition to their friendship, but Dazai had already switched back to his usual, strange self, their dynamic seamlessly falling back into place like nothing had happened. He’d considered asking, but he was too mentally and physically exhausted to ask any follow-up questions, really. He appreciated the segue back into normalcy more than words could express, anyway.
The soreness all over his body (and in his ass in particular) was immediate and impossible to ignore. Damn Dazai for always being right. He was also sure he’d need to wash this hoodie as soon as possible, as the blood from the bite Dazai took out of him was smeared all over his shoulder.
As soon as he was inside his apartment, locking the front door behind him, he pulled out his phone on reflex.
Still no new messages or calls from Akutagawa.
He wasn’t sure why the silence irked him. He wanted to see him; he missed him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being broken up permanently. He already wanted him back.
Yes, their fight had been horrific, and yes, Atsushi knew why he thought they needed to break up, at the time. But maybe…just maybe…
He impulsively typed up a quick text. He didn’t know what he should say, but he knew he at least wanted to see him. Hear his voice, be near him.
“I miss you,” his text to Akutagawa said, “can I come over?”