Work Text:
The sound of his phone falling to the ground startles Chuuya awake.
He stretches his back until he hears a crack —the dining table is quite an uncomfortable place to fall asleep in, he notes— and rubs the sleep off his eyes as he leans down to pick it up, expecting to see countless messages from Wolfwood apologizing for breaking his promise.
To be fair, he knows that a job can always take a bit longer if things get messy, which is why he tried to wait up, but the exhaustion of the day had won, and now Wolfwood has a lot of groveling to do.
Except that the messages he can see aren't what he expected, and they make his whole body run cold.
There's a text from Wolfwood claiming to be on his way home, but that was hours ago, and there's no sign of his man in the apartment. He would've woken Chuuya up if he'd come back.
He got a couple of texts from Hirotsu after that, the first one coming in right after Wolfwood's.
Dazai asked to meet with Wolfwood. He's on his way to headquarters now.
The next message is the one that just made his phone fall to the ground, and Chuuya can tell that Hirotsu is thinking the worst, too.
Is he back home yet?
Chuuya jumps off the chair and rushes to their bedroom as his heart pounds against his ribcage like it wants to tear a hole in his chest. He wheezes as he bursts into the room and reaches for his knife on his bedside table, and he has to pause to remind himself that he won't be of any use to Wolfwood if he's panicking.
With the knife in his hand, he runs out of the bedroom. He's wearing fluffy pajamas with cats in them, and he knows it's not the most intimidating sight, but he can't waste time to get changed when his boyfriend could be dead for all he knows.
As he's making his way to the entrance, he hears the sound of the door being unlocked. He freezes, and he holds the knife tighter, ready to attack the intruder.
The door opens.
Chuuya holds his breath.
He'd been a workaholic for most of his life in the Mafia, Chuuya could now admit.
He used to be the type of person who spent his every waking moment either at his office or out in the field; always working on a mission, training, or checking on his people. Before he became an executive, he told himself that he was trying to prove his worth.
Then, when his name was engraved on an executive seat, his excuse became that he was just doing his job; even if Kouyou —an executive herself— often told him that he needed a break.
Back then, he only stopped being a Mafia executive to be Chuuya on the rare occasion he accepted drinks from his subordinates after successful missions, or during his —frequent, if he's honest with himself— one-night stands.
The truth is, he always hated coming back to an empty home, so he avoided coming back to his apartment as much as he could.
But now, his apartment is rarely empty, and he can't wait to come back home after a long day like today. Hell, he even takes vacation days. He'd decided that he'd take the next couple of days off, as a matter of fact, and he'd demanded that Wolfwood did the same so they could spend some time together.
For how fast their relationship had progressed, they'd never gotten a full day to enjoy each other before.
Despite the bone-deep exhaustion in his body, he smiled when the sound of Wolfwood moving around in the kitchen greeted him as soon as he walked into the apartment, along with the delicious scent of a home-cooked meal waiting for him. He could hear something being stirred in a pot and a deep voice humming a familiar tune.
He took off his hat, overcoat, and shoes by the genkan. The humming stopped, letting him know that Wolfwood had heard him.
"I'm home," he announced, despite knowing that it was unnecessary, because he loved having an excuse to say it. He never did before.
Even though they lived together now, despite Wolfwood never officially moving in, it was rare for him to be home when Chuuya arrived. Undertakers are overworked, in his objective opinion. They should unionize.
Chuuya was ready to walk into the apartment, but he could hear Wolfwood's steps approaching, and why bother walking when he could be carried around instead?
As soon as that handsome face he'd grown to love was in front of him, he felt an embarrassingly happy smile paint his lips. The only thing that made such a sappy display bearable was the fact that Wolfwood was wearing a similar dumb grin, so really, how bad could it be?
His man closed the distance between them in two long strides, and Chuuya melted into him as soon as those big arms wrapped around him.
After so many months of this, Chuuya's grown used to the way his brain turns into mush and his limbs turn into jelly any time he kisses Wolfwood, but the effects haven't lessened in the slightest.
He's grown addicted to this feeling of weightlessness; he's only ever felt it with Wolfwood, and he isn't sure if it's something about the way he kisses him, like he wants to eat him whole, or if it's just the fact that it's him that makes Chuuya's head spin.
Wolfwood leaned back, but before he could complain about him cutting the kiss short, he was picked up with one arm behind his back and the other under his knees.
He knew that he was being placated, but he could hardly mind when this was the closeness he'd needed the whole day, and he was sure that Wolfwood knew it.
"Long day, angel?" asked Wolfwood, as he walked into the apartment with Chuuya in his arms.
Contrary to what Chuuya expected, they passed right by the kitchen without so much as a quick pit stop. He didn't put much thought into it, figuring that dinner wasn't ready yet, so he just relaxed against Wolfwood's chest.
"You have no idea."
Wolfwood took him to the bathroom. Intrigued, Chuuya glanced around.
He smiled when he saw the bath waiting for him, as well as the many candles lit around. A lavender scent reached his nose, and he closed his eyes, further melting into Wolfwood's chest without even getting into the bath yet.
This was exactly what he needed, and it made him feel embarrassingly giddy that Wolfwood knew it before he even walked through the door.
(Well, getting fucked dumb would've been nice too, but he had to admit that he was a bit too tired for that right now. Maybe after a quick nap, if Wolfwood was up for it.)
(He always was.)
Wolfwood sat him down on the edge of the bathtub and kissed his forehead before he started undressing him, careful not to be too rough with the delicate clothes.
He removed his bolero, unbuttoned his vest and shirt, and made sure to neatly fold them on the counter. His hands undid the clasp of Chuuya's choker and put it away; and he made sure to drop a kiss to the now naked skin before moving on to his socks, pants, and underwear. Chuuya bit back a laugh when he saw this man —who's face was often buried between his legs— blush at the sight of his pink panties, but he kept his comments to himself.
Wolfwood pressed a kiss to his stomach before he picked Chuuya up and slowly placed him in the bath.
Chuuya's muscles relaxed instantly thanks to the hot water, but he couldn't bring himself to fully melt in the bath unless he could lean back against his man's chest.
But said man wasn't undressing to join him at all, and Chuuya squinted at him.
He knew that Wolfwood had a job in the morning, but that was hours ago; there was no reason for him to still be dressed at all, especially not in his black suit, tie and all.
"Are you going somewhere, Father?"
Wolfwood sighed. Chuuya knew he wouldn't like what he was about to tell him.
"I have a job."
Chuuya scowled. "Nico!"
"I know! I know, I'm sorry."
"Let someone else pick up the job," he demanded. While he knew that Wolfwood was the best undertaker the Mafia had —a fact that filled him with immense pride— he also knew that he wasn't the only one with that job.
Of all the people they could be bothering, why did it have to be his man?
"I'd love to, but Oda asked me to help as a personal favor," Wolfwood explained with a sigh. "You know I can't say no to him."
Unfortunately, Chuuya knew this, and he couldn't even be that mad, because he was glad to see Wolfwood befriend others in the Mafia: Oda, sure, but also Hirotsu, Tachihara, and even Kouyou. He was making a life for himself in this world, and Chuuya was happy for him.
When it didn't interfere with their plans, that is.
"Fucking Oda," he growled under his breath, though he didn't mean it.
Wolfwood laughed, then immediately covered it up with a very fake cough when Chuuya glared at him. He knelt next to the bathtub and took his hand.
"I'll wrap it up as quickly as I can, okay?" he said, kissing all over his knuckles. The feeling of his stubble against his bare skin never failed to make Chuuya shiver. "Relax. Dinner's ready for you when you're done here. I'll be back before you fall asleep, okay? I promise, angel."
"Fine," Chuuya agreed, not even ashamed to be pouting. "Be careful."
"Always."
"Bar?"
Wolfwood looked up from where he was washing all the blood and grime off his hands. In the mirror, he saw Oda standing behind him.
As tempting as a good drink sounded, he knew that he'd be hung by the balls if he made his angel wait any longer. A bath and fancy food would only keep him happy for so long before their effects wore off to be replaced by anger that their already limited time together was being cut short.
He shook his head. "Can't. I should be going home."
Oda's eyes widened when he understood what Wolfwood meant. His reactions often reminded him of a puppy, and he wondered if that's why Chuuya got along with him so well. Though, wouldn't that mean that he's like a dog, too, and that's why he likes him?
"Ah, you should've told me I was interrupting," Oda said, sheepishly.
"It's fine," Wolfwood replied as he turned around. "I'll be off the next two days, though, so try not to make too much of a mess, 'cause you'll be on your own."
"I'll do my best," Oda said, just seriously enough that Wolfwood knew he was kidding. He was a strange man. "Tell him I said hi."
"He's not too happy with you right now, but okay."
Wolfwood walked out of the frankly nasty bathroom and made a beeline to the door. Out in the street remained only a handful of mafiosos, including some others that Oda and him sometimes went to bars with.
Hirotsu, one of said mafiosos, offered him a cigarette when he saw him. As badly as he wanted a smoke, he declined. Call him a loser; he couldn't wait to go back home.
"Not joining us?"
"Not tonight, grandpa," he replied, taking his bike keys out of his pocket. "I'll see you around."
The man chuckled. "Have fun."
Hirotsu had quickly become one of the few people who knew about his relationship with Chuuya. It was purely accidental; he joined them during one of their bar visits, where they'd been tipsy and ended up making out in front of a very exasperated Oda who'd called the man for backup not to feel like such a third wheel.
Chuuya had been mortified that the man had seen him like that, but he'd reassured Wolfwood that he was trustworthy and knew how to keep a secret.
On the short walk to his bike, Wolfwood pulled out his phone to text Chuuya that he was going home. He hoped to find a flower shop still open on his way; he didn't want to go back to his angel without some sort of peace offering.
"Excuse me? Wolfwood?"
He turned around where he was about to climb on his bike to look at the guy calling his name.
"Can I help you?"
"You've been requested at Dazai Osamu's office."
"Who's that?"
The guy stared at Wolfwood like he'd spoken a foreign language that he'd never heard before. Weird.
"…The Port Mafia boss."
Ah, yeah, that would explain the strange look. It begged another question, however, because why on Earth would the boss ask to see one of the lowest-ranking members of the organization?
"Are you sure he asked to see me?"
"You're Nicholas D. Wolfwood, aren't you? The undertaker?"
"Uh, yeah." He nodded. Unfortunately, it seemed like the mafioso hadn't made a mistake by looking for him. "What does he want?"
"No idea, sir. I wasn't told."
Well, that's not ominous at all.
Without another word, Wolfwood turned to his bike and got on his way to headquarters.
No matter what the boss —Dazai, was it?— wanted, the sooner he got it over with so he could go back home to Chuuya, the better. No time to waste.
(From a few meters away, Hirotsu, who'd heard the guy calling for Wolfwood, pulled out his phone and texted Chuuya to inform him of the unfortunate —but inevitable— meeting about to happen.)
The guards outside the door opened the door for Wolfwood after he told them his name and the reason for his visit; after he'd taken the elevator to the top floor and walked down a seemingly endless, empty hallway. He thought it seemed to be a little much, but who was he to judge?
He stepped into the office, which was mostly dark and empty, save for the desk at the opposite side of the room and the light that came in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Behind the desk sat Dazai Osamu, a mostly unassuming man with dark hair, a plain black suit, and a black coat. What made him stand out were the bandages wrapped around his arms, neck, and right eye, as well as the dark, red scarf thrown over his shoulders.
And the crazy look in his visible eye, but Wolfwood had dealt with many people with that same insanity behind their eyes back in his priest days.
"You wanted to see me, Boss?"
"Ah, yes, Wolfwood, is it?"
"Yeah."
Dazai leaned back and pressed a button on the desk. Immediately, metal curtains covered the office windows, leaving the room to be lit up only by a single light bulb above the desk.
Wolfwood wondered if this guy had been a theater kid before becoming the Port Mafia boss, because he certainly had a flair for the dramatics. The only thing that was missing was an old, dusty piano he could play as he recited his villain speech. Though, for all he knew, that could be in a different office, or maybe it would pop up when he pressed another button.
"Come in, come in," Dazai said. Wolfwood approached the desk cautiously until he was just a couple of steps away. "So, how are you?"
"What is this about?"
Whatever this meeting was about, Wolfwood knew it wasn't anything as inoffensive as a wellness check. Every mafioso he met warned him that, unless you were part of the elite, being asked to see the boss meant trouble. He was not about to let his guard down.
"Not one for small talk, I see. That's fine," the boss sighed, defeated. The exaggerated sadness on his face didn't fool Wolfwood in the slightest. "I just wanted to finally meet the man who's been helping out with our messier business for the last three months and twenty-six days. Yours is valuable labor for the Port Mafia, I hope you know that."
"Uh, sure," he replied. All this fake friendliness was only making him feel more on edge. "No problem."
Dazai smiled. It didn't reach his eye. "You mostly help out Oda Sakunosuke, don't you? He's a stellar employee, that's for sure. Having a dedicated undertaker is not common, but I suppose he can be messy."
Wolfwood shrugged. Oda was safe territory, at least; he knew from the man himself that he'd been friends with Dazai for years.
"I've seen messier."
"Oh? You mean like when you help out my executive, Nakahara Chuuya?" Wolfwood felt his heart sink to his stomach. Dazai laughed, like something straight out of a horror movie. "No, sorry, you can't be meeting him for business, considering you two mainly meet at his apartment."
"How do you-?"
"I have surveillance on all my executives' homes," Dazai explained, waving a hand around dismissively. "It's a safety measure, you see."
A flash of protectiveness, mixed with anger, made Wolfwood see red. He didn't care if anyone wanted to spy on the other executives or any member of the Mafia, but he wasn't fond of the idea of someone following Chuuya's every move.
His angel deserved at least his privacy; he tried so hard to protect it...
"Are your executives aware of said measure?" he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation any longer.
"I don't see how that's any of your concern."
"I don't see how who Nakahara Chuuya spends time with is any of your concern, either, especially not when it's all Port Mafia members."
For a moment, the boss seemed startled by Wolfwood's response. Clearly, he wasn't used to people replying to him with anything other than politeness or submission, reluctant as it may be.
"Ah, you got me there! I'll drop the act then, if that's okay with you," he said. His face twisted, and his eye seemed to darken. Now Wolfwood could actually believe that this man was the Port Mafia boss. "Chuuya has always been a disobedient dog; going around with other people, being aggressive when I try to pet him… I never expected that he'd be the type to try to replace the owner who put a roof over his head, and yet here we are."
Wolfwood clenched his fists before he did something stupid, like flipping the desk and beating the shit out of the boss of the most dangerous organization in Yokohama. He knew that it was exactly what this clown wanted, and he didn't plan to give him the satisfaction.
"Chuuya's not a damn dog," he hissed, "and you sure as hell ain't his owner, boss."
He may be a fool in love, but it didn't take a genius to recognize all the good in Chuuya: he was smart, funny, sweet —in his own, rough-around-the-edges way— and absolutely stunning. He was perfect; proof that there is a God, if you believe in that sort of thing. Wolfwood never did before he met him.
And here was this joke of a man talking about him as if he were anything less than an angel.
Dazai laughed a humorless laugh.
"He's got you wrapped around his finger, uh? I understand, I fell for it, too. Take it from me, though: he doesn't feel the same. There's something about him that makes it impossible to look away, but the thing about stray dogs is that they hate leashes."
"Or maybe he couldn't give less of a shit about you because you treat him like a dog."
"Ah, you're right. Maybe 'bitch' would be more accurate?"
Before Wolfwood could think better of it, he'd pushed the desk out of the way and punched Dazai right in the nose, causing a very satisfying 'crack' to reverberate in the room. The bandages around his eye had gotten messed up thanks to the hit, but he fixed them before they could reveal what laid underneath.
"If I were you, I'd watch my fucking mouth."
Dazai smiled as blood dripped from his nose and down his mouth, chin, and neck, drenching his bandages. Then, he reached into his coat and pulled out a gun, which he immediately pointed at Wolfwood.
"Don't be stupid, undertaker; I'm still the boss here."
Wolfwood pressed his forehead against the barrel of the gun. Dazai's eye widened, shocked by the unexpected response to his threat.
"All I see is a snotty brat throwing a tantrum because someone else took his favorite toy."
"I could blow your brains out right now."
"Do it," Wolfwood shrugged, pressing closer against the gun. "I can guarantee you that Chuuya won't let that slide so easily. It will be your blood being spilled next."
A dark eye, void of emotion, studied Wolfwood's face. He didn't move a muscle; not because he was scared, but because he didn't want this guy to mistakenly assume that he was backtracking.
In reality, he didn't know for sure if Chuuya would retaliate if Dazai killed him right then and there. He knew his angel wasn't heartless; he definitely would've been upset, but maybe not enough to harm the boss of the organization he swore his life to. At the very least, he would've given Dazai an earful about killing his boy toy, and Wolfwood would've been content with that.
Dazai put down the gun and stood from the chair.
Wolfwood braced himself to fight, but far from throwing a punch in return, Dazai turned around and approached his desk. He pressed the same button he'd pressed before, and the metal curtains went up, letting the room be drowned in moonlight once again.
"Leave, undertaker."
Wolfwood frowned. He must've imagined the defeat in Dazai's voice.
He was, admittedly, a little disappointed that he didn't get the chance to punch Dazai some more, but the shock and confusion from the emotion he heard in his voice won over that pettiness.
He knew that he should leave before the boss changed his mind, so he did.
Wolfwood expected to come home to an angry Chuuya, of course. He knows that his little angel is not fond of waiting; especially not when they already had plans.
What he didn't expect was to see Chuuya approaching the front door with slow, careful steps and a wild look in his eyes.
The apology that was already on the tip of his tongue dies when something slips from Chuuya's hand: a knife, the one he usually keeps in his pocket or his holster when he's out for work. Wolfwood would recognize it anywhere; he's seen it many times before as Chuuya gets ready for the day in front of him.
(There was also that time his angel of temptation asked him to carve his initial on his freckled skin with said knife, but that's besides the point.)
He pauses. He looks up from the knife at Chuuya's feet, only to find those lovely eyes he falls in love with every single day filling with tears.
Before Wolfwood can ask what's wrong, Chuuya crosses the distance between them and wraps himself around him with enough strength to make it hard for him to breathe. Even though he's still lost, he immediately hugs him back just as hard.
Panic bubbles up his chest when he feels a wet spot grow on his shirt, where Chuuya's face is pressed against his chest.
"I've got you, I've got you," he mumbles —unhelpfully, he knows— as he presses kisses all over Chuuya's hair. "What's wrong?"
Chuuya leans back to look up at him, and his heart squeezes at the sight: his angel's pretty face is all red and wet with tears, his eyes are watery and puffy. It's not an unusual look on him, but Wolfwood would've much rather never have to see Chuuya cry for anything other than pleasure.
"How are you alive?" Chuuya asks, voice watery, making Wolfwood's thoughts screech to a halt before they can continue down that road. Not the time, he tells himself. "Hirotsu told me Dazai asked for a meeting with you."
Wolfwood scoffs as he wipes the tears off Chuuya's face with his thumbs. "Yeah, a little heads up about your crazy ex would've been nice."
Unamused, Chuuya punches his shoulder.
"It's not funny!" he says, and Wolfwood's hard work cleaning his face goes to waste as more tears roll down his cheeks. "He's not my ex. We were never together, but he's insane, and he could've hurt you. What did he want?"
Chuuya's words don't really do justice to how unhinged the Port Mafia is, if you ask Wolfwood, but he keeps that thought to himself.
"…We had a little chat."
Chuuya arches an eyebrow. "And?"
Wolfwood sighs. He takes Chuuya's hand and pulls him to the living room with him.
He sits down and pats his lap. Chuuya rolls his eyes, but he can see him biting back a smile, which makes the attitude completely worth it.
"Come on," Wolfwood insists. After a second, Chuuya finally straddles his lap. His hands are drawn to his angel's waist immediately, and said angel wraps his arms around his neck right after.
"Talk."
So demanding. Wolfwood really is crazy about him.
He thinks of the best way he can explain whatever happened at the boss' office. Calling it a 'conversation' would be generous, as it was more like a dick-measuring contest than a civilized talk, but he's sure that Chuuya wouldn't be too happy with an explanation like that.
He phrases it as delicately as he can: "Well, he wanted to intimidate me, but it didn't work, so here we are."
Chuuya frowns. "What do you mean 'it didn't work'?"
"He looks like a mummy and acts like an edgy teenager, how intimidating can he be?"
"He's the-" Chuuya's words die in his lips, cut off by a laugh that he tries and fails to bite down. No matter how many times Wolfwood manages to make him laugh, it never gets old. He could hear that lovely laughter for hours. "Yeah, he's stupid, but he's the Port Mafia boss for a reason."
"I bet," Wolfwood concedes. He knows that not just anyone can make it to the very top of the food chain, edgy personality or not. "Still, I'm wounded you thought I would go down without a fight."
Chuuya shakes his head, and his arms hug Wolfwood tighter.
"I've lost too many people already. I can't lose you, too."
Wolfwood feels like all the air abandons his lungs, but he welcomes the feeling with open arms.
Chuuya has told him all about the people from his past; people who either betrayed him or died fighting for him. People that he considers family, even after all these years.
Getting confirmation that he matters that much to his angel feels like making it to Heaven.
"I'll be fine," he reassures him, giving his waist a little squeeze that has him squirming on his lap. "I may not have a flashy ability to fight, but the guy upstairs will keep me safe."
Chuuya scowls and cups his face to leave a short, but no less breathtaking, kiss on his lips.
"I don't believe in that shit. I will keep you safe."
"I love you."
Wolfwood's heart skips a beat when Chuuya's eyes widen, and he finally realizes that he said that out loud. It's not like those three words had never crossed his mind before, but he'd been careful not to make a fool of himself and spook his angel when they were basking in the afterglow or having dinner together.
Well, it was good while it lasted. He's sure the priest's clothes still fit him.
The shock in Chuuya's face melts into something softer, and a pretty smile makes its way to his lips.
"Took you long enough." He kisses Wolfwood's cheek, and he holds his breath as Chuuya speaks directly to his ear: "I love you, too."
Their lips clash together in an instant, hungry and desperate like the day they met. When they get like this, Chuuya always kisses him like he's trying to kill him, and it never fails to make Wolfwood lightheaded and hard as a rock in his pants.
"Come here," he mumbles, as soon as he can break the kiss for long enough to speak. His angel isn't eager to stop kissing him, and neither is he, in all honesty.
He grabs Chuuya's thigh and stands from the couch. They've stumbled into their bedroom after making out on the couch enough times by now for him to know the path well enough to walk it blindly.
Chuuya laughs against his lips. He feels like the luckiest motherfucker that's ever stepped in Yokohama.
When they make it to the bedroom, he leaves Chuuya on the bed as delicately as he can and climbs on top of him after taking a brief second to enjoy the view. His angel may be wearing cutesy cat pajamas, but he's still the sexiest guy in the world to him.
He placates a pouting Chuuya with a kiss to his lips, but before they can get carried away again, Wolfwood lets his mouth wander to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck.
In an instant, Chuuya's legs wrap around his middle, and he finds himself laying on his back and staring up at the angel now back to straddling his lap.
It reminds him of the day they met, and judging by the smile painting Chuuya's lips, he's not the only one who made that connection. Knowing him, his angel must've switched their positions for old times' sake.
"Brings back memories, right, angel?"
"Mhm. You don't happen to have a rosary around, do you?"
Chuuya smirks, then leans down to kiss and bite at his jaw, all while his hands wander to the buttons of his shirt. Wolfwood wants to get his gorgeous angel naked, too, so he quickly gets rid of his top.
"I'll get one in case you ever want to tie me up." That being said, Wolfwood flips their positions so he's on top of Chuuya again. "In the meantime, let me take care of you."
They get each other naked in a frenzy; hands blindly reaching to undo buttons and to pull down pants. Wolfwood can feel his lips grow numb from so many kisses, and he's sure that Chuuya will complain of a beard-burn on his chin when they're out of the haze, but he can't bring himself to care right now.
He takes Chuuya's naked legs and brings them up to his shoulders; he loves pushing his angel's flexibility, and he knows that the manhandling is more than welcome, so he never holds back.
Chuuya's already soaking wet, so Wolfwood only rubs the head of his cook between the wet lips of his cunt to use the slick as lube before he pushes in with one thrust.
He sees blue eyes roll back as a loud moan escapes his angel's reddened lips, and he has to pause for a second to collect himself so he doesn't cum immediately. No matter how many times they've done this before, he always has the same reaction to the perfect, warm heat of Chuuya's pussy.
He pulls back until just the tip of his dick is in Chuuya's cunt, then slams inside again. His angel's back arches off the bed, and he can tell that he's not the only one close to the edge already.
Chuuya wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him until their chests are pressed together. It's a little harder for Wolfwood to move like this, but who is he to deny his angel when all he wants is a kiss?
He lets his mouth be devoured by Chuuya's lips again; he bites hard enough to hurt, but it only makes Wolfwood feel so much closer to orgasm.
With how close they are, Wolfwood can only give slow, shallow thrusts into Chuuya's pussy. It's a change of pace from their usual fast and hard rhythm, but he can't say that he doesn't enjoy it; and judging by the moans his angel breathes against his lips, they're on the same page.
"Nico…"
Chuuya hugs him closer, like even this isn't enough. Wolfwood understands, because if there was a way for him to get inside Chuuya's chest and make a home for himself between his ribs, he'd do it in an instant.
"Yeah?" he groans, peppering kisses all over Chuuya's flushed face. "You're close?"
Chuuya nods. His hair tickles Wolfwood's face as he kisses down his neck.
Hands cup his face and guide him to Chuuya's lips again. As much as he wants to leave marks all over his body, Wolfwood goes willingly. He's sure that this is just round one; he'll get more chances to leave love bites all over his angel.
"I love you," Chuuya moans in between kisses.
Wolfwood groans. He's barely holding it together, and Chuuya's words certainly aren't any help.
"I love you, too, angel."
Chuuya shakes his head, and a frown appears on his face. Wolfwood thinks that maybe he's not doing a good enough job, and while his ego takes a huge blow, he makes up for it by reaching between them to tease Chuuya's clit with his fingers.
He throws his head back with a whine, but he keeps shaking his head. Embarrassing as it is to admit, Wolfwood has no idea what he's doing wrong here.
Chuuya looks at him, half-lidded and smiling, as if he could read Wolfwood's spiraling thoughts.
"Say my name," he demands.
Wolfwood stops moving, and his angel doesn't complain. He kisses every inch of skin he can reach: freckled cheeks and shoulders, a rapidly rising chest, an already marked neck, a sweaty forehead, teary eyelids, and the tip of a dainty nose. Chuuya lets himself be pampered with a smile.
Their pending orgasms are still in the back of their minds, and they don't let themselves be forgotten as they keep making their entire bodies buzz with arousal, but that's not a priority for either of them right now.
Wolfwood's eyes meet Chuuya's, and he can tell that this is it for him. He could die right now and be happy with the life he had, because it was all leading up to this; to him.
"I love you, Chuuya."
His angel smiles, and he can't help but thank the God he doesn't believe in for letting him live long enough to see such a view.