Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/8922733. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス_|_Bungou_Stray_Dogs Relationship: Dazai_Osamu/Oda_Sakunosuke_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Dazai_Osamu_&_Nakahara Chuuya_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs) Character: Oda_Sakunosuke_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Dazai_Osamu_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Nakahara_Chuuya_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs), Mori_Ougai_(Bungou_Stray_Dogs) Additional Tags: Gentle_Sex, Body_Worship, post-coital_snuggling, Odasaku_is_a_Saint, Chuuya_the_exasperated_frenemies, Mentions_of_soukoku_and_akutadazai, Is 16_underaged?_It_is_in_my_country Series: Part 1 of Beads_of_Light Stats: Published: 2016-12-20 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 13435 ****** Between The Stardusts ****** by Raven_Rein Summary “Dazai,” he said, voice full of that new resolution, his hand found the other male’s and squeezed gently “Do you trust me?” For some reason, his mouth became dry when that gaze was solely directed at him. He somehow managed to bob his head down once, a parody of a nod. “Then trust me with this,” he said, lifting Dazai’s hand and whispering the next words on his skin “Trust me with your body.” Notes So, another monster fic not even two weeks after the first one, written in less than 24 hours. If I didn't have a proof that this pairing has destroyed my life before, I certainly do now. But, well, here's 10.000+ words of these two having sex. //tips wine glass at you//. My life is complete. ***** Between the Stadusts ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes   . .   The breeze is chilling, as is fitting for a midwinter dawn. The sun has yet to rise from its quarters deep within the embrace of the horizons, and the stars are visible in a sprawling march of Milky Way. The dark haired boy with too many bandages breathes in the salty air as his gaze roams the unending expense of the seas and the skies in front of him. His toes are on the edge of a cliff, one step away from the freedom that he longs for. When the first hint of yellow light touches the edge of the skies, he lifts one foot, intending to carry on with the final plummet. The beautiful sunrise don’t deserve to be the last thing these wretched eyes behold.   . . Between The Stardusts . .     If you ask Dazai what moment is the most precious memory in his life, you will get a different answer depending on his opinion of you. Become someone he does not trust and imminently dislike and you’ll get yourself an eerie smile that doesn’t reach his cold eyes. Be someone he trust yet dislike and you’ll get teasings and theatrical, dramatic lies. Be someone who he doesn’t trust but likes and you’ll get lies flung at your face along with words designed to cut you open. But be someone trust and likes, and you’ll get yourself an honest smile and silence; but that lack of words are also a lack of lies, and that’s the mercy he’ll give to the people privileged enough to gain both his trust and affection. There are only two people in this world that can get that reaction from him, and he wished that both or at least one of them was beside him, chatting away the darker hours of the night. But Dazai was alone, surrounded by people he trust yet dislike, the people he distrust yet don’t dislike, and a man he distrust and despise. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the handle of his favourite gun, but his face was a mask of neutral indifference. It was one of those days, where Dazai was unable to even stand without wanting to roll into the ground and stay there until he turns to dust with the insects and eaten by maggots. One of those days where he can’t even see into the mirror without wanting slam his fist into it and watch the dazzling brightness of the overhead lamps glinting off the red of his blood or shooting himself in the head to embrace the darkness that lurks on the fringes of his sanity. He was just about to press a dagger into his wrist, hoping that if he doesn’t die from blood loss the blood poisoning will do him in, when the phone rang and Mori Ougai’s sweet sharp voice requested his assistance with a prisoner. Dazai closed his eyes and fought off the urge to sigh. This was not the place to show weakness, not where Hiryuu Seira hatefully glared at him from beneath blood-encrusted bangs, tied up on a chair in front of him with blood streaking down her face and dripping off her fingers. This was not the time, not when the remaining four Executives and the Boss were watching his every movement as he drew the gun and placed it on the Fifth Executive’s head. His face almost automatically pulled itself into a parody of a sweet smile, eyes too dark and too bloodthirsty for him to smile quite so innocently. What he gained in return was nothing but a split-second reaction, the fear and shock that caused green eyes to widen and blood-red lips to part, before a look of grim resignation replaced them on the older woman’s face.  The bang that followed a single twitch of his fingers was not as satisfying as watching blonde hair flew off from the force of impact, neck violently snapping backward from the point-blank headshot. Like a doll cut off from the cruel hands of the puppeteer, her body fell limp. Unliving. Unanimated. How easy it was to take life when a human body was so fragile. How enchanting. How paradoxical. How utterly boring. Dazai was careful; careful to not let the smile slip off of his face, careful to not let his fingers tremble or his eyes flicker. He held his posture, something graceful and dangerous, as he replaced the tool of execution back into its holster. There was no applause or loud exclamation. There were only eyes boring holes into his visage, minds calculating the turning tides. And then there was Mori’s satisfied smile as he placed a hand on Dazai’s shoulder like he earned it. Dazai fought off the urge to break that wrist, just as he always did whenever that hand touched any parts of his body. “Congratulations, Dazai-kun. You are now an Executive of the Port Mafia.” The line was delivered too happily, the tone was a touch too soft, too fatherly, for it to be real. So Dazai answered with a laugh, all the while knowing how hollow it rang. They knew what this rise through the rank meant. It was one step closer for a blade to press into Mori’s jugular, for Dazai to wrench the throne and crown from his cold dead fingers. The flicker of darkness in his eyes told Dazai that he recognized the danger that this promotion brought in its wake. So he smiled something cutting and poisonously sweet for this man whose blood will someday coat the tips of his blade, will someday paint his hands and elbows as he laugh and laughs, tumbling down the inescapable path of insanity. Outside of the room, Chuuya was waiting, foot tapping impatiently into the concrete. He was just about to open his mouth and shout at Dazai like he usually did whenever Dazai suddenly called him in the middle of a cold night to pick him up from some location so far away from human civilization, when he froze as the remaining four Executive stepped out from behind him. Dazai watched with amusement as Chuuya’s eyes widened comically and he practically snapped at the waist to deliver a bow when the Boss stepped out of the room, all elegance and deadly measured steps. When the others were gone with a nod to Dazai’s direction, Chuuya finally lifted his head. “What the hell was that, Dazai? Why were all of them in the room with you?” he asked, slightly breathless. Dazai tuts and giggle, it sounded fake even to his own ears. “Is that really how you’re supposed to talk to your new superior, Chuu-ya?” he drawled out his name teasingly because he knew how much his partner hates it when he did that. “What—wait, you--?!” It was funny to watch him fumble for words like he always did when something particularly nasty decided to surprise him. But to Dazai’s disappointment, he recovered quickly, which in Chuuya’s language meant he already expected the development but was only surprised over how quick it actually came. The shorter half of Double Black huffed and rubbed the back of his neck, Dazai knew he would have seen Hiryuu Seira, bloodied and dead, from the opened door behind him and understood what had happened in that room. “So you’re an Executive now?” he groaned. “God, you’re going to be even more unbearable, aren’t you?” “That depends on how high your tolerance is. If it’s as short as your body, then probably yes.” Chuuya glared at him with a twist on the edge of his lips that told Dazai that he didn’t deliver his lines right, that he can see the signs of exhaustion on the lines of his body; that the gaping hole and abyss of emptiness threatening to consume Dazai whole is as visible for the blue eyes of this boy in front of him like a sprawling mansion from behind the curtain of mist.   Dazai realized that this partner of his who saw too much but not enough at the same time noticed the wrongness in him. He would know that this was one of those days, when he would turn the red-haired boy into a ball of spitting, dark-eyed ball of rage and fire and will goad him into strangling the taller boy, into beating him, breaking him. Killing him. “Shut your trap, shitty Dazai. The night’s way too late for that.” He growled without heat, stomping out of the abandoned house Dazai was called to. Outside, between the fresh car tracks, was Chuuya’s beloved new car that the owner stroked like a long-lost lover before he opened the door and slid inside. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He shouted to Dazai who lurked on the doorway, out of the moon’s shadow. “Are you offering to take me away, Chuuya? Elope to Europe, maybe? How romantic.” He purred as he walked to the navigator’s seat and slid in. “As if! I’d rather take that mission involving decimation of Ability User group all by myself rather than eloping with you.” He growled in his characteristic irritation. “So, where should I drop you off, bastard?” “Hmm? You’re not offering to get drunk together on your wine collection as celebration, Chuuya?” Dazai asked because normally, the two of them would go drinking in celebration when one of them rose through the rank. It was one of their questionable tradition. “We can also fuck afterward; I promise I’ll be extra nice.” He offered with a purr. “Not today, I’m tired.” He grumbled as he started the car and backed the vehicle. “Wait until when the asphalt doesn’t seem like five star hotel’s bed in my eyes. And I have a mission tomorrow, asshole. I need my hips not aching when I’m trying to kick asses.” Dazai stomped on that feeling of rising gratefulness, reminding himself that that feeling has no place in his relationship with this other boy. Entrapped in the same darkness as he is, Chuuya thrived in the violence, relishing every drop of blood that stained his hands in this cage that Dazai desperately longed to struggle against. He might trust him with his life when it counts, but Dazai will see that the world ended, would probably have a hand in speeding it along, before he grew any sort of affection for him. But the thing was, despite the mutual hatred between them, Chuuya understood him worlds better than much of other people, an instinct to catch his mood borne from having to suffer living side-by-side with him for years. And it meant that he also understood that it wasn’t him whom Dazai needed right now; understood that if he spent anymore time with him when Dazai’s in this mood, he would be cutting him open with words, abusing him using nothing but the things that fall off his mouth, goading him into putting his hands on Dazai’s neck with the pure intention to kill. It would spell disaster for the both of them.  “Any beds would indeed feel like five star hotel’s bed for someone your stature.” Dazai hummed and grinned at the answering growl “Drop me off by the red-light district, won’t you. I’m not feeling up to spending the night alone.” “Fine, you womanizing shit.” He grumbled loudly. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, and Dazai didn’t thank him when they stopped and he slid out of his seat. He didn’t react with anything other than his usual fake smile when he realized Chuuya dropped him off two blocks away from the red-light district despite getting here without crossing the actual district means a longer circling route and waste of gas. His partner truly knew him far too well. He waved to Chuuya enthusiastically when he drove away, shouting “Too bad about tonight, I would have let you fuck me!” and got a fist flipping him off from the open window before it retracted and the glass rolled up. Dazai dropped his hand and almost immediately his smile disappeared. He sighed and turned around, walking away from the direction of the red-light district. This close to the slums of Yokohama meant drug dealers on every corner, muggers who waited on shadows and perverted rapist leering at passerbies. But this close to the centre of darkness in the city also meant that everyone knew his face, his bloody reputation and were apparently smart enough not to try anything suicidal. But there were still amateurs and idiots who jumped into the madness of the criminal world without taking advices and warning from the more seasoned, and Dazai ended up arriving to his destination with even more blood staining the bandage on his right hand and shirt from three different people that he placed back to their places with apathy. He knocked the door in front him, fully knowing that he could just pick the lock and be done with the cold and the darkness. The person who owned the apartment in this dangerous, dirty part of the town is probably asleep anyway. It’s that late. But light spilled from the gap beneath the door and muffled footsteps thumped against the floor on the other side, the thin walls and thinner door not giving any privacy. With the click of a lock, the door opened and Odasaku’s face appeared. “Hey, Odasaku!” Dazai grinned something less burdened than the last one he pulled on his face, already comforted by the familiar furrowing of brows. “Dazai.” Odasaku said as a way of greeting, voice calm and neutral for anyone who doesn’t know him. But Dazai detected the underlying hint of concern in the subtle tilt of his voice. The older man pulled the door wider to let him into the slightly warmer room. As he put off his shoes and plopped them carelessly on the genkan, Dazai watched as Odasaku placed back his silver gun into the holster that hung on a rack beside the door. The newly-named Executive has been in his friend’s apartment before, but the spartan space is captivating no matter how many times he’s been in it. It was nothing but a single six-and-a-half tatami room with a kitchenette on one corner. A door on the side will give way to a shower that rains shitty water pressure that was perpetually cold with enough space to stand but not for much of anything else. Beside the door to the bathroom is a sliding door to a small closet where Odasaku kept his futon and what spare clothes he had. And everywhere, littering every possible surface, overflowing from a large shelf and piling against four walls, was various novels and books. They made small room seems even smaller, but Dazai enjoys the simple room, simpler lifestyle and ideals, and the obvious love for literature, because all of it was just so Odasaku. “Would you like anything to drink?” he asked as he padded barefooted back into the room, opening curtains and turning off the light as he went. Dazai recognized it as the tactical move he always made whenever Dazai came by his apartment to give himself a better view of the world outside. After all, there’s a possibility that Flawless wouldn’t activate in a critical movement as long as he’s in the room with him, so if worst came to worst, they’ll be able to see the attacker from the window and knew the direction they’re running to without being blinded by the overhead light. “No, thank you.” Odasaku didn’t have to know that Dazai’s stomach was rolling and folding in on itself. He’d just barf anything that came into his mouth, so it’s better not to even try. The taller man nodded and began walking to the kitchenette but slowed his steps when he heard Dazai laughing. “Odasaku, I just bought you this shelf three months ago.” Dazai poked said thing as he stood in front of the overflowing bookshelf that was taller than him and thrice wider than his frame. “How did you get so many books so quickly?” “There was a series of sales nearby and work was slow.” Odasaku answered as he shuffled to the kitchenette and began heating up some water. “I’m thinking about giving away some of them.” Dazai snickered at the underlying note of pain and reluctance in his voice. “No need for that. I’ll just get you another shelf, the rest you can stash over at my apartment. I’m sure Chuuya wouldn’t mind.” He hummed and flopped down to sit on the thick futon spread out on one corner of the room, partially hidden in the shadow of the looming wooden shelf. It’s typical of people who lived a life like his and Odasaku’s; the niggling incapability of sleep without the cold comfort of a wall pressing against their back. “You don’t have to do that for me.” Odasaku interjected softly. “But I want to!” Dazai exclaimed while ghosting his fingertips on the cover of a book near his knee. “It will be such a shame if any of these gets injured, won’t it, Odasaku?” “My heart will break.” Odasaku answered with no change on his facial expression or tone of voice. Normal people will think that he’s injecting sarcasm into the conversation, but Dazai knew him well enough to recognize the simple honesty of those words. “Thought so.” He cheerily replied as he opened the book to a random page with his socked toes. Odasaku would flip if the blood still on his hands got on his beloved books. Dazai spent the next moment humming and flicking his eyes on the content. It was a collection of poetry, the words flowing and subtle, like fine mist on the break of dawn that left the aftertaste of dew when breathed in. When he got to the third poem, Dazai wondered who wrote the book, piecing together words like building rain one drops at a time. When Odasaku sat in front of him, Dazai offered a smile. “This book is good!” “Spring Birds? Ah… yes, the poetry in them is good.” the older man eyed the fraying book while wringing a small hand towel from the lukewarm water where they were soaking. “I heard the writer of that book is the same age as you.” “Really?” Dazai hummed as he extended both hands so Odasaku can clean them with swipes and dabs of the damp towel “He’s talented. What’s his name?” “I think it’s Kunikida Doppo.” He answered while dipping the towel back into the small bucket which water rapidly got redder before pressing the towel to Dazai’s cheeks and neck where drops of blood were drying off. “I’d like to meet him someday.” Dazai remarked as Odasaku stood up to throw away the water on the sink and retrieved some bandages. “I wonder what sort of person can write poems like this.” “Someone’s not good at choosing a Publisher Company, apparently. Only a few dozens of his books came out because it went bankrupt almost right after publishing them because of an internal conflict.” Odasaku came back, this time with multiple rolls of fresh bandages that he left in front of Dazai before he turned back and crossed the room to open the sliding door of his wardrobe and searched through them for an extended period of time. When he finally turned back after ten minutes of meaninglessly shuffling things around, he raised an eyebrow on the rolls of bandage still sitting untouched in front of Dazai. “You’re not changing them?” he asked. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to help me with it.” Odasaku blinked and stared at him with his steel blue eyes while Dazai kept the smile on his face. “You’d want me to?” he asked carefully, like a man threading thin ice. “Yes.” Dazai answered with a tilt of his head. It was enough. Odasaku blinked once again as his hands moved to slide the wardrobe closed, flicked his gaze to the locks on the door before moving to pull the curtains closed. When he returned to the futon in front of Dazai, the younger male already divested himself from his coat and suit jacket and was pulling off his trousers and socks. Odasaku helped him by unbuttoning his shirts. Throwing down the trouser and socks in the general vicinity of the door leading to the bathroom, Dazai leaned back and rested his weight on his hands to make Odasaku’s task easier. When the bloodied shirt has been thrown to the same general direction as the trousers, Dazai was sitting on Odasaku’s futon in in his boxer and the rolls upon rolls of bandages he wounded across his whole body this morning, hiding his skin with their opulent white. The younger male scooted back to sit on the middle of the futon so that Odasaku can also sit atop the soft surface. He detected the warmth between the sheets and wondered if his friend was sleeping before he showed up here unannounced. Odasaku’s calloused hands gripped one of his feet gently and drew it to rest atop his own crossed legs, methodically unwinding the bandages. Dazai stared at his hands, transfixed as they took away the layers of defence he had built around himself for so many years, the unrelenting wall from which he never let anyone entered. But if it’s this man, with his gentle fingers and gentler eyes, then maybe he can make an exception. “Dazai, why did you came here?” Odasaku asked in a low voice as his hands worked on the bandages across his calf. The younger male was too focused on the alien feeling of fingers pressing against his bare skin that he needed a moment longer than usual to register the question. “Oh, well.” He chuckled “I just became an Executive, you see.” Odasaku’s eyes shot up to his face in a momentary expression of shock before the ripples faded out and returned to its usual calm. “I see. Congratulations.” He said in a tone that said he expected this to happen. But maybe he did, after all it was well-known in the whole Port Mafia that Hiryuu Seira’s work was getting sloppy and that she will soon be replaced. Who else can fill that position other than their very own Demon Prodigy? Dazai sighed and closed his eyes, grounding himself on the touch that brushed against his knee, winding steadily upward until those calloused fingers brushed against the inside of his thigh. The boy bit the insides of his cheek to control himself, silently cursing his teenage hormones when those innocent brushes against his skins were enough to send sparks of electric heats up his spine. It was not the first time he had these sorts of thoughts; about Odasaku’s large hands holding him down, his weight pressing him against some surface, those silver eyes heated and watching him writhe. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t let himself got fucked by men with wide frame in dark rooms, pretending the hands closed over his hips were a bit more calloused by frequent handling of guns. But this was the first time Dazai let his guard down so much around another person, and it was enough to cut loose some of the careful control in his brain.  Those hands didn’t falter, didn’t stop. Dazai waited with his heartrate steadily increasing as it reached the tops of his thighs. He would be lying if he said he didn’t know what he expected to happen, but Odasaku abandoning the careful unwinding for uncultured tugging on the bandage when he reached the bottom of his boxer is not what he had in mind.  Dazai had to stop himself from glaring at the man when the bandage gives and the rest of it was pulled away without those hands touching anywhere under the last remaining article of clothing. But when he opened his eyes and found Odasaku’s face, he found the other man staring at him intently, pupils blown wider than it normally was. The younger male finally noticed his heated cheeks and subtly swallowed before offering a smile. It seemed like he was not the only affected by this situation. He had his suspicions that Odasaku’s attracted to him the same way he’s attracted to the ex-assassin. It was painfully not obvious and even Dazai sometimes doubted his own observation, wondering if he mistook the signs because of his own biased desire. But right now, as Odasaku placed his bare legs back to his futon with what seemed like an unaccidental stroke of the back of his knuckles against the skin of his inner thigh, Dazai can barely supress his shiver as he recognized that his observations were right after all. The other leg was pulled into Odasaku’s laps, deft hands immediately finding the end of the strip of bandage tucked on the sole of his feet and began baring his skin. This time, the older man took more time to roll away the bandages. The brushes of his hands were even more frequent; sometimes fingers would press into his skin for one moment before fluttering away, touches brief and maddening. This time, when half of Dazai’s thigh has been uncovered, a palm pressed almost ghostly on the tops of the exposed skin, like maiden’s hesitant first kiss, and it made Dazai’s heart lurch. He tried to supress his gasp as that hand inched higher, following every strip of bandages that left his skin. Suddenly, it slipped to the side to palm his inner thigh and he had to bit his lips to keep from actually moaning. Dazai’s skins were sensitive from being hidden underneath his bandages for so long, and his inner thigh is doubly so. The simple touch of warm palm against it was nearly enough to make the whole limb tremble. This time, Odasaku’s other hand followed the bandage under Dazai’s boxer, unwinding in steady manner until it reached the end of it, tugging it free from the place where his hips met thigh. “Dazai,” that voice was deep and rough, rougher than Odasaku’s usual voice like he hadn’t been using it for years. His name spoken in it was enough to make a shot of heat travel down Dazai’s spine. “is this alright?” And that question, asked directly against his ear, was enough to make Dazai unable to suppress a gasp. He can feel the man froze when he let out the sound and can almost taste his shudder on his tongue. “Dazai,” he said in a voice even lower, even deeper, almost a growl from the depth of his throat. Dazai didn’t answer him verbally because he knew that his voice will fail him if he tried to speak. Instead, he raised his right hand and offered it without opening his eyes. And then Odasaku was ghosting his lips on the tip of his ear, hand coming up to accept the offered wrist while the other one gave a long stroke against his inner thigh before parting from his skin. Dazai’s legs pressed into the futon as he tried not to writhe and he bit his lips to keep the sounds from spilling out. Then that warmth and all-encompassing presence retracted as Odasaku pulled back and sat with crossed legs, back to his original position, this time with Dazai’s hand in his. The brown-haired boy’s eyes flew open when warm lips pressed themselves against his knuckles, pressing soft kisses into each of his fingers. Odasaku’s eyes were open, and the silver that glints in them was almost wholly swallowed by the ink blackness of his pupils. They captured Dazai’s and refused to let go as the older man peppered kisses on his wrist, lips following every unravelled bandages that fell away from his skin, pressing gentle yet firm kisses into the scars that littered his forearm. Dazai licked his lips unconsciously as he enjoyed the contrasting sensation of soft lips and the scratch of coarse stubble against his skin. The brunette sucked in a breath when the older man pressed his lips against a new scar, still sensitive and pink, before his tongue flicked out to drag over it. He let out that breath in his first actual moan, soft and barely audible. But Odasaku’s ear perked up and he captured the end of that scar to suck on it gently; he heard it. The rest of his right arm was bared that way, kisses pressing into scarred ivory, lips sucking on the sensitive skin on the inside of his upper arm as hands deftly uncovered the bandages on his bicep. When Dazai’s entire right arm was free from the blood-stained bandages, Odasaku still hasn’t let up his gaze into Dazai’s eyes. As he leaned forward, Dazai automatically closed his eyes, instinctually parting his lips. Then Odasaku’s lips were touching the edge of his, and he recognized the offer to choose as what it was. He turned his head slightly to slide their lips together, moaning into it. Odasaku kissed exactly like how he imagined him to, soft, warm and without expectation. Their lips moved in sync, coming apart for a moment before closing back together, movement unhurried. It was one of the chastest kiss Dazai ever had. Used to not kissing any of his one night stands, exchanging violent lip-punches with Chuuya or having his lips chewed bloody by Akutagawa’s sharp teeth rather than actually kissing, the sweet pressure and warm wetness of Odasaku’s where there were not even a hint of tongue or teeth was more than enough to undone him quicker than Dazai even thought he could. When Odasaku pulled back, Dazai followed him with a high, needy sound that had him immediately opening his eyes and flushing from embarrassment. But the older man didn’t ridicule him for it or even throw a smug smirk his way, he just lifted Dazai’s right hand and began picking on the bandage. At that point, the both of them were breathing heavily. With Dazai worrying his lips cherry red as he watched Odasaku showering the same attention he did to his other arm. But there were more tongue added in, licking stripes on razor- thin scars and porcelain skin. And after his lips stopped on his elbow to lick and suck as his hand worked on the bicep, Odasaku parted from the skin with a sharp bite that made Dazai whine. Hands rested on his chest, radiating warmth that his skin greedily soaked up from beneath the layer of bandages separating them, Odasaku pressed kisses on his cheek, mouthing a nearly invisible scar there before sloping down to press kisses to his jaw. Dazai moaned when the red-haired man went down to suck on his neck, movement languid and unhurried. The hands that were resting on his chest began sliding down, contouring his torso with the bandages on the way. They finally came upon his hips, where his bandages ends and skin began, a thin streak of pale porcelain visible above his boxer. “Come here, Dazai.” Odasaku whispered something low and rumbling against his skin as he pulled Dazai into his laps. Now, with Odasaku between his legs and those hands slowly unwrapped his torso, Dazai took the chance to capture those lips back with his again. They gasped into the kiss, leaning into each other. Odasaku’s hand never stopped, they took detours by pressing into his muscle, stroking his back and feeling up his stomach, but they kept unravelling the bandages higher and higher as they kiss. Dazai whined into the kiss, impatient. Whenever he tried to deepen it, making it slightly faster, licking against Odasaku’s lips, the older man would pull back, separating them. It was unsatisfying and frustrating, but after however many times the other man pulled back, Dazai sulkily followed his lead, kissing with lips closed. As if rewarding him, Odasaku pulled his bottom lips into his mouth and sucked gently, drawing a moan from the dark-haired male. The bandages is now covering only his chest and neck, and Dazai has never been this bared in front of another person for many, many years. He’s both grateful and disappointed that those eyes are closed and not gazing at his skin with that heat burning within the gleam of grey and silver. But then, as all of his concentration was completely absorbed with the warm lips and hands taking away his defence that he offered up willingly, one of Odasaku’s thighs moved and pressed upward. Dazai froze for a split second before letting out a long, drawn-out groan, knocking his forehead into Odasaku’s collarbone as he melts down to that thigh pressing against his hard arousal. Odasaku let him ride his leg as his lips wandered to his neck, biting his Adam’s apple to taste the vibrations of Dazai’s moans directly against his tongue. He squeezed Dazai’s side briefly, earning a hitch of breath and a barely audible mewl, before tugging at the remaining bandages, freeing Dazai’s body from every strip of the defensive method he protected himself with over all these years. Without wasting any time, Odasaku pressed kisses down the column of Dazai’s throat, the younger male tilting his head back to bare it to his mouth. He found Dazai’s pulse point and sunk his teeth into the skin, careful not to apply too much pressure, and enjoyed the cries he drew from that abused lips. As Odasaku lapped and kissed the place where he bit as if in apology and sucked more marks into the sensitive skin of his collarbone, Dazai clutched a hand into red hair, twisting his fingers blindly as his rhythm broke apart, vision blackening as the heat in him intensified, leaving him tethering on the edge. Without any warning, Odasaku’s teeth sunk into his skin again, this time on the spot where his shoulder and neck met, and Dazai came apart with a choked, broken cry.  He kept riding Odasaku’s thigh with shameless noises escaping his throat until the last wave of white-hot pleasure surged through him, leaving him breathless and limp against Odasaku’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the white sleeping shirt soaked with sweat and breathing with heavy, quick gasps as he tried to regain his breath. Dazai felt a motion and slight wind passing him by before his back was pressed down into the soft futon. Hands began to wander the uncovered expanse of his torso, stroking and caressing every bit of skin. A thumb caught on the bud of his nipple and despite the orgasm he just had, Dazai weakly moaned and pressed up against the touch. He heard a soft gasp from above him and struggled to open his eyes, to see what’s happening. The sight that greeted him was more than enough of a reward for his effort. Odasaku was hovering above him, hands pressed into the futon on both sides of his head. His hair was dishevelled and messy from Dazai’s fingers twisting mercilessly into them, lips bitten red, eyes wide and dark, the ring of silver on their edges nearly swallowed by the dark of his pupil. But it was Odasaku’s expression, the part of his lips and the adoration in his eyes, focused solely on him and nothing else as if he’s the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen, that stole the breath from Dazai’s lungs. With a whisper of Odasaku’s name on his lips he caught white shirt between fumbling fingers and let gravity help him drag down that handsome and adoring face above him to reachable distance where Dazai can press his lips against warm ones without having to crane his neck. Odasaku complied and kissed him, deeper this time. Dazai groaned when a tongue slipped into his mouth, sliding slickly against his. He gripped Odasaku’s neck in a vice grip as he sucked on that tongue and let it roam the entirety of his mouth a whimper. Odasaku kissed him until he’s panting for breath, and when he pulled back, Dazai can barely see past the haze of desire that returned to cloud his sight. He can only watch as the older man sat back on his haunches, hands that had been roaming his body ceaselessly slid down to hook thumbs into the elastic of his boxers. The brunette shifted his weight and lifted his hips an inch away from the futon, letting the taller man slid the last remaining article of clothing from his body with relative ease. Dazai shivered as he lied back down on the soft surface, breathing heavily as he watched Odasaku’s eyes roam all over his body, taking in the messy dark hair fanned out on his white sheets, the dazed look on his face and unfocused eyes, parted red lips that he had just tasted, the scarred lithe torso, the graceful sloping of waist. His gaze travelled down the trail of hair and slick from the younger male’s navel and finally rested on his cock, slick with cum and already half-hard again. A low whisper of his name fell from Odasaku lips; it was almost reverent, the way every syllable rolled off his tongue, the tone adoring and eyes transfixed. “Dazai” When Odasaku scoot back and placed both hands on Dazai’s thigh, he thought he knew what was coming, closing his eyes in anticipation. But then then opened in confusion when the expected sensation didn’t come, but the lips he was wanting somewhere else littered kisses on his thighs softly, almost gently. He writhed and mewled Odasaku’s name, hoping to get him to speed up, bite him, touch his cock. But Odasaku gripped his hips firmly to stop the motion as he continued mouthing the back of his knees, licking and sucking a mark on the side of his knee. Lifting the leg and folding it into half, he let his palm ran over the smooth skin as he bites and lick the other one, drawing sharp gasps and whines from boy beneath him as every press of his lips were spots of concentrated fire that tingles long after the contact was gone. The taller man sucked what would left a sure mark on his hips before moving upward to place light kisses on the soft skin of his belly, drawing an impatient groan from Dazai. “Odasaku—“ he gasped, voice shaky and scratchy from the cries he dredged up from his throat earlier “—what-, what are you doing?” The older man who seemingly determined to press kisses into every bit of his skin pulled back slowly, looking up to him with those dark, and heated eyes. But something else was dancing on their surface, something Dazai never saw from any eyes directed toward him. “What do you think I’m doing?” he asked back with his voice deliciously rough. “I don’t—know.” Dazai gasped out when a thumb pressed into his sensitive nipple and flicked it. “I’m having sex with you.” He answered with that voice he always used when he answered something that would be a sarcastic answer from anybody else but fell with dripping honesty from his lips. “Is something wrong?” “This is,” he groaned when a palm slid beneath his thigh and squeezed, tickling the skin on the insides of it with calloused fingers as the other slid all the way down the other leg “—supposed to be sex?” Every movements stopped, leaving Dazai whimpering at the lack of stimulation. Just as he was about to be trembling and opened his mouth to say something, demandsomething, But Odasaku’s voice cuts him off before any words can escape his lips. “What do you mean? You don’t like this?” For the first time, he can feel hesitation in Odasaku’s hands was still pressed into his skin. He shook his head weakly. “I… I don’t dislike it, I just… I don’t—understand.” He breathed out finally. The older man frowned, leaning down to press his forehead against the boy’s. “Dazai,” he breathed warm against his lips “tell me, what is sex supposed be like?” “That’s—“ his brow furrowed, trying to fight off the sluggish haze on his mind to answer the question properly. “For one, you’re supposed to fuck me, or let me fuck you, not, well—this?” he ended it with an upward tilt of tone, ending up more asking than answering. The furrow between Odasaku’s eyebrows became deeper. “Dazai…” he said carefully as if choosing his next words, ice blue eyes searching into his, “No one has ever done this to you?” Dazai answered with a confused look and a subtle shake of head “No… you’re the only one who’s ever done this for such a long time without even a penetration.” Odasaku closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing them sweetly warm against Dazai’s lips. He lifted himself up, breaking the contact between his foreheads. When he met Dazai’s eyes again, there was still that something dancing in his eyes, just out of reach for his lust-addled mind to identify, alongside something new and burning. Dazai knew that look, can spot them from a mile away, usually followed by him forming deductions of the cause and how to subtly help his friend because he’s righteous and honourable and helping him openly won’t make him happy. It was the look that Odasaku had in his eyes whenever he decided to do something that he will do his damnedest to fulfil. “Dazai,” he said, voice full of that new resolution, his hand found the other male’s and squeezed gently “do you trust me?” For some reason, his mouth became dry when that gaze was solely directed at him. Somehow, he managed to bob his head down once, a parody of a nod. “Then trust me with this,” he said, lifting Dazai’s hand and whispering the next words on his skin “trust me with your body.” His breath caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, eyes widening. To trust someone else with his body… can he do it? But then his eyes caught the hand Odasaku still had pressed against his lips, the lack of bandage, the visible skin of his wrist, full of marks from when he needed to pull his concentration from the thing snarling within him and knew nothing else on how to do but by grounding himself to reality with physical pain. He showed all that and more, he bared his whole body to this man. Hasn’t he already trusted him with his body? So Dazai nodded, this time more surely. His answer seemed to take some of the tenseness coiling on Odasaku’s shoulders, very slightly they slumped from relief. He offered a smile to the boy beneath him and dipped down to give him a kiss, the sweet tang of gratitude coating his tongue. But those lips went as quick as they came, venturing lower to adorn his chest with marks of possession that Dazai rarely let anyone else leave on his skin. His hands palmed his sides, running down slowly as if worshiping the skin. Dazai gasped and moaned loudly when Odasaku’s mouth found one of his nipples, the pleasure blazing from that one point when a tongue flicked and a mouth sucked on it, sinking gentle teeth to the tip while its twins were toyed with by a hand which callouses rubbed wonderfully against the sensitive nub. Dazai writhed on the futon, hands finding Odasaku’s hands and torn between pulling him off of his nipples or pushing him down so he’ll never stop. But the older man decided for him, peppering kisses and bites and laved every inch of skin that he can reach with love, never getting anywhere close enough top the one place Dazai wanted him the most. When he lifted his head from Dazai’s skin, it was when the boy was choking on his words and tears were hanging precariously on his delicate eyelashes. The hand twisting in his hair hurts, but it was one endurable if he can listen to more of the mewls and cries of this boy, so beautifully, willingly spread out beneath him. Letting a smile tug on the corner of his lips as he watched Dazai’s chest, littered with bite marks and hickeys, fell and rose arhythmically. His hand slid down the heated skin and stopped at the narrow hips where he pushed down and gripped a bit firmer in preparation. Dazai was calming down from the overwhelming feeling of Odasaku simultaneously everywhere when his mind suddenly blanks and turned into white noise. When his brain can register the world once again, the first thing that assaulted him was the pain of his throat as if he’d just been screaming. After that, came the pounding, crashing waves of pleasure that made him choke on moans and deep groans, head trashing wildly and back arching of the futon as he pushed desperately into the warmth of Odasaku’s mouth enveloping him. But the strong hands on his hips pinned him in place and drew a frustrated cry from the boy. When Odasaku sucked his cock and let it slid deeper into the heat and unbearable tightness of his mouth until the older man’s fully swallowed him, Dazai’s legs trashed and hit him on the back as his cries rose in volume and intensity. Finally he hummed against the length in his mouth, watching with rapt attention as this time no sounds came out of the boy’s opened mouth, a silent scream as saltiness exploded on his tongue. Odasaku swallowed every last drop of his cum, not letting up on sucking and stroking the length with his tongue until Dazai went limp and shaking, pushing his shoulders weakly like a new-born kitten. He released the cock from his mouth and licked his lips, watching Dazai melting into the futon with glazed eyes. Dazai was lost in the white noise that his mind has become; wiped clean of anything and everything that he thought was important. But his serenity was disturbed a familiar voice, rougher and lower than usual, calling his name. He forced himself to focus on Odasaku’s question as his eyes slowly came into focus and registered both the question and the small thing held between his fingers. “Can you still go on?” was the question. And there, hanging on Odasaku’s fingers, were a clear tube of lube. His breath came in shorter pants and Dazai felt his cock impossibly twitch up again in interest. Odasaku seemed to take that reaction as a ‘yes’ as he wryly smiled and kissed his forehead gently. Dazai’s heart pounded in his chest and the world came into focus as he heard the cap of the tube snap and felt a hand sneaking between his spread thighs. He raised both legs with a whimper, exposing himself to the steel grey and inky blackness of Odasaku’s eyes that burned with lust. His eyes flickered down and with a start realized two things. One, that despite all the things he had done to his body, Odasaku is still fully clothed. Two, the undisturbed pants was a clear indication that the man was so focused on Dazai he neglected his own literally pressing--and visibly dripping--needs. But all that thought was chased away from his mind with a finger stroking the cleft of his ass slowly until they brushed against his sole and circled there, slick and perfect. A moan left his abused throat, sounding scratchy and wet. “You ready?” was Odasaku’s first words after who knows how long, Dazai already lost track of time long ago when the first brush of Odasaku’s hand on his legs first sent electric shocks up his spine. His voice was as scratchy as Dazai’s with a desperate undertone to it that had the boy wanting to press their whole bodies together. He whispered a broken yes. When that first finger breached him, Dazai gripped both Odasaku’s biceps tightly as the man leaned over him, as if hiding him from the world with his own figure. Soft gasps and whines escaped from his lips, all attention sucked by that finger twisting and pressing into him., that he barely register the words tumbling off Odasaku’s lips. “Dazai…Dazai, so beautiful, so good, just like that, yes.” He whispered heatedly with his eyes burning the entirety of his torso. The younger male whimpered lowly and spread his thighs father apart, enjoying how Odasaku’s finger stopped momentarily so the owner can watch the glitter of fluid running down the insides of his thigh as he moved them. The finger inside of his kept pressing deeper and deeper, and Dazai groaned when it slid all the way to the knuckle. When it retracted from the grip of his body, the boy fully expected another finger to join in, but that single pushed back, dragging calloused pads of fingertips on the soft walls, exploring the deepest parts of him. It continued like that until Dazai is a gasping, moaning mess, mind furiously considered begging, something he’d never done in or out of bed, for more. All the while Odasaku kept whispering praises that made something dark and twisted inside of Dazai purring and slumber, letting him bask in those words without it snarling in his ears. But as if knowing his inner conflict, that finger retracted fully from his hole, drawing an impatient whine as the emptiness registered in his clouded mind. But his protesting sounds were cut short by two fingers pressing against him, slowly breaching his muscle ring with a sweet burn that had his head turn to the side to pant into the sheets. Those two finger trailed fire all over his insides as they explored and twist. Dazai’s back arched off the futon with a hoarse cry when they scissored, spreading him apart. Odasaku’s fingers were firm but careful, touching him without any of the pain and bone-deep aches Dazai associated with fingers in his ass and he wondered if this is how it’s always going to feel if he’s ever going to sleep with this man again. But then those fingers nudged something inside of him that sent slams of unrelenting heat all over his body, and Dazai couldn’t think of anything further. His cries as he trashed his head and writhes on the futon seemed to be particularly pleasing to Odasaku who let out a low groan at the sight. Those fingers rubbed firmly against the bundle of nerves, sending his back arching cleanly off the futon with a cry, before pulling out. Odasaku’s clean hand roamed the soft scarred skin of his torso in the intermission where Dazai couldn’t do anything but weakly moan into the sheets, impatiently waiting as the snap of lube cap was heard and this time three fingers pressed into him, warm and freshly slicked. At that point Dazai already gave up from trying hold back any of the debauched sounds he made at every touch, every stimulation. The rapt attention Odasaku had on his face also made him unrestrained his expression, letting them twist with every wave of pleasure. Dazai’s hand that were clutching the futon like a lifeline lifted and draped across Odasaku’s shoulders, weakly tugging him down with a needy sound. The older man complied, letting the younger male ravished his mouth as he likes as his fingers scissored and thrusted shallowly, drawing vibrating moans to cross between their lips. This time, when Odasaku pulled back from him and retracted his fingers with a debauched pop, Dazai struggled to open his eyes. His arms flopped back to the futon, not having enough energy in them to follow the man. The boy watched with fascination when Odasaku touched his own abdomen and blinked down in confusion at the scratch of cotton. A hysterical part of his mind that was somehow still capable of logical process laughed something manic when it realized that Odasaku himself hadn’t noticed the clothes still covering his body. And yet, despite being something so small and insignificant in the grand scale of things, it sent something warm and tingling to Dazai’s toes; that this man hadn’t noticed anything else other than him, focused on his sounds and his enraptured by his skins and nothing else. Dazai watched with rapt attention as the man pulled off his own shirt with a barely suppressed hurry, muscles that were hidden underneath the white cotton finally visible. They bunch and ripple following every movement, every roll, and Dazai’s mouth watered when he imagined the taste that would coat his tongue if he licked that sweat rolling down strong neck to pool on the dip of collarbone despite the lingering chill of the room. Odasaku noticed his burning gaze and answered with a crack of a smile that shot something through Dazai’s heart, enough to make it skip a painful beat. The older man rose to his knees, hands travelled down his own abs and belly slowly to hook on his trousers. The boy’s mouth dried when he realized that the other man is giving him a show. He watched with enough concentration to burn a hole through the fabric as it was dragged down. Dazai hissed when Odasaku’s cock sprung free, slapping against his own abdomen wetly. The older man was biting his lips, shoulder trembling with fine tremors from keeping himself in check. Dazai’s brown eyes followed a bead of precum as it formed on the red tips and rolled down the side, longing to lick it away from salty skin. The shaft throbbed when Dazai whimpered in want, the click of closing lids went unnoticed so did the roll of the empty tube to the unknown, not by the two men enclosed in each other. The younger male watched in growing hunger as a hand slick with lube closed over his cock, Odasaku throwing his head back and groaned something deep and primal that vibrated in his own spine. He thrust into his fist once before abruptly pulling his hand off with a pained hiss, visibly struggling to keep himself away from the rapidly approaching edge. Afer he calmed himself, Odasaku leaned down to press a forearms beside Dazai’s head, kissing him with desire thick in every lave of his tongue and panted breath against the younger cheek. When a hand grabbed a leg and lifted it to expose his private parts, Dazai groaned loudly and trembled in anticipation. Odasaku lined himself up and the younger male had to stop himself from pushing down on the head pressing against his hole, radiating intense heat. Suddenly there was a palm against his cheek, damp with sweat, and a sweet voice calling his name. Dazai struggled to dredge his focus away from that pressure on his entrance and actually look into Odasaku’s eyes as the older man stroked his cheek lovingly. “Ready?” he asked in a husky voice. Dazai knew his own limits and weaknesses, enough to know when he wouldn’t be able to speak properly from all the stimulations his body endured. So he nodded jerkily. But Odasaku frowned, unsatisfied despite his own blood roaring at him to take that consent and run with it. “Say it.” He whispered into the younger’s chin, hand travelling down to press at his pulse point where bruises was blooming like springflowers. Dazai let out a protesting sound, but a hand stroking his Adams’s apple turned it into a hiss. He opened his mouth, fully intending to demand and order, but what slipped off past them was a breathy “Odasaku” and an equally pathetic “please”. In answer, the man growled into his neck, the vibration sending jolts of electric spark down the boy’s spine. The hand on his leg clutched together as he finally, finally put enough pressure to breach the outer ring of Dazai’s entrance. Dazai’s eyes widened, glassy and unfocused, as he threw his head back and cried out loudly as the sweet burn that followed the initial penetration spread all over his body; the other man gasped something stuttered and absolutely delicious in the voice that was usually unflappable. But then Odasaku stopped with a pant when only the head was inside, drawing a protesting growl from the boy beneath him and a leg kicking his bicep in frustration. “Are you… okay?” he asked breathlessly, voice even coarser than it as before. Dazai considered cursing him with a string of choice words he picked up from living with the Mafia for so long. “Yes, oka—I’m okay. Ahh.. no, no don’t—stop, Odasaku. Don’t stop.” The word tumbled off his lips in a hoarse whine, unfiltered and without thought. But that proclamation as they were was enough to placate the man above him as he began moving again with the same maddening slowness, opening him up with constant pressure that slid the thick cock into him almost gently. It was both a relief and utter torture when Odasaku was finally sheathed fully inside of him. The man let out a shaky groan from the depth of his throat and rested his head on a sharp collarbone, listening to the gasps and small moans escaping the boy. From this angle, he can plainly see the trembling of Odasaku’s shoulder as he fought to control himself, can feel every throbbing of his cock buried deep inside of him as a clear indication of impatient lust. Inwardly he wondered if this is one of Odasaku’s strange ideals; he definitely had enough raw strength to just pin Dazai to the futon and use his bared body as an instrument to please himself, and the young prodigy would have willingly allowed him, would have enjoyed the heat and pain as he was trapped under his weight and fucked roughly. He knew he would, the experiences with gloved hands pressing tight into his neck as the owner mercilessly slammed into him spoke for themselves. “Dazai.” he whispered lowly into the crook of the boy’s neck, bringing him back to reality where there were no bloody bites and stinging finger marks on his skin, just Odasaku’s warm breath brushing his neck and his hands soothingly drawing circles where they rested. One stroking the back of his raised thigh, the other caressing his sides with careful fingers. He flexed around the cock in him and was almost amused at the tensing of those shoulders. Dazai wrapped his arms around them, palming the older man’s sweaty back and explored the slick skin. “I’m ready.” He said in a voice still wavering but not as broken as it was before. Odasaku nodded against his neck and Dazai can feel the movement as he gulped. His leg was raised a bit higher as the man finally moved his hips backward, drawing his cock out with a sharp, long moan. Dazai slammed his head back to the futon; eyes squeezed shut as his fingers grappled for purchase on sweaty back and coarse red hair, pleasure rippling through his body. When only the head was inside, Odasaku pushed back in just as slowly, letting Dazai feel every inch, every contour of him as he slid back inside so intimately. Trashing his head to the side, the boy wrapped his longs legs around the older man’s waist, insistently pressing with his heels on the small of his back to go faster. But Odasaku didn’t, he slid out until only the head is inside then slid back in just as slowly, driving Dazai crazy with the heat shimmering under his skin without enough stimulation to tip him off the edge. And then brown eyes flew open as the angle changed and Odasaku bumped against his prostate, a shrill cry escaped past his lips as his nerves was assaulted with pure waves of blinding hot pleasure, hips would have arched out if a large hand hadn’t pressed them into the futon firmly. From the fogged mind, Dazai can barely register the huff of pain on his shoulder as his nails clawed long streaks of red against a broad back. “Ahh ahh, Oda….saku—uhn, please, please—“ he begged in choked voice as that shaft slid against his prostate. It was too much and not enough at the same time, the white-hot pleasure curling his toes and fanning the fire in him without allowing release. But Odasaku didn’t answer, not with words or with movements. He still moved against Dazai, around him, inside of him, with the same pace and excruciating slowness that threatened to drown the mafia executive in its sweet gentleness and intimacy. As lips skimmed his collarbone and cock brushed against his prostate at the same time, Dazai cried out, realizing that that’s the point of all this. The careful touches, the nearly loving embrace, the ceaseless mutterings of praises against his damp skin. He can feel the weight of intimacy and emotions in every movement, the love in every kiss on his shoulder, Odasaku trailed his lips up to the boy’s jaws to leave some marks there, and then travelled upward to his temple. He let out a confused noise when he tasted salt and opened his eyes. Dazai’s tears were leaking from his eyes in slow, rolling beads as the boy bit his lips and let nothing but choked, muffled whimpers escape. The young executive felt the flash of hesitation and concern in Odasaku from the immediate ceasing of movement and the sudden return of clarity in his steel grey eyes. A hand cradled his cheek and Dazai leaned into it, turning his head to press desperate kisses against the salty skin. “Oda—Odasaku please, please.”He mouthed against that palm without noticing the violent shudder that went down the man’s spine in answer. He answered his affirmation into Dazai’s lips. The older man lowered his body and pressed their chest together, skins sliding slick with sweat, entrapping heat in between. His hips picked up their slow torture, drawing gasps and broken groans from his lips. His lips, though, his lips returned to chanting praises against his skin— Dazai, yes, yes, just like that. So beautiful, so good for me. You don’t know how beautiful you look right now. Dazai, Dazai-- Dazai didn’t understand how such simple words can bring light to gaping abyss on his chest that the world forced open. It was a single firefly in the infinite darkness, small and fragile and short-living but light nonetheless. A warmth he can close his hands around and keep close to his chest.  His edge was finally creeping closer, making his weakening mewls and whimpers even more frequent, his grip on strong shoulders tighten. And then a hand closed over his cock, giving a single wide stroke from bottom to tip. Dazai screamed as light overtook his sight, stealing away all breath in his lungs. The pain from being neglected was nearly buried in the back of his mind, but now they came pounding back incessantly. He thrust up into that fist in a frenzied manner, grabbing Odasaku’s cheeks to pull him up so that he can chew and bite on his lips as the edge zooms closer and closer. And then Dazai was thrown off the edge. Soundlessly, he threw his head back, mouth open in silent scream as heat and pleasure overtook his reality. Odasaku fucked him through his third orgasm with the same steady slowness, milking him off with a hand slick with sweat and cum. He stopped when Dazai writhed in overstimulation, pulling back from the boy’s body. But then the legs around his middle squeezed with what remaining strength they have and a pair of chocolate brown eyes slit open in irritation. “Don’t,” he rasped with badly abused vocal cord “keep going.” Odasaku hesitated, the rational part of his brain urged to him pull out of Dazai, but the darker, more primal part in his blood was howling at him to take the offer. In the end, Dazai decided for him by chanting his hips up, swallowing more of his painfully hard erection and drawing a choked moan from his throat. He gripped the sheet beside Dazai’s head and rolled his hips. While enjoying the voice of the man above him breaking apart more and more, choked off groans, stuttered moans, heavy breathing, Dazai marvelled at the irony that Odasaku only let himself go faster, thrusting into him with fervour, when he already came. Thrice. Well. Huzzah for teenage sexual drive and recovery time. Dazai moaned with Odasaku when he felt heat bursting in him, the hot shaft in him pulsing as the older man pressed as deep as he can go, movements stilling with the force of his orgasm. And then he nearly fell atop Dazai, but quick hands caught himself before he can squeeze the smaller male under his considerable weight. What a disappointment, he would have loved to be pressed into the futon by Odasaku’s whole body weight. He waited for the older man to come down from his high while drawing nonsensical pattern on the skin of his back and breathing in the crook of his neck, subtly rubbing the side of his face against the damp skin to wipe away the tear track he knew still visible on his skin. After the small eternity of just breathing together, Odasaku pulled away from him with a debauched squelch that shot another spark of heat into the younger’s belly. But one look to the exhausted lines on the older man’s figure was enough to tell him that nothing else will be happening tonight, so he’d better not get excited again unless he wanted to take care of it by himself. Possibly while Odasaku sleeps, because no matter how good he is with that nearly uncrackable poker face, he couldn’t hide the minute drooping of his lids in exhaustion. Dazai closed his eyes, enjoying the heat and familiarity between them before opening them again when he felt fabric rubbing gently against his stomach and between his thighs, taking away the cum that splattered itself all over his body. Odasaku was cleaning him up with his own bloodied white shirt. Whatever, that thing was going to be burned anyway. He hummed in gratitude when he was decently cleaned, but groaned in displeasure when Odasaku dislodge himself from the futon. He glared at the man with tired eyes, who glanced at him guiltily and moved with long, fast stride to the kitchenette across the room as if he, too, couldn’t bear to be parted from Dazai for long. But maybe, Dazai mused as he watched the bare, firm ass moving away, he just couldn’t stand the cold of walking around naked in a room with shitty heater. Odasaku returned with a glass of water in his hand that he passed to Dazai who gulped the content down with a grateful moan. The fresh, cool water was heaven on his abused throat. Dazai placed the empty glass down and expressed his gratitude by groping the firm bottom he had been eying ever since so long ago. The flesh felt just like how he imagined them to be, soft and supple with hard muscles that rolled underneath the layer of skin. Mmmm…. The older man blinked in his nearly undetectable expression of momentary shock before quickly calming down and cracked a smile to answer Dazai’s shit-eating grin. “Now this is quality right here.” Dazai quipped happily, voice still slightly hoarse, while squeezing the handful of flesh in his palm. “I can say the same about yours.” He countered with a calm voice, letting the boy grope him all he wanted. “Do you want me to wrap you up now?” he gestured to the forgotten rolls of bandages beside the futon. Eying the bandages and frowned at them, Dazai shook his head, opting instead to shimmy his way under the blanket. Empathizing with the struggle of moving heavy limbs and jellified legs, Odasaku helped him until he’s a warm and happy burrito. Scowling up playfully to the older man he scooted until his back hit the cold wall before patting the warm space in front of him. “Snuggle with me, you heathen. Don’t leave me hanging like this.” Odasaku huffed out a breath in amusement which would equal to a chuckle on a more expressive individual, but he complied and slid underneath the blanket before pulling it up, sealing the heat of their bodies. Almost immediately, Dazai latched to him, the two of them shuffling around on the futon until they found a comfortable position. With his head pillowed on a hard chest—damn it’s really hard, he’ll probably wake up with a migraine tomorrow but it would be totally worth it—Dazai stared at the closed windows with Odasaku’s arms encircling him and their legs tangled together. Odasaku’s warm breath puffed into his hair as the older man nuzzled into the brown nest of messy brown locks. It’s really, really nice. The warmth, the companionship, the knowledge that Odasaku can protect him in case the world decided to become shit tonight. The Port Mafia’s Demon Prodigy doesn’t have many experience with post-coital snuggling. He didn’t really have a chance since it’s too intimate to be done with the prostitute and one night stands that would probably stab him in the back on the first chance, trying to do it with Chuuya will result in a dagger actually embedded in his back, and he’d shoot Akutagawa dead if he even breathed the suggestion.  He snuggled deeper into that hug, humming contently, sated and warm. Suddenly, Odasaku huffed and rolled to the side, bringing a squeaking Dazai with him. He shuffled forward until the boy’s blanket-covered back hit the wall and curled around him there, one arm pillowing Dazai’s dark head and the other thrown across his hip to pull him into an embrace. Dazai blinked. In this position, his lithe body was completely covered with Odasaku’s, so much that if another person would look at them, they’d have to really look closely to see him pressed against the wall. It was incredibly warm, too, with Odasaku’s whole body covering his, curled around him in a protective embrace. He smiled something secret and soft, not meant for anyone’s eyes, comfortable and feeling a whole world better than he was before he came to this apartment. Despite the knowledge that he’d have his back unprotected in this position, Odasaku choose to make him feel completely safe, protected from all angles. Odasaku fell asleep almost as instantly as they stopped shuffling, soft snores ruffling his brown locks. Dazai giggled and have loved to just bask in the comfort for a while longer, but the exhaustions of the day combined with the warmth and sheer comfort of Odasaku being there for him dragged him under quickly. As he nodded off into the crook of Odasaku’s neck, he wondered how many times this has made it that Odasaku had somehow saved him, and whether he should love him or hate him for that. But in the end, he can only wryly recognize one thing. If you ask Dazai what moment is the most precious memory in his life, you will get a different answer depending on his opinion of you. Become someone he does not trust and imminently dislike and you’ll get yourself an eerie smile that doesn’t reach his cold eyes. Be someone he trust yet dislike and you’ll get teasings and theatrical, dramatic lies. Be someone who he doesn’t trust but likes and you’ll get lies flung at your face along with words designed to cut you open. But if you’re a man with gentle hands, gentler eyes, who would protect him without question and whose presence comforted Dazai just by being there, maybe, just maybe, the Demon Prodigy would drop all his mask and lies and tell you the truth.   . . Just as he was about to step into off the beautiful cliff and greet the rolling, roaring waves, a voice calls out behind him. “Are you going to jump?” The fifteen-year old Mafioso turns back to see an older boy with messy red hair and blank expression, wonders if that’s concern he sees creasing his eyebrows since they’re really miniscule to be certain. “Well, yes. I’m going to commit suicide, you see. Are you going to stop me?” “I don’t know. Do you want me to stop you?” “Maybe…” Dazai muses with a smile as he stares the strange boy who doesn’t jump at the chance to be a hero “and if I say I do?” “Well,” ah, that’s definitely concern creasing his eyebrows. “I’d say you’d have to hang on to something, anything’s fine, and keep living. And then wait to see what happen afterward, because… it will certainly happen.” “Oh?” Dazai offers a smile at the poetic choice of words “Like what?” The boy points behind Dazai and he turns around to see the sun rising from the faraway horizons, erasing the blinking stars and chasing away the deep purples and blues with warm hues of gold and red. “I was actually going to jump before the sunrise, I guess I’m too late now!” he exclaims cheerfully and skips away from the edge toward the older boy. This close, he can see that his eyes are a mesh between ice blue and grey, a strange mixture for an obviously Japanese individual. “I’m Dazai Osamu!” he sticks out a bandaged hand happily “And you are?” “Oda Sakunosuke.” The boy answers and accepts his hand, Dazai’s grin widens. “Do you like spicy food?” “Hmm? No, I prefer sweets myself.” “Okay, then I knew a place that sells good pancakes around here, want to grab some?” “Hitting on a guy you just met and asking him out on a date are you? How forward!” Dazai laughs, expecting the boy finally break his admirable poker face in embarrassment. But he just stares at him and nods “If you want to consider it a date, then alright.” Dazai stops and stares at this boy, this Oda Sakunosuke, and laughs and laughs until his stomach are hurting with a laughter that rings with honesty. He can’t remember the last time laughed this loudly or this genuinely. Maybe this is what Oda was talking about earlier; maybe this boy is the something that happened afterward. He lifts his face with a full-on beaming grin and is graced by the first expression he ever sees on the other boy’s face, a genuine smile, soft and sweet. . That was the first time Odasaku saved him from himself and it was far from the last. It’s beginning of many more savings, of warm protections and gentle guiding hands. He keeps protecting Dazai from himself and guides him to the light even after the only thing left of him is the beloved box of matches Dazai keeps in the pocket closest to his heart.   . .   Between the Stardust That was where our miraculous meeting occurred . I thank you, for having found me even though I am such a small constellation.  . .   Chapter End Notes ....Somehow, Chuuya and Dazai gained the status of frenemies with benefits in this fic. I regret nothing. I was going to make Dazai wear a gaudy underwear like a neon blue thing from hell with red vivid red crabs all over it or something. But I decided that would probably ruin the mood I was going for, so / /shrugs// have Dazai in an undetailed boxers. The quote and title are taken from the song Rokutosei no Yoru by Aimer. I strongly urge you to listen to it and read the lyrics because it's just so heartbreakingly Odazai, I'm still sobbing whenever I listen to it. Come and shout Odazai at me http://raven-rein.tumblr.com/ IMPORTANT (second chapter is a short omake, read if you want to wash your mouth from this melancholic thing.) ***** Omake ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes . . Between The Stardusts Omake - Orange Peels . .   Dazai hummed in obvious good mood as he skips through the HQ, scaring the shit out of all underlings that was conditioned to associate the prodigy’s good mood with terrible disaster. Because of this, no one noticed the shadow of a certain lowest-ranked member of the mafia trailing him. It was like this that they stumbled with Chuuya who raised an eyebrow at the genuine shit-eating grin decorating his partner’s face. “Chuuya!” he waved his arm excitedly at the smaller boy who rolled his eyes and turned away from him “No, wait! Wait! Are the offer for wine still on tonight?” That definitely caught the gravity manipulator’s interest, he glanced back just in time to have Dazai skipping in pace with his walk, cerulean blue eyes catching Oda Sakunosuke’s and seeing his own confusion reflected back at him. “Oh, you know Odasaku don’t you? Surely you don’t mind him joining us in our…celebration tonight.” He purred the word in a tone he knew to affect his partner no matter the time of day nor situation. Chuuya’s eyes flickered to him before they lightened up in understanding. It was practically a ritual between them to drink wine, or any available alcohol in the near vicinity really, after a successful mission or ascending of rank, and it would always be followed by fucking or being fucked on Chuuya’s large bed depending. The fact that both had just happened, with Dazai becoming an Executive and Chuuya accomplishing his solo mission, meant a double reason for a celebration. He calculated that the other boy would think that him inviting Odasaku meant they’re having a drunken threesome tonight, which is not rare for them. And he wouldn’t be wrong either. “Huh, alright. Just let me take this to the boss and we can go to my apartment.”  Chuuya parted from them with a long look to Odasaku that dropped to his firm body with a certain intention in them. He walked away with an air of satisfaction and anticipation for tonight. Dazai was just barely able to hold back his dark, evil chuckle as he watched that small back walking away. What Chuuya didn’t know, however, was that the man he just invited was someone who was capable of breaking his mental barrier apart so quickly last night with nothing but his hands and mouth. Him. The Demon Prodigy of Port Mafia with legendary patience in getting what he wanted and getting his revenge so cold and sweet they’re practically ice cream. Now, what would happen if he sick him to the other half of Double Black who was infamous for a temper as short as his body? Dazai’s grin turned darker as he thought to the silk length of red fabric he kept stashed away in Chuuya’s closet. Or, hmm… maybe he should pull out the chains tonight since he’d probably struggle extra hard.  Everyone in the near vicinity ran away crying when a dark chuckle managed escape the newly-named Executive’s lips, even Odasaku seemed disturbed by the laugh that seemed to herald an upcoming apocalypse. But for his credit, Dazai did manage to keep himself from rubbing his hands together like a villain in a cheap horror flick. . .   The following night, Ango blinked and aborted his swing when Odasaku stepped into the bar. Unseen by the eyes of people who didn't know him as intimately as he did, his steps were far lighter than usual. Ango smiled as he sat down on the stool beside him , the bartender immediately sliding a glass of whisky in front of him. "Good evening, Odasaku-san. You seems happy tonight, did something good happen?" "Yeah" the older man answered and took a small sip of his drink, resting his elbows on the gleaming countertop. "I got laid." "Really." Ango huffed, marveling at the fact that his friend is so happy and relaxed because he got laid of all things. "Who's the lucky lady?" "Not a woman, actually." Ango's eyebrows shot up. "...Okay." he quickly shook off the shock, something unbecoming for someone who had his eyes on the position of Intelligence "He's must be good." "Them. It was a threesome." Ango abruptly decided he's not drunk enough for this conversation and downed his glass, immediately requesting another from the sympathetic-looking bartender. He gulped half of the glass's content and sighed, deciding he's now buzzed enough for whatever Odasaku threw at him and finally asked "That must have been nice. Who was the other two?" Ango made the terrible, terrible decision of sipping the whisky when Odasaku answered plainly with three words "The Double Black." Odasaku stared in concern at his friend when he snorted whisky out of his nose, even the usually unflappable bartender was wincing in sympathy. Being said, that was not a good night for one Sakaguchi Ango.   . .   Two weeks later in Chuuya’s apartment with the two of them half-drunk from expensive vodka after a successful mission, his partner asked him which bar is it that that bastard with clever hand Oda Sakunosuke frequents. The thing was, Dazai knew Chuuya better than he knew the back of his hand, which meant he knew that the hat-loving, wine-adoring shit does not sleep with anyone twice unless he planned on keeping them. His retribution of pouring half of his wine collection into a single bucket and left them on the foot of the bed where a naked Chuuya was still snoring away so that’ll be the first thing he sees and smells the moment he wake up, was just the right amount of revenge and warning from further advances, served steaming hot, Port-Mafia style. . . . Orange Peels Chapter End Notes I was this close to actually writing a whole chapter detailing their threesome, but then I glanced at the word count and went lol nope. Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!