Dazai stood in the shadows, watching the display before him: Chuuya was “teaching” a dozen or so mafia grunts that looks could be deceiving. One of them had been stupid enough to remark on how pretty he was. Chuuya had flipped him over, stepping on his chest before the man could even blink.
It didn’t help that he had been on a mission with Ane-san.
No, it didn’t help at all.
How else were the grunts supposed to react with him looking like that? Dressed up like one of Elise’s dolls in an ornate kimono, hair elegantly crafted.
Dazai felt his stomach rebel as Chuuya spun in his deadly heels, forcibly slamming his opponent to the ground. Biting his lips, Dazai watched Chuuya’s quick movements, his red hair swirling around with each precise blow.
None of this should be happening. If Chuuya had just done what he was supposed to…The damn hat rack should’ve been his dog—not Kouyou’s. Dazai swore as the chibikko took out another assailant without even an ounce of For Tainted Sorrow being displayed.
It wasn’t fair! Why did Chuuya have to be this way?!
Keeping his eyes trained on the chibi mafioso, Dazai took a sip from his water, trying to quench the unusual dryness in his throat.
Odasaku had laughed at him when he had complained about the little ankle biter, rubbing the rim of his whiskey glass. Dazai had demanded to know what was so funny, but had just received a pat to his head with a simple, “You’ll understand one day, Dazai.”
Sighing dramatically, he watched with disinterest as Chuuya threw another grunt into a wall. His voice taunted them, low and steady, making Dazai’s skin prickle ...in annoyance.
This was getting boring and tedious. None of these men...children...whatever...were a challenge to the ex-king of the Sheep. It was ridiculous to think they could even be on par with him.
Running his hand through his hair, Dazai sighed again, debating the merits of throwing something at the older boy. Closing his eyes briefly, he mulled over Mori’s words of his heart being mafia black. That the mafia would cure him of his boredom.
Pfft, the old man was senile.
The Mafia was human and prone to err. He could easily topple it, if he so wished. It was just another one of Mori’s lies and half-truths in his attempts to keep Dazai with him.
Every mission was boring...well unless the hat rack was involved.
He seemed to make it a little fun. Even if it was at his own expense.
Ducking down as another grunt flew over his head, Dazai began to walk forwards, heading towards the mat. He eyed Chuuya who was standing there—the vision of elegance and grace.
It struck Dazai hard how Chuuya could murder them all with just a finger, and he couldn’t deny the thrill in set down his spine. It was a pity that Chuuya didn’t want to be his dog.
Snapping his fingers, the men halted and eyed him wearily. Dazai smirked, ignoring them and settling the weight of his gaze on Chuuya.
“What do you want, Mackerel?” Chuuya barked, his smile feral.
“Awww chibi~! You’re not playing fair with them,” Dazai taunted, toeing his shoes off.
Chuuya lifted an eyebrow at him, folding his arms in amusement.
“Come to even the odds, bastard?”
Dazai walked forward and circled Chuuya until his back pressed against his.
“I predict that I’ll have you on your back and screaming for mercy, chibikko.”
“Is that so, asshole?”
Dazai smiled eagerly, throwing his coat and shirt off to the side. He didn’t have to wait long before Chuuya was flying at him, punching him in his stomach with direct precision. Grinning from ear to ear, Dazai grabbed Chuuya’s hand and flipped him over.
They continued their dance, ignoring those around them. As punches and kicks flew through the way, each one countered and dodged by the other. Neither of them noticed their Ane-san shooing everyone away and locking the gym doors behind her with a muffled laugh.
Breathing heavily, Dazai wiped the blood from his mouth and eyed the disheveled Chuuya who stood in front of him—his kimono ripped in places, hair disheveled, and heels thrown somewhere. Dazai ignored the strange feeling in his gut as he dodged another punch. His body felt light as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Feinting to his left, he grabbed the petite boy and slammed him on the mat, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head.
Both of them laid there, shock in their faces, as their bodies hummed in pleasure. Moving on instinct, Dazai leaned forward and brushed his lips against the smaller boy’s. Pleasure raced down his spine as their lips connected. Pulling up slightly, he groaned as Chuuya pulled him back down, slotting his mouth against his brutally. Swallowing the redhead’s moans, Dazai froze as Odasaku’s laughter rang in his head.
Repeating Odasaku’s words in his mind again, Dazai swore lowly as realization dawned on him. Well fuck. Feeling Chuuya’s glare at his head, he looked down at the disheveled hat rack and grinned wickedly.
“I told you that my predictions always come true,” he taunted against Chuuya’s lips.
“You said I’d be screaming, asshole. I’m not screaming,” Chuuya challenged, his eyes glinting dangerously as they locked with amber.
Arching his eyebrow, Dazai grinned at the boy under him.
Who was he to deny such challenge?