“Well, I suppose if I can't break you, I'll just have to let you go, won't I?”
Dazai didn't like the wheedling tone in Fyodor’s voice any more than he liked the smarmy grin on his face, but he kept his cheerful smile in place and played his part.
“Oh, would you be so kind?” he simpered, tensing as Fyodor started to pick his way towards Dazai over the unconscious bodies of the rest of the Agency.
“Of course, Dazai-san,” Fyodor agreed easily, hands already making quick work of the hardy chains Dazai was bound in.
He'd been smart enough not to put a lock anywhere near Dazai’s crafty fingers, choosing instead to simply wrap his arms and legs, all the way up to his elbows and knees, in thick, fresh chains. The single lock that linked the chain’s ends together was held in Fyodor’s hands at all times. Well, Dazai could appreciate intelligence, even when it put him in situations like this.
“I suppose if I can't control you by using you, I could always try another route,” Fyodor sighed, like it was a great pain to have to change his plans. “I've been thinking I'll just take that sweet little redhead of yours. You wouldn't mind sharing, would you?”
Dazai’s eyes flickered to Tanizaki for a moment, confusion furrowing his brows. Kunikida would be a much better choice if Fyodor were to take someone from the Agency, both because of the man’s own prowess and because of his bond with Dazai.
“Not that one, silly,” Fyodor chided him, quickly stepping out of Dazai’s range as the last of the chains fell. “He's not yours. I'm referring to the gravity manipulator. The short, pretty one who wears all the hats. Chuuya, yes?”
Dazai's gut twisted at the way Fyodor practically purred his ex-partner’s name, a foul taste coating his tongue. But there was no way in hell this rat would ever get his hands on Chuuya, not when Dazai himself could barely handle the raging redhead at his worst - not even counting Corruption.
So, instead of letting that filthy, stomach turning fear take a hold of him, Dazai scoffed in Fyodor’s face, brushing his clothes clean as he stood haughtily.
“You want the slug?” he laughed. “That doesn't bother me in the slightest. Really, I expected you to know me better than this by now. We've already gone on three dates.”
The first being the crashing of the Moby Dick, the second when his sniper had put a bullet through Dazai, and the last when Dazai had gotten him arrested. They had such a loving relationship.
“Well, I do thank you for your permission, but it wouldn't have made a difference either way,” Fyodor chuckled at him. “And I think I know you far better than you'd like to admit.”
Dazai rolled his eyes, turning his back and starting toward the door with a cheery wave thrown over his back, fully intending to pull the car around and start loading up his injured friends.
“I wish you the best of luck capturing Chibi,” he sang cheerfully.
Fyodor’s answering laugh sounded off. It wasn't an answer to his taunt, it was a taunt in itself.
“But why would I need luck when I already have him?” Fyodor crooned.
Dazai whipped around, eyes wide and - though he'd not admit it - fearful, just in time to see a short man with spiked, white blond hair offering his arm to Fyodor. He didn't have time to so much as take a step towards him before they both disappeared with a quiet pop.
He hadn't factored in the possibility of a teleportation Ability.
But that's not what mattered right now, no, right now his hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone, tapped in a number he'd not called in nearly five years but would never forget. It rang for what felt like hours before Chuuya’s growly voice, recorded and robotic sounding, came over the speaker, instructing him to leave a message.
Dazai almost crumpled then and there, but it would make sense for Chuuya not to pick up a random number, and even more sense if he knew it was Dazai’s. So he called Mori, waiting tensely for that throaty voice to answer him.
When it did, his heart sank to his stomach.
“Tell me you have Chuuya somewhere,” came the terse, worried voice, no greeting necessary.
And all the others were unconscious, so Dazai felt no shame in sinking to his knees and letting the phone clatter to the ground.
For once in his life, Dazai didn't know what to do, had no convoluted plan or dangerous mission to save the day. All he could do was choke on the air he tried to pull into his lungs and ignore the tears burning paths down his cheeks.
That had happened almost two years ago at this point. Those two years had been filled with fruitless searches for both Fyodor and Chuuya, with more frustration and fear than Dazai had ever felt in his life. He refused to admit that it was because he did love Chuuya, in his own way.
The pair of them had seemingly dropped right off the face of the earth, along with Fyodor’s little organization. There wasn't a single sighting of either of them anywhere in Japan, nor in Russia or America, and Dazai had gotten into a desperate shouting match with Mori and Fukuzawa, demanding they search the entire goddamned globe until they found Chuuya and brought him home.
He was told to calm down, have a cup of tea, think through this rationally. He shattered the cup that he was passed against the wall.
But his resilience finally paid off. Now, here he was, sitting in front of Fyodor, once again chained heavily, but that didn't matter. What mattered was Chuuya, rounding the corner of the opulent house they were in, wearing nothing but a shirt, clearly not his own, that hung off his skinny frame and a pair of skin tight briefs.
What mattered was Chuuya, glancing at Dazai in pure disgust, looking for all the world like he wanted to vomit at the sight of him. What mattered was Chuuya, turning that blinding smile on Fyodor, crawling up into his lap and looping his arms around the man’s neck.
Pressing kisses along his jaw, down his throat, all while Fyodor smirked at the rapidly paling Dazai.
The chains were redundant at this point, because Dazai wouldn't have been able to move a muscle even without them. All of his strength seeped out of him, bile rising in his throat, and he had to close his eyes to stop himself from turning to the side and vomiting on the pristine marble floors.
“Chuuya-kun,” Fyodor crooned, voice all too pleased with himself, eyes continuing to burn into Dazai’s. “Can't you see I'm working?”
Chuuya glanced over his shoulder, bright blue eyes meeting Dazai’s. A flare of hope rocketed through the chained man when their eyes met, begging to every deity that he could think of that this was all an act, that Chuuya would give him some kind of sign. Those hopes crashed to the ground when the redhead scoffed at him scathingly, turning back to Fyodor and running his hands through black hair intimately, knocking his ushanka off and to the floor with a grin.
“I hardly think that waste of bandages counts as work, Fyo,” Chuuya murmured, leaning forward on the man’s lap to brush their lips together. “I'm more important than that, aren't I?”
Dazai watched in abject horror as Chuuya tilted his head to the side impishly, proceeding to climb off Fyodor’s lap and sink elegantly to his knees at the man’s feet.
Fyodor sighed fondly, pushing a hand through that fiery mess of hair, and spread his legs invitingly.
“Such a needy little thing,” he said affectionately. “I suppose I can let you have a little fun, I have time.”
And Chuuya was eager, he wasted no time in reaching up and pushing Fyodor’s coat out of the way, hiking his shirt up a bit and yanking at the fastenings of his pants.
Dazai closed his eyes before he could see Chuuya go any further, fighting back another wave of nausea. They snapped open again when he heard the click of a hammer being drawn back, of a chamber rotating into place. His heart stopped when he saw the gun pointed at Chuuya’s head.
Chuuya looked up at Fyodor with a snort, leaning to press a kiss to the wrist of the hand holding the gun.
“Don't point that thing at me, you get twitchy when you cum,” he said, fondly exasperated. He grinned as he moved the gun to point over his shoulder, directly at Dazai’s head. “He's a better target anyway.”
“Best keep your eyes open, Dazai-san,” Fyodor sang. “I wouldn't want you to miss the show. And as my dear pup said, I do get a bit twitchy, I wouldn't want this to accidentally go off.”
He stressed the word ‘pup,’ just to rub in his hold over Chuuya even further, emphasizing Dazai’s habit of calling him a dog, and just how far under his control Chuuya was that he didn't so much as scowl at the pet name.
“What did you do to him?” Dazai finally gritted out, voice nearly unrecognizable even to himself, shaky and high and scared.
Fyodor laughed, trailing off on an appreciative moan as Chuuya yanked his pants and boxers down just far enough to free his cock and crowded between his thighs.
“Just a little reprogramming, a bit of selective education,” Fyodor answered smugly. “And, of course, made him fall in love with me.”
Dazai nearly vomited at he watched Chuuya position himself with a mean smirk, making sure Dazai could see every movement as he lapped at the head of Fyodor’s hardening cock.
The mouth that he'd dreamed of kissing, of making smile, was wrapped around Fyodor’s cock, Chuuya humming happily as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Fyodor moaned his encouragement, his free hand settling in fiery hair that Dazai knew was as soft as it looked. His smug smirk didn't drop for a second, and he kept the gun trained on Dazai even as he rolled his hips up into Chuuya’s eager mouth.
Dazai could see little peeks of Chuuya’s tongue as it swirled around the head of Fyodor’s cock, felt sick when he watched Chuuya smile sweetly as he looked up at Fyodor with those big blue eyes. He wanted to vomit, hated himself for wishing he was in Fyodor’s place, that he had Chuuya’s mouth wrapped around his cock, looking up at him like he'd hung all the stars himself.
Hated himself for the beginnings of an erection stirring in his pants, fighting against the sick roiling of his stomach.
“He's such a sweet little thing,” Fyodor stated casually, voice overlapping the wet sounds of Chuuya swallowing him down. “And he has the mouth of a god. Did you know that he doesn't have a gag reflex?”
Dazai shuddered, mostly in revulsion, hating the little part of himself that eagerly soaked up that information.
“Here, let me show you.”
There was no arousal behind his shudder as he watched Fyodor’s hand grip Chuuya’s hair firmly, watched Chuuya look up at him adoringly as he allowed the man to press slowly into his throat, all the way down. Chuuya didn't so much as tense when Fyodor started bucking his hips up into the redhead’s face, fucking into his throat brutally.
He just moaned like it was the best thing he'd ever felt, long lashes fluttering as his eyes rolled back. Fyodor finally broke his stare from Dazai, looking down at Chuuya with a gentle, entirely fake smile, bucking his hips even harder, snapping Chuuya’s head back and forth.
“Such a good pup for me, aren't you?” he crooned, voice breathless and pleasure drunk.
Dazai should've been taking this chance to unbind himself, to struggle, try to run or to grab Chuuya and get them both out of there, but he felt like he'd looked Medusa right in the eyes, utterly incapable of moving a single muscle, not even to look away.
“Chuuya, pup, your mouth is perfect,” Fyodor groaned, turning his grin back to Dazai. “Let me see that pretty face, I want to cum all over it.”
And Chuuya just tilted his head back obediently, mouth wide open with his tongue sticking out, eyes half lidded with pleasure as he watched Fyodor yank at his cock. He moaned when the first stripe fell over his cheek, dripping into his mouth as he begged for more.
Fyodor obliged him, groaning out his name as he painted the redhead’s face with streaks of white, eyes on Dazai’s stricken face the entire time.
He allowed himself a few moments to calm down, tucking his cock back into his pants and zipping up as Chuuya watched him worshipfully, utterly enraptured.
“Chuuya-kun, turn around and let your old partner see your pretty face,” Fyodor instructed, pushing a hand through red hair.
Chuuya laughed, doing as he was told. He turned and smirked meanly at Dazai, still kneeling happily between Fyodor’s lean thighs, cum dripping from his chin to land on his own bare thigh. Dazai had to swallow down the vomit this time.
“Well, Dazai-san?” Fyodor asked, a laughing edge to his voice. “What do you think?”
Dazai didn't answer, couldn't answer, could barely even shake his head, horrified, disgusted, tears forming in his eyes.
Fyodor reached down, swiping his thumb through some of the cum still decorating Chuuya’s cheek, pressing it into Chuuya’s mouth. The redhead lapped at it gleefully, sucking Fyodor’s thumb clean and then just keeping it in his mouth, lapping at it greedily.
“Would you like him back now?” Fyodor crooned tauntingly. “I could fill his pretty ass with cum, too, send him home with it dripping down his thighs.”
Chuuya groaned at that idea, clearly not worried about the possibility of Fyodor giving him back to the Port Mafia.
“Will you fuck me after you get rid of the mummy, Fyo?” he asked sweetly, tilting his head back to look into Fyodor’s face.
“So greedy,” Fyodor chuckled.
And then the gun was pressed against Chuuya’s temple again, Fyodor pointedly clicking the safety off. Chuuya scoffed and rolled his eyes, going so far as to lean into the barrel pressed against his head, taunting Dazai with just how much trust he had in this man.
“Should I kill him in front of you, Dazai-san?” he asked brightly. “Should I put a bullet through his pretty head and make you watch?”
Dazai could do nothing but shake his head, terrified, as he watched Fyodor’s finger settle casually on the trigger. Chuuya was still smirking at him, and the sudden fear that this would be the last he saw of Chuuya, covered in another man’s cum, hate in his eyes, was enough to make him struggle against the chains he was bound in, no matter how futile it was, the tears he only seemed able to dredge up for Chuuya soaking his cheeks.
Both Chuuya and Fyodor laughed at his attempts to free himself.
“Hey Fyo?” Chuuya asked lazily, licking at a drop of cum that had migrated down towards his upper lip. “I'm impatient.” He reached back to rub at Fyodor’s limp cock over his pants. “And I want you to fuck me. So can you finish up your business and do something that matters instead? Namely me.”
Fyodor laughed, his head falling back in mirth before he scrunched over to press a kiss to Chuuya’s clean cheek.
“Whatever my demanding little pup wants,” he acquiesced.
The gun whipped up from Chuuya’s temple, training on Dazai’s head, and a deafening bang echoed throughout the room.
“Ow,” Chuuya whined. “Can't you put a suppressor or something on that? It hurts.”
“I'm sorry, darling,” Fyodor said with a laugh. “I'll make it up to you, how about that? I might even let you ride me if you're good.”
“Tease,” Chuuya chuckled.
He followed Fyodor’s hand as the man guided him up, glancing over disdainfully at the chunk of Dazai’s head that was missing, a pool of blood rapidly forming around him.
“Does seeing him dead upset you?” Fyodor asked, hands bracketing Chuuya’s hips and pulling him back to grind the man’s ass against his crotch, his lips trailing lazy kisses along Chuuya’s slender throat.
Chuuya laughed, a little breathy as he tilted his head back to allow Fyodor access to his throat.
“Why the hell would it?”