Chapter Text
Annoying bastard.
Lips moved lazily against his own- slowly, almost too slow , because the asshole’s hand was on his hip and he could feel the warmth and the slight shaking. God, the shaking. He could get high on the power Osamu gave him with such an action. The idea that he was the one that could make him nervous, make him careful , did something sinful to Chuuya.
His hand travelled from drawing light circles on the brunette’s shoulder down to where the hand was lightly squeezing his hip. Laying his own hand on top, feeling the warmth, easily slipping his thumb under his partner’s, slotting together perfectly. No rings. No gloves. No barriers. Just soft hands and gentle squeezes.
Intoxicated by the reminder, Chuuya melted further against him, shifting to move closer still as Dazai sucked on his lower lip, breaths melding together. Why should Osamu be the only one who gave up some control? Sure, they’d discovered that there were times where he really didn’t mind it, but they’d agreed if this was going to go somewhere, they’d both need to be vulnerable.
They didn’t exactly start with words. They let themselves read each other in silence, let their bodies move according to their wishes rather than thinking too much. Then they talked a little bit, made out, let it happen.
It’d been more difficult for Dazai. Spontaneity was a slipping grip- there was nothing to grasp for before the event happened. The event would simply occur and he would be along for the ride. Chuuya would smack him if he suggested that it wasn’t working- the in-the-moment decisions weren’t life or death between them, despite the drama queen’s insistence that it was. But it was nothing like missions. Nothing like they’d had before.
It was calm. Chuuya was handling it like glass that could shatter at the slightest disruption. This was working for now. They were talking more, sitting in each other’s presence more. Being an active part of each other’s life. It stirred something in Chuuya’s chest- old yearning, overwhelming in its intensity, because it brought to attention how long it’d really been there.
He’d ached for Osamu for so long that he couldn’t remember if he ever didn’t. He didn’t want to think about anything, they didn’t need to. They could just let this be for now. Chuuya would take that. Take anything like this.
Any further and he’d question Dazai’s intentions. Any further and his abandonment wound would leak fresh blood after pushing past a clot. He couldn’t risk that. Not now, when he could freely reach out and run his hands through fluffy brown hair he had helped wash. Not when he could put his hand out and the adorable fucker would place his head in it with a soft smile that Chuuya would honest to god destroy the city for.
It was a terrifying process, slowly accepting these feelings and the depth of them. He was so proud of Osamu for staying- the aged bitterness sapped away everytime Dazai lips met his body- his lips, neck, shoulders, anywhere. Anywhere.
He felt his partner shuffle in front of him. He didn’t open his eyes, instead nipping at Dazai’s bottom lip, kissing a little harder, and realising that he was the one getting heated and bothered. Like hell they were getting up right now . The mackerel nudged his legs, responding to the biting with a thumb coming between their mouths, lightly pressing along his lips as if testing their plumpness. The other hand stayed on his hip, so his right arm must’ve been getting pins and needles by now.
What did they care, of course? They’d been laid facing each other all morning, content to simply look at each other. Closing the gap between them had been the natural progression of the morning, Dazai pushing his head further into the pillow to give Chuuya ease of access, who, tilting his own head just over Dazai, rewarded Osamu with the softest, most sensual kiss he could give.
They’d been there all morning, pace slow enough to regain lost breath, bedroom quiet enough to appreciate the noises the other made, daylight lighting up the room just enough to see comfortably.
“What is it?” He muttered, his thumb nail skimming Chuuya’s top lip as it pressed experimentally.
The redhead hummed in confusion, head spinning a little. He needed another kiss. Withdrawal.
“You’re getting worked up. What’s on your mind?”
He’s trying, he’s really trying. How do I tell him I got worked up thinking about whether all of this meant nothing to the detective. Such a cruel judgement, something familiar. Familiarity was good, but so was seeing relief etch itself onto each other’s faces as they confirmed their importance to each other.
“Chuu~” he sang softly, enough to get his attention without starling him into a more conscious state. “You with me?”
The redhead took a deep breath.
“I won’t kiss you if you don’t give me verbal confirmation that you’re here, chibi.” Consent. Nothing sexier. Nothing sexier than a kissed Dazai, bleary-eyed, pink cheeked, lips swollen.
Chuuya confirmed, eyes soft as they gazed into Osamu’s own while slowly kissing dazai’s thumb. He flushed even further, pupils blown, messy brown hair framing his reddening face, lip now quivering .
Today was for them. Ain’t no way someone was getting in the way of this.
Dazai’s right arm came up to trace Chuuya’s jaw as he pushed himself closer for another long kiss. As Chuuya responded in kind, the hand on his hip rounded his waist and pulled him closer, arm staying tight around him to prevent them moving apart, as if the redhead was going to, what was he? Insane?
He brought a hand up to card fingers through soft hair. Chuuya had gotten back later, finished extra at work to ensure he had at least three days without anything pressing, finished to leave the chance for a slow morning between them. When he’d gotten home, he ordered poke bowls (surprisingly healthy for them considering their usual takeout options) and occupied himself with tidying his apartment until the water in the shower stopped.
Osamu had stepped out into the bedroom when Chuuya had discarded his coat, undershirt half-buttoned, standing in only the towel. Hair still damp, leaving droplets of water to gather on pleasantly warm skin that was otherwise dry.
He smelled of sandalwood- Chuuya wouldn’t admit it, but he’d nearly lost composure while at the ADA when the detective swept past him in all his tan-coated glory, the smell turning Chuuya into a blushing mess. If anyone noticed, they didn’t mention it. So yes, Dazai had used some of the products his chibi had bought for him. Chuuya knew that Osamu knew he liked it. He didn’t really care all that much, not when he was reaping the benefits. He could deal with the smug looks. He’d take care of that when they got home.
Chuuya tore his mouth from Dazai’s to pucker his lips against a mark or two from the previous night. It’d earned a small whine from the brunette, who redirected their mouths and took charge the minute Chuuya paused his worship of Dazai’s neck. Beautiful.
Completely beautiful. He hummed into Osamu’s mouth.
Chuuya was fucked. And for once, he was okay with it.