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Dazai hesitates outside the door of the penthouse. He’s late – over three hours late, to be more precise, and he doesn't know exactly what will be waiting for him inside.
He finally forces himself to unlock the door, stepping through it and immediately noticing the uncharacteristic silence in the apartment. After kicking his shoes off, he makes his way down the hallway to the living room.
Chuuya is sitting on the couch, leaning back with his legs crossed as he stares pointedly at the lock screen of his phone. There's an empty wine glass beside him, the bottle behind it barely a quarter full. Never a good sign.
“You're late.” He doesn't sound angry, not exactly, but there’s a sharp edge to his voice that Dazai knows better than to shrug off. This isn't the time for jokes.
“We had a particularly complex case. It was for a government contact of the president, so we couldn't put it off until tomorrow,” Dazai says, trying to infuse all of his honesty into the words. Judging by the harsh, humourless chuckle Chuuya lets out, it doesn't work.
“Sure.” The word drips with sarcasm. Chuuya still doesn't glance up at him, doesn't move. “Go to the bedroom and get in position.”
“Can't I have a drink first?”
“Not today.” Chuuya sighs, finally looking up to pin him with a knifelike glare. “If you wouldn't spread your legs for anyone and everyone, we wouldn't have this fucking problem in the first place. Now go.”
“It was one –”
“Go.” Chuuya's tone leaves no room for argument.
Ever since a few weeks ago when Dazai admitted, after a hearty amount of whiskey, that he'd slept with one of his coworkers during the very early days of their getting-back-together process, this has become a part of their daily routine. An uncomfortable part for Dazai, but a part all the same.
He slips back down the hall to the bedroom quietly, not bothering to close the door behind him. After sighing in annoyance, he undoes his belt and lets his pants fall to his ankles, followed by his underwear. He discards them in the laundry hamper in the bathroom before assuming the position he knows Chuuya wants him in.
Bent over the end of the bed, ass up and legs spread to the empty room, he waits with his head resting on his arms. He knows Chuuya is intentionally taking his time, is drawing this out just to make Dazai even more uncomfortable than usual. Chuuya's sadistic streak only makes rare appearances, usually as a response to something that would've had him doling out a torture method for Dazai as a teenager, but when it does, it’s unforgiving.
“So you can follow instructions.” Chuuya's voice comes from directly behind him, unsettling in its sudden closeness. They’re both too mafia-bred to have audible footsteps when they want but Dazai can typically sense his presence anyway. Not this time, though. Chuuya probably used his Ability to lift himself entirely.
Chuuya runs a hand over his clothed lower back before slipping it between his legs. He hums in satisfaction as he rubs over Dazai’s folds before sliding a finger inside of him. Dazai holds his breath – he hadn't done anything wrong, but he isn't entirely convinced that Chuuya won't just make up a transgression as an excuse to “punish him,” whatever he meant by those words. He considers himself lucky to have not found out yet.
Having Chuuya back in his life – living with him, having him close all the time – is worth dealing with this one unfortunate aspect. But sometimes he does wonder… does Chuuya see him as a partner or as another possession to add to his collection of rarities? Rare wine, rare artwork, and the rare man who managed to escape the Port Mafia, to escape Chuuya himself, unscathed for so many years?
“Well, you're obviously not dripping with anyone else's cum,” Chuuya finally says. “You're tight and especially dry today. But you still owe me for being late and pissing me off. Do you know what that means?”
Dazai shakes his head, knowing he's not meant to actually answer.
“It means I get to ruin you.” The smirk is audible in Chuuya’s voice as he slides in a second finger beside the first despite Dazai not being the least bit wet yet. The stretch burns for just a few seconds before Chuuya is withdrawing his fingers.
They don't have sex after his inspection every day, or even most days, but Dazai can sense that today will be something else entirely.
Dazai hears the sound of Chuuya’s knees hitting the rug but what he’s doing doesn't hit him until he feels a tongue swipe over his clit. Chuuya doesn't waste any time, wrapping his lips around it and sucking so hard it's almost more painful than pleasurable, going from no stimulation to an overwhelming amount with no warning.
Despite that, the pain soon morphs into some combination that has Dazai smothering his moans into his arms. His legs start to shake, his body tensing towards an explosive orgasm, when Chuuya pulls his mouth away to bite the inside of his thigh. Dazai whines, thrashing even as Chuuya holds him in place by his hips to keep biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until the pleasure recedes.
As if to keep teasing him, Chuuya shifts his mouth back to his pussy to suck at his opening and lick inside of him. He groans at the taste, and Dazai prays he'll keep going but he pulls back after a minute.
“This isn't for you,” Chuuya reminds him, breath fanning over his clit, which twitches in response. “But maybe soon I can spend a whole day making you even more desperate.”
To make his point, Chuuya slips a finger back into Dazai, who is embarrassed by the slick sound it makes when Chuuya pumps it in and out a few times.
He pulls them out and Dazai can hear him stand and then the sound of his belt buckle and zipper. He takes a second to pull Dazai’s vest and shirt over his head, leaving him bare but for his bandages.
“Wait, Chuuya –”
Chuuya positions himself at his entrance, just rubbing the tip in the wetness there before suddenly slamming his cock in until his hips are pressed to Dazai’s ass all in one brutal thrust.
It knocks the air out of Dazai, his arms reaching out to claw at the sheets as Chuuya starts with a quick, deep pace. Dazai cries out at the unexpected stretch, the way Chuuya doesn't stop for him to adjust, just grips his hips to pull him back into every thrust hard enough that he knows he'll have finger-shaped bruises later.
“Fuck, Dazai,” Chuuya says with a groan. “How are you so fucking tight?”
After a few minutes of this rough treatment, Dazai feels himself getting close. Chuuya knows he likes it rough, normally not this rough but still hard, and is probably waiting for him to break and show that it's affecting him more than he's letting on.
He reaches between his legs to rub his clit but it's quickly slapped away, grabbed and pressed into the bed.
“You don't get to come from this,” Chuuya growls.
As Dazai almost reaches the point where it's impossible to hold back, his legs barely holding his body up as his mind spins with how close he is the singular thought in his mind, Chuuya pulls out of him entirely, leaving his pussy fluttering around nothing. He whines even longer than the first time, not even processing the way Chuuya flips him over and pulls him down to the end of the bed. He doesn't realize until Chuuya slaps his cunt and his legs slam closed from the feeling, so harsh when he's so very sensitive. Chuuya uses his free hand to hold one thigh down before he does it again twice, each harder than the last, making Dazai scream in a combination of shock and pain, before thrusting back into him with no warning.
Although Dazai normally appreciates it, right now it's just unnecessary for someone as short as Chuuya to have such a big dick.
Chuuya spreads both of his thighs and presses his knees down into the bed beside him, making his cock hit even deeper.
“Too deep,” Dazai slurs, barely able to force the words out between gasping breaths.
“Poor baby,” Chuuya says sarcastically. “You can take it.”
Dazai lets out a stream of moans and cries as Chuuya batters something deep inside of him, the pain sharp but slowly fading to the background, being replaced by just how sore his entire pussy is.
He's just managing to adjust when Chuuya’s hands leave his thighs to scratch up the uncovered part of his abdomen until he gets to his nipples, which he starts to pull and twist. Dazai inhales sharply at the feeling and Chuuya smirks, only pulling harder and harder until he earns an actual groan.
Chuuya's phone beeps with a notification. He presses all the way into Dazai before pulling it from his back pocket. Being speared on his cock is unbearable, both a tease and a discomfort, and Dazai squirms until he slaps his bruised inner thigh in warning. It makes him clench around Chuuya who groans quietly in response. After Chuuya finishes typing out a response, the phone hits the bed beside Dazai just as he starts to move again.
If anything, Chuuya is rougher than he was before. He slams in and out of Dazai with a renewed intensity, grabbing his bandaged wrists and holding him down by them instead. Dazai’s legs fall open on the bed, giving Chuuya all the access he needs to go back to fucking Dazai quick but deep, so very deep.
“You're mine,” Chuuya rambles. Dazai can barely focus on the words, but he knows they're more affirmations to himself than meant for him. “No one can fuck you like I do. This pussy is mine.”
It doesn't take long before he feels the signs of Chuuya getting close – he's out of breath, eyes closed, losing his rhythm, little grunts escaping him every time he bottoms out. Dazai is something close to relieved when Chuuya buries himself as deep as he can with a loud moan, curling over Dazai as he slowly fucks his cum back inside.
Once he collects himself, he pulls out and wipes himself off on Dazai’s inner thighs, now blooming with faint constellations of red and purple.
“You really are good at taking dick,” Chuuya comments. "You're lucky I didn't just kill everyone else who knows that, even your shitty coworker.”
Dazai is left lying there, breathing heavily and still slightly stunned by everything that happened. He closes his legs, sitting up and pulling them to his chest. The cum dripping down onto the bed makes his stomach turn.
“I have to go back to work,” Chuuya says as he pulls his pants up and tucks his shirt in. “You can clean yourself up, right?”
It's an instruction, not a question. Dazai nods anyway.
Chuuya fixes his outer layers in the mirror, finger-combing his hair even though it will be covered by his hat. He leaves the room and Dazai listens for the lock of the door before he flops back and sighs loudly.
There is still an ache between his legs, his pussy begging for the orgasm he was repeatedly denied. He’s kind of amazed that he can still be horny after all of that, even as his hand slips down to tease at his entrance. He dips two fingers inside of his sore cunt to gather the cum trickling out of it and starts rubbing circles on his clit. His other hand presses on the bruises forming on his hips, imagining it's Chuuya holding him down and fingering him.
All of his thoughts are Chuuya – Chuuya's mouth on him, his hands on him, his cock in him. It makes him feel sick. It turns him on beyond belief.
His back arches off the bed as he comes, more wetness soaking his fingers.
It doesn't bring relief, only emptiness.
It's tempting to go straight to sleep, to ignore the mix of emotions about Chuuya that he doesn't want to unpack right now. That he will probably put off dealing with for the rest of his life.
Instead, he heads for the bathroom and starts the bathtub filling with scalding hot water. He'll make himself feel clean again, no matter what it takes.
He grabs a few pills out of the bottle of prescription painkillers he has stashed away in the very bottom corner of the vanity.
He's an expert at making himself numb by now.