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Summary
“There you are,” Dazai purrs directly into his ear, fingers squeezing just barely around his throat, a reminder, “my perfect, pretty little kitty.”
Chuuya moans and he doesn’t know if that’s because of his words, or the way Dazai has found his prostate and is aiming for it on every slide in, merciless. The pleasure is white-hot, simultaneously overwhelming and exactly what he needed.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?”
When he says it like that, confident and self-assured, with a healthy mix of possession—
How could Chuuya ever say no?