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They’re sitting on the sofa, in a room lit only by candlelight and a large fireplace, filled with the beautiful sound of a record player playing Brahms’ third symphony, third movement, Poco Allegretto, which is one of Fyodor’s favourites, of course. It’s one of everyone’s favourites, and rightly so- Dazai feels as if he’s in a magical forest, alone with his boyfriend, carefree and idle, the most comfortable and relaxed than he's ever been.
Dazai's chest doesn't have that usual empty feeling in his chest that glooms over him every single day. He doesn't currently have the terrible dread of what will happen tomorrow... no, right now it was just him and his boyfriend, some beautiful music, dim lighting, no disturbances, and nothing to take his mind off the stillness.
They both hum along quietly, Dazai swaying his head side to side, earning a few giggles from the other man as he does so.
Dazai is sitting with his back against the arm of the emerald green sofa, his fingers entangled in Fyodor's hair, braiding it and running it through his fingers. Fyodor is leaning against Dazai with his head resting on a pillow while he reads a book. Fyodor's hair is the most smooth and gorgeous thing Dazai has ever felt, he was bewitched by it.
They’re both humming along to the music- naturally, Dazai hums along to the violin while Fyodor hums along to the cello. It's the small things that make it so beautiful, like the way they were harmonising with each other and swaying slightly together. The crackling and popping of the fireplace calm them both, and a strong smell of sandalwood and pine fills the room. The white noise coming from the vintage record player creates a unique deluxe ambience which makes them both smile. Fyodor uses his free left hand to finger along to the cello parts of the piece as if he was playing the cello along with the orchestra on the record. He does this against Dazais leg, which is uncovered.
The two men are wearing their best silk night robes. Fyodor’s is a rich, royal purple colour, and Dazai’s is a beautiful dark navy colour. It wraps around them comfortably, is incredibly lightweight, and it’s the most comfortable thing they have ever worn.
This was a life of luxury.
This is understandable since they were both incredibly wealthy. It was just that despite living on mafia executive wage for so long, Dazai had never spent money on what most people would expect. He never invested in a fancy home or furniture, no jewellery or clothes, because he never saw the appeal. But since meeting Fyodor, who did like these things, Dazai had grown to appreciate the beauty in certain things, and he was getting used to and fond of a grand lifestyle where he could look and feel amazing buying overpriced items.
The eldest, Fyodor, has his pearl necklace around his neck and thin silver rings on some of his fingers on each hand. His fingernails are painted over with glossy clear nail varnish, so they look healthy and shiny, and they’re well kept, just like his skin and his hair.
Dazai smiles, leaning over to kiss Fyodor on the forehead.
Upon doing this, he takes a moment to massage the man’s scalp with the tip of his fingers.
Fyodor hums, closing his book and putting it on the floor. He rolls over onto his stomach, so he is looking up at Dazai, and crawls over, so he is now on top of him, and-
He kisses Dazai on the lips, oh, so tenderly, and it’s the most delicious and mouthwatering kiss Dazai has ever had; he wants to melt into it and let it never end.
Fyodor’s lips are so smooth and delicate that Dazai feels butterflies in his stomach and his toes curl as he leans into the kiss.
“Osamu,” the eldest whispers, pulling away from the kiss. He pushes a strand of hair out of the way of Dazai’s face and tucks it behind his ear, and then kisses the side of his cheek by that ear softly. He then looks up, and their eyes meet for a second, and they lock in place, so they’re sitting there smiling at each other with the tame sound of romantic classical music in the background.
Ah… Dazai feels as if he’s in a fairytale and he has found a pixie. The most beautiful person alive was sitting right in front of him right now with his pale skin, coral lips and ebony hair.
“Fyodor.” The brunet grins, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend, and this time Fyodor entangles his fingers in the hair on the back of Dazai’s head, which sends a shiver down the younger man’s spine.
Dazai places a hand on Fyodor's lower back as Fyodor gets more comfortable and sits on his ankles facing Dazai, so they are now of similar height.
Fyodor’s tongue is like velvet, and the kiss is so slow and gentle and loving that Dazai truly feels as if he may well and truly dissolve due to all the bubbles fizzing up inside of him.
It wasn’t often that they did this- they admit that they’re both the type to usually kiss a lot rougher and desperate from the get-go. However, tonight this seemed appropriate, and they wouldn’t want it any other way.
A quiet whimper leaves Dazai’s mouth, but that’s okay because it only makes Fyodor smile and kisses him even harder; the eldest then moves on to wrap both arms on top of Dazai’s shoulders with enough force so that he can move Dazai around if he needs to.
Dazai tries his best to keep his hand on Fyodor's lower back and not move it down to his ass, but he fails. He couldn’t help it. He got carried away and didn’t realise until it was too late.
Luckily, Fyodor is enjoying it, and the brunet can tell by the way Fyodor shudders slightly from the sudden, charming surprise.
They had to take tonight slow. Otherwise, they’ll end up regretting it. This was a night to remember and cherish… which was strange because tonight wasn’t supposed to be an extraordinary day. It was just a regular mid-September evening, but it had blossomed into something unique to them and only them, which somehow made it even more enjoyable.
After a few minutes, when both of their bodies feel like a quivering, excited mess of jelly, Fyodor pulls their mouths apart, being sure to lick up any of the excess salivae that had settled on his lips. He smiles innocently, leaning back and unlinking his arms from around Dazai, and he sits between his ankles this time, tilting his head to the side.
He looks down, and then he grabs Dazai’s hand gently and begins kissing each finger softly, each knuckle, then down the back of his hand, up his arm as far as possible.
This makes Dazai blush, and the sight of Fyodor’s dark purple robe slowly and accidentally untying, revealing his boney, pale torso only makes him more flustered.
Fyodor then does the same to Dazai’s other hand. The younger man can’t help but feel like he’s being treated like royalty- first, he’s being blessed with the sheer sight of Fyodor Dostoevsky, now he was being seemingly worshipped and praised by the man, which seemed too surreal to be true.
“You make everything so much better, Osamu.”
“Huh?”
That's what Dazai would say to him, but he didn't think it would be reciprocated.
“I don’t know what I would do without you.”
That makes Dazai blush, and he brings Fyodor back closer to him, so the eldest is almost straddling his hips, and their bodies are touching.
Dazai takes the honour of sliding the robe off of Fyodor's shoulders, so now his sharp collar bones and slender shoulders are on full display for Dazai to bite into and obsess over.
Fyodor chuckles, stopping Dazai before Dazai helps himself to his shoulders. Instead, he pushes Dazais head back carefully but forcefully. He bites directly on what he definitely knows is a soft spot for Dazai, which causes the brunet to whimper out. His hands temple slightly as he placed one on Fyodor's back in between his shoulder blades and the other on his thigh, squeezing it softly.
“Darling,” Dazai says, and Fyodor moves down to kiss another sweet spot of his.
They knew each other’s weak points like the back of their own hands- they’d known since day one that they were incredibly physically compatible, they knew that there would never be anyone who could please them as much as the other person. It was as if they were designed to do this.
No matter how many times they fucked, or how many times they kissed, it was always a shock to both of them just how much they enjoyed it and how naturally easy it was to please each other and find each other so attractive.
“Yes, my love?”
“You make everything better for me too.”
Fyodor chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry about that. This isn’t about me- this is about you tonight, okay? You just sit back and relax, baby.”
“Mhm,” Dazai hums, sliding down the sofa a bit more so his back is more straight against the pillows. There’s a slight pleasant shock when he can feel Fyodor's cold, porcelain hands make their way up to his torso underneath his robe. Fyodor continues to romantically kiss down and around Dazai’s neck stopping just below his Adam's apple. “Wh-what if I want it to be about you?”
“It’s your night tonight. Let me treat you, baby.”
“I-'' Dazai squeams when he feels Fyodor’s lips meet one of the soft spots on his chest, just below his collarbone, and “ok-okay…. Just for tonight…”
“Are you comfortable?”
“I am.”
“Good boy,” Fyodor smiles against his skin and wholly pulls off his robe, so he is there leaning over Dazai topless with only some short shorts on, and it’s a sight Dazai loves to see. “Now you just sit back and relax, like I said, okay? If there’s anything you want, let me know, and I’ll be more than happy to help.”
“Ok-okay…”
Fyodor chuckles, “You’re so perfect, my Osamu. My Osamu,” he kisses Dazai’s chest tenderly, “My Osamu.”