Work Text:
Dazai is sitting in the next room, drinking hot tea, and all he can hear is casual conversations, loud swearing at times. Well, fortunately, at least there were no screams this time. Nakahara is clearly not playing something scary.
In fact, when Chuuya first started talking about a blogger's career, Dazai just laughed in his face. Even Nakahara's outraged shouts could not stop the sincere and loud laughter. The only thing that stopped Osamu then was a well-aimed and ringing slap in the face.
So another fight ensued, from which they both crawled out either winners or losers — they did not figure it out themselves, they only realized that their whole body ached, but they were tired. Then, quite peacefully, a little sluggishly, they took out cigarettes and lit up together, throwing the last insults for the evening.
And then we went to bed together. Their love life was notable only for outbursts of violence, in which both found some kind of charm. As it was, it was a swamp routine, however, pleasant in its own way.
Nakahara didn't get the thought out of his head.
At first he thought about blogging in secret from Dazai, but then he decided that he had nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to hide. He bought a camera, a microphone, and installed it all in his room under the sidelong glances of Osamu and his ridicule.
Chuuya also often joked that, they say, when he gets rich on his new hobby, he will not share money with his boyfriend at all, and Dazai will only regret that he did not support the initiative of his beloved guy.
Osamu would shrug his shoulders at such moments and ask Nakahara to show his wealth and pay the bills. He gritted his teeth and rubbed his fists, but suppressed aggression with cigarette smoke exhaled through the window. And he paid the bills.
At first, everything went horribly wrong. Then it got bad. But now... more or less. It was a long way from the promised wealth, of course, but things weren't as bad for Chuuya as they used to be. Yes, even Dazai stopped bullying him all the time. Apparently, he still wants to get a portion of money for selfless support (which in essence was just the absence of loving and mawkish bullying).
Now Chuuya Nakahara, sitting in front of a computer screen, rubs his eyes tiredly. The video has been recorded, but there are still long hours of editing ahead.
Dazai opens the door to the room and, noticing that Chuuya is silent and nervously looking at the screen, throws himself at him from behind, hugging his shoulders, kissing his neck. Nakahara reminded chthonic that he hid in a cave and demanded solitude (otherwise he would bite through bones with sharp teeth), so he had to find time to make him way into the cave and take a fancy to this reclusive chthonic.
Chuuya has never been too happy about such behavior.
"Mackerel! What the hell are you doing?" Nakahara immediately turns to Osamu (fortunately, the chair was on wheels) and rushes at him, biting his neck. Dazai makes funny noises and pushes Chuuya back into the chair, laughing.
The light of a warm lamp spreads across the room, decorations and several posters hang on the walls (to create an atmosphere), Nakahara has candles on the table, two mugs, a small flask of incense, a pack of napkins, a package of already eaten marmalade. It's warm and cozy in this room, especially when a red-haired miracle is grumbling from your embrace.
Osamu liked to spend time like this. It's innocent and funny, as if they live in a fairy tale, fooling around like children.
There, even Nakahara is smiling, although he tries to appear gloomy and angry.
"You're distracting me", Chuuya says shortly, turning to the screen and thoughtfully clicking with the mouse. Dazai was completely unaware of what was happening on the screen. It was uninteresting and unimportant. The most important thing is his boyfriend, who sits alone in front of the monitor and does not pay attention to Dazai, who sticks to him, caresses him, almost screams that he needs a little love.
Osamu missed him.
"Really? You've already finished", Osamu hugs Nakahara by the shoulders again, but now much more affectionately, in a homely way. Chuuya is not even annoyed, only smiles faintly. He loved affection, no matter what he said and no matter how he grumbled at the moments when Dazai showed tenderness and care.
"I need to check if everything is recorded. Did I forget to turn on the microphone again?" explains Chuuya indifferently.
"But you haven't forgotten, have you?"
"No."
"Well, don't look for excuses," here Osamu buries his nose in red hair, continuing to hug Nakahara. At that moment, Dazai seemed to get tired of coddling. He abruptly grabs Chuuya by the shoulders and turns him around, digging his fingers into his knees.
"I need attention."
"What else do you need?" Nakahara mutters sarcastically, but takes Osamu's face in his hands, breathing heavily. So he had clearly managed to get his attention.
"I need your attention, slug. It's coming to you as slowly as it always does," Dazai says before biting into Chuuya's lips and pulling him by the shoulders towards himself. Nakahara, maybe, would have fallen on the soft carpet from the sudden influx of emotions, from the way his heart is pounding, from the way his legs gave way, but Osamu does not allow him — he holds him tightly.
Every second is torture.
Perhaps because Chuuya really spends too much time at the computer and has already forgotten how a man's touch feels, maybe because Dazai is especially beautiful and fragrant today, the devil knows, but it was incredibly hard to endure.
While Osamu dragged Nakahara into the bedroom, he barely restrained the urge to press his boyfriend against the nearest wall and, breathing jerkily into each other's lips, start satisfying each other together, just to quench their thirst.
Fortunately, they soon find themselves on the bed. They don't have to take off their clothes for too long, both of them take it off so hastily, as if the fabric burns the skin, the collars are suffocating, and the buttons are burdock, disgusting sticking to the skin.
"Fuck, Osamu, so that you can do it again..." Chuuya whined under Osamu, and he only kissed him, as if trying to calm him down. But in fact, kissing on the chest, stomach, neck, shoulders, hips only provoked, made them whine and beg even more.
Maybe that's what Osamu wanted.
Fortunately, Dazai himself was also unable to endure for a long time. That is why at some point Nakahara nervously squeezes his hips, feeling a long-awaited relief. Osamu doesn't move too fast at first, but confidently, and Chuuya clings to the sheet, cursing himself and promising never to be provoked by Dazai again.
When an orgasm makes its way into the brain of each of them, scratches it, turning off any other feelings and the thought process itself, they lazily fall on the bed. First Chuuya, then Dazai.
Nakahara does not have the strength to swear and lecture Osamu, he would have gladly lit a cigarette sooner now, but there were no cigarettes or lighters nearby.
"You should stop messing with me while I'm working. I'm doing my job."
Dazai grins and playfully bites Chuuya's ear.
"Don't tell me you didn't like it."
Nakahara looks at his lover intently and somehow for too long, and then rolls his eyes, giving Osamu a ringing click.
"Fuck you, Mackerel."