Work Text:
Blood dripped onto the red towel as Dazai sucked in a breath—A cold box cutter meeting his wrist in a slow but fluid motion.
“For a Terrorist you’re real gentle when slitting someone’s wrist.” Dazai smirked, only to be met with dull eyes and a fake smile. God he’s so fucked up for loving this man.
“If I cut any deeper I’ll end up hitting a Vein or Artery.” Fyodor looked back at his work, being as careful as ever. “And I would hate to clean that up.”
Dazai threw his head back in an annoyed groan, “Come on Fedya you’re practically edging me here!! If YOU can’t do it i’ll do it myself.” Dazai looked back at Fyodor with a childish angry pout.
Fyodor ignored him, Continuing his small task. Honestly he couldn’t tell sometimes, Was it his mind or dick that speaks for himself?
Dazai sucked in his lip, deciding to drop it. Basking in the pain of his red throbbing wrist. “the other one.. That one too.” Dazai’s eyes shifted over to his other arm, the untouched wrist more painful than the blade on his other at the moment.
Fyodors smile widened, his eyes flicking from crotch to wrists.
Dazai’s neck hit the edge of the Sofa, Mouth open and huffing a loving groan down. His hand tight around dark hair.
Fyodor stared up at Dazai with a slight wince everytime the youngers appendage hit the back of his throat. A slurry gag at every poke, Dazai loved it.
Fyodor was never one to show weakness, but whenever they have these moments his cheeks puff up like they’ve been beaten swollen; acompanied by a disgusted choke of the throat one could only meet with soft skin and air blockage.
Dazai loved it.
So much that he couldn’t help but push the frailer down further, He could take it- No matter how bad his reflex was.
Spit threw up from fyodors throat, dripping down his lips in protest of the breach in his mouth. Lidded eyes eying the patch of hair on Dazai’s abdomen, small but present and enough to collect his mind. His eyes clouding with tears.
Dazai drooped his head to look at Fyodor, purposely thrusting a particular way that makes him go just a bit deeper.
Fyodors eyes widened before going normal after the retch and cough of his throat, earning a cocky smile.
“Everytime we do this.. I can’t help but think if you’ll ever actually puke.” Dazai’s grip on Fyodors hair softened— But the pressure on his head increased.
Fyodors eyes rolled back miserably, inhumane tears slipping as his muscles tensed. He hated Dazai.
“Just a bit more Fedya… Hold back for me. I’m almost there.” Dazai bit his lip with a smile, some spit seeping from his mouth—Barely recognizable.
Fyodor squeezed Dazai’s slow bleeding wrists, blood now dripping down his forearms as he put up with Dazai’s annoying thrusts.
“Don’t.” It was like a mock.
”You can do it.” A mocking pat that was a little too rough to not push the others throat closer.
Fyodor squirmed, closing his eyes and retching before tapping out. As sick as they are, puking is not very enjoyable.
Dazai laughed, stroking a bit before patting Fyodor’s back. “I win.”
Fyodor grimaced, catching his breath. A slurred russian accent pushing its way through soft coughs. “It wasn’t a game.”
”..We can make it one??”
”…”
“How much you wanna bet the Downstairs neighbors are gonna send a noise complaint soon?” Dazai grinned, grabbing a glass of the mixed liquor.
”They’ll stay quiet,” Fyodor nodded, taking a swig of his heavy alcohol.
”how do you know that?” Dazai gruffed.
”I turned off all their power after their kid threw a snowball at me.”
“well, that was simple.” Dazai leaned back, now bored.
”Did need not to be?” Fyodor stared at the new bandages on his lower arms and wrist then back at Dazai. “I thought someone would have to tear that smelly hat off your head or something.” Dazai blinked, looking at Fyodors hair.
”I’ll cut your throat next.”
”oh yay! We should have it in the tub! With roses and champagne. Specifically the Korbel sweet rose California.”
& then they got married:D