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    Summary

    “Come on, can’t Chuuya go any faster? You’re terrible at this,” Dazai fusses, just to rile Chuuya up more — and Chuuya is the idiot that, despite knowing, still falls for the needled words pricking his skin.

    “Shut up,” Chuuya repeats, for the umpteenth time, yanking Dazai by the hair and hearing him whine, slapping him across the face not nearly hard enough for it to hurt as much as the brunette is acting like it did. “Did you forget which one of us has their hands free and which one doesn’t?”

    “Did you forget who’s, mngh, b-bored out of his mind?” Dazai counters, his very tone gainsaying the falsity of his words — Chuuya knows Dazai loves this, because that’s how this always goes. They’re addicted to each other. Like two candles joined by one wick, they can only burn together.

    “Hah, your body and moans are contradicting you, Dazai,” Chuuya smiles, smug, as if he’s won. But really, there is no winner on nights like these.

    “Says the one who was kissing me so desperately,” Dazai shoots back, keeping their bickering animated.

    “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” Chuuya growls.

    Dazai and Chuuya's partnership comes with many complications.

    Language:
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