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Dazai would like to say he was a better man, but truth be told, when it comes to Chuuya — he isn't. He has always been selfish about his partner, monopolizing his attention, inquiring about his secrets, crossing in- and visible boundaries — just to even out the imaginary play-field. Because Chuuya became centre of Dazai's universe the moment he knocked him down in the slums when they were fifteen.
That's why, when Chuuya asks to take him to bed, Dazai knows how they're going to end up: naked and sweaty, panting from hunger they only began to satiate, littered in evidence of their commitment, tied. The vision terrifies and excites him in equal measure, he won't lie.
It's not that he doubts his sex game, he knows he's good and attentive to his partner when it comes to regular bed-scapades. It's Chuuya though, so nothing is gonna be regular from the get go. He's never been with a partner whose breath pattern he didn't need to learn; with whom he doesn't look for pretence with his bandages and scars; someone he knows it's never gonna get better than with.
But it's because of this complex relationships with Chuuya he's so cautious and afraid. Chuuya has been an omega for years, has learnt what feels best when he's with an alpha, probably has preferences Dazai has no clue about because he presented two nights ago. Hell, according to Kunikida, he's not even done with it yet! What he would do if his new instincts go out of control and fuck things up for him?
"Can hear your thoughts derailing, stupid mackerel," Chuuya teases while fondling with his hair that brushes bandaged neck. "You were so full of yourself earlier in the office."
Dazai swallows dry lump in his throat.
"Chuuya is being mean," he squeezes him tightly in his hands before shoving the door to Chuuya's bedroom with his hip. He's sure Chuuya can smell his anxiety in the air but does nothing to placate it. Yeah, right, Dazai has to earn his forgiveness.
"I'm just making an observation," he says with a playful smile, before making a motion to ask to be put down on the covers.
Dazai takes a hesitant step back, feeling the strain in his body, rigid with anticipation of the inevitable. Chuuya narrows his eyes, noticing almost invisible change in his posture. They truly can't hide anything from each other. He's quiet when he unbuttons his waistcoat, but doesn't pierce Dazai with unyielding attention like earlier. He also doesn't let his scent loose, leaving the ball in Dazai's court.
The bedroom still smells like Chuuya, though it's mostly bar from the sweet layer of figs he gets whenever his heat rolls around. Dazai notices more than just bergamot he's used to, now when he's presented and can be actually affected by alluring combination. There's cedar, tobacco, musk. He wonders how he smells like, or rather, how they do. Does the mix of their scents hold answers to unsolved mysteries? Can it guide them through the next major crisis that's gonna descend onto Yokohama? Dazai is lost in his head, but it doesn't stop him from following Chuuya's movements, undressing in a slow fashion.
"What are you doing there?" Chuuya asks when he unbuckles his belt. Dazai halts and hesitantly meets blue eyes that spark with mischief.
"Undressing?" he answers, unsure of what's the point of stating the obvious.
Chuuya just rolls his eyes and slides out of his pants, before kneeling on the bed. Dazai feels hot flush creeping up his neck, as well as his dick getting hard. Chuuya is a vision. Auburn hair set loose, now just a bit longer than Dazai's, framing his face in gentle waves. Buckle on black choker sits snugly in the centre of his throat, teasing imagination with collar of hickeys it can hide. White shirt is half-open, kept in place by the harness he wears on top, gun nowhere to be seen. The garter belt on his left thigh has a knife still strapped in and Dazai wonders if Chuuya plans on using it tonight. He would let him, even if he wasn't trying to make it up to him.
"So far away?" Chuuya unsheathes the knife and extends his hand to pass it to Dazai. Dazai has to step closer to take it, but before he has a chance to touch the handle, Chuuya flips the blade in his palm and uses it to draw Dazai near, tugging with it on his bolo-tie.
"I'm being polite," Dazai swallows. Oh, he's hard-hard now. Chuuya probably can smell him too, given the smug grin showing on his lips.
"You're being an idiot," Chuuya cuts the string of his tie, along with buttons' seam on his shirt. Well, good that Dazai has his mafia paycheck back, but in a situation like this, he wouldn't mourn the garment loss even if it was his last one. "Since when do you need an invitation to my nest, alpha?"
Oh, that's not fair at all.
"Please," Dazai whines as Chuuya drops the knife and cups Dazai's face in his gloved palm. They are face-to-face now, Chuuya's blue eyes holding him in place like restrains he can't pick his way out off.
"Please what, alpha?"
He doesn't get to answer. Chuuya traces his lips with his thumb, before parting them and laying his middle and ring finger on his tongue. Dazai swallows around them with no thought in his brain. The taste of leather is familiar, he won't be able to count the amount of times he bit down on his belt when sewing up his own wounds. This time though, it a way better feeling. Chuuya approvingly hums, before clasping the end of the other glove between his teeth and pooling. Dazai mirrors the motion.
"Chuuya," he whispers when Chuuya traces the bandaged neck with his naked fingers. Right around the place a mating bite would go. The place that is, unfairly, still covered by the piece of leather Dazai gave him seven years ago. "Chuuya, please," he begs again.
"Why don't you command me, alpha?" he dares him and Dazai closes his eyes in resignment. Chuuya did warn he's not gonna go easy on him, so the only thing he can do now is hope to endure. "I actually see the appeal now, no wonder you would not stop until I punch your guts out."
Yeah fair, he has years of teasing Chuuya to the point of madness.
"You're a better person than me," he tries, still keeping his hands to himself. It's getting harder and harder to do so.
"That I am," Chuuya smiles and leans in to kiss him.
Finally.
The kiss is not gentle, but they do not fight for it like Dazai often imagined their first kiss would go. Chuuya keeps his palm on Dazai's throat, holding him tight, but doesn't insist on dominating the kiss. He waits for Dazai to catch-up with the reality and invitingly parts his lips when he probes them with his tongue. Dazai is hungry for him in a way a condemned to death man is hungry for mercy. He drinks the salvation for his sins from Chuuya's mouth, saliva almost sweet under the first initial taste of wine's remnants. His fingers hold onto Chuuya's waist, squeezing, feeling the hard muscles flex under soft skin.
The first moan that escapes his mouth is preceded by Chuuya letting his scent free, even though still somehow muted by the choker around his neck. Dazai can't help himself, sucking a hickey on the underside of his jaw. His hands unfasten the harness holding Chuuya's shirt in place and when the fabric and leather fall onto the bed covers, he dives in reverence to the pale chest, each kiss blooms bright red, followed by insatiable bites. He would crawl inside of his ribcage if he could ensure Chuuya can live like that — chest wide open for the world to see Dazai inside, squeezing the heart in his palm to pump blood.
"Who's the dog now?" Chuuya teases, when Dazai licks a long stripe along his clavicle. "What, gonna mark me like one too?"
Dazai traces the dip of Chuuya hips with his hands, brushing past familiar hardness in Chuuya's underwear and diving inside. Chuuya's soaking wet. The underlying note of figs hits Dazai's nose and he can't help it, when his body reacts to Chuuya's slick with itching of the fangs. He really can't control it when his jaw locks in the crook of Chuuya's shoulder, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.
"Oh, guess the mating collar was a strategic decision on your end. Should've guessed," Chuuya adds, slightly amazed.
Dazai lets out questionable hum, too busy on licking the freshly set bite mark clean.
Chuuya points at the choker Dazai gave him as a presentation gift. "Mate collar?"
Dazai is dumbfounded by the implication."Is it?" he asks meekly, not daring to move anymore.
"Oh my god! You had no clue?" Chuuya pulls him by the locks on the back of his head. "You haven't seriously thought I was going along with your dog bullshit, have you?"
Dazai swallows and returns his hands on Chuuya's waist. Apparently they are gonna talk about it.
"Well, I did spend a whole day picking it out. And it was not cheap!"
"Yeah, no shit, genius. Mating collars are supposed to last years of courting, they can't cost just a thousand yen," Chuuya responds half-offended. "I looked up mine, you spent a fortune."
Dazai couldn't care less about the price, to be honest. He spent the whole day seven years ago because nothing was looking right until he found the one. Guess his instincts were guiding him, even if he couldn't place them in the right category.
"Anything less wouldn't suit you," he offers and Chuuya scoffs.
"Everything would suit me."
"Yeah, but would it be worth you?"
Chuuya smiles at him and mumbles "You're a fool."
Dazai shrugs his shoulders and climbs up onto the bed to Chuuya.
"Yours," is the only thing he offers.