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Ennui

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Something about working at the Armed Detective Agency had granted Dazai something akin to a modicum of kindness—or at least that had been what he had thought. During a late evening shopping trip, necessitated by the barrenness of his kitchen cupboard, he had found Chuuya, his former partner in the Port Mafia, drunk and attempting to navigate his own way home. Dazai had justified helping Chuuya to the subway as literally the least he could do, but the redhead had drunkenly pleaded with him to accompany him until he got to his apartment building. Conveniently armed with a bug to plant, however, he could now consider it reconnaissance instead of kindness. Still, the fading warmth of his takeout dinner in the plastic bag in one hand didn’t improve his mood.

“I’ll give you money to get something else to eat,” Chuuya slurred after Dazai complained. “I swear, you’re as cheap a bastard as ever.”

Dazai huffed in response but froze when, unable to reach the overhead bar in the crowded subway car, Chuuya clutched the lapel of Dazai’s trench coat. He tried to think of a thousand other things than the close proximity of the shorter man, but he couldn’t help but catch fleeting glances of the one he once knew so well. Nostalgia was at fault for the brief longing to run his hands along Chuuya’s sides, to see if those hips still fit perfectly in his palms. Just when he banished those thoughts, Chuuya turned his glazed blue eyes toward him, his frizzed curls bouncing around his heart-shaped face.

“What are you looking at?”

“You piss me off,” Dazai retorted.

“Why?” Chuuya demanded, twisting his fingers in Dazai’s coat. “Because your food is getting cold? I told you I would replace it, so just forget about it already.”

Dazai turned his gaze toward the crowded subway car, expected of Yokohama public transport at rush hour. Anyone else immediately around him was just as close, crammed ass to elbow. Chuuya, however, somehow felt even closer than them—even more so when suddenly he stumbled against his chest. Still, Dazai tried to not think much of it, but then Chuuya’s hands moved from his lapel to his waist.

“You know, I’ve missed you,” Chuuya admitted quietly. “It’s been four years, but now you’re back in my life again. I don’t know whether I want to kill you or fuck you, to be honest.”

“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” Dazai hummed with a smirk. “You don’t have to decide between either, because I’ll only just walk you far enough to make sure you get home okay.”

“You don’t want to have sex?” Chuuya retorted as his brows turned down into a scowl. “The Dazai I knew would jump at every opportunity to get off.”

“You already said you plan to kill me,” Dazai said, “and I’ve set my heart on double suicide with a beautiful woman. Going home with you puts my plans in jeopardy.”

“Then why help me even this far?”

“Well, it’s unlikely you would kill somebody in a crowded subway car on a week day,” Dazai chimed.

“Unlikely?” Chuuya pressed his forehead against Dazai’s chest and exhaled shakily. “I could easily kill you here if I wanted, and I could get away with it.”

Dazai shrugged noncommittally. He looked between the hand, clutching his food bag, and the other, holding the bar over his head. He jumped when Chuuya’s hands moved down from his waist to his hips. A devilish smirk played on the redhead’s lips.

“But maybe I should pay you back for our last encounter, how you humiliated me then.”

Dazai gasped when Chuuya brushed one gloved hand across the front of his pants. His gaze darted across the crowd before daring to meet Chuuya’s face, those blue eyes smoldering wickedly back at him. Upon seeing Dazai’s panic, Chuuya traced his fingers along the waistband of Dazai’s pants and lingered there before suddenly forcing his hand inside. When his hand gripped Dazai’s growing arousal, he licked his lips.

“You’re already half hard,” he purred. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me?”

Dazai tightened his clutch upon the overhead bar and his plastic bag. Already he could feel himself slipping, regressing into his former crueler mindset. His lip twisted into a bitter simper.

“If you thought I humiliated you during our last encounter,” he muttered, “then just wait until we approach the first dark alleyway.”

“Oh, you can’t even wait to get to my apartment?”

Before Dazai could answer, Chuuya tightened his grip already upon his cock and slowly rubbed up and down the shaft, his gaze never leaving Dazai’s eyes and the smirk permanent upon his impertinent face. The threat of being seen by someone else lingered in the back of Dazai’s mind, but his body betrayed his own sense of decency. As the redhead fondled him, Dazai fought to think of anything besides the sinking warmth of his belly and the growing pulse at the base of his spine. When his breath hitched in his throat and his cheeks swelled with heat, however, he crumpled against his former partner. Resting his head on Chuuya’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of vanilla upon that bared neck only further antagonized him. Chuuya turned his head and nipped at Dazai’s ear, forcing a moan from his lips before Dazai could stop himself.

“If you’re too loud, someone’s going to hear you,” Chuuya laughed.

Dazai held his breath when Chuuya unfurled his hand and instead dragged his fingertips up the underside of his cock over and again. His knees wobbled and threatened to collapse under his weight, and his heart rammed against his ribs. Just when he thought maybe he couldn’t hold himself together any longer, the subway car stopped at their destination. As the doors opened, Chuuya slid his hand out of Dazai’s pants and pushed his way through the crowd toward the door, and Dazai, shielding himself with his plastic bag, slinked after him. Enough time had passed now since his last alcoholic drink that Chuuya could walk adequately enough on his own, and by now, night had fallen, only the streetlamps lighting the way to Chuuya’s apartment building.

Still, Dazai had meant what he had said prior. Upon approaching the first dark alleyway, a space only four feet wide between brick office buildings, he dropped his plastic bag in the nearest garbage can, twisted his fingers in Chuuya’s choker, and tugged him down the path. The way Chuuya, blushing and struggling against him, grasped his hand and choked to breathe only intensified his excitement. Once behind a dumpster, he shoved the redhead face first against the cold brick wall, the black coat upon his shoulders falling to the ground in a heap nearby. When Chuuya spun on his heels to face him, his brow furrowed into a scowl, Dazai forcibly turned him around once more and pinned his wrists over his head.

“Keep your hands against the wall, or it’ll only be that much more severe for you,” Dazai said in his ear.

“Is that so?” Chuuya retorted.

Still, he didn’t move when Dazai released his wrists in favor of his waist, but he did suck in a sharp breath when the bandaged hands forcefully tugged down his pants and underwear, exposing his ass to the brisk late summer air. He gasped when Dazai’s hot fingers skimmed around his hips and teased his own arousal. For a moment, Dazai’s touch lingered upon him, fingertips circling slowly around his sensitive head, until his cock was swollen and attentive. Crying out when Dazai pulled back his hands, Chuuya glanced over his shoulder, heat wafting from his blushing cheeks. He wriggled his hips.

“Hurry up,” he muttered.

“Hurry up?” Dazai repeated. A cruel smirk spread across his cheeks. “You’re not in a position to make demands—but you are in the perfect position for something else.”

Dazai framed Chuuya’s hips with his hands. Until now, he had forgotten how much he had missed his former partner’s perky ass and the way his pelvis bucked against his vice grip. The shaking of Chuuya’s thighs was almost tempting enough to give in to his demands, but Dazai held himself back. Instead, clutching the redhead’s waist firmly, he raised his hand and brought his open palm down hard on his ass. Chuuya cried out in surprise, his lips twisting into an O shape. After another smack, his blue eyes stung with tears, and his tender ass blushed. The third smack forced a louder cry from his lips. Dazai leaned over him and kneaded his stinging flesh.

“If you’re too loud, someone’s going to hear you,” he said mockingly.

“Y-you bastard…!” Chuuya growled between breathless pants.

Before Chuuya could protest any further, however, Dazai flicked his wrist and brought his palm down hard again upon his ass. Over and again, he spanked him, not letting up until his own hand stung. As he massaged the tender rump, Chuuya, shuddering, gripped the wall and bit his lip sharply. Teasing his hard, dripping length made him cry out again, but still he held fast. Dazai wasn’t certain how long he could wait at this point, what with his own heartbeat in his throat and his own desperate need yet to be fulfilled. Pressing himself flush against Chuuya’s back, he gasped upon feeling the warmth of Chuuya’s ass through the fabric of his pants and against his own erection. His bandaged hands tightened their clutch upon Chuuya’s petite waist.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.

“Tch… you’re a real idiot, asking such obvious questions,” Chuuya grumbled.

Dazai chuckled right before he twisted his fingers in Chuuya’s ponytail and wrenched his head back. Chuuya sucked in a sharp inhale and let it out in a moan, his blue eyes glossy. He arched his spine to follow the painful grip upon his hair.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Dazai returned. “If you don’t give me the correct answer, I’ll use that smart mouth of yours to get off and be on my way. So tell me… do you want me to fuck you?”

For a brief moment, Chuuya hesitated to answer as he tried to decide whether his need or his pride was more important at that time. Finally, he whispered, “Yes.”

Yes, what?” Dazai hummed playfully, but the look in his eyes, the irises swallowed up by his dilated pupils, was anything but.

“I answered your question!” Chuuya snapped, seizing Dazai’s wrist and trying to tug his hair free.

“I want you to say it.” Dazai breathed against Chuuya’s ear and relished the whine from those trembling lips. “That way I can hear it in your voice if you still know, even after all these years, that you’re still mine.”

It wasn’t something that Dazai had planned to say, and even the words, leaving his mouth, surprised him. Such was his shock that he hadn’t realized he had released Chuuya’s ponytail. His heart jumped when one gloved hand entwined itself in his own hair and forced his lips to Chuuya’s. For the first time in a long time, he felt a kiss in his chest. When he broke it off, Chuuya smirked, a renewed fire in his eyes.

“Take me home. Throw me on my bed. Strip me of my clothes. Fuck me. Make me cum.” He licked his wet lips. “Think you’re capable of that, bastard?”

Dazai grinned as he hooked his fingers in Chuuya’s pants and pulled them up from his knees. “I’ll wait until we get to your apartment,” he said, “but then I won’t be a gentleman.”

To Chuuya’s apartment building should have been a ten-minute walk from that alleyway, but they made it there in less than five. Just as soon as Chuuya unlocked the door, Dazai threw him, crying out in surprise, over his shoulder. He thought to himself that Chuuya must have really been worked up to ignore his hat and wool coat’s falling to the floor and being kicked aside on Dazai’s way to the bedroom. Upon throwing Chuuya down on the bed, Dazai discarded his trench coat, vest, bolo tie, and shirt before taking his rightful place between the redhead’s legs and working quickly to undress his partner. In less than a minute, he had stripped him completely. After another thirty seconds, he had taken off the rest of his own clothes.

How long they kissed following their undressing, however, wasn’t so easily calculated. Dazai swore he could have lost himself then with their hot lips inseparable and their tongues entwined. Still, neither of them could ignore the pressure at the bases of their spines for long, and kissing only intensified the thundering of their pulses. Chuuya wordlessly pointed at the nightstand, and Dazai took his cue for action and retrieved the bottle of lube from the drawer. After lubricating his fingers, he leaned over Chuuya and smirked.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

“Hurry,” Chuuya wheezed, spreading his thighs wide. “I need it…”

Dazai didn’t have to be told twice. Gently his lubed fingertips prodded Chuuya’s entrance and were eagerly swallowed up by the hungry hole. The noise Chuuya made then sent a shudder down Dazai’s spine. Slowly at first but then quickly as the redhead’s hips rocked urgently against his hand, his fingers alternated between thrusting in and out and making scissoring motions. Upon finding his sweet spot, a touch that made Chuuya whine louder, he focused on rubbing there until his lover was nothing more than a gasping, slutty mess, flailing and moaning beneath him. Even then, Dazai continued, relishing the bouncing of Chuuya’s thighs, the arching of his spine, the curling of his toes, and the tightening of his insides. Teasing his cock with the other hand prompted Chuuya to scream.

“Oh god,” he cried out, “please…!”

Four years ago, Dazai would have continued to play with Chuuya, if only to antagonize him, but now his entire body shook with urgency. First withdrawing his fingers and slathering himself with lube, he then gripped Chuuya’s thighs and raised up his squirming hips. Chuuya’s whimpering when Dazai pressed the tip of his cock to his entrance only intensified the painful pounding of the pulse in Dazai’s throat. His eyes dilated with hunger. Still, for a moment longer, he held Chuuya there, writhing in anticipation. Clutching the pillow, Chuuya glowered at Dazai, his blushing face twisted into a scowl, gaping mouth gulping for breath, his body so tense that he couldn’t even shake anymore.

“Wh-what are you waiting for, you bastard?” he snapped. “Fuck me already!”

Dazai only responded with a cruel smirk before throwing his full weight and slamming his hips against Chuuya’s. Being so suddenly filled, Chuuya threw his head back and screamed, now clutching the pillow so tightly his knuckles blanched white. Dazai himself could hardly keep his composure, what with his cheeks swollen with heat, sweat dripping down his forehead, and his cock squeezed by Chuuya’s hot insides. Tightening his grip on Chuuya’s thighs, he rocked his hips, each thrust marked by his partner’s pleasure-wracked screams. After he raised Chuuya’s hips higher up, the redhead gasped, his eyes blowing wide and his legs clutching Dazai’s waist. Dazai licked his lips and looked down through his eyelashes at Chuuya.

“Oh, is that the spot?” he asked, his burgundy eyes flashing.

“Keep going,” Chuuya breathed. He arched his spine to better accommodate Dazai’s new position. “Just a little bit more…!”

“Then just a little bit more,” Dazai cooed, “and I’ll make you cum, just like you want me to do.”

When Dazai moved his hips again, the head of his cock again struck the sweet spot, indicated by Chuuya’s kicking feet and whining. At first he maintained his momentum, but as those insides tightened upon him, each thrust, faster and more desperate than the last, relentlessly hammered on Chuuya’s prostate over and again. By now, Dazai, a slave to his and his partner’s mutual euphoria, couldn’t breathe or think. The thundering of his pulse matched that of the overwhelming pressure at the base of his spine. When he thought maybe he couldn’t hold out any longer, Chuuya gulped for breath, his entire body tensing, his eyes as wide as they had ever been.

“Ah, now!” he cried out. “Now…, now…, now…, ah, oh god!”

Just as Dazai opened his mouth to tell Chuuya to cum for him, those hot insides clenched down hard on his shaft, and the redhead screamed as ecstasy took him. In that moment, his dark gaze locked on to Chuuya’s face and committed it to memory in a split second—lips twisted into an O shape, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks blushing scarlet, and his hair fanned out across the pillow—before it flickered down to Chuuya’s cock, spurting hot cum across his belly and chest. Then with one last thrust, Dazai granted himself dizzying euphoria. Riding out the waves of their mutual gratification, they both held their positions until finally they collapsed in a heap atop of the bed. Dazai brushed his dark hair away from his sweat-slicked face and offered a charming smirk to Chuuya.

“I think you missed me,” he chuckled.

Chuuya furrowed his brow and avoided Dazai’s gaze. “It’s not like that,” he muttered. “It’s not like I cared if I ever saw you again.”

Sighing, Dazai sat upright, rolled his shoulders back, and cracked his hips. “Well, if that’s the case, give me some cash for dinner, and I’ll be on my way.” When he moved to stand up, Chuuya’s arms, wrapped around his chest, stopped him. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze meeting Chuuya’s tearful blue orbs. “Oh, right. You wanted to kill me, too. Well, as long as it’s an elegant death—“

“Idiot,” Chuuya choked. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I thought you were dead.”

Dazai froze, the words striking a chord in his chest. After a moment, he turned around to Chuuya and brushed his thumb across the redhead’s wet cheek. He feebly attempted a genuine smile.

“Not yet,” he chimed. “I’m sure you’ll remedy my unfortunate circumstance soon.” He leaned in close, his lips just out of reach of Chuuya’s. “I’ll stay for tonight if that’s what you want me to do—you just have to admit that you missed me.”

“Bastard…!” Chuuya pushed him away and wiped as his eyes with his wrists. “Of course, I missed you.” He lay down again and rolled on his side, facing away from Dazai. “I thought you were dead, and my heart died with you.”

Instead of getting up, Dazai curled up beside Chuuya and wrapped his arms around him. At first, the redhead tried to ignore him, but then he rolled over toward him and rested his head on Dazai’s shoulder. For the rest of the night, neither of them spoke. Then, early in the morning, Dazai left while Chuuya slept. He had planted a bug in Chuuya’s coat, but he couldn’t listen to it anymore upon hearing Chuuya’s fitful sobbing. He had thought that his time at the Armed Detective Agency had granted him just a modicum of kindness, but perhaps, he thought bitterly to himself, he really was just as ruthless as ever.