Archive of Our Own

A good night's sleep was a luxury when Dazai was in Port Mafia, but ever since he left, it has gotten a little easier to get the full eight hours. Especially, now that he is the ADA, his, as he convinced himself, unbothered conscience lets him avoid the long-forgotten sleepless nights. But lately, rest has been becoming more of an unreachable dream for the detective. He spends his days exhausted, mind tired, blank, and the night... that's when his anguished mind comes to life, not letting him sleep.

Dazai was exhausted beyond measure. It's been a rough week, a rough month, even, or maybe a few months, stretching into an endless abyss of despair, born out of immeasurable fatigue. He hasn't been this profoundly and deeply tired since... must've been since he's been an Executive.

His usual strategies, like drinking or even doing drugs, now just leave him even wearier the next day. Even if he could fall asleep drunk (which is rarely the case nowadays, he simply goes back to being sober, or fights off the swirling thoughts that crawl around his head like demons, along with an urge to vomit), it's never peaceful.

The agony of not being able to sleep after what feels like the longest week of Dazai's life is akin to having a wound inside his head. He doesn't even feel tired anymore, but he can feel his brain power diminishing. He has no ideas, no thoughts, and the only thing he does at home these days is either read or masturbate, hoping that perhaps an orgasm (or twenty) could provide enough of a release for him to be able to rest.

But nothing works.

Even if he can get a few hours of shut-eye, it’s been a while since he woke up in a state resembling refreshed.

There is only one other solution that the detective's tired mind can provide. It isn't exactly a go-to option, but Dazai resolved to at least try. The idea requires a certain finesse, and he never really considered it in the past, even though a part of him (and a bigger one than he was willing to admit) always wondered if there were still a chance for it to work.

Or how Chuuya would react.

If Dazai hadn't been so sleep-deprived, he might've talked himself out of it. But when the exhaustion is so great that it blurs the edges of reality, he no longer cares. Worst case, Chuuya would just punch him, hopefully knocking him out for a bit. So, he'd get to sleep anyway.

Trudging, dragging his feet through the streets of the PM territory, Dazai easily found a familiar car and broke in, placing his body in a horizontal position on the back seat. He wished he could have slept as he waited for Chuuya to find his vehicle, but if that were an option, he wouldn't need to be here in the first place. If he were in his right mind, Dazai may have considered at least calling ahead but... he wanted to be in Chuuya's space for a while. Even if it were just his car.

Dazai turned to his side, closed his eyes, and curled into a fetal position. Chuuya won’t get mad, will he? His presence has always been so soothing to Dazai. Even when they argued, there had ways been a pleasant silence in Osamu's mind, keeping whatever was living inside of the brunet's head quiet. At least, for a little while.

They haven't seen each other lately, and Dazai only ever showed up when he needed something. But tonight, he felt like he had no other option. Chuuya should understand, he was his former partner, a fact of which the redhead never failed to remind Dazai.

They used to do this all the time in the Mafia, after all. Although, it wasn't ever exactly like this... but that would be a problem for a well-rested Dazai to deal with.

Eyes closed, Dazai exhaled sharply as the memories flashed before his eyes. He was too tired to even try and stop himself, as he palmed his dick through his pants, trying to relieve some of the tension from the blood rushing down there.

When his mind wouldn't let him rest, exhaustion always made him horny.

A ridiculous, prime desire almost, a wish to be taken apart and fall into oblivion, it ate away at his splintering consciousness, making him delirious, craving something he couldn't get anywhere else.

Dazai remembered one of his dreams, or maybe a memory, it was hard to tell with a mind so foggy. Chuuya, wearing one of his shirts, sitting on top of him and kissing his neck... he felt so warm in that dream, his pulse skyrocketing and mind blissfully empty...

Dazai rubbed his thighs together, feeling his dick move a bit at the thought. Oh god. How long would he have to wait again?

He managed to calm down after a while, trying to distract himself with his phone. But the light of the screen bothered his eyes, and he couldn't concentrate on a single thing. Dazai closed his eyes, forcing his breath and heartbeat to even out, taking deep breaths. He could feel his body relaxing.

Yet he still couldn’t fall asleep.

Finally, hyperaware of all the sounds around him, Osamu heard how the door locks clicked from a remote-controlled car key. The owner was approaching.

Chuuya opened the door, and just froze there for a second, staring at his back seat.

"Umm... Dazai? What are you doing... here?"

Osamu tried making a weak attempt at joking:

"Lying on the back seat of chibi's car."

Chuuya scoffed, placing his elbow and arm on top of the window seal of the door.

"Yeah no shit, Mackerel. I meant, why my car? You usually break into my apartment."

Dazai didn't say anything at first, simply closing his eyes again. Chuuya's presence soothed, but still not enough. He knew he'd need more. And he'd have to be much more persuasive than this.

If he'd even have enough energy.

"Chuuya lives too far," Dazai mumbled, face turned into the car seat, muffling his words.

"What? It never stopped you before."

It hadn't escaped him how Chuuya wasn't kicking him out yet. Maybe there was a chance.

"I'm just… so tired."

Nakahara didn't reply, just glanced over Dazai's form, his arms wrapped around himself, lying with eyes closed on his backseat. There was something so miserable about the man, that Chuuya, through moderately gritted teeth, wondered if he’d have the heart to kick him out.

Osamu looked exhausted. Black circles under his eyes, visible even in the half-lit Port Mafia parking lot, the disheveled hair, the even paler than usual skin…

Chuuya dropped himself into the driver’s seat. Guess his day wasn't over yet.

Crabbing onto the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary for a second, Chuuya turned around, and asked in a low tone:

"Osamu. When was the last time you slept?"

Dazai kept his eyes closed and his body unmoving.

"Last night."

"For how long?"

"An hour. Maybe two."

Nakahara sighed. Then, lifting his eyebrow, inquired:

"But why'd you come to me?"

"Chuuya's presence is usually very tiring, I was hoping you'd bore me to death, and I'd be able to sleep, finally."
A weak attempt at humor, again. Dazai's mind was still desperately grasping at normalcy, so unused to asking for help.

Nakahara scoffed. Stupid fish could never ask for anything directly, could he?

Not saying anything else, Chuuya sparked the ignition and started the car.

A ride to Chuuya's place was peaceful, to the point that Osamu almost started to fall asleep. The soft murmur of the engine appeased his exhausted mind, letting him enter a state closely resembling a nap. He wouldn't be able to keep sleeping, even if the car didn’t stop, he’d eventually stir, once his brain had gotten the bare minimum it needed to function.

Dazai stirred but didn't move when he felt the subtle shift forward at the vehicle stopping. They must’ve arrived at Chuuya’s apartment.

The redhead got out of the car and opened the back door on the side closer to the detective’s head. Dazai was half expecting him to yank him out, but instead, Chuuya just knelt, his gorgeous face beside Dazai's. The locks of red hair hanging down tickled Dazai’s cheeks.

"Dazai, we're here… Can you move? Would you like me to carry you?"

The question almost made the detective cry. He simply nodded slowly, not even opening his eyes, in part because he dared not.

Nakahara shifted his body partially into the car, wrapping his hands around Dazai to pull him out of the vehicle. His chibi had always been very strong, but the ease with which he now carried Dazai in his arms toward the building never ceased to amaze Osamu.

The elevator, the hallways, and the front door all pass by in a haze, with the only thing Dazai's tired mind able to focus on, was Chuuya's smell. Dazai nuzzled into Chuuya's neck, letting himself inhale the mix of tobacco, bourbon, and cedar. The expensive cotton of the Executive’s shirt felt nice against his cheek, reminding him of the time he wore clothing of the same quality. Although, the thread count was the only thing he missed from that time. Among a couple of other things, perhaps.

Inside the apartment, Dazai finally opened his eyes. Chuuya didn't turn on the main lights, and a part of Dazai wondered if it were to not hurt his eyes. In fact, Nakahara didn't turn on any lights at all, leaving them both in the relative darkness of the apartment, only illuminated by the moon and the city lights, coming from the outside. Not stopping in the living room, as Osamu somewhat expected him to - they haven't done this in four years - Chuuya went straight to the bedroom.

The soft glow of the moon shone through the floor-length windows and chiffon drapes. The room smelled of fresh air since Nakahara left a window open before he left. Reckless, really, leaving a point of entry when he wasn’t home. The Executive placed his former partner on his bed, lowering him gently like precious cargo. Dazai thought for a second that his heart might break from such treatment. Having Chuuya be so careful with him, was somehow almost as unbearable as this horrible insomnia. Good, positive emotions usually made him uncomfortable as is, but with the way his worn-out mind twisted them into monsters, something one needed to avoid at all costs, that… seemed like torture.

Osamu Dazai knew all about inflicting physical pain, but kindness by far was the worst.

Gloved hands disappeared from him for a moment after Dazai felt the soft mattress touch his back; Chuuya placed him on the bed and went to his walk-in closet to change. The detective observed through half-lidded eyes, laying on his side facing the redhead, how Nakahara took off his coat and hat, placing them carefully in their designated spots. Then he took off the bolero and the vest, turning around to the tired brunet on his bed. Dazai half expected the redhead to get undressed right away, but apparently, it was not meant to be.

More convincing ought to be done then, right? Chuuya must have guessed by now what Dazai needed of him; the Executive brought him here, after all, with no complaining, nor any questions. Not yet at least.

“Dazai,” Chuuya left the walk-in closet, stepping soundlessly on the floor, like a cat, only in his socks “Have you eaten?”

“Have I… what?”

Chuuya came closer, his hands bared – he must’ve taken off his gloves, but the detective hadn’t noticed. His ability to notice small details had diminished greatly in the past week, almost ridiculously, compared to how his mind usually operated. But Dazai was too tired to even begin to care about that.

Warm fingers grazed the detective’s forehead, moving his bangs out of the way. Azure eyes investigated his, staring somewhere far deeper than his face that showed the surface-level emotion shown in Osamu’s tired gaze. The brunet felt his exhaustion hit him once again with a greater force than before.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Chibi has something other than dog food at home?”

Nakahara scoffed but hadn’t moved his hand away.

“Maybe you’re not as tired as you claim to be, since you still have the energy to annoy me,” he pulled out his phone, and unlocking it. “No matter. I’m going to order dinner. What do you want?”

One of Dazai’s calloused hands found its way to Chuuya’s soft fingers interlacing them together. If the redhead hadn’t expected it, it didn’t show.

Dazai pouted for a moment. He didn’t feel hungry at all, although the last time he ate must’ve been a few days ago. Making a decision right now, however, felt almost impossible. He never could figure out something as simple as picking out what he wanted to eat even when he felt better, but right now…

“I don’t know, Chuuya.”

The brunet sounded defeated; Nakahara ran his fingers through the brunet’s hair again, not even pretending that the gesture was meant to be anything other than comfort. He had to order something for him then, certainly. Dazai probably hadn’t eaten in a while, and even if Chuuya got an inkling as to why the detective was here, he didn’t want to inflict even more damage upon the man.

And the least he could do before fucking him was get him dinner.

That was why he was here, was it not? Chuuya was almost certain he guessed Dazai’s intention right. The last time they had sex was before he left the Mafia, and even back then, Nakahara had to guess what the man wanted half the time. It was an almost unspoken agreement between them, or, perhaps, something like an ever-present understanding. Dazai, his Dazai, never asked for anything, he could not, since the ability to express his desires was apparently for anyone but the infamous Demon Prodigy…

Well. He hasn’t been that in a very long time.

Clicking on his default order from the nearby restaurant and adding some Crab Rangoon to it – although Chuuya was fairly certain the best Dazai would do was nibble on the vegetables from the salad – Nakahara put his phone away, looking over his ex-partner again, wondering what to do with him in the meanwhile. The delivery would take about an hour anyway since that place cooked everything from scratch.

Dazai was lying on the bed, face against the back of his palm, the hair from the top of his neck falling on the sheets. He was most certainly not asleep, just trying to rest his eyes when he felt Chuuya taking the beige coat off him.

“Chuuuya, I’m coold, don’t be mean.”

“If you’re staying, you’re taking a shower – or better yet, a bath, and you can’t do that dressed. So move, Osamu.”

Staying, huh? Chuuya caught his meaning well. As always, his partner could be relied on. The question was, to what extent?

Letting himself be undressed, although helping a bit, Dazai soon was left only in his shirt and dress pants, the rest of his garments being carefully placed on a sofa nearby.

“Shower, Dazai. Let’s go. You can get undressed there.”

With a touch of regret, Dazai pushed himself off the bed, breathing in and out deeply. Maybe he’d fall asleep in the warm water.

“Chuuya’s gonna come with me?”

Nakahara looked at him, cerulean eyes narrowed, a touch of surprise in them, quickly changing to the usual amused visage. He got it then, right?

“Yeah, I’d come with you alright. I need a shower, too.”

Such a strange notion, sitting in the bathtub with Chuuya again. Dazai felt the redhead’s chest fall and rise behind him, as he sat between his legs, leaning against Nakahara. The overhead lights were still off, only the soft glow of a lamp above the sink remained. It was clear that Chuuya didn’t want to hurt Dazai’s bloodshot from exhaustion eyes. Although the brunet kept them closed, it was still a nice touch.

In all honesty, he felt like he was going to melt. Too tired to do anything, Dazai squirmed a little in the tub when he felt Chuuya’s knees push closer against his sides. Usually, being this close to Nakahara’s body would have always gotten a rise out of him, and being naked… well, that did the trick.

“Mmm, Chuuya.”

Glancing down over Dazai’s shoulder, the naked redhead smirked. He noticed his little “problem”, and frankly, Nakahara himself was about to get something similar.
Running his hands down the brunet’s exposed chest – he took off the bandages tonight, no protest or hesitation, too tired, perhaps, Chuuya teased his nipples a little, pinching them tightly with his finger. The sound Dazai made was so adorable – a whine, almost a mewl, like a kitten.

Nakahara’s secret was that he adored it when Dazai got like this – needy, defenses lowered but only for him, whiny. His favorite version of the detective.

Chest rising with sharp breaths, Dazai observed how Chuuya’s graceful hand let go of one of his nipples, trailing down his stomach, knowingly avoiding the scars that only Chuuya knew the location of, skilled fingers wrapping around his erection.

Oh God.

Maybe because of sleep deprivation, but Osamu felt like the sensations were heightened, even though there was less sensitivity this way, and with the way, Chuuya started stroking his dick up and down underwater, squeezing in all the right places was heavenly. His back arched a little, following the touch, which felt more soothing than arousing, yet still made Dazai’s blood rush away from his head and to his cock. He’d never admit it, but lazy hand-jobs might have been his favorite part of being with Chuuya sexually. He didn’t have to do anything but let his former partner take care of him and bite his lips as his body relaxed.

The squeeze around his member felt different underwater, but Chuuya’s wrist wrapped around him, his hot breath fanning over his ear, while the other hand roamed around his chest bringing a sense of bliss Osamu hadn’t felt in weeks. He didn’t even need to cum, he just wanted to remain like this for as long as he could, safe in Chuuya’s strong hands, bucking his hips into the measured, careful strokes.

Dazai sighed, and learned more into Chuuya’s chest, his legs spread as wide as he could in the tub. One of the arms found its way to the back of Nakahara’s neck, and Dazai turned his head to the side. He wanted to see Chuuya.

The cerulean eyes and a smile, not even a smirk, a mix of blushed arousal and lust on Nakahara’s gorgeous face only made Dazai feel safer and more relaxed. He hooked one leg over the side of the tub, shifting a little to the side, fully laying his head on Chuuya’s shoulder, and felt the grip on his hard member tighten.

He let out a whimper, breath hitched, exhaling through the nose, too tired to even moan, but it didn’t matter. Chuuya’s hand squeezed his dick, moving up and down slower than he would about in bed, but the extra pressure did the trick.

“Ahhh…. Chuuya I feel…”

He felt a kiss on a temple, a low grunt from the chest behind him, and something hard pocking into his back.

“Tell me.”

Dazai’s hand was on Chuuya’s neck again, snaking around as much as it could in this position. The now warm water was splashing over the edge of the tub a little, but neither cared – Dazai felt too good right now, and Chuuya wanted nothing else.

“Chuuya I’ll… ah…. I’ll come… I…”

A tighter pull and faster movement forced Dazai to thrust into the fist.

“Do it, Osamu, it’s fine. We have all night.”

Receiving permission, he came with a loud whine into the water, a tight coil in his gut snapping, letting him ease the exhaustion at least a little, his strained from the tension body finally relaxing against Nakahara again. He exhaled loudly as he trembled, trying to shift so Chuuya would embrace him again.

Chuuya let go of Osamu’s dick, unbothered by the fact that they were now sitting in dirty water; they’d have to get up to take a shower anyway, so might as well just stay like this for a minute.

The ambiance of the room, Osamu’s calming down from his high and the way he clung to Chuuya made the latter feel overwhelmed with affection. He knew what tonight would have to be from the second he saw Dazai, exhausted and miserable, in the back of his car. His ex-partner needed him tonight and desperately required somebody to take care of him. A slightly spiteful part of Chuuya was glad that after so many years, it was still him that the detective came to when he got this low. Everything else about their relationship was complicated but this part. Chuuya was always going to be there for Dazai, and vice versa.

“Osamu, you need to get up, sweetheart. We can’t stay here for too long.”

Instead of a reply, Chuuya only heard a grumble, muffled by his neck.

Smiling at the neediness, Chuuya reached over the bathroom plug with his toes, taking it out. He didn’t want to freeze Dazai, but he’d be damned if he’d sit in the bathtub with semen in it for a second longer than it was necessary.

The water began to drain, and just as quickly, the bratty detective felt himself shiver.

“Chuuya keeps trying to freeze me tonight. First the coat, now this,” he says, eyes still closed, “how terrible. Chibi is so cruel and mean.”

There was no usual bite in his tone of voice, but no affection either. Not because he didn’t feel it, Nakahara was certain he did – but this level of exhaustion was a very special beast. He’d seen Dazai like this before a couple of times, and it always erased everything but itself. The phrases sounded rehearsed, entire dialogues even, making it seem as if the speaker couldn’t bother to put any effort into what was being said. Just something to shake the air with, nothing more.

Trying to distract them both from the thoughts of the impossibility of ever escaping the vast abyss of melancholy that permeated Dazai’s every waking moment, Chuuya moved forward and turned on the water. The hot stream from the rainfall showerhead reached their bodies instantly. Nakahara knew that the temperature setting was perfect, with the way the mirror started fogging up quickly. Dazai won’t get cold.

It was so odd, watching how languid and passive Osamu appeared tonight as if he didn’t have any particular reason to even open his eyes. Chuuya moved them both forward a little and got up to reach for the second hose, leaving Dazai in the sitting position, who now rested his head on the wet wall, seemingly asleep.

Of course, he wasn’t, not yet at the very least, Chuuya knew that much. Frankly, Nakahara wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get his ex-partner to sleep the full eight hours; but he wouldn’t be able to rest himself if he didn’t try.

“Keep your eyes closed, Dazai, I’m going to wash your hair.”

The soothing sound of water wasn’t as nearly as pleasant as hearing Chuuya’s voice. Dazai’s felt hands touch his wet hair, rubbing shampoo into the now straight curls, and smiled a little as he made a contented sound. There really was no reason for Nakahara to treat him so sweetly, with such attention and care, even if it were something so simple as having a bath with him. He wanted to reciprocate, to give Chuuya something, anything, but aside from his pour anguished thoughts, he didn’t feel as if he had all that much. There was nothing Chuuya could use him for.

Leaning into the touch felt more intimate than everything they had done up until now.

They’ve only had sex when Dazai was in the Mafia, and since then, they both had changed greatly. Although, at times the detective wondered if he really has all that much, and that made him hope that perhaps Chuuya’s feelings for him also hadn’t changed.

But that would have been impossible.

He breathed out sharply when he felt warm water on his hair, and a gentle hand running through the locks again. Chuuya was washing off the shampoo.

People don’t do that to people they hate, right?

The soapy liquid dripped down Osamu’s completely naked body, slowly disappearing into the drain. It didn’t escape Chuuya how tired the man must’ve been to not even bother with making any sort of deal about taking the bandages off. He always used to be so tense before about it, but now? Nakahara ignored the existence of a small hope that perhaps Dazai still trusted him enough for it.

With no shampoo left in his hair, Dazai opened his eyes.

Ah, what a sight.

Chuuya was now washing his own beautiful body, standing up straight with his hands running all over himself with a washcloth. He wasn’t looking at Dazai at all right now, water falling on his gorgeous face under the stream. It was somehow ridiculously erotic to observe Nakahara doing something so seemingly mundane, like taking a shower, that Dazai could feel himself getting hard again.

Toned muscles of Chuuya’s shoulders and abs exuded physical strength. Smooth, well-taken-care of skin wasn’t riddled with scars like Dazai’s, but there was plenty of evidence that Nakahara had gotten into many conflicts: bullet and stab wounds, mainly, shaped themselves into a peculiar pattern. Lean, broad back, now at a slight curve to rinse his own hair, perfectly shaped buttocks, and thighs… Osamu instantly felt how much he would have loved to be smothered by them, and the sight of Nakahara’s girthy and long cock made his mouth water.

Dazai moved his body from a sitting position and moved closer to Chuuya, who was still relaxing under the hot stream. Lightly, as if he feared that he’d be rejected, Osamu positioned himself before Chuuya on his knees.

The redhead looked down.

The sight of Dazai, gazing up at him as if he wanted to ask for something, his eyes shifting between his face and Chuuya’s hard dick, kneeling before him was… something.

Unforgettable.

Exciting.

Sexy.

Chuuya placed two fingers under Osamu’s chin, tilted his head up, and smirked a little bit. Dazai silently begging to suck him off was somehow too adorable.
“Alright. Go ahead. Suck my cock, Osamu.”

Dazai felt his dick twitch at the command, and the warm feeling spread in his stomach. He would obey anything Chuuya said, follow every word if it meant that he’d be able to return to his life.

For a second, he wondered if that was the true root of his inability to sleep.

Dazai placed his palms on Chuuya’s hips, the man standing tall in front of him, and brought his hot mouth to the tip of the dick, instantly engulfing it in the wet warmth. He boobed his head slowly, not really rushing to make him cum, but rather enjoying the process itself. Having Chuuya inside of him in any way was too good to be true, anyway. With every lick, every swallow, Dazai had somehow felt better about being such a nuisance to Nakahara tonight. At least, if he can be of use, to bring him pleasure perhaps, then maybe Chuuya won’t be mad…

The dick felt heavy in his mouth, some precum leaking out, leaving a salty taste. It’s been over four years since he did this to Chuuya, and perhaps because he was out of practice, it felt as if he’d dislocate his jaw if he began to move too quickly. There wasn’t anything particularly complicated about giving a blow job to Dazai – if fact, he found it quite peaceful. Listening to the subtle sounds his ex-partner made was fantastic, and even the water dribbling into his face didn’t bother him.

With the warm water falling down his toned back, cock in Osamu’s mouth, Chuuya felt as if this may have been the first time he could take a breath tonight or even this week. Constant exhaustion was getting to him. He wasn’t even certain if he wanted to finish now, although he was very hard – the mere gesture of having Dazai do this to him was pleasant.

Speeding up a little, Osamu, knowing he’d choke if he tried to take Chuuya all the way until he cums, opted out for an easier option. He turned his head slightly, only leaving a little more than the tip in his mouth, and, as he continued to suck, he made sure that the tip would hit the inside of his cheek. Low effort on his part, and it felt great on the receiving end – Nakahara’s thighs began to tremble, and he spilled into Dazai’s mouth with a groan.

Looking up at the redhead, whose chest was heaving in the post-orgasmic haze, Osamu wanted to keep doing that to him for as long as he would let him. Chuuya really was beautiful.

Nakahara extended his hand to help Dazai get up, who gave him his, and slowly stood up, almost losing balance on shaky legs, and grabbed onto Chuuya’s frame for support, which quickly turned into a hug. Osamu had to hutch his back a bit, but it only made him look more vulnerable like that. He placed his arms around Chuuya over his shoulders and hid his face in his neck again; in turn, he felt hands wrap around him, interlaced on his lower back.

To be together again, and like this, only made the ache of the time lost feel greater. Both realized, of course, that it was necessary, in order for Dazai to survive and not crumble into the nothingness from despair, while Chuuya needed time to forgive him for it.

“Osamu? We should get out of the shower. Food is going to be here soon.”

Wrapped in nothing but a towel, Chuuya opened the door after he heard the ping of the food delivery app, letting him know that the dinner was outside the door. He brought the bag inside, laying what he ordered on the counter: rice with teriyaki salmon for himself, Crab Rangoon for Dazai, and a salad for both of them. And a bottle of sweet milk tea. A part of Chuuya hoped, that he would be able to have the lanky detective at least drink the calories if he refused the eat.

Chuuya took out the real plates and began to move the food from the plastic containers into them. Eating take-out from your own dishes somehow always makes it taste better. Consumed by his task, he didn’t notice how the bathroom door opened and Dazai came into the dimly lit kitchen. Only the lights above the sink and surfaces were on.

The man looked at least a little bit refreshed. Dressed in one of Chuuya’s silk bathrobes, with hair still damp and pushed out of his face, Dazai appeared somewhat less exhausted. The dark circles were still there, but he must’ve felt a little better.

Without saying anything, Dazai just parked himself in the middle of the kitchen, not offering any help, but also not sitting down anywhere. He was just observing what Chuuya was doing, which was pouring milk tea into two tall glasses with a couple of ice cubes in each.

“Chibi.”

“Hey, Dazai, you can sit down, I’m almost done,” Chuuya turned around to get the chopsticks, and heard a hum of acknowledgment.

Dazai climbed onto a stool by the kitchen island, looking at the food in front of him. He really should eat, it’s been a while since he had anything, after all, and the Crab Rangoon really was appetizing, but the idea of eating made him nauseous.

Chuuya finally got everything he needed and sat down next to Osamu. Without a second’s hesitation, he picked up chopsticks and took the first bite. He made it look so easy, like everything he did, as if eating was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was, wasn’t it?

Noticing that Dazai was doing more staring at his torso and then back at the food, Chuuya decided to give him a little nudge. He wouldn’t want to force Osamu to eat, and thankfully, he wasn’t as thin as he had been in the PM; yet something about his state worried Nakahara beyond what he was ready to admit tonight.
“Don’t tell me your tastes changed in four years, too,” Chuuya uttered, smiling.

Usually, looking at his perfect body felt like a blessing but right now, it just triggered something that he had no energy to fight. It will pass, most likely, by the time they would get to the bedroom, but…

“I… I still like crab, it’s just…” Dazai looked down as if it was his fault that he couldn’t stomach the idea of swallowing anything nutritious right now. As if he offended Chuuya somehow.

“Just try one bite, Osamu, okay? And if you don’t want to eat anymore, you don’t have to.”

With a sigh, more out of acceptance, Dazai picked up a piece of his normally favorite snack and bit into it. The crunchiness was still there, and the sweet, creamy filling tasted just as delicious as ever. Maybe, if he didn’t think too much about it, he could eat it…

He had to force himself to swallow. Nausea didn’t stir up quite yet, but its warning signs were already there. It’s the exhaustion, he kept telling himself, it’s the absence of sleep, he’d wake up and will be able to consume this food for sure, he….

A tiny tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. Then a few more.

A few seconds later, Dazai was bawling his eyes out. What had happened, he couldn’t comprehend, but it was as if all the emotions that he had kept at bay for years were starting to break through because he was in such a weakened state.

Chuuya witnessed the change in front of him, and, as he tried placing his palm over Dazai’s on the table, asked in a concerned tone:

“Osamu… What’s wrong?”

Snuffles and cries came out before the words started to make any sense:

“Chuuya… I’m sor…” he couldn’t stop sobbing, now his frame trembling, and Chuuya fought his desire to hug the man as quickly as possible.

“There is no need to apologize.”

“But there is.”

Staring back at him, a face without comprehension, but not because Chuuya didn’t understand. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He knew what Dazai felt, perhaps in some ways better than the man himself, who had spent so much time punishing himself for existing, that even eating had become a chore. There was no mistaking this for anything other than what it was, that what half of Dazai’s habits stemmed from, like a poisonous plant, killing everything around it – self-harm.

Did Dazai understand it though? A man who made so many rules for himself, even about what he could and couldn’t enjoy, forcing himself into his idea of a person, a human being. But what kind of a broken soul cries because they have to eat?

Nothing is ever as simple as a straightforward answer, and never with Osamu. He was tired, exhausted, and needed affection and care. There was nobody else he could have gone to tonight, no other person who could have helped him through this, whatever this was. Dazai’s personal agonies had always been a very particular brand of torture, disseminating everything in their wake, creating a wasteland where life used to be.

But Chuuya specialized in destruction. In fact, he was far better at it than Osamu had ever could have been.

Not waiting for the tears to stop, Chuuya decided that he was ready for tonight to end. It had to die, to suffocate in its own malevolence, to stop murdering Osamu so viciously. He had to sleep.

Perhaps slightly rougher than intended, Chuuya got up, moving a step closer to the crying man in front of him, who looked so small with his arms wrapped around his starved body. Still half naked, he merely turned Dazai’s chair to face him and embraced the detective in his arms. Standing, he was taller than Osamu, so he used this opportunity to pull him to lean against his chest.

Not reacting at first, Dazai continued to cry, the frame trembling subtly in Nakahara’s embrace, wetting his chest. Chuuya felt the tears rolling down his pecs, and just tightened his grip on the man. Finally, he felt the trembling arms slowly trail around his torso and meet on the small of his back.

Dazai was pressing his face into Chuuya’s chest, head tilted slightly down. He didn’t want to open his eyes, just to inhale the fresh scent of Chuuya’s clean body, catching the whiffs of the apple shampoo he used on both of them. Calming, soothing hints of a memory of an orchard somewhere far away, filled with Osamu’s favorite fruit, rushed through his mind, appearing as an image, a ghost of a memory. There was no certainty in his aching mind whether he’d ever really been to that place, or if he ever picked apples with anyone. A ghost of itself, a memory so removed from reality it might as well be a dream, yet it permeated his hippocampus, soothing him, and calming him down.

The shoulders stopped trembling quite as much, and the steady grip of Chuuya’s arms had a relaxing effect. Dazai wasn’t even certain why he was crying, to begin with. He never properly understood what he was feeling at any given moment, or the reasoning behind it. Yet, now, enwrapped by the warmth coming from the body embracing him, diminishing his anxiety, Dazai’s mind decided to give him a break.

He kissed Chuuya’s chest, once, twice, just to show how much he cared. Nakahara didn’t move, letting Dazai do what he wanted, sighing slightly when he felt kisses on his collarbones. He didn’t want Osamu to stop, moved even closer, standing now between his legs, pressing into him with his crotch. No movement or bucking of the hips yet. Chuuya needed Osamu to calm down.

“Chuuya…” Dazai’s voice broke for a second, slightly weaker from the outburst of emotions a few minutes ago. “Could we… could we go to bed?”

Knowing perfectly well what Dazai was asking, Chuuya moved away, and, without saying a word, took Osamu by the hand and led him to the bedroom. The dinner can remain where it was, he thought, until the morning.

The bedroom’s light changed slightly, now that the moon moved a little, it was a little darker in there. Chuuya led Dazai to the bed, placed his hands on the man’s waist, and gently pushed him to sit down.

Dazai was looking up at Chuuya for the second time tonight, with the same lusty gaze he had in the bathroom. It trailed down, looking over Chuuya, still half naked, so gorgeous in the moonlight, as he would have been any other time. All Osamu could think of as he placed his plan on Chuuya’s stomach, not even fully touching, but grazing, gently, the flesh beneath it, was just how much he missed being close to him like this.

The hand trailed lower, and Chuuya inhaled sharper as he felt Dazai’s fingers pull the fabric down. It fell on the floor, by their feet, revealing Nakahara’s toned body in all its grace.

“Chuuya… you’re beautiful.”

Maybe because he was tired, or it’s been too long, but hearing Dazai say it, so unapologetically, without it being a joke or a prank, or him trying to get Chuuya to do something, made the man blush. He let himself, it was dark, and Dazai wasn’t looking at his face, too preoccupied with trailing his hand over his thighs, touching him softly, observing his now growing erection.

Dazai adored the miniature reactions he was getting, even if he was too tired to get more. Both knew that it would be Chuuya taking the lead tonight, that was the entire purpose of tonight, after all; yet there was a part of Osamu, a small an ever-present nagging thought, that devoured him alive, despite his abhorrence of physical pain, that no matter what, there was no possibility of accepting affection and care without giving something back.

Crystalized, a thought may have been as simple as “I don’t deserve it”, and Chuuya saw it plain as day on Dazai’s exhausted features when the man’s hand found itself wrapped around his cock.

“Hey…” exhaling, the touch felt nice after all, even more, arousing than before, but Chuuya wanted to take care of Dazai now. He needed it. Both of them did. “Hey, Osamu, it’s alright… let me do just what you need me to, okay?”

With that, he removed Dazai’s grip from his now hard erection, interlacing their fingers, and took a step forward.

A kiss, once again, but with more affection in it than perhaps ever before. Chuuya’s lips caressed Dazai’s with the reverence of a devoted monk reciting a prayer, sucking in the lower lip. A subtle whimper escaped from Osamu when his mind caught up with the eroticism of the situation – Nakahara, fully naked, dick hard, leaning down to him, and Dazai still in the bathrobe, whimpering into his mouth… And now Chuuya was going to fuck him, for the first time in so long it might as well be a first…

Did Chuuya even want to do this? He must’ve had options if he wanted to get laid, and not even have to think twice about whom he could sleep with. And Dazai? He couldn’t help but wonder, especially now, with his earth-shatteringly tired mind, whether his name was somewhere on that list, too.

Why did his brain always have to ruin everything? Why couldn’t he just enjoy how nice it felt when Chuuya kissed him so passionately or showered him with attention like tonight? This wretched inability to accept any sort of love, even if it can be called that, was driving him insane, always have, and even when he needed something so desperately that he found the strength in himself to ask, there was still that invisible wall that Dazai built around himself, hid behind it, and lost the key.

Noticing that Dazai wasn’t kissing him back anymore, Chuuya stopped his ministrations, looking concerned.

“Osamu, what’s wrong?”

A question, of course, he’d ask. Chuuya was always so attentive, on the battlefield and in the bedroom. There was no hiding from him, not like this, and no possibility of escaping confronting it, too.

He looked up at Chuuya, with an expression of despair written all over his face, feeling as if he had to ask, but didn’t want to hear the answer at all.

“Chuuya… why are you doing this?”

Puzzled, Nakahara looked at him.

“Eh? Because you need help.”

“Yes but… It’s just… do you even want to… to have…” Dazai gulped, looking down, away from Chuuya and onto the floor, “do you even want to have sex with me?”
“Of course, I do. I’m standing naked in front of you, after all. Dazai,” notes of concern grew in his voice, “do you? Do you want this?”

With a huff, Dazai rushed out a “yes”, eyes focused back on Chuuya’s.

The expression of worry softened, replacing itself with a caring smile. He moved forward, tilting Dazai’s head up by placing a hand on his finger and placed a peck on his lips.

“Then it sounds to me like we both want each other. Is there anything else bothering you?”

So many things, but Dazai couldn’t discuss them now, not really. He needed to sleep. He needed to get more exhausted. So, he shook his head.

“Good. Then we’ll talk about it in the morning if you want. And right now, I’m going to fuck you so well that big overthinking brain of yours will stop functioning for a while.”

Dazai exhaled sharply.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, Mackerel, I promise.”

With that, Chuuya placed both hands on Dazai’s shoulders, rubbed them a little, and pushed the man to lie down on his back on the bed. With the legs still on the floor, Chuuya hovered over him, taking in the sight below.

Blushing, panting a little, with his robe slightly pushed aside to see the collarbones, Dazai was looking at Chuuya like one would at a deity. There was so much adoration in his eyes, even if it shared them with a touch of fear and despair, the primary emotion still remained untouched.

Dazai felt Chuuya’s fingers on this bathrobe, untying it and moving the fabric aside, revealing his naked body with. Chuuya leaned lower, kissing his chest, brushing his palms over his arms and shoulders, then lower, to the sides. Hot breath and kisses all over him, Dazai feels as if he can finally relax, so he keened into every single touch. The thoughts from earlier still bothered him, but they were growing quieter with every touch of Chuuya’s lips against his abdomen.

The wide-open bathrobe began to feel offending, criminal even, to Chuuya, who wanted to see Dazai in his entirety, to cherish and adore him, even if he only had tonight. Although, judging, by the way, Osamu was responding to his touches, how he quivered and moaned from kisses alone, moving his pelvis higher, pushing his hips closer to Chuuya, the redhead thought that he may have more time. There was, after all, a chance, that Dazai might stay for longer than just eight hours.

No warning at all, Dazai felt Chuuya’s hot mouth on the tip of his dick, and made a strained whimpering sound, in response to which Chuuya just pushed his legs apart, lowering himself between Dazai’s thighs, his own knees on the floor.

Chuuya sucked at Osamu’s cock expertly, having had much practice over the last few years through one-night stands, but none ever compared to the sight in front of him right now. Moaning, breathless, legs wide, the back of one hand over his mouth, Dazai looked so fantastically obscene. His leaking tip was twitching at every move of Chuuya’s tongue; the redhead circled around, making sure to run over the slit, too, taking note of how adorably Dazai trembled at each lick. So sensitive and sweet, Chuuya missed this so much, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to let go. Not again.

With a pop, Chuuya let go of Dazai’s dick. This was a mere prelude, to get him harder. He got up, smiling at the panting Osamu, whose mostly naked body still wore the bathrobe.

“Darling,” Chuuya almost purred as he leaned over Dazai for a second, “I’m going to go get a few things. Take off the rest of this cloth for me, will you?”

Blinking at the usage of a pet name, Dazai nodded, and Chuuya got up to walk over to the closet.

He had so many interesting toys in here, the kinds he couldn’t wait to use on Osamu. All kinds of vibrators, dildos (although mainly for his guest, Chuuya deemed himself a man who liked to enjoy the best of both worlds), ropes and handcuffs, blindfolds, a few spreader bars… But tonight, he needed something simple, Osamu was ridiculously tired, not to mention, they haven’t discussed any types of kinks in years. So, he grabbed what he needed, swiftly returning to his lover.

The sight was even better than the one he left, Osamu was laying on his back in the middle of the bed, legs bent at the knees, arms by his sides. It looked exactly like what it was – Dazai waiting patiently for Chuuya to take him. In every position, he could think off. For as long as both could take it, and most likely until Dazai passed out.

Feeling his own erection becoming more of a strain, Chuuya climbed on the bed between Dazai’s thighs. His endless patience was running low, and so was Osamu’s. There was no need to push them aside, Dazai was ready to take anything Chuuya was going to give him, pliant and sweet, waiting for him.

Chuuya placed the items he brought with him on the bed to the side, and quickly opened the bottle of lube to coat his fingers with it. As he was warming the liquid on his fingers, he noticed Dazai glaring at the movement with hungry eyes.

“Ready for it, darling?”

Dazai nodded, gripping the bedsheets, and spreading his legs, but Chuuya had a better idea. With a clean hand, he lifted one of Dazai’s legs, placing it on his own shoulder. The stretch will be better from this angle, but also it was so much more scandalous like this.

Chuuya placed his lubed fingers against Dazai’s hole, circling it a little, not pushing in yet. There was something so soothing in admiring how desperate the man beneath him grew by the minute, how adorably he blushed. He hasn’t really done anything to him yet, but his cock was already fully erect against his stomach, leaking pre-cum that formed since Chuuya sucked it earlier. Such a gorgeous sight, Nakahara would never get tired of it.

Finally, Osamu felt how one finger pushed in. Slowly, not to hurt, as if Chuuya knew Dazai hadn’t had sex in a very long time, he worked his finger in gradually, watching the reactions.

And what a gorgeous reaction it was. Dazai bit his lip, whimpering with a stuttered breath, as he felt the wet finger move inside of him, opening him up bit by bit.
“Been a while?” Chuuya asked with a smirk as he pushed in a second appendage, making the man arch a bit.

“Ye… yess…”

“Hmm,” a sound of acknowledgment left Chuuya’s lip as he blinked slowly, admiring how lovely his fingers disappeared into Dazai’s hole, working him open, prepping for his dick.

“What’s a while?” Chuuya asked out of curiosity.

When instead of an answer came only a moan, because Chuuya grazed his prostate, the redhead pressed on.

“Come on, tell me. What’s a while, Osamu?”

He truly didn’t expect what followed.

“Ahh.. about four years… noo, Chuuya don’t stop, please!”

Surprised doesn’t really describe how Nakahara felt. Not taking his fingers out, he leaned lower pushing Dazai’s leg down with him.

“Osamu… what do you mean four years?” This couldn’t be right, could it? “Who was… Who was the last person you slept with?”

Perhaps, there was no hiding from this one, and a pinch of regret crawled into Dazai’s heart. When it came to him, things like these were as good as a love confession. Looking Chuuya directly in the eyes, forcing and failing his face to be blank, with unbearable melancholy in his dark tired eyes, whispered his revealing reply.

“You.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed for a second in confusion, and he exhaled with a huff.

“What? Me? But… It’s been four years…”

“That’s what I said.” Dazai replied with a gulp and looked away.

The certainty that it wasn’t the same for Chuuya made him want to cry, even though there was no reason for him to be jealous. They weren’t together, and Dazai had left, but now, specifically tonight, it still hurt. Perhaps, more than Osamu was able to bear.

“Chuuya…”

“Osamu, I… that’s… why?”

“Never wanted anybody else.”

It’s not like he hasn’t tried, either. There were more than plenty of options for him over the years, but he could never bring himself to sleep with anyone without thinking about Chuuya. He missed the trust they shared, something that he knew was never lost, would never be lost. One thing Dazai had unwavering faith in was their bond.

Feeling that perhaps the bulk of this conversation was also better left for the morning, Chuuya resolved himself to show Osamu how much this tiny piece of information meant to him through touch. He smiled, and pushed the fingers in again, slower, but with more precision.

“AAAhhh!”

“Well, Osamu, I remember perfectly well where all your sensitive spots are. Let’s see… I believe this was one of them.”

Chuuya took the fingers out to add a third and began to thrust directly into Dazai’s prostate mercilessly.

“OH MY GOD!”

Osamu screamed, hips bucking into every movement, breathing heavily, as he felt his walls contract around Chuuya’s fingers. He remembered the feel of them well, longer than his, always better than his own at reaching certain spots; it was like a breath of fresh air for him, something he missed more than he was able to admit. Such a lovely feeling, being spread open, Dazai whimpered with every thrust, he felt the strain in his dick, the tight coil threatening to snap if Chuuya continued at this pace, but… It’s been so long; he wasn’t sure he could hold on for much longer.

“Do you think you can come twice tonight, sweetheart?”

Nodding, not being able to answer, Dazai gulped once again, moving his hips with the thrusts only to almost cry out when he felt Chuuya remove his hand.

“Ch…chuuya… why did you…”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Chuuya decided he was tired of waiting, too, “I’m about to fuck you.”

Opening the wrapper of a condom with his teeth, perfectly aware of how hot he looked when he did that, he was about to roll it down on his dick, when he felt Dazai’s hand on his.

“Don’t, I… I want to feel you…I want to feel you inside of me…”

Chuuya smiled. Dazai always did like it when he came inside of him, didn’t he? Good to know some things never changed.

“Still like the same things, don’t you, Osamu? Well, that’s wonderful, because so do I.”

He lined himself up against Dazai’s hole, placing both of his legs on his shoulders, and placed a kiss on one of the ankles. Such lovely legs, he always adored their grace and length.

Watching Dazai breathe heavily in anticipation, ready to be impaled on Chuuya’s dick, gulping as he was laying in such a revealing pose, was just too good of a sight. Slowly, perhaps to tease him a bit, Chuuya pushed the tip forward, not fully entering, but letting him feel the stretch.

Panting, needy, Dazai looked up at Chuuya with a pout.

Adorable.

He could’ve teased him more, but there was a such desire in Dazai’s eyes, that Chuuya couldn’t help himself. Carefully, he pushed all the way inside, relishing the feeling of being inside of him again, how great it felt to push his walls apart, to feel Osamu clench around him.

“AAahh! Chuuya!”

“Oh God, Osamu!”

So good, both gasped in unison. Muscular hands found balance by each side of Dazai, as Chuuya pressed his legs against his chest, making the angle even deeper.
Dazai felt like he was being spread apart in the best way possible, like the felt Chuuya in his throat, and then Nakahara began to move, slowly at first, pushing himself inside impossibly deeper, just to feel as if they are one, again, like in the past. Neither wanted to let go of it, their shared history, Chuuya realized it now, which is why he said yes to Dazai’s proposal without any hesitation, even though the latter barely asked.

Now, as he felt Dazai’s insides clamp around him tightly as if trying to suck him in, Chuuya wondered that perhaps this would be it – sex would be their way back to each other. A way to express something neither could with words, only thrusts, kisses, and bites, overwhelmed by the desire to tear each other apart, but only to put back together again.

Such a gorgeous feeling, Dazai conceded, being fucked. He loved it a little too much, perhaps, or maybe, he loved Chuuya or both, it let him shut off his brain for a little bit, to feel beautiful, precious, and cared for, but most importantly, to let go of the crushing weight of his own thoughts, of the consciousness so vial it suffocated itself. With every thrust, every moan, every breath he heard above himself, Dazai felt closer and closer to the release he needed so badly. Chuuya promised him more than one, yet the only thing he needed was this. If only he could spend his life like this, being railed by his favorite redhead, to be used as something that would make the other feel good then maybe…

Noticing Dazai’s eyes getting hazy, with a couple of tears collecting in the corners, Chuuya slowed down his onslaught, pressing in slower. The pressure around him was too great, as the emotion of the moment, to last for very long. In fact, Nakahara felt as if he might cry. Something in his chest was crushing in on itself, some kind of desperate attempt not to feel, because, like always, he must not, he’d lose, again, again, something precious to him, the second he’d let himself feel needed…
Odd. These thoughts seemed a lot like something that Dazai would say.

“Osamu? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?”

“NO! No, I… Chuuya, I… I missed…” a gulp, a tear down the check, an exhale. Dazai looked right at him. “I missed you, Chuuya, I missed you…”

Letting the gorgeous legs slip down from his shoulders to the waist, Chuuya allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of them wrapping around his body tightly, and lowered his chest to Dazai’s. He needed to feel him closer, to kiss him, wherever he could reach, and the man needed the same.

Hips thrusting sharper again, Chuuya’s eyes piercing through him, when Osamu heard a quiet reply:

“I missed you, too. So violently. As if my heart was beating elsewhere.”

Chuuya interlaced their fingers together with both hands, pinning Dazai’s next to his head, and raising himself up slightly to look Dazai in the eyes as he slowly pushed in and out of him. Osamu met him halfway, squirming under him, letting Chuuya shape the movements into waves. There was no space in him left for anything else, no hurt, no pain, in this moment he could only concentrate on how unequivocally good he felt.

If this was what making love felt like?

“Chuuya… Chuuya… I… I’m so… Ah! Ah, Chuuya please, I need…”

Soft trembles and sniffles, face wet from tears, but those were good, Nakahara knew that much. He felt overwhelmed with emotion too, and part of it was exhaustion, but also the intimacy. It took its toll, watching Dazai let go of his aching thoughts, and an egotistical part of Chuuya wanted to take credit for it.

“Osamu… Osamu… My Osamu…”

He punctuated every word with a thrust as if driving the point home. Dazai was his. And he was Dazai’s. There couldn’t be anyone else in the world they could have belonged to, not anymore, not ever. They were meant to be together, and Chuuya felt as if he had the strength to show HIS Osamu that, again. He would never let go of him now. There would be no more sleepless nights for him.

The heat pooled in Chuuya’s lower stomach, and he felt himself growing impossibly close to release, but he needed Dazai to finish first. He let go of one of Osamu’s hands, about to stroke his leaking cock, but instead, he felt himself being pulled closer into an embrace.

Dazai grabbed onto Chuuya like his life depended on it, with both legs and arms, his nails digging into the skin of his back, then letting go instantly, fingers forming fists, clinging to Nakahara as much as he could. He felt surrounded by the feeling of bliss, and the warmth in his lower stomach, interlaced with the pleasure from each thrust against his prostate made Dazai louder and louder. He wasn’t crying anymore, just gasping for air, for Chuuya, wanting to kiss him in desperation. His partner, perhaps, now in every sense of the word, sensed that, reaching up to cover his mouth with his own.

“Chuuya please oh god, I’m gonna…AH!”

“Come for me, baby, let go. I’ve got you.”

As if his command, the permission was all that Dazai needed. He felt the pleasure everywhere all at once, coursing through his body like an electric shock, the build-up too fantastic to disappoint. He felt himself finish, with a scream, loud and desperate, but it was more than that as if his mind shut off entirely, and now, he was just floating.

Chuuya’s cock was still ramming through him, spreading him open, making him fall apart even more. Dazai couldn’t move anymore, he just wanted to feel Chuuya release on the inside, to fill him up with his seed, himself, to push it so deep that he’d never be able to get it all out…

“Chuu… ah…. Please, I need it please please please…”

Crying and begging for his cum, clinging to him so desperately... What a sight. Chuuya couldn’t take his eyes off this Dazai, his Dazai, not able to refuse his wish. Chasing his own release with a grunt, hips thrusting quickly, wet sounds filling up the room, everything so hot and almost depraved but in a perfect, perfect, perfect way, Chuuya came inside of him with a pained moan. It felt almost unbearably good, he hadn’t realized how much he missed this part specifically, as Dazai’s muscles fluttered around his cock desperately.

Dazai felt the warmth of Chuuya’s cum spill inside of him, trembling slightly. His mind slipped into a hazy fog, letting go of the stress of the past few weeks, finally, Dazai let himself close his eyes. Panting, breathless, Chuuya collapsed on top of the man’s chest, giving the, both a few moments to simply be.

They stayed like that for a while, with Chuuya resting on Osamu’s rising chest, arms wrapped around him, with less viciousness in his grip, more relaxed. Dazai didn’t want to let go of him, not yet, but he already felt the warm embrace of slumber coming closer, just an arm's reach away. Yet, feeling the warmth of Chuuya’s body on top of him, as he ran his fingers through the soft red locks, for the first time in the last few weeks, he didn’t want to fall asleep. But fighting it was impossible. Gradually, within a span of a few minutes, Dazai started dozing off.

Listening to Dazai’s steadying heartbeat, Chuuya realized that he achieved his goal. Of course, he could let himself fall asleep like this, but he didn’t want to disturb Osamu, who was finally able to rest his eyes.

With a quiet groan, he lifted himself on his arms, pulling out carefully. The image of this own sperm spilling out of Osamu’s hole was far too alluring, making his dick twitch slightly. He remembered suddenly all the times he’d eaten Dazai out in the past, how gorgeously he moaned and whimpered; but right now, all Chuuya wanted to do was take care of him. Osamu was asleep.

He went to the bathroom to grab a wet cloth, returning to clean his lover up. The way Dazai looked in his sleep made something stir in Chuuya’s heart. He was lying as he left him, on his back, only half-bent legs had fallen to one side. Making sure not to rouse him, Chuuya cleaned him up with care; they would need to take another shower in the morning, but for now, this will do.

Chuuya covered Dazai up with a blanket, realizing that there was no chance of waking him up. The man was as good as passed out, chest rising slowly. He hadn’t slept properly for days, had he?

The bathrobe that Dazai wore previously was still discarded on the floor, so Chuuya picked it up, throwing it on himself. He took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and made his way to the balcony. The moon moved even more now, illuminating the city upon which the Port Mafia Executive was gazing from his apartment, inhaling the deadly smoke. He was tired, too, exhausted even, yet he wanted a minute to himself before he’d return to the man in his bed and hold him till the morning.

What was this feeling in his chest that suffocated him for years, but now transformed into calm enthusiasm, a wish to see what might come of this situation they were in now? Chuuya knew that when the morning came, they would have to talk, again; but something was telling him that for once he, too, could make an impossible prediction and watch it come true, just like his dear genius always would – they needed one another. Desperately. And this time around, he wouldn’t leave his Osamu alone in that anguishing despair that stopped him from existing.

Finishing the smoke, Chuuya returned to the moonlit bedroom, undressed, and climbed into the bed. Dazai, as if sensing he was near, moved closer to him instantly, clinging to Chuuya as he dreamt. Nakahara hugged him tightly, kissing his temple, and, covering them both with a blanket, allowed himself to also fall into the warmth that was Osamu Dazai.