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Chuuya was confusing, really. He was contradictions wrapped up in human skin, paradoxes bleeding from him instead of blood. He was impossible to understand, for most. Fiercely loyal, binding himself in body, soul, and more to people he knew would dispose of him the minute he was no longer useful. The cold, human disinterest that came with killing, the rush of godly rage that kept his heart pumping beyond any bodily function.
Dazai had always loved a puzzle.
But, one difference that had truly caught Dazai’s fascination with Chuuya, and never let go - he was godly, and human alike. Human in the way he got annoyed at people commenting on his height, human in the way his smile turned soft when he spoke to children, or saw any animals at all. Human in the way he bled and bruised and broke like anyone else.
Dazai, he wasn’t a religious man. But Chuuya could convince him otherwise.
“Comfy?” he asked softly, running his fingers along the flexible ropes pinning Chuuya down, tying him up to the headboard, splayed out like an offering for himself. The ropes were wine-dark, a deep crimson that looked oddly like Corruption when Dazai unfocused his vision. They made his skin look paler, brought out the gentle blush in his joints and face.
Chuuya nodded. Such gentleness was a foreign concept to the both of them, especially between them. But that was the deal, tonight. Chuuya was a god, and Dazai was his worshipper. And he would not displease his god, when he was beneath him, breathing deeply, and looking up at him with cerulean eyes expectant and wanting .
Dazai ran his fingers over the ropes binding Chuuya, exactly tight enough to feel like an embrace. In patterns crossing over his torso, a diamond in the centre of his chest, holding him down and keeping his legs spread. The room was cool, and Chuuya shivered, underneath him, a barely noticeable tremor sending his thighs shaking beneath Dazai’s palms.
“Good.” he murmured, anticipation building in his chest. It was time to begin.
Dazai had never been taught how to pray. And that was an odd thought, really. No one ever had to learn how to pray; you were just supposed to know how to cry out for forgiveness, your thanks, mercy, and Dazai did not know how. But he could try. He could learn, if Chuuya could give him those things.
His hands tangled in Chuuya’s hair, soft curls curling around his fingers like flame licking his flesh, the smoothness and coolness of his hair, falling through Dazai’s fingers like fine silk thread, contrasted the fiery colour of it.
“I love your hair.” Dazai said, his voice soft, full of reverence. “It’s so soft, and you take such good care of it.” he dragged his hand through it, the curls parting for his fingers willingly. “I love how curly it gets, it’s stunning.”
Chuuya shivered again, beneath him, not from the slight chill in the air. But rather from the praise - for one so holy, he did not experience the worship he so deserved. Dazai wondered if his subordinates, his colleagues, friends, even the employees of his favourite bars and restaurants knew that they’d been blessed by having the divine in their presence.
“Your eyes…” Dazai leaned forward, and brushed his lips against Chuuya’s fluttering eyelids. “I think the sky is in them. The sky, the sea, anything that’s endless and so, so blue.” they were so striking, glimmering sapphires framed by golden lashes, the stained glass of a church window contained inside such a small, glorious part of his form.
“Your nose is cute,” Chuuya smiled at that, those blue eyes rolling in exasperated fondness. “It is!” Dazai insisted, planting a soft kiss on the bridge of it.
“And your mouth…” Dazai traced the shape of it with his thumb, the rough texture of slightly chapped lips, the soft dips of his cupid’s bow - and he truly understood why it was named such, Eros himself must’ve modelled Chuuya’s lips after his tools, Dazai could’ve sworn he felt the tip of an arrow against his own lips as he pressed them to Chuuya’s.
“It’s perfect.” he murmured. “It’s perfect for kissing, it’s perfect for all the shapes you make with it, it’s perfect for holding your tongue-”
“ Dazai .” Chuuya muttered, sharing breath. Dazai felt as if he had breathed in fire, could feel it spilling into his lungs and stomach.
“I really like it.” he said, his words feeling weak and pathetic, trying to describe the unknown, pressing a final, worshipping kiss against Chuuya’s mouth. “I really like it.” he repeated, pressing his mouth against the smooth expanse of Chuuya’s neck, to silence himself.
Chuuya let out a soft, contented sigh as Dazai pressed soft kisses against his throat, his shoulders, his collarbones - and his breath hitched when Dazai began to bite, spots of pinkish-red brilliant against the canvas of pale, freckled skin beneath him. The marks blooming like flowers, a ring of roses and hibiscus around Chuuya’s neck like a wreath.
Chuuya’s skin thrummed as Dazai kissed down his arm, pressing his lips against his bicep, the dip of his elbow, along his forearms until he reached his wrist, against the headboard. His skin was pale, alabaster, reminiscent of a statue, but too warm to be stone. Beneath the thin layer of skin, Dazai could feel him, his pulse faint, the restless, enveloping power of a god shifting. Dazai pressed his lips to the fine bones of Chuuya’s wrist, felt his pulse, steady and fast underneath his skin, and pulled away, reluctant.
“What are…” Chuuya mumbled, his bright eyes going slightly hazy, like where the sea and sky met, blurring into one beautiful mass of blue. “What are you thinking?”
“I love you.” Dazai said simply, running his hands up and down Chuuya’s torso. Such simple words, so full of meaning, so heavy with confession breathed out like vapour. Chuuya made a noise in the back of his throat, soft, like a moan he’d swallowed. Dazai kissed the diamond of skin in the centre of his chest, outlined in vermillion red.
He began his path of kisses down Chuuya’s stomach, hands holding onto his hips securely. Chuuya jerked as he kissed directly under his naval, but was held still by the ropes layered over him. He gasped, softly, as Dazai got lower, and lower, tracing the lines of his hipbones with his tongue, painting splotches of ruby red and deep, crystalline purple across the junction where his thighs and hips met. So often, when they did this, it felt like a fight. The bed a battleground, their prize each other’s pleasure. This, this was different. Dazai was making love to the very concept of Chuuya.
“ Dazai , come on.” Chuuya whined, as Dazai’s mouth trailed past his thighs, ignoring his cock, hard and resting against his belly. He looked up, innocently, as he rested his head against Chuuya’s knee.
“But I want to appreciate every part of you.” he said, pressing a kiss to a small scar on Chuuya’s knee. It was small, a half-moon of silver upturned and resting as a small reminder of childhood, of adolescence, or the abject lack of it.
“You’re the worst ,” Chuuya muttered, but his voice was softened, sanded down as Dazai cheerfully nipped at the inside of his knee, his calf, his shin, and finally, his ankle, wrapped in crimson. He pressed his final kiss against the knot tied against it, before straightening up, and looking Chuuya in the eye.
“What do you want, Chuuya?” Dazai asked, resting his thumb on the crease of Chuuya’s hip. “Anything, I’ll do it for you.” he promised, watching as Chuuya shifted in the ropes, in his own head, the urge to ask for nothing on the tip of his tongue.
“...Kiss me. Please.” he murmured, turning his head to the side to hide his eyes, blessing Dazai with his side profile. He was really a work of art, a renaissance painting come to life, and all those old depictions of angels should crumble, in Dazai’s opinion. If Michaelangelo and Raphael and Da Vinci had seen Chuuya, they would have no choice but to carve and paint and sketch in his image.
“Of course.” Dazai leaned in, pressing his lips to Chuuya’s, licking at the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Chuuya indulged him, and opened his mouth. He was thinking too much, nasty little thoughts taunting him in the back of his mind. Dazai would have to fix that.
He cupped Chuuya’s jaw with one hand, letting him lean in and focus on the sensation of Dazai’s tongue in his mouth instead of anything that was not pure enjoyment.
His spare hand trained down, and brushed against Chuuya’s nipples. He gasped against Dazai’s mouth, as Dazai began to roll one between his fingers, pinching lightly. Chuuya broke the kiss, a line of spit following his mouth as he gasped, and threw his head back, the plush pillow behind him denting as he focused his weight onto his shoulders, almost to escape Dazai’s touch.
“Oh, Chuuya .” Dazai murmured, pulling at both his nipples, rolling them between his fingers, just playing with them until they were red, swollen, and sensitive. Chuuya groaned beneath him, squirming. Why his first instinct was to move away from pleasure, Dazai didn’t know. He could figure it out, of course he could, but he sometimes just didn’t want to. Let parts of Chuuya stay shrouded in mystery, for now.
“Dazai-” Chuuya gasped out. Dazai could find sonnets in such a short, breathless sound. “Fuck, touch me.”
“I am touching you,” Dazai whispered, right against his ear, just to see the hairs on the back of his neck raise. “Do you want me to touch you somewhere else?”
“ Yes ,” Chuuya hissed, his legs jerking, thighs shaking with the effort of not fighting the bonds. “My fucking cock, you fucking-”
His words were cut off by a high pitched moan, as Dazai wrapped his hand around him, and pressed his thumb into Chuuya’s slit, hard . Dazai smiled to himself, as he listened to Chuuya’s small, contained moans, so close to just letting go and letting his body do the talking.
“Should you be saying such dirty words during my prayer?” Dazai asked, beginning to move his hand quickly, Chuuya’s leaking precome easing the glide. “I’m trying to worship you the way you deserve, my god.”
“Oh my god ,” Chuuya breathed out, as Dazai twisted his hand as he reached the head. Chuuya was hard, hot, and flushed, fighting the ropes that kept his hips down to the bed, even though he wanted to buck up into Dazai’s hand desperately.
“That’s you, yes.” Dazai teased, dipping in to kiss him again. He didn’t stop jerking him off, going faster, harder , until Chuuya was moaning into his mouth, his toes curling, stretched taut like a bow. He was seconds away from cumming, it was evident, and Dazai, ever giving to his deity, took his hand away.
“ Dazai ,” Chuuya whined. “Please, please ,” and there it was, the resistance to feeling good just… melting away. He wasn’t quite where he needed to be, where he wanted to be, that blissful blankness that silenced Arahabaki with waves of pleasure. But he was close .
“I didn’t want this to be over so quickly, my god.” Dazai explained softly, tracing patterns on Chuuya’s inner thighs, pressing down on the red-purple-yellow bruises he’d left there. Just to see Chuuya choke. He was still beautiful, even then. He was stunning, like this, flushed and weeping pearly drops from his cock, eyes hazy and breathing heavily.
“I wanted to see you like this, for just a while longer.” he pressed his mouth to Chuuya’s thigh, kissing in shapes, hearts, stars, spirals - soft, gentle touches, to bring Chuuya back from the brink.
“I - why -” he was slipping, back into his thoughts, back into questioning his own divinity. “Why?”
“Because,” Dazai drawled, slipping off of Chuuya, and kneeling between his legs, splaying his fingers across the meat off Chuuya’s ass. “You’re lovely like this.” Chuuya’s breath hitched, and his cock stirred against his belly, spreading precome across his stomach.
“The Norse used to have feasts in honour of their gods.” he began, taking palmfuls of Chuuya’s thighs, and spreading his legs further, until Chuuya whined and his thighs shook under the strain. “The Greeks, and the Romans, too. The finest food, the strongest wine… they believed it was a form of possession, to be drunk.”
He was murmuring against Chuuya’s hip now, moving across to where he ached .
He pressed a kiss to the head of Chuuya’s cock, and relished the whimper that it earnt him. “The Celts would dance, to worship. Around a fire, holding hands. So many ways to worship their gods…”
“ Osamu .” Chuuya said, voice desperate. There .
“And yet, none of them could do this …” he murmured, before taking Chuuya’s cock in hand, and licking a long stripe up the underside, closing his eyes to savour the high moan Chuuya let out, before he took him down as far as he could go, his hand compensating for what he couldn’t get in his mouth.
“Oh fuck , Dazai-” Chuuya groaned, and jerked - Dazai could hear the headboard give its own groan. He bobbed up and down, trying to keep his tongue flat, the barest scrape of teeth against Chuuya’s skin that he knew would make Chuuya go wild . “Fuck, fuck … do you treat all gods like this?”
Dazai pulled off, hand still tight around the base. “No. I’m faithful to you, and you alone. You’re the only thing I could worship, Chuuya.” he breathed, and fuck, this was just meant to be a kinky way to get Chuuya out of his own head, but Dazai felt truly as if he were in confession.
“You’re so beautiful… you take pleasure so well.” Chuuya made a guttural noise, hips twitching up. “I doubt you’re truly the vessel for the god of destruction, of calamity.” Dazai began moving his hand again, just to see Chuuya’s eyes roll back as he praised him. “I could only believe you’re the god of love. Of beauty, sex, of everything good in the world.”
“Shut up…” Chuuya choked out, more out of reflex than anything else. He was so close to just sinking down into that headspace he craved. Who knew gods could have their addictions like humans? “Shut up, I’m not…”
“But you are .” Dazai insisted. “You’re immaculate, you’re strong , and you’re so, so good for your worshipper. So humble, laying like a human, taking a form that would not harm those you love so…” Chuuya whimpered, his toes curling in the sheets again. It seemed a little praise went a long way with Chuuya.
“Oh, you’re right there, aren’t you, baby?” Dazai teased. Chuuya nodded rapidly, gasping in breaths. “You’re so, so close, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Chuuya’s words were heavy, slurred as he tried to curl the sounds around his tongue. He was almost there, almost fully submerged in pleasure, in feeling good . “I’m - I’m so close, please, please , Osamu, please -”
“Not yet.” Dazai pulled away, as Chuuya’s eyes glazed over, and he began to cry. Softly, so softly he probably didn’t even realise, glimmering diamond tears carving a path down his skin, pooling in the hollows of his throat. “I’m so sorry, darling, but not yet.” he apologised, kissing Chuuya’s forehead as he shook.
“I - I’m - please , I want it -” Chuuya stuttered out. “I’ve been good, I’ve been good to you-”
“You have .” Dazai agreed, stroking Chuuya’s hair softly. “What else have you been? Tell this lowly mortal.” he pressed soft kisses to Chuuya’s eyelids as they fluttered, and he panted, trying to think through the fog.
“P-patient.” Chuuya managed. “Patient. I’ve - I waited for so long, and I’m waiting now-” Dazai nodded, murmuring agreements into Chuuya’s ear as he ran his hands through Chuuya’s hair softly. “I’ve - I’ve been strong. I’ve been good .”
“You have, you are, you’re so good .” Dazai praised, reaching into the mess of sheets beneath the two of them, searching for the cool bottle of lube. “Can I touch you? Can I be inside my god?”
“Yes, god , please.” Chuuya begged, his gaze going half lidded, bucking his hips up against his restraints, his entire body screaming one thing. Worship me .
And Dazai was nothing if not devoted.
He wasted no time in drizzling lube over his hand, rubbing it between his fingers to warm it. Chuuya moaned wantonly as he pressed against his entrance, pushing into his hole slowly.
“Is that good, Chuuya?” he asked softly, studying Chuuya’s face. “Please use your words.”
“Good.” Chuuya managed, the word strangled. “It’s - it’s so good. Good, good, good…” he mumbled, repeating the word like a mantra, like a chant. Like a prayer .
Dazai thrust forward, Chuuya’s body swallowing him up like it was made for him. Or like Dazai was made for Chuuya . He was careful as he slipped in the second finger - he was getting a little hazy himself, focused on opening Chuuya up slowly, softly , everything was so warm and soft and sticky and -
“ ‘Samu ,” Chuuya keened. “Fuck me, fuck me please .”
And it wasn’t often Dazai felt evil. A monster, inhuman, cruel - all of those and more. But evil , truly irredeemable, that was rare. And yet, the feeling spilled in his chest as he murmured to Chuuya.
“Not yet, my god. I don’t want to hurt you.” he crooked his fingers up, and Chuuya sang . He pressed a little on the spongy texture of his prostate, and Chuuya broke.
“I don’ care! ” Chuuya managed, between punched out moans. “ Please , make it hurt, I don’t care, inside, inside, inside-”
Dazai bit his lip, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe steadily through Chuuya’s pleading. “No. I’m sorry, my god. I’m sorry, darling, I can’t damage you.”
He slipped his third finger in as an apology. Chuuya sobbed, fighting the ropes with his whole body, arching like a wave, like the most beautiful thing Dazai had ever seen, ever even imagined .
“You’re taking it so well .” Dazai praised, kissing the hollow of Chuuya’s throat. “So good, like you were made for my fingers.”
“Osamu, Osamu, ” he chanted. “Close, so close, sososososo close-”
“Chuuya, you can’t cum.” Dazai reminded, licking a stripe up Chuuya’s neck and biting in new, shiny bruises. “If you cum, it won’t stop. You understand?”
“Yesyesyes yesyes ,” Chuuya clenched down on Dazai’s fingers, and ground his hips against them, eyes wide and wet, entire body flushed red and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his flesh pillowing around the tight red ropes -
“Alright then,” Dazai whispered. “ Cum. ”
“ Osamu! ” Chuuya screamed as he came, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, merci, merci, mercimercimerci -” he babbled, slipping into French as he spilt white hot over his stomach, riding Dazai’s fingers as he twitched.
“ Si bon , si bon, si bon ,” he repeated mindlessly, as Dazai milked his orgasm for all it was worth, massaging his prostate slowly, in little circles.
“I meant it, when I said it wouldn’t stop.” Dazai warned, squirting more lube into his hand and slicking himself up - in all his worship of Chuuya, he’d forgotten himself entirely, and now he ached . “I meant it, Chuuya.”
Chuuya groaned lowly as Dazai pressed inside, and rolled his head back, the gilded fire of his hair tumbling over his shoulders, sighing with relief. “ Mon chéri… ” Chuuya mumbled, his nails digging into his palms tightly.
“ Mon Dieu .” Dazai breathed in reply. It was electric inside Chuuya, hot and tight and bright , sending Dazai’s head spinning. He’d never been taught how to pray, he'd never been taught how to cry, love, rage, all the things that should’ve come to him like breathing, but this - this , indulging, desecrating something sacred like the man below him - it was like asking his heart to pump blood to his veins. He couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to.
“I wish I could worship you endlessly,” Dazai gasped, Chuuya surging up to catch the breath. “I - I would build you shrines, wear your image around my neck, spread the word of you so everyone, everyone could know about you. Could worship you in the way you deserve.”
Chuuya hiccuped around his tears, which had began to fall once again, his hair a halo of ruby red, topaz, citrine, amber, a million gems that caught the sun and held it tight within them. “I - Osamu -”
And god , how hadn’t he made that connection before? Chuuya was the sun, the sun in all its forms, in the soft little speck of light on rainy days, in the brilliant, dazzling light that painted the entire world gold and orange and vermillion, the soft crest of hope in the sunrise and a promise to come back in the sunset, and -
“I couldn’t.” Dazai choked out, wrapping Chuuya in his embrace. Chuuya gasped, hot and humid against his neck. “I couldn’t, I am selfish. I want to be the only one to see you, to worship you. I’m a one man congregation, the bishops, the priests, the priory,” Chuuya, he felt like he shouldn’t belong on this earth, sometimes, but did he not see how he was made from it?
Did he not see how his eyes held the sky, his hair a cascading flood of embers, his skin marble and down to his very bones , kind? How did he not see the ocean, the earthquakes, the storm that sat inside his chest - it did not alienate him, he was more human than Dazai could even conceptualise. And that made him holy.
“Fuck, Chuuya…” he muttered into the empty space between them. Chuuya was shaking beneath him, delicate, fragile - and yet so strong, so solid , so warm and real beneath him -
“Osamu. You love me.” he said, words so small and steady Dazai felt almost branded with them. “You love me. Say it. Dis-le. Dis que tu m'aimes. ” he muttered, eyes bright and knowing .
“I love you.” Dazai said, his words falling like teardrops. “I love you, Chuuya, I love-”
He gasped, as Chuuya tightened around him, and blinked away tears. “Come on,” he murmured - when had he fallen out of subspace? How come Dazai hadn’t noticed? “Come on, Osamu. Mon amour, mon adorateur. Mon dévoué. ”
With words spilling into his ear, filling him, the empty yawning space within him, Chuuya took him, and dragged him over the edge.
His orgasm thundered out of him, taking his breath away and letting words spill out of his mouth. Nonsense, words like “ Mine, beautiful, so good, Chuuya- ” spoken over one another, so desperate to make themselves known to the divinity below him they tripped over one another.
“Not done,” Dazai muttered, pulling out of Chuuya - who made such a pitiful noise of displeasure, the evidence of his latest orgasm wet against his stomach, hole twitching with how empty he suddenly found himself.
Chuuya cried out as Dazai took him into his mouth, and sucked hard . He wanted Chuuya to be completely out of his own head, and if he’d been coherent enough to talk to Dazai as he came, he clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job.
“ Fuck! Dazai, oh my god,” Chuuya moaned in staccato notes, little ohs with every bob of Dazai’s head. His hands come up to tease at Chuuya’s rim again, and Chuuya keens .
“Oh my- too much, too much, I can’t-”
You can. Dazai thinks, thrusting his fingers inside, allowing himself to be rough now that Chuuya’s fallen apart a few times. Indulging in such a thing would be pure sin, if Chuuya didn’t go absolutely wild for it. You will .
“Osamu, Osamu, no, stop, too much-” he babbles, but he doesn’t say the safeword, so Dazai continued. Licking his slit, sucking hard at the head, tracing a vein with his tongue, all the while his fingers pressing in deep and mercilessly at Chuuya’s prostate.
Chuuya shivers, and moans weakly as he cums for the third time, straight down Dazai’s throat. He moans again when Dazai doesn’t get off .
It’s easy to do this for what feels like a small eternity, bobbing his head, sucking, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of Chuuya until he’s sobbing, has screamed his name more times than Dazai can count, enough times that Dazai had time to harden between his own legs again.
The glide into Chuuya was sinfully easy, and Chuuya barely even reacts as Dazai fucks into him, hard enough that his entire body bounces up and down the bed - he’s just staring off into the distance, helpless to do anything but feel . Not even think, speak - just taking it and loving every second.
“Fuck,” Dazai whined, feeling his second orgasm come crashing over him like a tidal wave. He deflated, collapsing onto Chuuya beneath him, panting heavily.
Chuuya was still silent, but the tears had started again, slow and sluggish. Something in Dazai’s brain clicked, and he quickly gathered the strength to push off of Chuuya, and stumble to the other side of the bedroom, grabbing the sugary juice and snacks he’d prepared.
He placed them down on the nightstand next to Chuuya’s bed, and quickly got started undoing the ropes. “Chuuya~,” he teased, flattening his worry. Chuuya was still in subspace, he’d be out any minute now. “How was that? Did you like it?”
Chuuya’s arms were free, but instead of what he usually did, holding them close to his chest and massaging them as Dazai untied his torso and ankles, he left them where they were, hands so tight on the headboard his knuckles were white.
“Hey, Chuuya?” Dazai paused, and for paranoia’s sake, checked Chuuya’s pulse. Fast, way too fast, it was beating as fast as a damn rabbit’s.
Oh, oh, he fucked up.
“Chuuya, hey.” he said, keeping his voice soft. He wiped away a tear with his thumb, and Chuuya’s breath hitched, stuttering. “Hey, you’re safe. You’re fine.”
“ Je suis vraiment désolé… ” Chuuya mumbled, so softly Dazai almost didn’t realise it was French. “M’ sorry.” he repeated, this time in Japanese.
“Hey,” Dazai made quick work of the rest of the ropes, remembering the few times Chuuya had dropped, and was still restrained. It’d ended with a few broken ribs on Dazai’s side, and one of the worst panic attacks he’d ever had on Chuuya’s. As soon as he was free, Dazai rolled him over onto his side, gently prying off his fingers from the headboard.
“Hey,” he repeated. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry.” he frowned at Chuuya’s hands - he was still strong even with his ability deactivated, and Dazai needed to get his hands off that so he wouldn’t accidentally break anything.
“But…” Chuuya blinked, his eyes still glassy and dazed. “I wasn’t… good…”
“You were so good,” Dazai corrected, finally managing to get Chuuya’s fingers relaxed enough to pull off the headboard. “You were amazing, Chuuya.” he gathered Chuuya up into an awkward hug, and pet his hair. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”
Chuuya was silent as Dazai held him close, but he was shaking, subtly enough Dazai only caught it when he was chest to chest with him. Dazai whispered sweet nothings into his ear, something that was sufficiently comforting, and held him. He really should go and get a cloth and clean both him and Chuuya up, and try and get Chuuya to get some of his endorphins back with the snacks and juice - but that could wait. Chuuya needed him to stay .
He wasn’t a good man, but he could pretend to be. Just for Chuuya.
“...Dazai?”
“Right here.” Dazai said, carding his hands through Chuuya’s sunset hair. “I’m right here, don’t worry.”
“Oh.” Chuuya slumps, relaxing in his grip. “Okay. I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some juice,” Dazai begins, before Chuuya’s cold little raccoon hands wind themselves around his waist, and he makes a dismissive noise.
“Not yet.” he instructed, laying his head on Dazai’s chest, his heartbeat right below his ear. Dazai huffed, but accepted the cuddle anyway.
It would be blasphemous to deny his god anything he wanted, anyway.