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“Hey, Dazai,” Chuuya called, poking Dazai in the side with the tip of his shoe, “I want you to act like you think I’m not actually a guy during sex.”
They were on the roof of a random building, having just finished threatening the “boss” of some wannabe, up and coming gang. Chuuya was sitting with his back to the wall with one leg to his chest while he smoked his second cigarette. Dazai was strewn across the floor beside him, hands behind his head.
At Chuuya’s words, the other boy sat up so quickly that Chuuya wouldn’t have been surprised if it caused a dizzy spell. He’d never seen Dazai’s expression so openly shocked, his eye so wide.
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, dipshit,” Chuuya growled, turning to look away, lest the blush rising to his cheeks grow more obvious.
“No,” Dazai said immediately, a heavy frown pulling at his lips.
“What—the fuck you mean, no? You didn’t even think about it!”
“Yes I did,” Dazai argued, “It’s not my fault Chuuya’s tiny, chibi-sized brain can’t comprehend how quickly I can think.”
“You’re an asshole,” Chuuya grunted, taking another drag of his cigarette in an attempt to calm his racing heart, “I entertain all your bullshit—breed me, Dazai, please!—and you won’t even consider what I ask?”
Dazai’s frown turned impossibly deeper.
“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
“How is it different?”
This time, Dazai was quiet.
“Why, then?”
“Why? Why does it turn you on to fuck me with a loaded gun to my head?”
“They’re not loaded,” Dazai pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The fuck they’re not.”
“…It was one time.”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to plow me on the Boss’s desk,” Chuuya grunted, blowing smoke into the night time air, “It’s not that different than any of the other weird shit we’ve done.”
“I would plow you on the Boss’s desk,” Dazai interrupted quickly, raising his eyebrow at Chuuya—though the gesture always looked kind of dumb with the bandages hiding the other side of his face, “For the record.”
“Stop trying to distract me,” Chuuya accused, coming to the end of his light, “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“For once.”
“You know what!”
Chuuya flung the butt of his cigarette to the ground, accidentally activating his ability and causing it to indent itself into the cement of the roof.
“I’m done with you and your bullshit.”
He pushed himself up and snatched his coat off of the ground, shaking it out so hard that a few coins flew out of his pocket.
“Wait, Chuuya—“
“Don’t wait, Chuuya me, you fucking asshole. I’m trying to open up and ask for something I want for once in my goddamn life and all you do is mock me. I’m sick of your bullshit, Dazai.”
Chuuya leaned down to jab his finger in Dazai’s chest, causing his partner to prop himself up on his arms to avoid falling back against the floor.
“Have fun getting home.”
(Dazai could just hail a cab, but that wasn’t the point. Let him sulk home alone with his tail tucked between his fucking legs.)
With that, Chuuya turned his back and jumped off the roof, calling upon Tainted only when he was seconds away from smashing his skull against the cement sidewalk.
Chuuya always wondered if his ability would activate on its own, if he didn’t do it. He hadn’t yet had the courage to test it.
—
Was it petty of Chuuya?
Sure, even he could admit as much.
But it wasn’t like he and Dazai were dating—Dazai definitely slept around—so what if Chuuya gave some random guy a blowjob in an alley?
“That’s it, bitch,” the man grunted, throwing his head back against the wall, “Yeah, take it, just like that.”
Chuuya’s nose scrunched up at the words. If he had less dignity, he might try and convince himself it was just poor dirty talk. His current level of dignity acknowledged it wasn’t, but he kept the blowjob going anyway.
“You give head like a girl,” the guy said suddenly, stopping Chuuya in his tracks.
He made to pull off, a loud and rage filled what the fuck ready on his lips, but the man placed his hand on Chuuya’s head to keep him down.
“You like that?” he laughed, an ugly sound that shook his chest.
And the sad part? Chuuya did.
It made him throb in his pants, blood rushing down his body. Not knowing if this random stranger thought Chuuya was a guy or a girl, being treated like a tool for him to get off. Being called a girl. For so much of his life, Chuuya had fought to prove he was anything but–yet now here he was, on his knees in a dirty alley getting called a bitch.
What a pathetic joke.
The man didn’t last very long. Thankfully, he didn’t come down Chuuya’s throat, choosing instead to pull out and–
Oh, it was all over Chuuya’s face. Great.
The guy was panting as he pulled Chuuya to his feet, though he towered over him.
“Your turn, handsome,” he said with a cocky grin, taking Chuuya by the biceps to press him against the wall.
“I’m good, actually,” Chuuya said, bringing up his own hands to move the man’s away.
No need to test his luck in terms of hate crimes–
“Huh?”
There was a large hand cupping Chuuya’s crotch, fingers pressing down intently.
Oh, shit.
“Wait, you’re actually a girl?”
Chuuya squinted, calculating the chances of him leaving a corpse in the alleyway.
“Get off,” he said lowly, spreading his stance in preparation to fight, incidentally providing the guy more access.
The man released him, but Chuuya only had a moment of reprieve before the man’s other hand was going for his chest.
Activating his ability, Chuuya snatched him by the forearm and made to flip him–
Only for a stark gunshot to ring out in the alley, a resounding noise followed by a hot corpse falling onto Chuuya.
“Eugh!” he shouted, shoving it off of himself with Tainted, “What the fuck!”
Following the direction of the gunshot, Chuuya should have known: Dazai.
“I had it covered,” Chuuya barked, angrily wiping a mixture blood and cum away from his eyes with the sleeves of his poor hoodie, “What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?”
“You stink like wet dog, so I was following you to benevolently offer you some soap,” Dazai said blandly, lowering his smoking gun, “Pipsqueaks like you should be careful around tall, scary men. You wouldn’t have been able to reach his neck if he tried to–”
“That’s enough out of you,” Chuuya grunted, striding over to Dazai to sock him none too kindly in the face before grabbing the lapels of his partner’s jacket and pulling him down, “A lot of nerve you have, tailing me like a goddamn bandaged bloodhound. What–fucking jealous, Dazai?”
“Chuuya wishes,” he responded flippantly, letting his body fall limp in Chuuya’s hold, “It’s not jealousy when you belong to me.”
“In your fucking dreams, maybe,” Chuuya bit, making sure to lace his words with as much venom as he could muster, “You’re disgusting.”
Chuuya threw Dazai out of his grip. The other boy stumbled back before regaining his footing, stretching slowly to his full height–he just kept growing, godammit–and wiping blood off of his mouth from the punch. Nice one.
“I’m not joking,” Dazai continued dully, staring at Chuuya with an unnerving intensity, “Chuuya isn’t allowed to hunt down random men to sleep with in the alley. He’s mine.”
“I wouldn’t have to if someone could show some goddamn respect for me and my wants,” Chuuya accused, stepping back up to Dazai despite the distance he’d just tried to create, “You don’t have to want to do it–whatever, I don’t want to force you, I’m not that kind of asshole–but I’m sick and tired of the goddamn disregard–”
“Fine, then.”
Dazai’s words layered overtop Chuuya’s as he closed the space between them, shooting his hand out to grip Chuuya’s hair at the base of his skull (exactly like he knew Chuuya was into).
“If Chuuya wants to instigate me…”
Yanking brutally on Chuuya’s hair, Dazai pulled him down to his knees.
“It’s working. Congratulations.”
Dazai released his hold on Chuuya’s hair to slide his hand around his face and up through his bangs, pushing them aside in a mockery of a loving touch.
“What exactly are you looking for, here?” Dazai wondered, tapping his lips with his free hand, “Do you just want me to call you a girl? Give you a different name?”
Dazai kicked at Chuuya’s thighs, pushing them apart. His pants dragged along the concrete, small tears forming in a few places. At the same time, Dazai cupped the side of his face gently. He brushed his thumb lightly over Chuuya’s lip before pushing it into his mouth.
“Or do you really want me to treat you like one? Fuck you like one? Do you want princess treatment or whore treatment? Huh, Chuuya?”
Chuuya closed his lips around Dazai’s thumb and leaned his head forward slightly to take it further into his mouth. Dazai’s words alone were already setting fire to Chuuya’s blood, causing him to throb in his underwear. He knew Dazai would be good at this.
The thought should have scared him, but instead, it made Chuuya’s heart pick up its pace where it thudded against his ribcage. Dazai was right—some smelly rapist in an alleyway could never compare to the hurt Dazai could do with words alone, to the way he brandished them and traced them along Chuuya’s skin, digging in when least expected, prodding at his veins.
Bending his thumb, Dazai hooked it over Chuuya’s teeth to drag his mouth open. Chuuya complied, looking up to Dazai through a wave of dizzying arousal. How beautiful he always looked, standing above Chuuya, the darkness obscuring his features yet seeming to bend around his face and allow his lone eye to shine. From down here, Chuuya could see the way his nose was slightly crooked—hopefully from the numerous times Chuuya had punched him.
“A little bit of both, then,” Dazai said to himself, pretending to eye Chuuya critically. He was so fucking dramatic, performative, but Chuuya secretly enjoyed the theater.
Finally, Chuuya pulled back before tipping his chin forward to spit on Dazai’s shoes.
“Who says I want anything from you anymore? Old Yamada Taro over here was good enough for me. Get your hands off of me.”
Dazai’s hand returned with a vengeance, gripping his jaw. Fingertips dug into Chuuya’s cheeks, smooshing his skin together as Dazai angled his face upwards to make striking eye contact.
“How many times do I have to explain to you that you belong to me before you get it through your stupid head? If I’m going to fuck your pussy against the dirty cement, it’ll be because I want to. Make no mistakes, Chuuya.”
Oh.
Chuuya’s eyes must have bugged out of his head. His breath caught in his throat and another wave of arousal crashed down his body. He shifted uneasily on his knees, and the movement brought to his attention the already copious amount of wetness building in his boxer briefs.
Dazai’s gaze bore into him, but Chuuya didn’t bother wasting his time trying to guess what Dazai was thinking. Did it really matter why Dazai was doing it, at the end of the day?
(Yes. It did. It really, really did. But they were never the type to talk about these things, so the question would really just boil down to: how confident was Chuuya that Dazai viewed him as himself?)
Whatever he was looking for, Dazai must have found it, for he placed his shoe directly between Chuuya’s legs, sparing no kindness in his step. Chuuya hissed, his knees jerking reflexively, but he made no move to get up.
“Oh, sorry. Don’t worry, Chuuya, I didn’t expect that to hurt—I know you don’t have an actual cock.”
Dazai moved his shoe under Chuuya’s pants so he could flick it up, prodding for something that wasn’t there.
“You don’t even have a fake one. What’s the matter—Mori won’t give you testosterone? He doesn’t believe you, either?”
Chuuya, who had been glaring at Dazai hotly, shifted his gaze to the ground. Because fuck, Dazai was right—Mori wouldn’t give him testosterone. He was still working on finding it himself, now that he was getting old enough. Dazai’s own puberty was making him feel so behind, like he was playing catch up, yet not catching up at all. Every day was a comparison of what Chuuya should have.
He bet Dazai could’ve figured it out within a week, but Chuuya had been too nervous to ask for his help. Dammit.
…Was it because Mori didn’t believe him?
“Go fuck yourself,” Chuuya settled on, trying not to press himself into the tip of Dazai’s dress shoe.
He had no real defense. It only compounded his embarrassment, combined with the way his words came out butchered due to Dazai holding his face.
And his self control was waning, because unbiddenly, Chuuya found himself jerking his hips lightly against the pressure at his crotch.
“You wanted this,” Dazai reminded, and the sneer on his face dug straight into Chuuya’s heart, “Take off your pants.”
Dazai released Chuuya’s face to drag him back up by the hair.
“No way in hell,” Chuuya snarled, grabbing Dazai’s arm and twisting it, forcing his partner to release him, “I’m out. I’m done. Jerk off over his warm corpse, for all I care.”
“Not so fast, Chuuya,” Dazai waited to call out to him until Chuuya was at the mouth of the alley, “…If I should even call you that.”
Chuuya spun on his heel, heart rabbiting against his ribs as adrenaline mixed with his arousal. Surely Dazai wasn’t going to say—
“It would be a shame if, say, the whole of the Port Mafia found out about your little secret… wouldn’t it be?”
“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
Without thinking, Chuuya was striding back into the alley to stand toe to toe with Dazai once more. He was exercising so much self control by holding his hands to his sides that they were genuinely shaking, itching to punch something—Dazai, specifically, so square in the mouth that he’d never speak again.
“Pants.”
Dazai said it while looking down his nose at Chuuya, ever the image of disinterest.
Snarling at the ground, Chuuya stripped out of his pants, looking self-consciously behind him at the intersection of the street.
“Can’t we go behind the dumpster or something, at least?” Chuuya spit, shoving his pants into his backpack angrily.
“And ruin the possibility of someone walking past and seeing me fuck a pretty girl? Not a chance, Chuuya.”
A flood of slick dripped from him, adding to the mess in his underwear.
God, how fucking disgusting was he? How sick in the head was it that that turned him on? What happened to his self respect?
“Oh, is Chuuya wearing boy’s underwear? How cute.”
Shame blossomed inside his chest—as if he was doing something wrong by simply wearing underwear.
“Take those off, too.”
“Eh?”
Chuuya blinked.
He’d been sleeping with Dazai for months—nearly since they met—and never once had Dazai asked that of him. He’d only stripped out of his underwear when Dazai fucked his ass, but it was always dark, and Chuuya was always on his knees, so Dazai couldn’t see…
“Take off your underwear,” Dazai intoned, slowly, as if Chuuya were too stupid to comprehend his prior talking speed.
“But—“
Without his pants on, his legs were cold. There was no sunlight in the alley, and a sharp breeze sent a chill down Chuuya’s spine.
Dazai settled his hands on Chuuya’s hips and looked down at him with what anyone else might have interpreted as a soft, caring expression.
“Chuuya is so pretty; he shouldn’t hide it.”
Bile rose up in Chuuya’s throat immediately. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth, but Dazai remained in his space, fingers tucking themselves under Chuuya’s waistband.
That—Dazai wasn’t supposed to—
Long, thin fingers slid down, sliding into Chuuya’s pubic hair and skimming over his—Dazai said it wasn’t a cock, fuck, his clit. The thought hit him with a second wave of nausea, but his clit pulsed, too: the whole reason he’d asked for this in the first place. It would be hypocritical to renege now.
Dazai’s fingers cupped Chuuya’s crotch, and he collected some of Chuuya’s wetness on his fingers, bringing it back up to spread across his clit. At the same time, Dazai bent down to lick at Chuuya’s ear. His knees went a little weak at the combination, and giving in to the sensations, Chuuya allowed his weight to fall against Dazai’s body.
“Stay standing, lazy,” Dazai complained, shoving at one of Chuuya’s shoulders.
Chuuya complied, though he scrunched up his nose and said, “I’m the lazy one? You just don’t want to hold up my damn weight!”
Dazai rolled his eye at Chuuya (which always looked pretty stupid with the bandages covering his other, Chuuya thought) and lowered himself to his knees. His hand slipped out of Chuuya’s underwear before sliding them down his hips, leaving Chuuya bare and exposed.
His breath caught in his throat. Dazai had never seen him like this—Chuuya didn’t want Dazai to see him like this. He was taking everything in a totally different direction than Chuuya had intended—which he would have fucking known if they’d talked about it, not that they ever did—and it was scaring him, to be honest, but he was also the most turned on he’d ever been in his life.
“Curtains match the drapes is true, I guess,” Dazai said with a condescending laugh, helping Chuuya to step out of his underwear, “Figures you wouldn’t shave. Doesn’t make you less of a girl, Chuuya–just makes you hairy.”
Chuuya’s stomach clenched. He moved to step away, his shoes still on, but Dazai held tight onto his hips. This time, Chuuya didn’t bother fighting him further.
“What do you call this in your mind?” Dazai wondered, standing back up and sliding his fingers along Chuuya’s folds, “Since we never talk about it. Can’t be your asshole, since you already have one of those.”
Dazai cupped Chuuya once more, warm fingers a sharp contrast to the cold of the evening seeping under his skin.
“I don’t—“
“Shut up,” Dazai interrupted, slapping Chuuya out of nowhere, underwear still hooked around his wrist.
Stinging pain erupted along Chuuya’s cheek. It was far from the worst thing Chuuya had experienced, but it still shocked him.
“What the fuck was that for?” Chuuya yelled, wincing when Dazai pinched his cock in retaliation.
“Open wide,” Dazai demanded, ignoring Chuuya’s words.
Chuuya’s eyebrows wrinkled, but he kept his mouth shut instead of continuing to yell, because contrary to a popular sentiment held by a certain someone, he did actually have more than one brain cell.
“C’mon, Chuuya,” Dazai was whining, now, dragging out each syllable of Chuuya’s name, “Be a good girl for me.”
Chuuya’s gut clenched, the blood in his body singing.
“That was fuckin’ dirty, and you know it.”
“Say ahhh!”
With that, Dazai shoved Chuuya’s dirty boxer briefs into his mouth—crotch first. Chuuya’s whole face contorted, and he immediately made to spit them out, but Dazai clamped a sweaty palm over his mouth to stop him.
“I thought you’d like this,” Dazai said with a clearly put upon frown, “It’ll muffle your high pitched, girly moans.”
Chuuya blanched.
Dazai removed his hand, and Chuuya made no move to spit the underwear out of his mouth.
Dazai didn’t have to say anything for Chuuya to pick up on the degrading thread he was going for; the taste of his own wetness was bitter on Chuuya’s tongue, damp and slick and weirdly, grossly slimy. He was just waiting for the slug quip.
“Okay,” Dazai said, nodding to himself for Chuuya’s entertainment, “Now get on the floor like a doggy so your master can breed you.”
Not this shit again.
Chuuya dropped the now spit soaked underwear onto the floor to express his displeasure.
“That’s too goddamn far–”
Dazai grabbed Chuuya cruelly by his cock–clit, whatever Dazai wanted to call it–once more. Immediately, Chuuya bent over and clenched his thighs, hand shooting out to Dazai’s forearm.
“Ow, motherfucker! Get your hands off of me, I’m over this shit.”
Squeezing, Dazai pulled. Chuuya’s knees buckled, and Dazai took advantage of his temporary instability to push Chuuya to the ground. His bare knees scraped against the cement, digging into his skin and cutting into his flesh. Blood smeared against the pale span of his legs and further dirtied the sidewalk.
“You asked for this, Chuuya,” Dazai reminded, patting his head condescendingly, “Too bad you’re not wearing make-up. I would’ve liked to see Chuuya’s face ruined.”
Dazai unzipped his pants to pull out his cock. He was so hard it must have been painful, Chuuya thought, watching with rapidly growing want as Dazai spit in his hand and slid it leisurely along his shaft.
“Want to know a secret?” Dazai questioned, bending down to bring their faces closer once more.
“No,” Chuuya growled, fingers twitching.
He was trying to decide if his want to smack the shit out of Dazai outweighed the arousal heavy in his chest, seeping into his stomach and curling in his pelvis. Did he want to get fucked at the expense of his dignity? Did he have any dignity left, after how far they’d already gone?
Did he want to get fucked how Dazai was planning?
Maybe a small part of him did. Maybe he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. At least this way, he could pretend Dazai was taking the choice away from him. He didn’t have to hold the responsibility of his own desires, didn’t have to address what that meant for who he thought he was fundamentally.
Chuuya had so many bigger things to worry about. There was a god inside of him.
Dazai tugged at his ear, causing Chuuya to zone back in on the heavy, glistening eye staring at him intently.
“This is a cock,” Dazai said, stepping forward to tap it against Chuuya’s cheek, “Want to feel?”
“Over my dead body,” Chuuya barked, “It looks like rotten, decomposing sausage.”
Dazai sighed wearily.
“Whatever,” he puffed, before pushing down on Chuuya’s head, “The chibi is such a brute.”
Dazai walked behind him and dropped to his knees as well. Chuuya could clearly feel the smooth texture of his partner’s pants pressing along his naked legs while his heart thundered in his throat.
Assertively, Dazai shoved Chuuya by the shoulder. Chuuya could’ve resisted the motion, but instead, he bent over and dropped to his hands, sliding the dirtied sleeves of his hoodie over his palms to protect them from the harsh ground.
Was he relieved that Dazai was just going to fuck him like they normally did?
“You’re such a perverted freak for carrying lube on you,” Chuuya said over his shoulder, watching as Dazai fished around in the insides of his jacket while its annoying, flappy sleeves repeatedly hit Chuuya’s back.
“You’re the one who benefits from it,” Dazai hummed, “Although it seems I’ve run out! Not that I needed it, anyway.”
To demonstrate his point, Dazai pushed Chuuya’s knees further apart and slipped his fingers through Chuuya’s folds, rubbing them and gathering slick on his fingers.
Chuuya’s whole face erupted in red.
“Wait, you’re not seriously going to…”
“How else would I fuck a girl?”
Chuuya’s heart stopped.
“...Do you at least have a condom?”
It was the only thing that Chuuya could say that didn’t involve him freaking the fuck out.
“Nope!”
It was an awkward angle, but Dazai held Chuuya by the hips and pulled him up to negotiate their height difference. He rubbed his cock between Chuuya’s ass cheeks, and for a second, Chuuya thought Dazai was going to push into his asshole with no preparation.
But then he slid his cock lower, and with one deliberate movement, Dazai pushed right into him.
He went surprisingly slowly, not at all like they usually fucked. It was always fast and angry, nearly primal, a simultaneous expulsion of anger and a communion of trust. But this was different. It was an intentional calmness that disturbingly reminded Chuuya of Dazai’s black wraith character, the one Chuuya was never really sure was a front or not. He couldn’t see Dazai’s eye, but he could imagine the calculating look boring down into him.
“Relax,” Dazai ordered, smoothing his fingers through Chuuya’s hair in a mockery of a soothing touch.
Dazai’s cock was hot, and it throbbed against Chuuya’s walls much of the same way it did when he fucked Chuuya’s ass. Although Dazai wasn’t being quick, he was persistent, meaning it felt like he was pushing into Chuuya endlessly–like Chuuya would never stop getting fucked. Dazai was going to shove himself so deep that his cock would be in Chuuya’s throat, and Chuuya would fucking asphyxiate and die in his shame and misery while getting the wrong hole pounded in a dirty alley.
Panting, Chuuya’s eyes blurred with tears. Fucking embarrassing. And of course Dazai immediately picked up on it, despite not even looking at Chuuya’s face, because why would the universe afford him any grace?
“Crying like a schoolgirl? How typical,” Dazai droned, finally bottoming out.
His hips pressed flush against Chuuya’s ass as his fingers dug bruising marks into Chuuya’s skin.
Chuuya grit his teeth and willed himself to stop crying, trying to force his tears away. If he could have sucked them back into his tear ducts to dry his eyes, he would have.
Dazai was right. He asked for this. He couldn’t back out now, couldn’t cry or whine or beg; Dazai would think he was weak. He wasn’t weak, dammit.
“Stop fucking talking and just get it over with,” Chuuya grunted, staring at the gravel littering the ground in front of him.
“As the princess commands.”
With that, Dazai began thrusting his hips, leaving Chuuya to scramble to keep up. He flattened his hands against his sleeves and heaved, trying to regulate his breathing to mitigate the panic rising in his chest. Every movement dragged heavy flashes of sensation through Chuuya’s insides, and he could feel himself pulsing around Dazai. He kept accidentally clenching and unclenching his muscles, unaccustomed to having anything inside of himself like this. Dazai seemed to be enjoying it, though, for every time Chuuya bore down on Dazai’s cock, the other boy shoved himself in deeper, relishing in the sensation.
“Ah!”
Cold hands on his body caught Chuuya off guard as Dazai’s slim fingers moved from his hips and up his sides. They dipped right under the back of his shirt, making cold lines over his shoulders and spine.
“Cut that out, you bastard,” Chuuya complained, shifting his weight between his hands.
It was hard enough to focus on not collapsing into a puddle of panicked misery without the sensory nightmare of Dazai’s chilling touch on his skin.
“But Chuuya,” Dazai said, his voice now right next to Chuuya’s ear as he planted a hand beside Chuuya’s head.
Instead of continuing his sentence, Dazai’s hand swept over Chuuya’s stomach and up his ribs until–
Chuuya instinctively jerked, his whole body revolting as Dazai tried to grope his chest.
“What the fuck!” he shrieked, elbowing Dazai in the side.
“Ow,” Dazai muttered, moving all of his weight onto his hand on the ground so he could shift to the right and evade the brunt of the attack, “Down, puppy.”
“Get your disgusting, slimy hands off of me,” Chuuya yelled, moving forward and trying to pull Dazai’s cock out of himself.
“Chuuya needs to calm down, unless he wants someone to come investigate the noise,” Dazai responded harshly, shoving down between Chuuya’s shoulder blades.
Chuuya hooked his legs around Dazai’s knees and pulled him forward, knocking his partner off balance just enough to flip him onto his back. Dazai hit the ground with an audible thud, coughing as he got the wind knocked out of him.
“You said,” Dazai gasped, trying to push himself up onto his elbows, “you said to treat you like a girl.”
Chuuya glowered down at Dazai, just barely retaining enough wit to resist coiling his hands around the other boy’s neck like the nooses he always romanticized.
…Chuuya had said that.
“I don’t care,” he deflected, “You know what not to do.”
Dazai had barely even touched anything; Chuuya’s chest was loosely bound with bandages. If he wrapped them too tight, it made breathing difficult, but they were enough to stop the majority of movement, at least, allowing him to fight and just generally exist without the fact he had breasts plaguing his every thought.
(Also, they weren’t very big. He probably didn’t need to do it, but it made him feel better, okay? Dazai wasn’t the only one who could play with bandages.)
“Do I?” Dazai wondered, glaring defiantly up at Chuuya, “Because I think I know what you want better than you know yourself.”
Chuuya bunched his hands in the fabric of Dazai’s shirt, relishing in the tension under his fingertips. He thought about tearing it clean off, just to destroy something, before he remembered that destroying shit was all he was ever good for, really. Might as well pretend he didn’t always play into it, at the end of the day.
“Sit back on my cock,” Dazai instructed calmly, with the air of someone who had complete confidence that his orders would be followed, “You want it.”
Chuuya blinked. Dazai seemed to swim in front of him for a moment, twisting into a beautiful spiral as he swirled with all of the hatred that bubbled just under Chuuya’s skin.
Glancing back at the entrance of the alleyway, Chuuya saw someone bustle past. She had an umbrella, and she was holding a phone up to her ear. It must have started to drizzle, the rain still light enough not to reach them in the alley. He only saw her for a fleeting moment as she passed.
That’s what he was supposed to be. What society wanted him to be. What Dazai was treating him as.
This was what Chuuya asked for, he kept reminding himself.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Moving his weight between his knees, Chuuya shuffled awkwardly back so he was hovering over Dazai’s cock. He had to make sure the angle was right, so that Dazai didn’t accidentally fuck up into his ass–that would hurt–but when Chuuya tried to sit down, Dazai’s dick slipped awkwardly against his entrance.
“Stupid girl,” Dazai said with a frown.
He reached down to hold his own cock while his free hand guided Chuuya down by the hip.
Taking Dazai was a little easier, this way; less scary, now that he was in control. (Pretending he was in control.)
Dazai’s cock still felt way too big inside of him, like it was bullying its way through Chuuya’s insides to harass his guts. It seemed to catch against Chuuya’s hole, at first, before he shifted his body forward. Dazai’s cock slipped backward, and suddenly it popped inside, it was inside, a hot intrusion infiltrating a sacred space.
“Take that off,” Dazai said, using one hand to hold Chuuya down by the hip and the other to start pushing at his hoodie.
“Still not done with the humiliation? You’re never fuckin’ satisfied, are you?” Chuuya sneered, but he shrugged out of his hoodie.
“Keep going.”
Chuuya looked down at Dazai blankly. The other boy raised his eyebrows, and when Chuuya made no move to comply, he bucked his hips up, shoving his cock deeper inside of Chuuya.
The motion punched something vaguely resembling a cry out of Chuuya’s throat, and he steadied himself with his hands on Dazai’s chest.
“C’mon,” Dazai goaded, “Too afraid? Where’s the tough guy act now, Chuuya? I told you I know the truth.”
Chuuya gasped as Dazai began to buck his hips up rhythmically, hitting deeper inside of Chuuya than anything had gone before. He generally barely got three fingers inside of himself, nevermind anything resembling a cock—nevermind anything resembling this.
“I’m not–fucking–afraid,” Chuuya bit out between Dazai’s thrusts, “I hope you kill yourself.”
It seemed apt to tack on.
“If you’re not afraid, then do it, shorty,” Dazai egged, moving his hands back to take fistfulls of Chuuya’s ass, “Maybe if you do it, I’ll even grant our joint wish.”
Now wasn’t that a thought.
Chuuya knew where Dazai was going with this. He wasn’t dumb. Show Dazai his tits in exchange for the other boy’s suicide; it might have been appealing, if he thought Dazai actually capable of going through with it. Fucking pussy.
“Fine.”
Chuuya sat up as best as he could, considering the fact he was speared on Dazai’s cock; the change in position made Chuuya’s muscles tighten, and it felt like he was so full he would burst. Imagine–Dazai’s cock exploding inside of him, causing his stomach to collapse. Maybe it would take Chuuya’s internal fucking organs with it. One less traumatic surgery he’d have to feel guilt over not getting. He could never quite place it, but something about doctors…
Anyway, grabbing the hem of his shirt, Chuuya lifted it over his head just like he’d seen Shirase and some of the other Sheep do. Something about slipping your arms through the sleeves was a girl thing, Yuan had told him once–not that either of them could be trusted for shit, looking back on it.
Dazai really did always know everything, didn’t he? The motherfucker. Chuuya hated his fucking guts.
As soon as it was over his arms, Dazai grabbed the shirt and threw it haphazardly towards Chuuya’s backpack. Miraculously, it landed on top, sparing it from the nastiness of the alleyway ground.
“Do you want to remove those, or should I do the honors?”
Dazai skimmed his fingers over the bandages covering Chuuya’s ribs in a way that almost felt reverent. Bile rose to Chuuya’s throat, and he quickly brought a hand up to cover his mouth, just in case he wound up vomiting. Thankfully, after a moment, the nausea passed.
Apparently, Chuuya waited too long. It only took moments for Dazai to locate the clips, and within seconds he was loosening the bandages, causing them to fall down around Chuuya’s torso, leaving him completely exposed.
He was totally naked, now. It was a small comfort that his back was to the mouth of the alley, but his chest was completely exposed to Dazai, boobs out in the air for his partner to see and ogle and objectify and use to reframe his perspective of Chuuya as a person, probably.
Chuuya tried to cover his chest, but Dazai immediately brushed his arms aside. Chuuya could’ve fought him on it–should’ve kept fighting–but instead, he let his arms fall. He wanted this. Cold hands wasted no time as they cupped Chuuya’s tits, pushing and pulling and squishing and gripping. A fresh wave of blood pulsed through Chuuya’s cunt, and he could literally feel more wetness leaking out of him to drip down Dazai’s cock.
He felt so fucking vile. If the alley wasn’t enough to make him feel disgustingly dirty, then Dazai was sure achieving it.
“Do I even need to say anything?”
The laugh that accompanied the words was cruel and biting, stinging Chuuya’s skin and piercing what little scraps resembling dignity he had left. Dazai never failed to make him feel lowly, like someone useless and small. His partner never took him seriously; why would this topic be any different? Chuuya should have known better. He did know better.
A jerk of Dazai’s hips encouraged Chuuya far enough out of his self pity to realize he should be moving. Putting his hands on Dazai’s shoulders caused Chuuya to lean forward, his tits basically dangling in front of Dazai’s face like an offering. Ugh. The sneaky prick had planned this, too. What did Chuuya do to deserve him? Any of this life?
From his position on top of Dazai, Chuuya was able to set his own pace. Each movement dragged on for what felt like forever, and Dazai’s cock seemed to reach even deeper inside of him now. He could distinctly feel the way Dazai pressed against his walls, poking and prodding and violating every part of him.
“Is that Chuuya’s cervix?” Dazai wondered like an idiot, shooting him an innocent look that he hadn’t quite bothered to completely erase his smugness from.
“That’s not how cervixes work, idiot,” Chuuya huffed, bouncing in Dazai’s lap.
After a few minutes, it did sort of feel good; but maybe that was just shame pooling in his stomach, rather than arousal. It was hard to tell the difference.
“Yes it is,” Dazai said with a smirk, “Want to know a secret, puppy?”
Chuuya choked on a moan as Dazai’s cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of him.
“I’m going to get you pregnant.”
Chuuya knew Dazai was going to flip them before the other boy even moved; the way his knees bent and his arms braced gave him away. Dazai needed to spend more time in the dojo, Chuuya thought, as he was grabbed and manhandled onto his back once more. This time, Dazai’s cock slipped out of him with a wet squelch, hitting his thighs like some nasty version of an inflatable punching bag. The gravel bit into his bare back, its cold seeping into Chuuya’s bones. Still, he didn’t move. Part of him wanted Dazai back on top of him, despite recognizing how twisted the whole situation was; he wanted Dazai to fuck back into him, to come in him so deeply it was guaranteed to take. Wanted Dazai to get him pregnant.
No he didn’t. Fuck. He definitely didn’t. He wanted Dazai to stop so he could shove a cactus up the other boy’s ass and watch him hobble away in shame. Chuuya didn’t know what he wanted. He’d been way in over his head when he’d thrown out the suggestion on the rooftop, what felt like a lifetime ago.
This time, when Dazai shoved inside of him, it was like he was pushing Chuuya’s consciousness out of his body. Chuuya wasn’t getting fucked, anymore; he was watching himself, watching Dazai above him. He could see the way Dazai’s larger hands eclipsed his own wrists, squeezing them and pressing them into the pavement. The way that Dazai’s mouth latched around Chuuya’s nipple, licking around his bud and sucking it in, teeth nibbling on just the right edge of too hard.
Each thrust pulled something resembling pleasure to the forefront of Chuuya’s body, stacking the sensations like a precarious tower, its foundation as stable as his and Dazai’s relationship. It would tip any minute into permanent destruction, unable to be faithfully recreated.
“I’m going to kill you for this,” Chuuya answered belatedly, only when it registered that he should probably say something in response to Dazai’s shitty dirty talk.
“And leave your baby without a mother? Would Chuuya be so heartless?”
“Enough,” he demanded, hitting Dazai’s shoulder.
“Shhh, no need to get so worked up, mommy,” Dazai grinned, leaning down to kiss Chuuya chastely on the lips.
That–like everything else, it seemed–did something to Chuuya. He arched his back, letting a wave of heat wash over his body. Numbness started to tickle at the edges of his awareness, sending tingling down his fingers and up his legs.
Dazai emitted a low, heady noise. His bangs hung in his eye and stuck to his forehead, and there was an unusual red flush on his cheeks.
“Dazai,” Chuuya warned, tightening his grip on Dazai’s back threateningly, “I fuckin’ dare you to say that shit again.”
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed into Chuuya’s neck, licking a nasty, wet strip under his jaw, “But what Did Chuuya think would happen, when he let me fuck her–him, oops–without a condom?”
Chuuya jerked at the words. His nails bore into Dazai’s skin harshly, surely drawing blood.
“We’re fifteen,” Chuuya protested, because acknowledging any of the other reasons that what Dazai was saying was shitty and awful would make him break down.
“People used to have children at that age all the time,” Dazai said breathlessly, “It’s only natural. It’s kind of your purpose, Chuuya, when you think about it.”
Chuuya tightened his legs around Dazai’s waist, pulling him forward. His cunt gripped Dazai’s cock so tightly that Chuuya was honestly surprised Dazai was able to move through it.
It must have been pretty sexy, because Dazai jerked inside of him shallowly a few more times before coming.
Unsurprisingly, it was pretty similar to when Dazai came in his ass. They generally tried to use condoms, but sometimes things just happened, and well–Chuuya would have been lying if he said that either of them missed the rubber when it was absent.
Dazai packed his hole thoroughly, stuffing it impossibly full. It was a hot rush of fluid that made Chuuya’s stomach twist in arousal, a quantity that nearly sloshed around inside of him. As soon as he was done, Dazai pulled out, effectively unplugging Chuuya’s hole and allowing the cum to gush out in waves. It was disgusting by all measures, sticky and grimy and just plain gross. It left Chuuya feeling cold, too, the temperature and his nudity only compounding the sensation.
“Easy clean up, at least,” Dazai said to himself with a nod, sitting back on his knees to tuck himself back into his pants, “Isn’t that right, Chuuya?”
It barely occurred to Chuuya that he hadn’t came. He didn’t want to. There was no need to contribute to the filth, to the desecration of his body. He didn’t need a reminder of what he had, what he didn’t have, felt no desire to touch what Dazai had so thoroughly claimed and destroyed.
Instead, Chuuya remained on his back, staring up at the gray Yokohama sky. The rain was coming down harder, now, enough that it began to pitter into their secluded little crevice of the street.
“Dazai,” Chuuya muttered lightly, speaking without bothering to look at the other boy.
“Yes, mi pequeño perrito?”
“...Your accent is awful. Where did you even learn that?”
Chuuya’s voice was quiet as he watched the clouds twist. Maybe he’d forgotten what he wanted to say, or perhaps he’d decided it wouldn’t matter. Nothing he did ever really mattered, did it?
Chuuya should level the city. No, the country. The Earth, even. That would show them all.
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Dazai said seriously, trying his best to take on an air of mystery.
“Let’s go, pipsqueak,” Dazai decided, once he deemed that Chuuya had been silent for too long, “A certain someone is in desperate need of a deep cleaning.”
Chuuya allowed himself to be lifted up by Dazai, who was careful to keep his hands away from anywhere Chuuya had previously declared off limits. He stood there stoically as Dazai procured his dry pants from his backpack, barely moving to step into them as Dazai exhibited the most effort he’d ever shown by bending down to pull them up over Chuuya’s feet. His shirt and jacket were drenched, but Dazai pulled them over his head anyway, even zipping up his hoodie to hide Chuuya’s chest. It only took Dazai three times to get the zipper up.
Stuffing his feet back into damp shoes, Chuuya couldn’t help but think that the worst part of it all was that he wouldn’t even be able to get a light with the way the rain had begun to pour.