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“You fucker!” The red joycon hit the couch, its wriststrap uneven as it was ceremoniously yanked loose. Dazai turned his head to stare at the fallen controller instead of the scene before him.
The television screen, all joyous music and rainbow confetti as Bowser drove a victory lap. The chibi, on his feet and seething as he glared at Dazai with unfathomable rage.
Dazai drummed his fingers against how own blue joycon, thumbs tracing the familiar buttons with mild anxiety. He’d been careful all night, every instance of goading Chuuya calculated and deliberate, but he’d somehow miscalculated the chibi dog’s ability to sniff out bullshit, as he would so colorfully claim.
Dazai’s gaze flickered up to the screen, floundering for a way to fix the situation he’d put himself in. The camera shifted, showing Rosalina’s pouting disappointment as she followed along in Bowser’s shadow. This had probably been her first loss at his hands, so Dazai felt a bit sorry for her.
But not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself.
“You threw the fucking match, didn’t you?” Chuuya’s harsh voice made Dazai’s shoulder’s scrunch briefly, but he tried to mask the weakness behind a mild shrug.
“Does chibi have any proof?”
“Do I have any fucking—you were winning!” Chuuya reminded, his tone growling with ire. Out of the corner of his eye, Dazai saw the chibi indicate furiously toward the screen. “You should have won! You eased your fucking finger off the button!”
Dazai shrugged again, snippy when he replied, “If all Chuuya’s going to do is spout baseless accusations—”
“I fucking saw you do it, Dazai!”
Now Dazai looked up at Chuuya, frowning at the confident glint to those blue eyes as Chuuya fumed. Chibi had seen? He’d been watching Dazai and not the screen? Why?
Reading the question on Dazai’s face, Chuuya scoffed and crossed his arms. Posture tight, closed off, expression cold. Dazai’s stomach began to curdle with a nauseating cocktail of regret and fear. He knew Chuuya would never hurt him, not over something as silly as a video game.
But Chuuya could lock him out of their room. Out of their apartment. Force Dazai to accept the consequences of lying to him.
“I thought you were acting fishier than usual with your fucking bet,” Chuuya spat, his gaze hardened with disbelief and disgust. “The loser bottoms, right? Did you actually fucking think that you didn’t sound shady as hell, asshole?”
Yes, but Chuuya didn’t need to be so mean about it.
“Did you even think about just asking me like a normal goddamn person? Or does everything with you have to be some sort of lie or a fucking manipulation?”
Dazai didn’t know how he should answer. The conversation of who took what role during sex wasn’t one they’d mastered yet, typically falling into bed and letting the mood dictate how their evening progressed. Either that, or Dazai just gave in to Chuuya’s whims, willing to be whatever Chuuya needed or craved of him, happy to be a source of Chuuya’s comfort or relief.
But tonight, Dazai wanted. He needed.
And he just didn’t know how to ask.
“Chibi—”
“Shut up!” Chuuya hissed, trembling. “Don’t call me that! Just fucking—just shut up, Dazai!”
But Dazai had stupid, foolish hope that the night could still be salvaged, so he gazed up at Chuuya with what he prayed was a sultry grin. “Why doesn’t Chuuya make me?”
Chuuya scoffed, all venomous disbelief and harsh disappointment. He tilted his neck back so he could glower at the ceiling for a moment, and Dazai watched the hard bob of his throat as he swallowed whatever array of insults he’d been thinking.
“Fine. You really want to do this, huh? Fucking fine.” Still clearly agitated, Chuuya stomped his way out of the living room. Dazai could hear him open the door to their bedroom, muttering angrily to himself, and he… hesitated to follow.
Was this really all right? This didn’t feel all right. They’d had sex when Chuuya was angry before, but never when Chuuya was angry at him.
Dazai huffed, finding the courage to stand up and approach their bedroom. He’d worked hard to lose on purpose, so he might as well, right? And if Chuuya still wanted to have sex, then he must not be too angry, right?
Wrong. Dazai could read Chuuya’s foul mood in every movement of his body as he undressed himself, in the rough toss of his shirt to the floor instead of the hamper like usual. He even kicked off his pants, leaving them in a strewn bundle by the foot of the bed.
If anything, Chuuya seemed madder now that he’d had a few seconds to stew to himself. Dazai paused in the doorway, uncertain. He knew he could call this off now, that Chuuya would listen. That Chuuya would probably prefer if he did.
But then this whole argument would have been pointless! Dazai would have lost on purpose and pissed off his chibi for no reason, and he wasn’t sure which scenario was worse.
Chuuya pulled back the duvet, indicating dismissively to the bed, and Dazai immediately moved to listen. He sat down on the edge, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt and wondering if he should remove it or not.
A nod from the chibi, remarkably quiet, was enough answer for him. He pulled off his shirt and then his pants, entirely bare save for his bandages, and then he scooted up to sit in the middle of the bed. He waited, watching Chuuya’s eyes roam over him with quiet appreciation.
Then Chuuya walked over to retrieve a black silk tie from the closet. He returned to the bed and nodded his head pointedly at Dazai’s hands. That was… that was different. Was Dazai so in trouble that he wasn’t even allowed to touch his chibi?
Fine.
Dazai would never admit that his hands shook when he clasped them behind his back. He had his dignity to hold on to in the face of such a rude chibi. But he wouldn’t look Chuuya in the eye, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting under Dazai’s skin.
Chuuya sighed, quiet. Climbing onto the bed, he settled between Dazai’s legs, the line of black stark against Dazai’s bandages when he draped the tie over his thigh. He reached out, patiently pulling one arm back into Dazai’s lap and then the other. He made him clasp them together, and then he bound Dazai’s wrists, tight enough to restrict his movements but loose enough to remain comfortable. Then he pressed Dazai down onto the bed, situated comfortably against the pillows.
And that was… that was much better. Dazai relaxed some, eyes flickering up to catch Chuuya’s.
But Chuuya avoided him, choosing that precise moment to duck forward and leave a trail of remarkably soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. Dazai shivered at the unexpected contact, confused.
Wasn’t chibi angry? He was mad at Dazai, so why was chibi treating him so gently? The soothing sensations went to war with Dazai’s expectations, leaving him floundering as he tried to understand the direction this had taken.
His bound wrists pressed against his chest as Chuuya pushed closer. One hand cradled Dazai’s throat, still-gloved fingers angling his head to make more room for kisses while the other began to skirt across his bandaged chest. Fingertips teased at the bud of his nipples, rubbing at them above the bandages, and Dazai found he didn’t like it.
He didn’t like that Chuuya was touching him so softly. He didn’t like that the chibi laved his throat and jaw with sweet, wet kisses but wouldn’t kiss Dazai’s mouth. He didn’t like that he couldn’t twist his fingers to touch Chuuya himself, could barely graze his skin even with his pinkies.
But most of all, he didn’t like how quiet Chuuya had grown. Chuuya was loud, almost obnoxiously so, no matter what the situation. When he was happy, when he was sad, when he was angry—
When he was in bed—
But this? This… silence? Dazai hated it. He wanted to hear Chuuya, even if all the hatrack did was shower him with insults.
The hand at his neck began to seek the end of his bandages, and Dazai’s instincts kicked in. He twisted his head away, shoving his bound hands against Chuuya’s chest until he paused in his search.
“W-wait, can we—” Dazai swallowed around the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “Can we leave them on?”
Chuuya stilled, his face still hidden against Dazai’s collarbone. Usually, Dazai had no issues taking his bandages off at home, and he liked it even better when Chuuya was the one to remove them. He felt safe in his partner’s capable hands.
But Dazai wasn’t sure how he felt now.
After a moment’s hesitation, Chuuya nodded quietly and resumed his kisses, tiny reassurances he left on top of the bandages. Dazai wanted to scream.
“Chuuya?” he murmured, a quiet whimper leaving him when Chuuya’s hand abandoned his chest to grip his thigh instead, opening his legs up wider. “Chuuya’s voice is so annoying, but he’s even more irritating when he’s quiet like this.”
Chuuya said nothing, only nuzzling at Dazai’s collarbone in silence. He moved the hand away from Dazai’s throat and over to his mouth, biting at one of the fingertips so he could pull the glove off. Bare fingers returned, sliding into the waves of Dazai’s hair and scratching against his scalp.
Teeth nibbled at the edge of his jaw, and Dazai felt the very first spark of arousal since they started. Chuuya’s tongue lapped out to wet unmarred skin before he bit down again, and Dazai squirmed against him, voice caught in a startled moan.
Chuuya sucked mark after mark into the space above Dazai’s bandages, the heat of his breath ghosting delightfully over the goosebumps rising along his skin. This was familiar enough for Dazai to forget, albeit briefly, how different everything else was. He lost himself to the sensations, tugging every so often against the tie out of the urge to just sink his hands into the chibi’s hair.
The other hand abandoned Dazai’s thigh long enough for Chuuya to bite that glove away too, and then sweaty fingers wrapped around Dazai’s gradually hardening cock. Dazai’s chest heaved, hands twitching between them as Chuuya thumbed at his slit before delivering a few lazy pumps. His back arched, his gasp of Chuuya’s name and his heaving breaths the only sounds filling the room.
Which was wrong. Dazai’s brow furrowed, confused despite the slow build of pleasure beginning to fill him. Any other time, Chuuya would be whispering praises to him, telling Dazai how pretty he was or how much he enjoyed his reactions. Something.
“Chuuya,” Dazai whined, shifting against his partner unhappily.
Still, Chuuya didn’t speak. He gave Dazai a couple more pumps, the friction dry but still enough to make Dazai’s toes curl, before he pulled away entirely. He sat up between Dazai’s legs, reaching over to the nightstand to retrieve the bottle of lube, and Dazai froze.
This was it, wasn’t it? Chuuya was really going to keep quiet the entire time, wasn’t he? No kisses? No eye contact? No words of affection? Just detached, gentle touches and silence as if he were with a complete stranger and not Dazai?
Chuuya flicked open the cap, about to pour the clear liquid into his open palm, and Dazai couldn’t take it anymore. He attempted to reach forward to stop the chibi, tugging uncomfortably at the restraints. Pausing, Chuuya’s eyes flickered up to meet Dazai’s at last.
Restraint, stubborn and vivid, shone the brightest, but Dazai could also recognize the underlying glimmer of remaining anger. Of course Chuuya was still mad at him; Dazai would have been stupid to consider otherwise.
But he had underestimated just how mad Chuuya still was.
And Dazai didn’t understand it. Of all the things Dazai had ever lied about, losing a game of Mario Kart seemed to pale in comparison, but Chuuya was still so livid. Dazai needed to figure out why before this became an issue between them, before he couldn’t mend the growing gap he felt beginning to build.
Chuuya was always angry at Dazai about something, but once they’d gotten together, he’d grown better at vocalizing the things that upset him the most. He hated when Dazai didn’t eat, almost as much as he hated Dazai dumping out his wines. He didn’t like it when Dazai didn’t take care of himself because he cared about Dazai.
But generally, the thing that always upset Chuuya the most was—
Ah. Communication.
Dazai swallowed. Emotion burned in his eyes, frustration that he didn’t know where to direct, and his breath stuttered as he sighed. He knew how to fix this now, if only he could set aside his pride. He opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words for an admission that felt so difficult to voice.
Then Chuuya’s eyes softened, blinking away the frigid indifference and replacing it with a well-known, encouraging warmth.
And suddenly, the words came easily.
“Chuuya. You’re angry because I manipulated you instead of being honest… right? I’m sorry. I’ll try harder, I will, just—just please, I don’t like this—I can’t—”
“Osamu.”
Dazai choked on a sob, relief washing over him at the sound of Chuuya’s voice. He tried again to reach out, but Chuuya caught his tied wrists with his free hand and lifted his arms high enough for Chuuya to duck under them.
“All right, you bastard, I’m done being mad at you,” Chuuya promised before sealing their lips together, and all Dazai could think was finally. He bent his arms and turned his wrists, burying his fingers against the sea of red hair with what little movement he had.
Heat built naturally now, their bodies rocking in tandem with each kiss Chuuya delivered. Soft presses turned sharper, teeth nibbling at Dazai’s lower lip until he granted the chibi entry. He welcomed each swipe of Chuuya’s tongue as he delved deeper, sampling the taste of him and groaning with unequivocal satisfaction.
Dazai bracketed his legs around his chibi, wishing he had a little more mobility. The urge to touch and feel all of his partner overwhelmed him, the taste of bitter regret mild as it settled into his chest. The layer of bandages no longer felt like a security blanket and more like an inconvenience in his quest to absorb Chuuya’s warmth.
Chuuya’s hands skirted across his ribs, soft presses that Dazai could hardly feel through his bandages, and he tried to thump his hands against Chuuya’s back to get his attention. He wanted more, and he was determined now to ask for it.
“Chuuya~!” Dazai’s attempt at a whine was swallowed in another fervent kiss, his chibi apparently determined to swallow him whole. Avoiding kisses hadn’t only bothered Dazai, it seemed, and he couldn’t ignore the thrill that such a notion sent rattling through him.
Dazai tried again. He twisted his mouth, chuckling at Chuuya’s irritated grumble. “Chibi~! Stop slobbering all over me for a minute!”
“Hah!? Slobbering? You fucking—” Chuuya’s anger left him in a warm puff breathed over Dazai’s face. He pressed an array of furious kisses along the side of Dazai’s face, dipping down to catch Dazai’s earlobe briefly between his teeth. “The fuck is it now?”
“Will Chuuya take off my bandages now?”
Chuuya lifted his head to get a good look at him. His brow furrowed, scrutinizing Dazai thoroughly with a frown on his face. His fingers moved restlessly against Dazai’s sides, alternating between squeezing his waist and massaging his bandaged torso with hands that Dazai needed to feel against his skin.
“Are you sure? We can keep them on.”
“I’m sure.” Dazai smiled, his turn now to reassure his partner. “Chuuya wouldn’t deny me when I’m being so good and communicating so well, would he?”
“You’re such a fucking brat, I swear—” But Chuuya still untangled himself from Dazai’s arms and sat back on his knees.
Eagerly, he reached for Dazai’s wrists, tugging away the awful tie and finally giving Dazai the freedom to reach for him. Dazai touched everywhere in reach, one palm flat against Chuuya’s chest to feel the steady beat of his heart while the other teased his abs, humming happily as he pressed the pads of his fingers against the array of toned muscle.
“Stop moving,” Chuuya muttered, laughing each time he had to pull Dazai away from clinging to him. “How the hell am I supposed to get your bandages off if you won’t let go of me, shitty Osamu?”
“Chuuya should have thought about that before he so rudely tied me up! That was so mean of you, chibi! Bad dog!”
“Will you shut the fuck up?!”
But they were laughing, talking, kissing, and it was easy again. Familiar.
Spool after spool fell away under Chuuya’s hands, fingers eager to touch each freshly unwrapped inch of skin. Those same careful hands hoisted him close, legs splayed wide and pliant while Chuuya worked to open him up one finger at a time. Kissing him, spreading him open, murmuring too-sweet words that part of Dazai still wanted to run from.
And then Chuuya finally, finally sank into him, cock filling him in all the right ways, and Dazai blinked away tears at how perfect it felt. Just how he’d wanted, how he’d needed.
Why hadn’t he just asked for it? What had been the point of it all? Dazai couldn’t remember, and he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.
Chuuya rolled his hips easily, unhurried as he dragged Dazai down to meet each of his thrusts. Dazai gave him full control, pliant to Chuuya’s every push and pull. He would have been content to let his chibi do all the work, always eager to see the muscle of Double Black at work, but he just couldn’t stop touching Chuuya.
Maybe it was because he wasn’t allowed to before, but now Dazai just kept reaching forward to grab Chuuya anywhere he could reach him. His arms, his hips, shoulders, hair—Chuuya caught Dazai’s hands in his, pressing both of them down against the mattress as the chibi loomed over him, leisurely kisses and leisurely thrusts working beautifully to push away every thought of the fight, of Dazai’s poor communication, and fill the empty space with nothing but Chuuya.
And that was it. That was everything. All he could ever want or need or ask for—
One hand let go of Dazai’s, snaking between them. Deft fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping him in time with Chuuya’s rolling thrusts, and Dazai worried he might shatter, overwhelmed by too much affection, too much care, too much stimulation.
Dazai’s orgasm surprised him, all but dissolving his bones like sugar in warm water. He moaned Chuuya’s name, wave after wave of pure pleasure washing over him. Every inch of him felt submerged in all that was Chuuya, equal parts sweet and savage in such a way that made Dazai just thaw.
Chuuya kissed him through it, kept rocking into him until it was too much, until all he could do was whimper and moan and cling to his chibi as his thrusts grew erratic and his breath hitched around Dazai’s name. Loud, loud Chuuya, no sound withheld from Dazai now as he chased his own release while his hands still held Dazai so tenderly.
And then more. More heat, more warmth, more of Chuuya’s hips pumping him full and then stilling. Dazai welcomed every bit of it, so deep and so filling that he could only whimper in satisfaction. They panted together, trading breaths, trading kisses, hands still locked together tight.
At some point, the silly chibi tried to leave, staying only when Dazai whined and complained about being neglected. Chuuya snickered good-naturedly, rolling his eyes as he untangled their fingers and then unhooked Dazai’s legs from around his waist.
“Neglecting you,” Chuuya repeated, dropping a single kiss to Dazai’s lips before disappearing into the bathroom. “How the hell am I neglecting you when I’m planning on taking care of your stupid ass?”
Dazai considered kicking his feet against the bed, but that seemed like an inordinate amount of effort to expend after such a tiring day; he ended up just leaving his legs where Chuuya had shoved them. “Chibi’s so mean! I thought you liked my ass!”
“I do like your ass. It goes along with the rest of your stupid body.” Chuuya returned, wet rag in hand. He sat back on the bed and began to clean up their mess, still treating Dazai so tenderly.
Dazai’s throat tightened as he watched Chuuya, thoughts drifting back to their earlier argument. “Chibi?”
“Hm?”
“I meant… what I said.”
Chuuya paused, angling his head so that their eyes could meet. He finished wiping off Dazai’s stomach and then moved away long enough to float the rag into the hamper. His hand returned, wrapping around Dazai’s and squeezing it tightly. He struggled for a minute, teeth clenched as he tried to rein in his resurfacing temper.
When he did speak, he sounded exhausted. “I was really pissed off at you. I get that we’re partners. I get that I’m supposed to read your mind all the fucking time, but dammit, Dazai! If we want this relationship to fucking work, you can’t force me to do these mental gymnastics all the time just so I can figure out what the fuck you want. Just tell me next time. Don’t fucking manipulate me to get your way. How the hell am I supposed to trust you if you keep pulling shit like this?”
“Chuuya, I—I am trying. I am.” Dazai sat up, uncertain if he was allowed to reach for Chuuya.
Luckily, the redhead understood his need and situated himself back into Dazai’s space. He sat back against Dazai’s chest, allowed himself to be wrapped up as tightly as Dazai needed to hold him. Dazai pressed his face into the chibi’s hair and sighed.
“I know you are, mackerel. I know you’re trying. You can be such a pain in the ass sometimes, but I know you’re worth it.”
Relationships were hard and new to Dazai. Something precious, to be treated with a level of care and finesse that he worried he might not be capable of.
But when everything worked out? Being with Chuuya was so easy. Easier than breathing, easier than existing. Chuuya now occupied the hollow spot inside Dazai’s soul, filling him with boisterous noise. So horribly, beautifully loud Dazai no longer knew how to handle the quiet without him.
And Dazai never wanted to try.
“Osamu.”
Dazai whined, trembling at the way his given name rolled so eloquently from Chuuya’s tongue.
“If you ever lose to me on purpose ever again, you’re sleeping on the fucking couch.”
“Rosalina didn’t like that, either. Did you see how sad she looked?”
Chuuya huffed; Dazai imagined that he was rolling his eyes too, but he would have bet anything that his silly chibi was also smiling. “Rematch?”
“Stakes?”
“Winner bottoms.”
Dazai grinned around a mouthful of red hair. “Deal.”