Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Categories:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of The Triad of Yokohama
Stats:
Published:
2024-01-16
Completed:
2024-02-09
Words:
35,306
Chapters:
5/5
Comments:
85
Kudos:
299
Bookmarks:
35
Hits:
6,345

Our Idiot Boyfriend

Chapter 5: Light My Fire

Summary:

“Tonight was . . . something else. I . . . never expected we’d end up like this. I can’t believe I have to keep an eye on two of you idiots now. ”

Atsushi, Chuuya, and Dazai channel their energies and affections into something more pleasant than fighting off a mad scientist

Notes:

Did you know that JRR Tolkien had a table with a big map of Middle Earth and figures for all the characters so he could keep track of who was supposed to be where while writing Lord of the Rings? Anyway, that’s what I feel like I need for writing a threesome. I’m not great at smutty smut (y’all are. . . creative, I am so boring) but I hope this is at least cute.

The only thing harder than writing a sex scene is re-writing a sex scene. I thought this was dry so I went back over it and added a ton of descriptions and boy do I hope it’s still readable.

Due to the Doors titles, I did imagine this scene set to “Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)”. Would love to hear if anyone else has any playlist or songs to set this to.

We’re starting the chapter with a brief Chuuya interlude, as was requested I write the little scenes of him and Dazai discussing Atsushi, then it goes back to Atsushi’s POV.

Enjoy your soft smut. <3 I love you all.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Chuuya was actually tempted to take off his gloves as he fumbled the small key in his fingers. His hands were shaking, mostly with anger but also with anxiety, a pressing demand that he needed to free Dazai as soon as humanly possible. He nearly dropped it and thought Dazai might make a half-assed comment about it to keep his sanity, make it seem like it was perfectly normal for him to be bleeding and bruised and chained to a wall in an abandoned lab. But Dazai said nothing. As he slotted the key in the manacle’s lock, Chuuya glanced over at him: Dazai was preoccupied, staring at his mouth.

“You can’t possibly be distracted by the thought of a blow job right now,” Chuuya scoffed. “What’s wrong with you?”

He again didn’t respond, and Chuuya made to open the second lock, treading carefully as to not touch the thin needles that lined it.

“So,” Dazai said at last, “you and Atsushi, huh?”

Chuuya stopped what he was doing and made full eye contact with his partner. Despite himself, he blushed. Those brown eyes were boring into his, and Chuuya had a creeping sensation like Dazai was peering into his memory, that he had been there watching them kiss in the hallway.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” he said quietly. “How did you—?”

“Your blood is on his mouth,” Dazai said obviously, and Chuuya unconsciously wiped the still-wet cut on his lip.

It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it, but he didn’t want to have to explain himself.

“What, are you mad at me?” Chuuya hissed. “Fuck you. I can easily just leave you here and take him home myself.”

Dazai gave a small laugh and smiled, though it wasn’t that eerie knowing smile. It was oddly gentle.

“You like him?”

Chuuya balked. What the hell was he playing at?

“Uh. Sure. Yeah.”

He was blushing again, why was this so sensitive? So what if he did? So what if he truly had thought about leaving tonight with Atsushi draped over his shoulder, about throwing him onto his bed, stripping him, pulling his wrists above his head? He was allowed to think about these things.

“He’s cute, right?” Dazai said softly. “Such a sweet face. Really beautiful eyes. Soft. And that ass—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Yes. Stop bragging about your good taste in men, what’s your point?”

Dazai lowered his voice. “What do you think about asking him to join us?”

Chuuya gaped at him, his mouth suddenly dry. They’d had threesomes before, usually soliciting a stranger at a bar, a couple of times a Mafia or Agency informant, never more than a one-night thing, but . . . Chuuya understood that he was asking something else. Dazai had been courting Atsushi as a potential partner — and even though his real emotions were difficult to read, he sensed that Dazai actually liked him. Atsushi was different . . . perhaps he was a potential partner for both of them.

Chuuya finally turned the key and freed Dazai’s wrists.

“I . . . wouldn’t object,” Chuuya said noncommittally. “If that’s what he wants.”

Dazai rubbed his wrists, which were bruised.

“Well,” he started, “I hope that’s motivation enough to try and stay alive through this.”

* * *

They spent a hazy half hour in the bathroom fixing up the worst of Dazai’s wounds. For Chuuya, this was clearly something he had done several times before, and he pinned up his long hair, his expression unsmiling. But Dazai asked that Atsushi be the one to remove his clothes.

He flushed but complied, his hands shaking. It was strangely intimate, taking off his blood-splattered vest, unbuttoning his linen shirt, and finally peeling off those layers of bandages. Dazai gazed at him the entire time, his eyelids heavy, and Atsushi felt those eyes cutting through him as if he was the one laid bare. He unconsciously ran his fingers along some of Dazai’s scars, astonished by the variety and number of them, from tiny pinpricks along his prominent collarbone to round burn marks on his long arms.

Chuuya stepped in to help as they wrapped new bandages and placed gauze on some of his deeper cuts. Dazai’s skin prickled at their touch, sending goosebumps up his arms. As he leaned into them, it was clear he craved their hands elsewhere. After tying off the bandages, Chuuya kissed Dazai’s palm lightly, and Atsushi kissed his cheek. Dazai languidly got to his feet, taking both of their hands and leading them into the bedroom.

Chuuya’s room was impeccable, but his bed was far too big for someone his size, making Atsushi wonder if Dazai lived here as well.

“I don’t,” Dazai said obviously, reading his mind.

“Sometimes,” Chuuya added.

“Sometimes,” Dazai agreed. “It’s very comfortable, though. He has good taste in a few things.”

Chuuya hit him lightly on the shoulder, irritated, then he took a deep breath and fixed his expression before turning to Atsushi.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said seriously. “I know . . . this is probably a lot. You can say no at any time, okay?”

Atsushi breathed out to calm his nerves, reflecting on that fear he’d felt with Dazai in the ferris wheel, the fear with Chuuya in the lab . . . but also on that want. And that trust he had in both of them.

He closed his eyes and nodded, and slipped his suspenders off his shoulders.

He brought his hands up to unbutton his shirt and found them joined by Dazai’s eager fingers, making quick work until it hung open. Dazai wrapped his arms around Atsushi’s bare torso and pulled him in; his eyes fluttered shut as their chests touched, as their lips pressed together, that warmth running through him from head to toe. He sighed into Dazai’s mouth, shaking his shirt off completely before he hugged Dazai’s neck, wanting to be closer. It was one thing to hold his hand, to touch his lips; it was another to feel the flat of his stomach, the curve of his waist, the muscles in his back; it was so warm against him, and Atsushi felt that warmth resonate and rise within him, slowly edging out the fear.

Dazai pulled away, his wet lips momentarily sticking to Atsushi’s, and he turned his head to Chuuya. Chuuya’s hands were at Dazai’s shoulder, his lips parted in anticipation, his eyes full of lust, and he rose up to kiss his partner. Atsushi watched as Dazai’s lips opened against Chuuya’s and their tongues slipped into each others’ mouths, a back-and-forth cadence, that gorgeous honed rhythm. Atsushi felt a lurch below his stomach, remembering Chuuya’s tongue against his: he didn’t want to just watch.

As they kissed, Atsushi gently pulled at Chuuya’s jacket, starting to take it off his shoulders. Chuuya let him, breaking away from Dazai to allow Atsushi to pull his t-shirt over his head, and then he made for Atsushi’s belt. Atsushi had a small jolt of nerves but swallowed it, then returned the gesture, undoing the belt loop and the top button of Chuuya’s pants. He mirrored Chuuya’s actions as the redhead tucked his thumbs under Atsushi’s waistband, but he employed gravity to remove the rest of Atsushi’s clothing, and then, his own.

Chuuya eyed Atsushi as the younger man surveyed him. He was unabashed, sixty-three inches of lean muscle, powerful and beautiful, his red hair loose and cascading over his narrow shoulders. His black collar was stark against his pale skin, a leather belted choker, and Atsushi looked at it blatantly, wondering if he liked keeping it on.

“Go ahead,” Chuuya said quietly.

Atsushi swallowed and undid the belt, slowly sliding the strap as Chuuya breathed steadily, finally removing it and leaving him bare. A small scar ran along the side of his neck, hidden under the leather. Something compelled Atsushi to kiss it, and so he bent down to press his lips to Chuuya’s throat.

Chuuya wrapped his arms around Atsushi’s shoulders, using gravity to align their hips as he pressed against him. A wave of warmth shuddered through Atsushi’s body, electric and wild, all the blood suddenly rushing out of his head. He realized he had no idea what to do with his hands, no idea what to do with any part of his body, and then he felt another surge of warmth up his spine as Dazai came up behind him, pressing up against his back. Dazai’s hands traced down his sides and came to rest on his ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. And hot, wet lips fell on his skin as Dazai kissed the side of his neck, and Chuuya nipped at his other side, his tongue and teeth tracing over his collarbone and chest, and Atsushi made a noise involuntarily.

“Are you alright, Atsushi-chan?” Dazai asked sweetly.

“I . . . yeah,” Atsushi breathed. His whole body was tingling, his head spinning. He concentrated on steadying his breathing, on calming down.

Dazai’s teeth tugged on his earlobe, breathing in his ear.

“Can we take you to bed?”

Atsushi took a deep breath and nodded, and he felt an arm hook around his knees as Chuuya picked him up like a ragdoll, draping him across his shoulders. Dazai ran a hand down Atsushi’s back, the touch reminding him of how Dazai had leaned into him in the bathroom, wanting to touch him even more, and he had a thought.

Our boyfriend.

He whispered something in Chuuya’s ear, making him pause for a moment. But Chuuya understood and that wicked, devilish grin broke out on his face. Chuuya gently placed Atsushi on the mattress, and then he raised his knee and kicked Dazai forward onto his face.

Dazai fell onto the bed and turned over, surprised but scrambling to make room for them as they clambered after him. Chuuya went immediately for his chest, his fingers running under the bandages, his tongue trailing a line down his navel, drawing circles around his nipples. Dazai flinched at that, his breathing escalating, and Chuuya grinned.

“Here, Atsushi,” Chuuya instructed. “He loves that shit. Keep doing it. I’m going for his dick.”

“Don’t teach him to tease me,” Dazai groaned.

But Atsushi did pick up where he left off, carefully tracing his fingers along Dazai’s skin. Where it wasn’t scarred his skin was smooth and pliant, and Atsushi could feel the toned muscle of his chest as he slowly made his way to his nipples. Atsushi watched Dazai’s face as his fingertips spiraled around them, his hands clenching, his lips parting. And Atsushi bent his head down and made for those parted lips.

They had kissed a few moments ago, they had kissed in the abandoned lab, but still Atsushi couldn’t get enough of Dazai’s mouth on his, of those soft lips, of his light taste, the sound of his breath. In the ferris wheel, he had been tentative and hungry, but now his kiss was ravenous as he shoved his tongue in Atsushi’s mouth, unafraid to take what he wanted. Dazai’s fingers found the back of Atsushi’s head, pulling him closer, and he made an audible gasp as Chuuya dipped between his legs.

Dazai moaned against Atsushi’s mouth, his hands digging into both of their hair, gripping tighter as Chuuya worked. He brought his knees up, and Atsushi pulled away from his lips, kissing a line down his neck, down his side, towards the apex of his hips, his hands following Chuuya’s to grab on to his thighs, his ass, and Dazai suddenly gripped very tightly on Atsushi’s shoulder.

“Chuuya, stop,” he said firmly, breathless.

Chuuya raised his head from between Dazai’s legs, his mouth open and wet, his eyes wanting. It was an extremely appealing look, and Atsushi found he wanted Chuuya’s mouth on him. Dazai took a few steadying breaths; there was something supremely satisfying about how overwhelmed he was, how much pleasure they were bringing him, watching his usually composed demeanor completely unravel at their hands.

Dazai lay his hand on the back of Atsushi’s neck, his cheeks flush.

“How are you doing, Atsushi?” he asked.

“I’m — alright,” Atsushi said, half-truthfully.

He was also overwhelmed, by how much every touch sent his mind spiraling, by how unexpectedly kind they were being to him, by how beautiful and unabashedly sensual both of them were.

He shifted, the pulse under his skin throbbing close to the surface, the blood pounding between his legs, absolutely aching. It was like the tiger inside him fighting to be set free, only that was something he fought against. This, he didn’t want to fight; he wanted release. If he were alone, he would be touching himself. Only he wasn’t alone.

“Dazai,” he said, that ache surfacing in his voice. He sat back on his knees, laying his hand on his sternum, blushing horribly as he slid it down his chest. “Can you . . .?”

Dazai grinned and sat up to allow his hand to join Atsushi’s, crawling down his stomach, and Atsushi’s breathing escalated with the anticipation until Dazai’s hand gripped his cock, stroking it gently. A low moan escaped him as that electricity shot through his body, his knees shaking. He felt warm hands under his arms as Chuuya pulled on him to lay him down, and Dazai helped ease him onto his back.

He was now looking up at the ceiling, Dazai on one side of him, Chuuya on the other. Dazai leaned over him, gently running a hand through his hair, petting him softly, his brown eyes wanting, his other hand holding firmly to his erect cock. Chuuya surveyed him carefully, his mouth still wet. Atsushi wasn’t sure what else to do but tamper his breathing as Dazai touched him slowly, his palm sliding along his length, the fingers on his scalp sending shivers down his spine. He whimpered, and reached out towards Chuuya, touching his face. Chuuya turned his head, taking Atsushi’s fingertips into his mouth, and Atsushi shuddered, his free hand clenching Dazai’s leg as small webs of sensation shot through his body.

Dazai’s hand slid off his cock and onto his leg, and he carefully began to bend Atsushi’s knees, his fingers making their way towards his ass.

“Atsushi,” he said quietly, sweetly. “Can I touch inside you?”

The whisper at his ear sent a thrill through his body, and he nearly lost control at the thought of Dazai inside him. He nodded quickly, shifting his pelvis, letting Dazai part his legs, bring his hips forward.

“Chuuya.”

Chuuya was already reaching across the bed towards the nightstand, showing off his ridiculous ability as he barely touched the drawer and had it extract a small opaque bottle. Atsushi vaguely had an idea what it was, as Dazai took it and squeezed a generous amount of a viscous clear liquid on his fingers. He breathed out, his other hand braced on Atsushi’s thigh.

“Relax, and don’t panic,” Dazai instructed.

Atsushi took a breath, and he felt something hot and sharp as Dazai slid two fingers inside him.

Atsushi arched his back, his breath expelled from his lungs as pain and pleasure twinned inside him, burning from his core. He kneaded the sheets, his eyes watering, keeping his gaze on Dazai’s face, on his eyes, trying to relax. He wanted his body to be open to Dazai’s, but the fear was overtaking him again, and he felt the tiger inside him fighting to be let out. But he couldn’t let it, he had to gain control, he had to —

A hand fell on his, holding his, slightly smaller than his own, another hand lay flat on his chest, and he heard a rough voice in his ear.

“Breathe, dummy,” Chuuya said obviously.

And Atsushi felt something change, felt his body ease, felt his pulse slow to a manageable pace, almost magically. And he realized Chuuya was using gravity to help open the airways in his lungs, manage his bloodflow so he stopped panicking. He’d no idea Chuuya could do something like that — it was honestly terrifying to think he could control the intricacies of someone’s body — but it let him quell the panic and concentrate on his breath, on Dazai’s breath, on Dazai’s fingers pushing into him, on Chuuya’s hands touching him, and that pain melted into exclusive pleasure.

He cried out and writhed on the sheets as Dazai moved back and forth inside him, pushing, pushing, and he gripped Chuuya’s hand tightly.

He glanced over at Chuuya, still watching him carefully, still with wet lips.

“Chuuya,” Atsushi said quietly. He reached out a hand towards him, and Chuuya tilted his head, those ocean eyes wanting. Atsushi swallowed. “What . . . what you were doing to Dazai . . . can you . . . can you do that to me?”

Chuuya grinned.

“Whatever you want, tiger-boy,” he purred.

His red hair hung down to frame his face, tickling Atsushi’s skin as he went down on him, kissing a line down his stomach, first taking him in his hand and then in his mouth. Desire shot up Atsushi’s body like warning signals along his spine, prickling into his head. As Chuuya’s lips and tongue sucked on him and Dazai pressed inside him, he understood suddenly why Dazai had needed to slow down: it was too much, he didn’t know how much of this he could take . . .

“Wait,” Atsushi groaned, the word coming out slurred and strained. “S-stop. Please.”

Chuuya picked his head up and Dazai slid out of him slowly, and he gasped, his breathing labored. He felt that need to be pushed more, to be touched more, brimming with a hard, hot desire.

Atsushi beckoned Chuuya closer, and his entire body felt hot as Chuuya leaned down towards him, and he whispered in his ear, the first words that came to his feverish head.

“You can ride me if you want.”

Chuuya laughed and he actually blushed; it was a beautiful glow over his normally pale face.

“You two really did have fun without me,” Dazai pouted.

“Shut up,” Chuuya said, but there was no bite behind it, and he was still smiling. “It’s not what it sounds like. I just showed him I’m the better kisser.”

Dazai shifted aside as Chuuya clambered on top of him, kneeling between Atsushi’s spread legs, hands on either side of his torso. As he leaned down to kiss him, as their lips and bodies met, Atsushi could feel every inch of his small frame: his heartbeat, his chest, his legs, could feel his dick growing hard against him.

Dazai moved to give Chuuya attention, positioning himself behind the redhead and laying kisses down his spine. His hands seemed insatiable as they crawled over Chuuya’s skin, and after a moment, Chuuya broke away from Atsushi, distracted and flushed, getting harder as Dazai touched his body. Atsushi ran a hand down Chuuya’s chest, his fingers briefly meeting Dazai’s as they both brushed against his cock. With an understanding, they began to stroke him slowly, and Chuuya breathed in, trying to gain some semblance of control. Atsushi watched Dazai’s hand tangle in his hair, and then he rocked his hips into Chuuya’s ass.

Chuuya arched his back, his whole body shuddering.

“Hey,” he said sharply, though his breath was heavy, “I didn’t agree to be the middle. Shouldn’t we let Atsushi . . .?”

“We need to ease him in,” Dazai said softly. “But you can take it.”

“I —” Chuuya turned back to Atsushi.

“Chuuya,” Atsushi said, stroking his arm. He didn’t know what was coming over him, but he was desperate, he needed that touch. He squeezed his thighs against Chuuya’s, and the redhead shuddered again.

“Goddamn it,” Chuuya muttered, a look of almost pain in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Sush . . . you don’t understand. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Atsushi met Chuuya’s gaze, and he did understand, as if suddenly remembering who Chuuya was, what he was. You’re a monster, Kindred had said, a sentiment Chuuya had probably heard a hundred times over. A force of destruction, kept under mortal control. And Atsushi realized he also had no idea what might happen with his own power if he lost control, if his instinct might take over and lash out. He might scratch the shit out of Chuuya’s back . . . or worse.

Dazai snaked an arm around Chuuya’s waist, laying his hand flat across his ribcage.

“I’ve got you, Chuu,” he whispered. He reached across Chuuya’s side and touched the back of Atsushi’s leg, grasping firmly to his calf. His skin was so warm, his fingers tracing gentle circles near his knee. “I’ve got you, too, Atsushi.”

Atsushi nodded, then turned to look at Chuuya, who still seemed hesitant, nervous. He trailed his hand down Chuuya’s arm and took his hand, small, strong, and kissed his fingers. Then he opened his mouth and sucked on them, wrapping his tongue around them slowly, maintaining eye contact. Chuuya flushed and stirred, and he aligned his hips carefully before he thrust into Atsushi.

Chuuya let out a breath that Atsushi tried to match, his head swimming. That desire filled him completely, that hunger clawed at him, and he desperately wanted more, he needed more, a beast that needed to be released.

Behind Chuuya, he could see Dazai kissing his shoulders, then there was a violent jolt and Chuuya threw his head back, his long hair tangling with sweat, ragged breaths escaping him. Atsushi grabbed Dazai’s hand as best he could, clinging to his fingers, and used his other one to grab a hold of Chuuya’s back. Chuuya leaned over him as Dazai held fast to Chuuya, and as Dazai drove into him, Chuuya’s breaths turned into moans, and he thrust into Atsushi, who gripped both of them, his hips tilting forward, wanting. Chuuya rocked into him as Dazai rocked into Chuuya, his blue eyes fluttering shut, his wet mouth open, panting, moaning.

Fuck,” Chuuya swore, his voice nearly a sob. “Oh, fuck. You . . . you feel incredible. Dazai . . . please . . . I don’t know if I can . . .”

“Don’t worry, Atsushi, if Chuuya comes too soon,” Dazai breathed, his own voice ragged. “I’ll finish you off if he can’t.”

“Fuck off,” Chuuya cried. He shut his eyes tightly and strenuously altered his expression to that savage determination he had when facing down an enemy. “I’ll make you both come.”

Atsushi wanted to tell him it was alright, but he couldn’t form the words as Chuuya pushed inside him over and over, those waves building, flooding him, his whole body underwater, full of heat and light and Chuuya, and so he just grabbed Chuuya’s face and pulled him down. Chuuya’s wet, hot lips connected with his and Chuuya’s tongue glided into his mouth, kissing him long and deep and Atsushi went over the edge, his body on fire, his vision blurred, his hands clawing at Chuuya’s back.

Chuuya’s breath was uneven, his eyes unfocused, at his limit; he kneaded the sheets and Atsushi felt that heat inside him as Chuuya let go, his cry high and loud, his arms shaking. He collapsed, resting his head on Atsushi’s chest, shoulders heaving.

Dazai still held onto both of them, still pushing into Chuuya, his face flushed, and as his eyes locked with Atsushi’s, he took a shuddering breath. Atsushi could see the want, the blatant desire and the joy that filled his eyes as he came, surrounded by the people he loved. He finally breathed out, spent, and pulled Chuuya back against him.

Dazai took Chuuya in his arms and laid with him sideways on the bed. Atsushi scrambled to follow them, resting a head on Chuuya’s shoulder, taking his hand.

“You okay, Chuu?” Dazai asked gently.

“Yeah . . . probably,” he said weakly, his voice shaking. “Check on Atsushi, dipshit.”

“You’re smaller,” Dazai hummed.

“I’m stronger,” Chuuya insisted. “And I’m used to having things shoved up my ass.”

Atsushi couldn’t help but laugh, and Dazai kissed Chuuya’s forehead gently.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Chuuya muttered. He glanced at Atsushi for a moment, who must have been making some face he didn’t even realize, because Chuuya reacted. “Ughhh. I . . . love you, too, Osamu.”

“Ooh,” Dazai chimed. “Looks like Atsushi’s sweetness is rubbing off on you. I should have introduced you ages ago.”

He propped himself up on his elbows, and Atsushi let himself take in all of Dazai’s long, limber form, from the indent of his lower back to the curve of his ass, to the sharp blades of his shoulders.

“He’s right, though,” Dazai said quietly. He reached a hand over Chuuya’s prone form and caressed Atsushi’s cheek. “How are you, Atsushi? I know Chuuya’s not very big, but you’re probably going to be sore for a day or two.”

“Fuck off!” Chuuya groaned, too spent to snipe back.

“You’re — you’re plenty . . . big,” Atsushi tried, sighing. He didn’t think he would ever be able to keep up with the banter, and he didn’t even know if he wanted to.

“I’m kidding,” Dazai insisted. “He knows I’m kidding. You’re fucking beautiful, Chuu. I had to think about a lot of baseball to last as long as I did.”

Chuuya muttered a sincere thanks as Atsushi considered Dazai’s question. He certainly was sore, not just his ass, but his legs, his arms, his neck. Some of it, he knew, was not just the sex, but the fighting they’d done earlier, the regeneration. Inside him was a different kind of soreness than he’d ever felt, like he’d been on a badly fitted bike too long, but along with that soreness was the memory of it. That incredible closeness, that warmth, touching and being touched by both of them. The look on Dazai’s face, in his eyes, as he came, and Chuuya, his beautiful body bent over him, and his own voice, his own hands, his own body, racked with pleasure. The thought made him blush and want to cover his mouth, to wonder how he could have done something so embarrassing and candid . . . but he had felt incredible, and he had made them feel incredible, and more than anything he wanted that again. Were these normal feelings when people had sex?

“I . . . think I’m alright,” he said slowly. “I feel . . . weird. A little . . .sad. Empty.”

“You’re coming down,” Dazai said simply. “Chuuya, move.”

Chuuya actually didn’t seem to be able to do so, but he made himself smaller so Dazai could clamber over him and take Atsushi in his arms instead. Atsushi in turn grabbed Chuuya and pulled him against himself, and they lay lined up like nesting dolls.

“How do you feel now?” Dazai purred.

“Good. This is nice,” Atsushi sighed. “Erm. I feel kind of . . . sticky.”

“Ah,” Dazai chimed. “That’s easy enough to take care of.”

* * *

There wasn’t enough space in the bathtub for all three of them, so Chuuya hastily cleaned up and allowed him and Dazai some privacy while he stepped out to smoke on the balcony.

Dazai removed his own new bandages and sat back in the tub while Atsushi nested in front him, back to his chest, Dazai’s legs sprawled on either side of him. Even after all the intimacy, this was different. It was the first time they’d been truly alone since their date, and Atsushi felt dizzy thinking of how things had escalated since then. But . . . he was happy. And more importantly, Dazai seemed to be very happy.

There was a front Dazai had up most of the time. A facade he had for the agency, of a smart but unmotivated man, and a dynamic with Chuuya of hurling insults that were disguised affection. But here, alone, Dazai dropped all of that, and he curled his arms around Atsushi’s torso and breathed deeply into his shoulder.

“I’m usually content to die, if it comes to it,” Dazai muttered, “but alone in the lab, I was really bummed out that if I did, I wouldn’t get to kiss you again.”

Atsushi laughed nervously.

“I kind of thought the same thing,” he admitted. They were on the same terrible page, but it felt nice to be on that same page. “How I didn’t want to lose you because we had only just kissed. You’re not . . . more inclined to die now that we’ve had sex, are you?”

“No more than usual,” Dazai sighed.

“I don’t want you to die,” Atsushi said numbly. “I’m sorry if that makes me selfish.”

Something about that seemed to tickle Dazai, and he chuckled.

“I don’t want you to die, either. Chuuya said that I’m a hypocrite in that regard. Don’t tell him this, but he’s usually right.”

Atsushi swallowed, wondering if now was the time to ask about Chuuya, when Dazai made the opening for him.

“I love you, Atsushi,” he said quietly. “I love Chuuya, too, but . . . I don’t love you any less.”

Atsushi blushed, leaning back into Dazai’s body.

“I know,” he said, truthfully. He knew it would take time to internalize it, but that was his own problem. “I love you, too. I think you know that. You’ve probably known it longer than I did.”

Dazai gave a small laugh, not denying it.

“I hope you don’t feel used,” he continued seriously. “I’m well aware that being my boyfriend is a lot to ask of someone. So . . . I figure if there’s two of you . . . you only have to bear half the brunt.”

Once again, Atsushi missed the point of the statement and zeroed in on exactly the wrong thing, his head pounding.

“Um. So I’m . . . I’m your boyfriend?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dazai hummed. “If you want. I think . . . you’ll be a great partner. You’re a bit of a yang to my yin.”

“Sure,” Atsushi agreed, not entirely sure the philosophy was right there, but not knowing enough to correct him. “I’ve never . . .felt this way about someone before. But I know I want to be with you.” He leaned back against his partner, feeling at once whole and empty. “And . . .what about Chuuya?”

“He’s also my boyfriend,” Dazai said without hesitation. “I don’t have a finite amount of affection.”

“No, I meant . . . for me.”

He looked back at Dazai, whose expression had changed to that familiar knowing smile.

“It seems like you were trying to get us together,” Atsushi said flatly.

“I wasn’t!” Dazai said in denial. “But I’m not upset about it.”

He pet Atsushi’s head absently, thinking.

“I thought . . . after tonight, the two of you’d become friends or at least acquaintances,” he admitted. “I wanted my partners to get along, though without the torture would have been nice.” He sighed. “I honestly didn’t think he ever wanted another partner with all the pain I’ve caused him. I’d no idea you could get him to open up like that, you truly are a wonder. Well,” he added, his voice low, “we both fucked him good tonight, what do you think? Do you want to do that again?”

“Yes,” Atsushi said, surprising himself at how quickly he’d answered.

Dazai took his hand.

“Looks like we all have two boyfriends, Atsushi.”

* * *

Atsushi later asked if Chuuya wanted some time alone with Dazai, to which he laughed aloud.

“He’ll invade my space with or without my permission when he feels like it,” Chuuya shrugged. “So I’ve already got plenty of that. Oh. I guess . . . you can, too.” He pulled out his phone for a minute and typed something, then there was a mechanical sound from the front of the apartment. “I won’t give you a key because I’m not an idiot, but I made you a code. Same as Dazai’s. My age when we met, day we first kissed.”

“Oh.” Atsushi blushed. That was oddly sentimental. “He picked it, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Chuuya said gruffly. He lit another cigarette, looking aside. “Listen, Atsushi. Tonight was . . . something else. I . . . never expected we’d end up like this. But I get it if you want to continue seeing just Dazai. I know he’s special to you, and you certainly didn’t ask to get roped into my shit.”

Atsushi’s heart sank, confused.

“Of course I don’t,” he said automatically. “Do you . . . not want me?”

Chuuya didn’t answer right away, taking a drag.

“You’re surprisingly easy to be with,” he said quietly. “You know, despite the whole Detective thing. You remind me of myself . . . the parts I don’t . . . the parts I don’t hate.” He stabbed out the cigarette. “So, yeah. I’d like to keep you.”

Atsushi smiled, and to his surprise, Chuuya blushed, turning aside as though Atsushi’s smile was too much for him to handle.

“Chuuya, you’re amazing,” Atsushi started. “You’re . . . the coolest person I’ve ever met. You’re smart and practical and . . . you’ve been so nice to me.”

“It’s impossible not to be nice to you,” Chuuya muttered. “Have you seen your face?”

Atsushi gave a small smile and reached for Chuuya’s hand. He still felt that small tingling, that singularity, but that wasn’t what had attracted him. He bit his lip for a moment, gathering the courage, channeling his boyfriends’ boldness.

“And,” Atsushi started, his voice low, “I really like . . . I like your tongue. And . . . your hands.”

Chuuya raised his eyebrows, then gave that wicked, gorgeous grin.

“Likewise, tiger-boy,” he purred. “I’ll ride you any time you want.”

He leaned forward and kissed Atsushi gently, his hand slowly creeping into his hair, the taste of cigarettes still lingering on his breath.

He withdrew to head inside, and Atsushi followed.

“Want a drink?”

“I’d better not,” Atsushi said. “We probably have to turn in at work tomorrow to debrief.”

“I’ll take one.” Dazai stepped out of the bathroom wearing a t-shirt that barely fit him, and Atsushi had to guess it was one of Chuuya’s. “The good stuff, please. Some of us had half our blood drained tonight.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes but complied, easing down a top-shelf liquor and pouring a few fingers. Dazai sat at the table and sipped it contentedly.

“I can’t believe I have to keep an eye on two of you idiots now,” Chuuya sighed. “One detective boyfriend was enough, but two? Kouyou’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“It works out perfectly for me,” Dazai mused. “I’ll always have someone on hand to smooch.”

“Yeah, of course you always fix the circumstances to come out so it works out perfectly for you,” Chuuya huffed.

“So . . .” Atsushi interrupted. “Boyfriend . . . is alright to say? Or. . . partner?”

“Whatever you want,” Dazai shrugged. He took Atsushi’s hand across the table. “Doesn’t matter to me. Partner is more all-inclusive but gets kind of muddy, especially since we’re detectives. I’ve heard the word throuple, it’s not the worst. Triad’s another one.”

“I like triad, makes it sound like we’re in the Mafia,” Chuuya said ironically. “Don’t fuck with us.”

“How did you forget for a second you’re actually in the Mafia?” Dazai sighed.

He took another sip of his drink when a low buzzing interrupted him. Atsushi felt one as well, and they both reached for their phones.

“Kindred is secured at the Agency,” Dazai said aloud, interpreting Kunikida’s long and detailed text message. “They’ll be questioning him as soon as he’s conscious again. We’re expected back tomorrow morning. Erm.” He made a face as he looked at the clock above the sink. “In like 5 hours.”

Atsushi made a face as well, exhausted. He hoped after catching up the rest of the Agency, he and Dazai would be allowed to go home to rest. But he noticed Chuuya’s expression had also changed, his knees drawn into his chest as he sat on the kitchen chair, as only a smaller person could do comfortably.

“I’m gonna burn that lab down,” he said quietly. “I’m going to destroy every trace of it. Don’t stop me.”

Far from stopping him, Dazai leaned over and wrapped an arm around him. Atsushi went to his other side to do the same, and he could feel Chuuya’s stiff muscles relax as they embraced him.

“Tell me when and I’ll be there,” Dazai said.

“Me too,” Atsushi echoed.

Chuuya unexpectedly trembled, his shoulders shaking; it wasn’t until he felt something wet on his cheek that Atsushi pulled away. Chuuya’s eyes were shut, he was gnawing on his lip, being as silent as possible as tears trickled down his face.

“Shit,” Chuuya croaked, shoving his hand over his eyes. “I — I’m just tired. It’s been a fucking long day.”

“I bet, Chuu,” Dazai said quietly.

They both held him tightly until he physically used gravity to shove them away.

“Get out of here,” he said. “You should get back to the agency before Kindred wakes up.”

Atsushi kissed his cheek, and he and Dazai started to gather their things to leave. As they headed for the door, Atsushi heard Chuuya speak quietly, almost to himself.

“Shit, do I need to get a bigger bed?”

* * *

Chuuya kissed them both goodbye before they headed down to catch a taxi back to the Agency. Atsushi’s head spun as soon as he stepped back out into the streets, so sure the last half a day had just been a dream. It was so strange, the stark difference between the world outside in Yokohama, the everyday ordinary life, and the strange realm of Chuuya’s apartment, of his bedroom. It was easy to give in to the doubts in the back of his mind that he’d ever be back, those invasive thoughts saying Dazai and Chuuya only saw him as a toy, a novelty. But Dazai’s hand upon his was solid, and as they stepped into the cab, it became even more surreal.

“I have something for you.”

Dazai reached into his jacket and pulled out a flip phone. The style was old but it was brand new, the LED screen on the front lighting up in blue. Atsushi took it and opened it, wondering if there was some weird message inside. But it was clean, nothing pre-programmed except for two phone numbers saved in the directory.

Tall Boyfriend

Short Boyfriend

“Thank you,” Atsushi said sincerely, his stomach tying in knots. “Chuuya’s going to hate it.”

“Don’t let him see it,” Dazai mused. “Here’s mine.”

Dazai’s burner phone was much older with much more wear, but he showed his phone book with similarly two listings. His said Cute BF, Angry BF.

“Here’s the twist, Sush, you’re the angry one,” he joked.

Atsushi cracked a smile and leaned against Dazai’s shoulder. Without prompt, Dazai wrapped an arm around him, even sneaking a few fingers under his shirt to caress his side.

“You let me know how out you want to be at work,” Dazai sighed. “I don’t really care one way or the other. And Ranpo’s gonna figure it out, so . . .” He shrugged. Atsushi nodded, feeling that odd unease of the real world slipping into his dream realm. This was real, this was real. “It doesn’t have to be now. We should probably concentrate on figuring out what to tell everyone about Kindred.”

“And . . . Chuuya,” Atsushi added, remembering Kindred’s other chilling vision.

“Yes. I’ll take care of that one.” He was frowning, and Atsushi recalled that dissonance the two of them must have when it came to matters like this.

“You don’t think . . . we’re going to have to hurt him?”

“I mean, no,” Dazai sighed. “Good luck trying to hurt him, anyway, he’ll sweep the floor with any of us. Remember, during that Cannibalism mess we basically had to lock him in a box to avoid fighting him.” He smiled, his gaze far away, and Atsushi had to imagine Dazai was very attracted to and proud of Chuuya’s strength. Atsushi had felt the same way watching Chuuya take down their attackers in the lab. “But that balance is part of the deal, unfortunately. It does get easier . . . and it kinda gets more fun. Fucking him in a proprietary Port Mafia warehouse after a standoff was pretty hot.”

Dazai,” Atsushi scolded, blushing.

Though he couldn’t help imagining that scenario, of the two of them meeting up surreptitiously in the dark, feeling their way towards each other, Dazai bending Chuuya over a storage box, pushing his arms above his head, his fingers shoved in Chuuya’s mouth to muffle him, Chuuya twisting under him, his back arching. And how, in the future, he might be part of a scenario just like that, pressed between them as their hands crawled all over him, Chuuya kissing him, Dazai fucking him, or the other way around . . .

“But . . .we don’t need to be back for a few hours,” Dazai replied, rousing Atsushi from his reverie. “So . . .” He squeezed Atsushi’s hip and lowered his voice. “Do you mind if I go home with you?”

Atsushi’s face got hot, that heat extending down to the rest of his body. His very sore and bruised body. As much as his mind was winding its way down dark and dirty corridors, he didn’t think it was the best idea to follow it. Dazai, who had literally been tortured hours ago, even more so needed to rest.

“I . . . I’d love that,” he said plainly. “Erm. I . . . actually want to go to sleep, though.”

“Okay,” Dazai promised, his lips curling into a smile.

“Osamu,” Atsushi said sternly. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, okay,” Dazai conceded, waving his free hand. “You’re starting to sound like Chuuya, pushing me around. Fine, you’ve convinced me. We’ll go back to yours and go to sleep before heading into the office for the debrief. And then . . . how about another date?”

Atsushi grinned.

“Yeah,” he replied. “You’ll pay this time?”

“Fine,” Dazai sighed. He gazed out the window as dawn broke over the city, mumbling to himself. “You’d think having two boyfriends would mean I could get out of paying for dates.”

Notes:

Shit, lol, upon re-reading this, the sex scene feels very ReaderxDazaixChuuya, but whatever.

Mouth: I joke about over-using the word “finger” in sex scenes I write. In this one the overused word is definitely “mouth”, specifically Chuuya’s mouth. If you want to make yourself laugh, replace every instance with “gaping maw.”

Lube: This might actually be the first sex scene where I explicitly included lube? Anyway, last time I bought some the brand was also giving out enamels pins, like what the fuck am I gonna do with this, put it on my work bag? Here’s my brand endorsement.

Baseball: This is a pretty dumb joke about a common piece of advice for er, lasting longer.

I wonder if I have found my weird niche, thanks everyone for reading. I had such a good time writing this. HMU if you want more of this shit. I take requests. Until then I’ll be here making dumb literary jokes no one else gets.

This story now has a full-on sequel called Triple Threat and a couple of oneshots in a series called The Triad of Yokohama. If you like this, you should read them. <3

Series this work belongs to: