Thread by @H4NDKINK

KING, CONQUERED:

- PWP thread of trans masc chuuya pegging Dazai

My super late entry for bottomzai week LMAO <3

Power is something that Chuuya has been forced to get used to. For most of his childhood and his young adult years, power was something that was regularly stolen from him. His decisions made for him, his bodily autonomy taken away, his life carefully cultivated by someone who

wasn’t him.

Sometimes, power is in making decisions for yourself without having to worry about someone else. Sometimes power is money, opportunities, weapons, confidence. Sometimes power is what you /steal/ from others—

And sometimes power is something that is freely given.

Sometimes, power is in the form of the most dangerous man Chuuya has ever met, lying flat on his back for him.

Dazai is not a creature that ever takes anything lying down. He’s not a /fighter/ the way Chuuya is—all teeth and nails and furious defiance— but that doesn’t mean he’s

/weak/. He plans, that’s his thing. He plots and anticipates and manipulates everyone to his will so that he never ends up like this:

Flat on his back and naked. Miles of scarred skin on display, toned muscles moving erratically underneath his skin. One leg pushed to the side,

the other hitched around Chuuya’s hip, thighs tense and trembling.

Vulnerable but not /scared/, dark eyes bright with daring heat, cock flushed and hard against his stomach. Submitting willingly but /not/ helpless, a lethal beast accepting pleasure and pets for the time being,

claws sheathed for now.

Chuuya admires him, running his palm over his thigh, up his hip, dipping his fingers into the vee of his abdominal muscles. He’s so /pretty/, every part of him so inherently attractive that it’s sometimes hard to tell if he wants to /be/ Dazai or wants

to fuck him or wants to be fucked by him.

He wants him, plain and simple and true, in every sense of the word. Wants him in every way possible.

“Come on,pretty boy,” Dazai purrs beneath him, the edge of power in his voice tempered and tempting, a devil's deal on a silver tongue

“You just gonna sit there and look at me, or you gonna do something about it?”

It’s not like Chuuya /forgot/ why they were here, or what he’s about to do, he was just appreciating the /view/. Trust Dazai to be so /impatient/ when he’s on the receiving end,though.

Cute. The man

is almost-agonizingly controlled and patient when he’s in control, but when he hands over that power to Chuuya… the tables turn.

With an indulgent sigh, Chuuya reaches /down/, past the jutting rod of silicon between his legs, fixed in place with straps around his thighs and

hips, down to where he’s wet and dripping with excitement.

It’s not /necessary/, considering that they’ve used almost half a medium-sized bottle of lube as Chuuya painstakingly opened Dazai up, and the dildo is soaked, but there’s something /hot/ about dipping his fingers

briefly into himself, gathering up the slick and moving his hand back up to smear the wet over the head of the dildo. Something /primal/, instinctive, staking his claim on Dazai.

Brown eyes flare with heat, pupils so dilated his eyes might as well be /black/, gaze fixed on the

flex of Chuuya’s forearm as he gives the strap a performative stroke. Showing off, reiterating how /big/ it is.

It might be Dazai’s first time taking an actual cock— silicon or not— but Chuuya’s not going to go /easy/ on him. Dazai rarely goes easy on him, so it’s only fair to

return the favor now that he has the chance. He had the option to back out when Chuuya showed it to him, and he didn’t.

“Don’t be so /impatient/, Osamu,” Chuuya sighs, taking a page out of Dazai’s book and mocking him ever-so-slightly. With his dry hand, he pushes his thigh up

farther, giving himself more room to work with as he angles the head of the dildo to Dazai’s rim.

Despite the fact that Dazai was /slightly/ nervous the first time Chuuya brought up the idea of fucking him, and it took a bit of convincing to get them here,he doesn’t tense up or

even hitch a breath when Chuuya presses against him.

He merely arches an eyebrow, as confident as a king waiting for his lover to please him, waiting to be given what he wants.

“Impatient? That’s the word you want to use right now, love, when I /know/ you’re soaked for me?

I’m hardly the only /impatient/ one,” he drawls, hitching his leg higher and digging his heel into Chuuya’s lower back.

He’s right, of course he is— he’s almost /always/ right, but it's not like Chuuya would be anything but wet when he has Dazai spread out underneath him like

this. He loves being fucked, but the idea of fucking /Dazai/ with his cock, is exciting enough to have him halfway to orgasm already. Has his breath coming faster, heart pounding, and they haven’t even /started/.

Instead of answering him and giving Dazai more ammunition to work

with, Chuuya merely leans forward and begins the slow process of pushing into him. Their height difference is such that they can’t kiss unless Dazai leans up and meets him halfway, but Chuuya gets a close view of the way his eyes widen with shock, the way his pupils dilate and

his breath hitches.

Gets to see the way his head tips back on a swallowed moan, throat working, one of his hands sliding down to find Chuuya’s thigh and wrapping nearly the entire width of it and /squeezing/. Gets to watch the way Dazai looks as he takes a /cock/ for the first

time. Not fingers, not a small toy, but a cock.

/Chuuya’s/ cock.

He can feel the pressure and tightness of his body, making him work for every centimeter that Chuuya pushes inside him. The base of the strap, with the way it’s positioned, grinds against his clit with just

enough pressure to tease him with shocks of pleasure. Not enough to give him what he needs, but just enough to drive him wild, enough to make him want to fuck forward with the entire strength of his body behind it, to mindlessly chase his own pleasure with Dazai’s body.

He’s not

/cruel/ though, and he’s well aware that hurting Dazai now will end up with punishment later, so he keeps himself to slow rocks of his hips, burying the dildo inside him inch by agonizingly slow inch. He wants this to be good for Dazai, wants this to become something they both

want and enjoy, and he doesn’t want to screw this up.

Fucking Dazai is a privilege, one that no one else has ever had, and he doesn’t want to ruin it for either of them. He wants to do this /again/ someday, already.

Dazai’s chest expands on a shuddering inhale, his knee

pressing against Chuuya’s ribs. The sight naturally leads his gaze downward, fascinated by the play of bones and muscle underneath his skin. Further down, his cock is still mostly hard, barely softened by the feeling of Chuuya pushing inside him.

That’s a good sign, and the

sight /alone/ has Chuuya licking his lips, lust burning through him. Dazai has such a /nice/ cock--long and thick and curved prettily--, and he uses it so well. He’s half-tempted to pull out and climb on top of him instead, cunt clenching with emptiness.

He controls the urge by

reaching down with his free hand, fingers finding the length of his erection and wrapping around it. Dazai inhales again, sharp, and now Chuuya can /feel/ the way his body tightens up at the friction.

He grins, giving him a slow stroke, almost the way he likes it. Pressure

a fraction too lose, pace a hair too slow, a tease. A hint of pleasure, just to give him a taste of what comes next. Also to get him /ready/, to make it easier for Chuuya to keep going.

Another shuddering breath, another inch inside him, and now Chuuya is slightly over halfway

in. Dazai’s thighs are tense, trembling around him, heel digging into him near-painfully. He can almost /feel/ the ripples of his inner muscles, clenching down in waves.

Chuuya stops there, letting him breathe. He’s doing /well/, considering. When it was Chuuya’s first time

taking /him/, he felt like he was going to break open when it was only halfway in, feeling stuffed full to the brims, overflowing.

Besides, he wants to kiss him, and he can’t do that when Dazai is arching his back and squirming underneath him.

He slides his other hand up his

side, tapping at his side until Dazai’s chin is dipping down so he can look at him. His eyes are nearly pitch black, slightly unfocused, sweat on his temples and hair sticking wetly to his forehead. He’s /gorgeous/, already fucked-out, hazy and dazed, and Chuuya wants nothing

more than to drink the sounds of pleasure right out of his mouth.

When he’s looking, Chuuya pouts his lips at him, giving him the silent signal that he wants to be kissed. It’s a signal he had to /develop/, because Dazai is much too tall to kiss on his own power—unless he climbs

him like a /tree/, which is always fun, but not always an option— and so he needs a little help. Kissing is a team effort, with their size difference.

A huff of amusement escapes Dazai when he notices, and like always, he gives in to his demand. Planting one elbow on the bed, he

braces his weight to lift upwards.

The movement makes his legs slide down, Chuuya rocking that much deeper inside him with the added weight. Dazai’s breath catches in his throat, and his exhale is tinged with a breathy groan. He can even feel him /clench/ in response, a quick

instinctive reaction before his body relaxes again.

It’s fucking /hot/, and he can’t wait to feel that sensation again and again. Can’t /wait/ to feel him cum on his strap.

Dazai’s other hand slides up his side, knuckles brushing over the sensitive underside of his tit. His

nipple gets treated to a teasing slide of fingertips, the piercing sending a shockwave of sensation through him as Dazai just /barely/ flicks the metal before moving upward. He gasps, leaning forward, chasing the pleasure in search for more.

At the end of its journey, his hand

curls around the back of Chuuya’s neck. It’s barely a tug that has him leaning down, meeting Dazai halfway.

Their lips come together, a perfect match for each other. Gentle at first, affectionate, before the desire between them flares into life. It only takes a single swipe of

Dazai’s tongue over his bottom lip to have the kiss devolving in a heated tangle of teeth and tongue and pleasure, hot breath and even hotter groans, driving each other higher in an effort to make the other break first.

As always,like every other teasing game they play together,

Dazai manages to win in one quick move, a checkmate that Chuuya isn’t expecting.

“Come on, little love,” is smeared across his bottom lip, a purred temptation, “It’s /cute/ that you’re being so gentle with me, but I can take whatever you give me. Don’t you want to /fuck me/?

You’re the first man who’s ever been inside me— show me what you’ve got.”

Arousal bursts through Chuuya so strongly that he almost comes from the words alone. He just /barely/ holds himself back by sinking his teeth into his own lip, hard enough to hurt. It’s not that he

/shouldn’t/ come or that he doesn’t want to, it’s just that it’s harder to have multiple orgasms ever since he started testereone.

The trade off is that the orgasms are somehow even /better/, and he wants to cum with Dazai. Wants to see that beautiful cock twitch and leak, wants

to feel him clench and shudder underneath him— /around/ him— before he rides out his own orgasm.

Digging his fingers into Dazai’s side— because he /does/ like pain, if it’s given to him the way he likes, when it’s given to him by Chuuya— he does as he’s told and snaps his hips

forward in one quick-brutal move, sinking all the way to the base. His hips press against his ass, the tattoo on his lower belly hidden with how close they are.

Dazai hisses directly into his mouth, hand tightening in his hair. It’s an unconscious pull, not purposeful, but it

makes Chuuya smirk all the same. He loves being able to pull noises from him, make him grunt and groan and /cry/. It’s a power trip like nothing else, getting this powerful, arrogant man on his back and making /him/ mindless for a change.

He gives him a moment to adjust, feeling

the way his body ripples around him. His legs have curled again, knees hitching higher and pressing into his ribs. His heels are digging into Chuuya’s ass, dragging him closer and making sure he can’t pull back just yet.

Smirking, Chuuya nips at him at the same time he drops his

free hand to his cock. His palm is still slick with the lube he used to open him up, so he’s able to wrap his fingers around him and start off with a long, indulgent pace.

He focuses on the head, teasing Dazai with the taste of true friction, pumping slowly up and down. He’s

still mostly hard— not as hard as he /could/ be, and barely leaking pre-cum, but that’s not a problem— and Chuuya uses his weaknesses against him, finding all his best spots and teasing him mercilessly until he’s throbbing in his palm again.

It’s only when Dazai is leaking

pre-cum again, the tip of his cock wet, that Chuuya starts to set up a rhythm. The first rocks of his hips are slow and short, barely pulling out before pressing back in. It’s testing, teasing, getting Dazai used to friction and movement before he dares to go further.

Each

movement pushes a breath from Dazai, one that Chuuya swallows down whole, relishing the hint of a moan he can taste there. It’s addicting, thrilling, enthralling, and he wants nothing more than to hear that sound /forever/. Wants to pull that sound from him again and again, until

the only sound Dazai can make is sweet, bitten-off moans, the broken sounds of his name.

It takes him quite a few tries to get the right angle, adjusting his hips and weight. It’s not as intuitive as he thought it would be, and it ends up being more of a matter of experimenting

with different angles until he finally finds the perfect one.

He knows he’s found it when Dazai’s /next/ breath comes out hitched and broken, and the kiss pauses. His fingers tighten in his hair again, legs squeezing to drag him in closer, /harder/.

"Fuck," he breathes against

his mouth, hot. "/There/. Again, love, /please/."

Oh,he /likes/ it when Dazai begs. The sound sends a fissure of heart-pounding lust down his spine, curling between his hips.

He grinds forward again, at the same angle, getting the delicious double friction of pressure grinding

against his clit at /just/ the right angle, and swallowing Dazai's next moan.

It's high, breathy, /addictive/. Dazai is usually more of a /beast/ in bed, all grunts and growls and scraping teeth. Hard hands and savage hips, driving Chuuya ruthlessly from one orgasm to the next

to the next. It's the intensity of a /dangerous/ man, focused entirely on Chuuya, dragging pleasure out of both of them.

When he's /softer/, he's quieter. When he takes his time, making sure Chuuya is fucked full and /long/, drawing it out for hours. Then, his noises are mostly

hitched moans, breathy whispers. Quiet and intimate and /loving/, being as closely connected as they possibly could be.

/Now/, though,his voice is climbing /higher/, pitchier, a sweet moan caught in his throat and gaining volume with each grind of Chuuya's hips. Like he's losing

/control/, unravelling underneath him, becoming a being /not/ of control and intent--

But one of /pleasure/, desperate for more of it, losing his mind in the sea of it.

Victory and /pride/ bubbles up in Chuuya so strongly he feels dizzy with it. /He's/ dragging those noises

from him, /he's/ the one making him sound like that, /he's/ the one fucking him.

The pace he sets up is slower than Dazai probably wants, deep and hard, circling his hips in relentlessly slow movements. He can feel the way his heel digs into his lower back, urging him on,

silently encouraging him to go /faster/, harder, give him /more/.

Dazai likes to /play/ as the patient one, but he'll gorge himself on pleasure until he's sick with it, and he never knows when to /stop/. If he had his way, this first round would probably be jackrabbit fast and

hard, over just as quickly as it begun. Pleasure and heat, as fast and as savage as he can get it, drowning.

That /is/ appealing,simply because of the fact that Chuuya wants to see him /cry/. It's a rare thing, and he /adores/ the sight of caramel-brown eyes swimming with tears.

On the other hand, he doesn't want it to be over so /soon/. He wants to /savor/ it, wants to savor the power he has over Dazai. It's rarely so visceral as it is right now, inked abs flexing to meet his next thrust, deepening the angle.

Who knows when he'll have this privilege

again? Dazai rarely denies him something he truly wants, but this is out of his comfort zone.

Chuuya has to make it /perfect/ for him. Has to show him that handing the power over and being stuffed full with /his/ cock, is worth every second of vulnerability.

Concentrating so he

can think /past/ the edge of pleasure that makes him want to lose his mind and go /crazy/, he focuses on building up a steady rhythm. Pulling out slowly, so Dazai can feel every /inch/ of him, every ridge and bump of his cock on his rim. Thrusting back in /hard/, as deep as he

can get, grinding his hips against Dazai's ass as hard as he can.

Hitting the right angle every time is /hard/, and takes a lot of concentration when his abs and thighs are starting to burn with effort. Not to mention that Dazai is arching /into/ him, groaning, and as hot as it

is, it makes it /hard/ to fuck him properly. It makes it hard to keep his balance and keep him in /place/.

With a frustrated growl, Chuuya slips his hand under his knee again. Despite how Dazai might appear, he's more flexible than he looks, and it's relatively easy to pin that

knee to his chest. That, combined with Chuuya wrapping his other hand around his other thigh, locking it in place around his hip--

Takes away most of his leverage and leaves him /helpless/.

A vulnerability Chuuya takes advantage of. "Stop moving," he orders, breathless,

drowning in power and filth and sin. And, like every other time he gets /confident/--

He also gets /cocky/. Bratty, as Dazai would say.

"/Slut/."

He pairs the sneer with a snap of his hips, burying himself as deeply as possible and grinding there.

Untouched, Dazai's cock

twitches, smearing pre-cum over his lower belly. /Cute/.

Dazai's jaw drops open on a louder moan, fingers digging into Chuuya's forearms to drag him closer. From this close, he gets an /exquisite/ view of his eyes open, the brown of his eyes hazy and his pupils huge. An entire

galaxy held in his eyes, a reflection of Chuuya's entire world.

Then he registers what's being said to him, and he /laughs/. Short, breathless, disbelieving little laugh, one that makes Chuuya's heart trip in his chest.

God, it hits him out of /nowhere/, sometimes, how much he

loves this man.

"Yeah?" He asks,amusement thick in his tone. Taking that moment to finally drop onto his back again, he arches his spine to show off every muscle that Chuuya is /jealous/ over. In a flash, his knee is sliding out of his grip and hooking over his shoulder instead.

He /squeezes/, dragging him in. "Go on, then. Make a /slut/ out of me. You're going to have to do better than that~."

There's /no/ way Chuuya isn't getting out calling him that without a punishment-- a /funishsment/, really, because Dazai has rarely done anything he didn't enjoy

wholeheartedly and wouldn't love to do again-- so he might as well make it /worth/ it, right?

/Fuck/ slow and steady, then. They'll have time for that /later/ but right now--

Chuuya has something to /prove/.

He lurches forward, planting his hands on either side of Dazai. With

their height difference, he /still/ has to look up to make eye contact with Dazai, but when he /does/--

He gives him a sharp, self-satisfied grin, all cocky confidence as he starts up a faster pace. He uses all the strength in his abs and thighs to fuck Dazai fast and /hard/,

driving into him with the ruthlessness of a conqueror. Their hips slap together lightly with every thrust, the sound of skin smacking filling the air intoxicatingly.

With the way the strap is shaped, Chuuya doesn't get a /lot/ of stimulation like this. Stray grinds and lucky

shots of pressure, but nothing consistent. It's /almost/ disappointing, but seeing the way Dazai falls apart beneath him is /more/ than enough.

Seeing his full lips part in pitchy gasps and moans, feeling the vibration of them rise in his throat, feels like it sends sensation

/straight/ to his clit, building him up higher and higher. Whenever his thighs rub together, wetness smears between them.

Dazai's chest is heaving, never seeming to be able to catch a full breath. Sweat is dotting his forehead, and further down, his cock has smeared pearlescent

pre-cum all over his abs, even as untouched as he is.

Chuuya kind of wants to see if he /can/ come untouched. They didn't talk about it, and he wouldn't make Dazai if he didn't want to try but--

With how hard he's throbbing, erection flushed a pretty pink and twitching

with the rhythm of Chuuya's thrusts, it seems like he /might/ be able to. If he pushes him hard enough, fucks him good enough, maybe he'll cum on his cock /alone/.

It's a temptation he can't ignore, something he wants so /badly/ he doesn't even have the /words/ for it. All he

knows is the driving, frenetic need to do /better/. To keep the perfect angle, no matter how much strain it puts on his thighs. To keep his hips snapping on a strong rhythm, upping the pace until the sounds pouring out of Dazai are more of a continuous, bouncing moan. To tilt his

head up to make searing eye contact with him, because he knows Dazai likes when he /watches/. To put aside his own escalating tension and focus entirely on getting every reaction out of Dazai that he possibly can, chasing after the reactions that speak of /pleasure/.

Everything

is so /hot/, boiling, a mess of frantic need and searing pleasure, a race to the end--

A race that is almost ended /too soon/ when one of Dazai's hands slides down his own torso, on the way to wrap his fingers around his own cock. To jerk himself off to the the finish.

As

/lovely/ as that sight always is, Chuuya can't help the disappointed little grumble that escapes him. /He/ wants to make Dazai cum, and even if his needs his hand too, he can do that. He knows how to stroke him /exactly/ the way he likes.

Long, clever fingers pause slightly,

before continuing on their journey in a slightly different direction.

Fingertips smear through the mess of pre-cum on his stomach, gathering up the liquid. When he raises his fingers again, the sticky fluid stretches between his fingers in short, thin strings that shine in the

light.

Bringing his hand back up, he pushes his fingers into Chuuya's open mouth. He nearly chokes on them, surprised, before practiced reflexes kick in and he closes his mouth around them to /suck/.

Pre-cum is bitter on his tongue, but the taste of Dazai is /divine. Salt and

power, kings blood, the taste of god on his tongue. Addiction personified.

"You're making a /mess/ out of me," Dazai says, and despite that his voice is still hitching and bounces with the rhythm of Chuuya's still-moving hips, he sounds /much/ too composed for his tastes.

When

Chuuya's the one being fucked, it's not an uncommon occurence that he's being fucked /mindless/. Incoherent with pleasure, turned into a creature made of desire and need, barely able to think about anything other than the need for /more/.

He /wants/ to do the same for Dazai, but

perhaps it's too much to ask for on his first time fucking someone in earnest.

Practice makes perfect,after all. He just needs more /time/.

"Are you gonna clean me up when you're done with me? Lick me clean like the good boy you are?"

Stomach lurching pleasantly, Chuuya sucks

/harder/ in response, rubbing his tongue against the pad of Dazai's fingers to make sure he gets every drop.

He's a good boy, he /is/, he /loves/ being good, and Dazai makes it /so easy/. After years of thinking he was /defective/ for being the way he is, after years of hating

his body because it wasn't /right/, after years of pain and humiliation--

He just wants to be a /good boy/.

Dazai hooks his fingers behind his bottom teeth, holding his head in place firmly. On the next thrust, he's rolling down to meet him, abs working in a mouth-watering set

of movements.

"/Harder/."

Chuuya's body is moving before he can process the order in it's entirety, hips pulling back quickly just to snap forward again, driving into Dazai's body with every ounce of strength available.

"Yes," Dazai /snarls/, satisfaction oozing from his tone.

The heel pressed to his middle back digs in unconsciously, bracing himself for the next thrust. His cock jumps again, hard.

He's holding his breath now, face starting to turn red. Trembles are racking his frame, and his grip has turned to iron, a sure sign that he's starting to

climb to the peak. He always forgets his strength when he's near orgasm, always leaves bruises on Chuuya in the shape of fingers and teeth.

Beyond the screaming need for /friction/-- because he hasn't gotten much /himself/, and watching Dazai shake himself to pieces has only

driven him /higher/, and he /needs/ more-- there's the burning ache of effort settled in his thighs and abs. He thought he was strong, but the effort of fucking Dazai the way he wants and /deserves/ is much more than he thought it would be.

Still, he manages to pick up the pace

somehow, leaning forward to make use of gravity. The movement tilts Dazai's hips upward, lifting them off the bed and taking away all of his leverage.

He must /like/ that, because the next slam of Chuuya's hips makes his eyes roll back into his head and his legs tighten. The

next one has his breath shuddering out, cock throbbing against his stomach, and the /next/--

Makes a loud, breathless moan spill from him.

/Fuck/.

Chuuya leans forward farther, practically bending him in half as he thrusts into him again and again, a little /more/, he wants

to hear that /again/.

This close, the reverberations of Dazai's voice settles in Chuuya's /soul/, a siren song of temptation and lust.

"Fuck," Chuuya whimpers out, his rhythm stuttering slightly when Dazai clenches down on him hard. He can almost /feel/ it, the thrust so hard

to pull back from that it feels like fighting gravity. He's breathing hard, hot breaths puffing over Dazai's fingers and filling up the space between them.

"Do /not/ stop," Dazai says, no, /orders/, fingers digging into his side. He sounds breathless, /needy/, and if Chuuya were

feeling more /bratty/, he’d slow down the pace and make him beg.

As it is, his head is empty expecr for the roaring need for /more/, and the intrinsic need to /exceed expectations/, so when Dazai orders him—

He does as he’s /told/, the last of his restraint snapping almost

audibly.

Dazai actually /yelps/ with the next thrust of his hips, seemingly taken by surprised. The one after, though, he meets halfway, increasing the force.

His thighs are trembling, his legs tightening rhythmically to drag Chuuya in. He must be close, and Chuuya can’t

look away, not even for a /second/.

Beyond the search for his own pleasure, he /needs/ to see Dazai cum. It’s a need like he needs to /breathe/, like he might die without it, like the rest of the world doesn’t /matter/ as long as he gets to see this.

Dazai’s fingers are flexing

rhythmically, unconsciously. Chuuya relishes the sting of them digging into his sensitive mouth and his side, because that means he's doing /well/. Bruises are a sign of a job well done, and he basks in the sight of each one.

"That's it, baby, just like that," Dazai breathes,

hand sliding out of his mouth and down his chin. His hand is /huge/, fingers wrapping nearly the entirety of his neck, squeezing lightly. Just the way Chuuya likes, not a threat and nothing that /hurts/--

But a reminder of how much power Dazai has over him, and how much he

/trusts/ him. How cherished he feels when his life is hanging in the palm of Dazai's hands, how /safe/.

"/Close/."

It's a warning Chuuya doesn't /usually/ get. Most of the time Dazai decides when he comes and uses Chuuya's body to do it--

But now the dynamics are /flipped/.

Some of them, at least, even if Chuuya is /still/ following orders.

He leans forward again, pressing his throat into his palm. Like this, Dazai's erection is trapped between their stomachs, tip rubbing wetly against the bottom of his rubs. It's just enough friction to tip him

closer to the edge, while still fulfilling Chuuya's wish to see him come untouched.

This close, Dazai's eyes are /huge/ and pitch-black, mouth bitten red. His chest is heaving, nipple piercings flashing in the low lighting, and Chuuya wants them in his /mouth/.

It's not an

option, though, because Dazai's hand is still like iron on his neck, keeping him forcibly in place. His grip is slowly tightening, forearms bulging as his fingertips press ruthlessly into the veins on either side of his neck.

Chuuya's /dizzy/, breathing hard, cycling rapidly

between the need to take a /break/ for his aching muscles, and the knowledge that Dazai is /close/, he can't stop /now/, just a little longer, he looks so /hot/ like this, red-faced and sweaty, wired with tension, /hot/ as he takes Chuuya's cock like he was /born for it/--

Another squeeze on his neck drags a choked whimper from him, mouth opening to compensate for his narrowed airway.

It's enough.

Dazai's legs tighten around him,immovable as he arches underneath him,letting out a guttural groan.His hips buck upwards, pressing against him tightly,

getting him as deep as possible. Pushed up against Chuuya's soft stomach, his cock twitches once, twice, before warmth spills between them.

Chuuya is /fascinated/, even as fuzzy as his head feels. He's seen Dazai cum a hundred times before, in every position he can think of--

But he's never felt his body ripple and clench around him as he does, and it's /enthralling/.

It's mostly just the dildo jerking lightly with each wave, pulling on the straps around his hips, but if he concentrates, he can almost envision what it /really/ feels like. How hot and

slick and /tight/ he'd /actually/ feel inside, waves of pleasure washing through Chuuya with each clench of his body,how satisfying it'd be to pump him full of cum until he's /dripping/.

He wants it so bad it almost /aches/, but the jealousy is overpowered by the frantic arousal

that's built inside of him. He's almost /embarrassingly/ close already, even if he hasn't had a /lot/ of direct attention and friction. Just the feeling of getting to /fuck/ Dazai is enough to have him steadily climbing to the edge, and he's so close he can almost /taste/ it, he

just needs a little more, fucking /please/--

He shifts his hips forward, trying in vain to get enough pressure on his clit to push him over the edge. He's /empty/, he aches, he wants more, /needs/ it, he was /good/--

Dazai shudders and growls against him, probably soaring into

oversensitivity quickly. He's not used to it--at least, in this particular way--, so he probably doesn't know how to handle the thin line between pleasure and pain, or how to relax into it until the burning fades away.

God, /fuck/, Chuuya doesn't want to stop. /How/ is he

ever supposed to /stop/?

"Pull out," Dazai says, firm, forcing his legs to relax. It's enough to give Chuuya the room to pull away, but he doesn't /want/ to.

"But," he whines, straining to stay inside him. He can /wait/, he's not ready for it to be over yet.

His attitude is

silenced with another squeeze around his neck. A silent signal that Dazai /means/ it. His knee is already sliding off his shoulder,dropping around his hip with a muttered groan and pushing him away slightly.

As much as Chuuya /wants/ to argue--

It wouldn't be /right/.

Gulping,

he begins the slow process of pulling out. It's harder than it is when he's the one receiving, because every slide of the silicon inside him makes Dazai hiss with sensitivity. He can tell he's trying to keep relaxed and calm, but his thighs are trembling hard and his abs are

jumping with every one of his movements.

Poor overwhelmed /baby/. Chuuya feels a flash of vindication for every time Dazai has ruthlessly --and enjoyably-- pushed him past his limits until he was /crying/ from the stimulation. Now /he/ knows how it feels to be fucked past the

point of no return.

What a big baby, to be trembling and shaking after /one/. Chuuya's been pushed into /five/, at /least/.

Eventually, Chuuya does pull out the rest of the way, the flared head of the dildo sliding out with a distinct pop. The sight of Dazai's puffy rim, red

with abuse and slick-wet with lube, closing on nothing makes his mouth water. He can't tell if he wants to /eat/ him or lick him clean more, there's so many options--

Large hands hook under his arms and drag him upwards with a yelp. Chuuya barely has any other choice than to go

along with the pull as Dazai yanks him up, up, up--

One hand disappears for a second, falling to the strap. The dildo is disconnected in a few sharp movements-- /not/ fair, Chuuya had to spent /fifteen/ minutes trying to figure out how the damn thing worked in the bathroom the

first time he put it on-- and then tossed onto the bed only a few inches away.

Luckily the sheets on the bed are /not/ the ones they like to keep clean and pristine, not that it matters much.

When Dazai finally has him in the position he wants--kneeling over his face, one knee

on either side of his head-- it's with just the straps crossing over his hips and thighs. The plate in the front that holds the strong on is easily nosed out of the way, pushed up for Dazai's mouth to descend upon him.

"/Shit/," Chuuya hisses, hands shooting downwards to tangle

in Dazai's hair. One of his hands is still messy with lube and streaks of pre-cum, but he doesn't /care/. He holds his face in place, sinking down as far as he can.

Dazai /loves/ eating him out, almost as much as Chuuya loves being eaten out, so there's no build-up or teasing.

It's just straight to /ecstatic/, his lips sealing around his engorged clit and /sucking/, tongue swirling over him in tight circles.

That alone is enough to have Chuuya rocketing towards the edge so quickly he almost falls over--

But then one of Dazai's hands comes into play.

A quick swipe through the slick mess of his upper thighs and over his folds is the /only/ warning he gets before three fingers, shaped into a cone-like figure, are starting to push into him.

Without prep, they feel /huge/, and the reminder of his little size kink, how much he

/loves/ being stretched to his limits, that sore-achey pain as his body struggles to adjust, even as wet as he is--

Dazai barely has to sink his fingers into the second knuckle on one steady thrust and give his clit another suck before Chuuya is coming on his tongue.

"God,

/fuck/, so good," he whimpers out, hips grinding down against Dazai's face as he rides the orgasm out. Pleasure spears through him like a heated knife, lighting up his every nerve ending with flash-fire ecstasy, making his mind go blank.

Dazai draws it out for a /long/ time,

curling his fingers or swirling his tongue whenever Chuuya seems to be coming down. Oversensitivity is a /lovely/ feeling, searing hot and mindless, making his every nerve buzz and throb. It has him arching, grinding, pulling on Dazai's hair, choking on his name, vision blurry

with tears.

By the time Dazai finally lets him come down completely, he feels like he's been electrified, every inch of him tingly and buzzing. He's panting and /soaked/, from a mixture of his own wetness and the lube that had dripped down his thighs.

It's strawberry flavored.

Dazai's favorite.

He slumps to the side, back sinking into the soft mattress. Dazai lets him go, stretching out his neck to get rid of the kinks.

For a few minutes, there's just the sound of their mutual panting as they come down. Dazai stretches with a wince and a groan, spine

popping loudly in several places.

The sound makes Chuuya grin. "So," he draws out, wiggling, "How'd I do?"

Snorting, Dazai leans over to steal the pack of cigarettes off the bedside table. Using his clean hand to stuff a pillow under his head, he lights a cigarette. They're

menthol flavored, rare in Japan. Chuuya can smell the minty tinge to them.

"Fishing for compliments, brat?"

Not /quite/. Partly, he is, but he /thrives/ on praise and feedback. He /loves/ being told how good he is. "No..."

Dazai takes a drag off the cigarette, the glowing red

cherry making his eyes glow. He only smokes after sex when it's /really/ good, so Chuuya is practically thrumming with victory already without him even saying anything.

He sits up, taking Dazai's moment of relaxation to take his usual spot sitting on his hips. It's messy and

sticky, but the feeling of Dazai warm and solid beneath him, dark eyes looking up at him, is more than enough to make up for it.

Turning his head, he blows the smoke to the side. "I liked it," he says, turning back to fix him with a satisfied smirk around his cigarette, "It was

perfect."

Chuuya preens, reaching out to steal the cigarette from his fingers. Dazai lets him without a problem, the darkness of his eyes softening into something endlessly indulgent and affection. "Give me ten minutes and I can go again," he offers, wiggling his eyebrows

suggestively.

Hands find his thighs, coasting up the length of them and admiring his soft skin. Snorting in amusement, Dazai hooks his thumbs in the straps around his thighs, tugging on them. "You are a /menace/."

It's true. Ever since Chuuya started taking testosterone, his

libido has shot through the /roof/. He was needy before, but now if he doesn't orgasm at least a /few/ times a day, he swears he's going to go /mad/. Dazai can barely even keep up with him these days, the old man.

Chuuya says nothing, grinning silently as he takes a deep drag of

the cigarette.

It tastes like himself, strawberries and a hint of mint.

// end. Hope you guys enjoyed this little thread!!!!