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Dazai's dilemmas are plentiful. He wants to die, but that's rather difficult for him to accomplish, not to mention his mortal obligations.
His ex-partner practically owns him, and has turned Dazai into his personal sex pet who does anything he asks within reason. Unfortunately, Dazai has never known shit fuck all about things like 'restraint' or 'reason'.
Plus, seemingly everything with Chuuya turns into a competition, and he doesn't want to break or back down from anything Chuuya puts onto him.
That would be a lot on its own, but Chuuya always manages to make things more challenging than Dazai imagines or anticipates from him. As if directly putting or blackmailing Dazai into compromising positions and having a huge dick wasn't troublesome enough; Chuuya amplifies all of that with making bets and acting on his darker desires whenever he has Dazai in his hands. From the jump, he pushed and pressed Dazai into a shape unrecognizable from what they had been before. Due to the nature of the agreement that started this, Dazai knows he's spent more time recently under Chuuya's thumb than anywhere else.
Part of him is probably okay with how Chuuya has basically turned him into his dog. Dazai comes whenever he calls, does everything Chuuya asks him to do, and he doesn't whine about it anymore when Chuuya puts the collar on him. Instead, he has learned to be patient and wait until Chuuya tells him he's allowed to cum. Chuuya trained him with touch, overstimulating him until he jolted and thrashed- fucking him until he became both oversensitive and numb- Edging Dazai until every light caress felt like oblivion and he didn't think he'd ever need to cum again.
At least, he'd gotten lucky there. Over time, he grew more accustomed to the treatment Chuuya subjects him to. The relationship his brain and body have with pleasure has changed in certain ways, and he wants to think that it was for the better. He spends more time enjoying himself in the moment and letting loose, so that it's easier to go along with and submit to Chuuya's wants. Subtly owning his weaknesses and shortcomings, Dazai never actually thought being used by Chuuya was all that bad of a punishment.. Part of him might've even wanted something like this, and doesn't think he should hold resentment for the way it has gone down.
Drool spills from the side of his lips and he's glad the redhead can't see his face. Certain his eyes are glassy and unfocused, everything is shiny and blurry, a blend of colors and fuzzy outlines. On his hands and knees in Chuuya's bed, the mafia executive is fucking him hard. A leash is held tight in Chuuya's hand, attached to the heavy collar around Dazai's neck. Airflow choked but not cut off, Dazai arches as Chuuya's hand at his low back positions him and the leash tugs at his throat. Fingers grasping at the bedspread, remembering to relax his insides helps Dazai take it through gasps for extra oxygen.
Before he knows it Chuuya is pulling harder, keeping him in place as he grinds his cock all the way inside of him. He stays so deep all the air punches out of Dazai's lungs, the collar chokes him, and Dazai is left to suffocate for a blissful couple moments. That is.. until Chuuya loosens his hold and Dazai's pathetic sounds fill the room.
"Fuck yeah. Take it just like that, Dazai-" Chuuya gruffly orders but Dazai is already nothing but putty in his hands.
Pliable doesn't begin to cover it, Dazai has been molded like clay. Being bent into whatever shape Chuuya wants him in and having his insides slutted out is how he spends damn near all of Chuuya's chosen days. A far cry from his begging, sensitive beginnings, prone to blacking out on no notice, Dazai stays steady as stone and doesn't finish unless Chuuya let's him.
"Say you're my cocksleeve."
"I'm Chuuya's cocksleeve."
"And what should I do with you?"
"Fill me with your cum." Dazai doesn't know why he said that. It was the first think he could think.
Dark and breathily, Chuuya laughs at him.
"Oh, yeah? You want me to breed you?" Harder, Chuuya increases the power behind his thrusts.
"Yes-" Dazai bites himself.
"I will, whore. You're gettin' way too good at this-"
Chuuya pulls on the leash harder and Dazai's vision blurs as Chuuya uses that leverage to drill deeper and more roughly into him. Back arched, thighs apart, to him Dazai's insides feel like they've melted around Chuuya. Knees perfectly still like Chuuya has trained him, Dazai continued to feel as though his body was free falling; every nerve taut with anticipation and braced for each rough impact Chuuya grants him. It feels so good, Dazai doesn't care if it breaks him or if he's already broken-
〜〜〜
Fully in control, Chuuya slows and loosens his grip, letting Dazai breathe for the moment. Amused by his shudders and gasps, Chuuya traces the dip of his spine- only to make him squirm before roughly pounding into him again.
"Chuuya-Chuuya-Chuuya-" Dazai repeats his name in a desperate litany.
"Fuck-" Chuuya grunts, pulling Dazai into the pace he wants by his hips.
"You can take it." Chuuya commands gruffly as Dazai's repetition of his name warbled into lovely little pitched noises.
Goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of his waist and ass, disappearing beneath his bandages wrapped around his middle. Greedy, Chuuya can't help but grin to himself at that reaction. He put Dazai on that edge himself and left him dangling there, without permission to go over and lose himself to bliss- So of course Chuuya takes pride in his body's responses.
Total authority over Dazai's pleasure quickly devolved into other things in his mind. Rationally, Chuuya knows that Dazai is only beneath him because of their agreement, but there's no hiding from Chuuya that he has long gotten used to this and has even learned how to enjoy himself. He wouldn't feel this fucking good inside if he wasn't thoroughly appreciating Chuuya's cock wrecking him.
Dazai might even appreciate other things about their arrangement, but Chuuya has pushed him far enough with this. He doesn't intend to ever humiliate Dazai outside of a sexual context, or in a way he couldn't handle. The Port Mafia executive may very well be the one who knows Dazai best, and he wants to imagine he's taking good care of his held-hostage former partner.
Suddenly, Chuuya pulls out and directs Dazai firmly with his words and hands.
"On your back, spread those thighs for me, whore."
Dazai whimpers as he follows Chuuya's direction. Crumbling into a heap and turning around, Chuuya moves the leash with him, dragging the weight of the collar across his throat while the brunet is re-adjusting.
Lying back, Dazai parts his legs and looks up at Chuuya with hazy, watery eyes.
"Just for Chuuya." He says, face red, mind unfocused, and lips shiny with spit.
In this moment, he makes for a perfect portrait. Utterly ruined, fucked out, and trembling beneath him, Dazai's spine bows delightfully as Chuuya presses back into his tightness. Hands grabbing fistfuls of Chuuya's bedsheets- the detective moans unabashedly in time with each brush over his sweet spot.
〜〜〜
Blurry vision gazes up at the redhead fucking him brainless, Dazai feels a tad abandoned as it seems like he’s been holding on for dear life for quite some time now. There’s still more than two weeks of this left.. and what if he isn’t able to stop listening to Chuuya on instinct? What if they never stop fucking like this because Dazai’s body winds up craving it?
It’s exhilarating and embarrassing to think that he wants more or for it to never end.. There’s no fucking way in hell he’ll ever agree to an arrangement like this again.. Overwhelmed and this close to the edge more lines faze together, and Dazai doesn’t ever know what to expect with this from Chuuya.
“Ch-Chuuya~”
"You look so pretty. So close you could cry, huh?"
“Can’t- can’t take much more-” Dazai warns him.
Chuuya groans above him and Dazai notices the leash go slack and Chuuya’s hands are quickly all over him. He trails his fingers up Dazai’s sides, presses his hands flat against where Dazai’s neck meets his chest, and Dazai quivers- holding back from cumming ‘cause Chuuya continues to thrust into him.
“I’m close, too.” Gruffly, Chuuya tells him- grinding his cock in so deep-
Dazai bites himself hard. Nerve endings threaten to fry beyond orgasm into overstimulation. He feels himself tighten inside against his conscious decision. It adds a layer of friction that might’ve acted in his favor, although he can’t be sure of anything in this instant-
“You have permission.” Chuuya grants him, finally taking his neglected, throbbing dick in his hand.
He jolts. Arms instinctually wrapping around Chuuya’s neck and his body bracing. Breathlessly, Chuuya chuckles near his ear- sending a chill through him.
“Go ahead and cum for me.”
Ripped away- almost torn out of him- his orgasm erupts beneath his skin and behind his eyelids. Flashes of searing hot pleasure span outwards from between his thighs, Dazai’s hole clenching and spasming desperately, Chuuya’s hand pumping his seed into his hand to use as additional lubricant- Stroking him skillfully and dragging it out.
Dazai came so hard it takes him a couple minutes to register he hadn’t died of overstimulation. His whole body satiated static, he lies there limp as Chuuya slowly pulls his cock out of him. Chuuya must’ve timed it so they’d cum around the same time, yet Dazai didn’t even notice himself being came in.
It felt so good, and Dazai didn’t care to begin with.
"Your bandages are a mess."
"Mhm.." Dazai acknowledges.
Suddenly, Chuuya moves, stretching over him, then returning to his position.
Something thin and steel brushes Dazai, and his sluggish consciousness registers the sensation as a familiar one.. Chuuya's knife against his skin.
Chuuya slides the blade beneath layers of bandages concealing scars on his tummy; Dazai's breaths become slow and even. He cuts. Tip of the knife tilted up, Chuuya brings it towards himself slicing through the gauze with no resistance.
Continuing upwards, Chuuya slices through the bandages covering his chest. Dazai makes no move to stop him. Chuuya has seen him laid bare more than a few times now. His partner has bathed and dressed him, stripped them off him in a possessive frenzy, and has helped Dazai put bandages on more than anyone else except perhaps Mori from back when Dazai was young.
Dazai hadn’t been able to tell yet, but if Chuuya says his bandages are dirty he means it.
Chuuya tugs each strip out from under him to toss aside, and Dazai can clearly feel that. Each brush of cotton over scarred skin elicits a tingling sensation. Somewhere in the back of his tired head he concedes his feelings towards Chuuya seeing and touching his skin beneath the bandages are rather neutral. He’d always thought it’d make him eternally uncomfortable, but even though Chuuya torments him he has never used Dazai’s insecurities about his skin against him.
The detective opens his eyes to find himself left alone in Chuuya’s bedroom. Although, the mafioso is quick to come back with a warm hand towel in hand. He uses it on Dazai’s chest, stomach, and thighs, before his more sensitive, stickier places.
Lying there motionless, Dazai’s mind pressures him into self-consciousness.
“Sorry,” Dazai pries himself up on his elbows. “I can- Let me take care of it-”
Dazai attempts getting out of bed to finish cleaning up in the bathroom, but Chuuya pushes him flat to the mattress instead.
“What are you apologizing for? You’re fine.”
Chuuya reaches down towards his face and Dazai instinctively shuts his eyes. In a second he hears the leash unclasp from the collar. Wincing, he squints to look at Chuuya, curious to see if he’d find an unamused executive.
“Where did you think you were running off to?” Chuuya traces the collar around his throat before using both hands to get it off of him.
“And take care of what? Aren’t you being taken care of just fine?” Chuuya presses him.
Gathering his nerve, Dazai opens his eyes to properly face the man on top of him.
Chuuya doesn’t actually seem irritated. Calm, scolding, but somewhat reassuringly, Chuuya managed to hold him down long enough to get the accessories off Dazai had forgotten were on him in the first place. Alarmingly, Dazai has totally gotten used to the existence of the heavy piece of leather and metal Chuuya got to train him. So much so it slipped his mind that it was still on him after they’d finished.
Distantly, Chuuya’s hands trace familiar pathways on Dazai’s skin.
“You’ve been good, Dazai. Try not to ruin it by stressing out that head of yours with any bullshit.”
“Mn..”
Despite the warning, such thoughts pervade his afterglow anyway, until all Dazai can think about is how he doesn’t want to inconvenience Chuuya and what’s going to become of this absurd situationship they’re in.
“No promises..”