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The first time, Dazai thought it was just really, really good sex.
The second time, he was impressed Chuuya had the stamina to go again so soon.
By the third time—same sheets, same lines, same look of lazy amusement when Chuuya pulled his hair back and said “You’re already hard?”—Dazai knew something was wrong.
Now he was on his back again. Again. He had lost track of which time this was. His thighs trembled with every slow grind of Chuuya’s hips. His cock was flushed, twitching, dripping, redder than it should be. Oversensitive and soaked and stiff with nothing left to spill, but Chuuya kept moving anyway, fucking him open with slow, relentless rhythm like he had no idea.
“Still so noisy,” Chuuya muttered, somewhere near his ear. “You gonna keep whining like that every time I touch you?”
Dazai whimpered, a thin, wrecked sound from the back of his throat, eyelids fluttering, legs twitching in the air as his ankles hooked over Chuuya’s shoulders. His body was working against him, hips rocking up involuntarily, desperate for more friction even as his mind screamed no more, please no more.
He had tried everything.
Biting his tongue. Holding his breath. Telling Chuuya to stop. Telling Chuuya not to stop. Grinding back harder to get it over with. Refusing to move at all.
Nothing worked.
The fifth time he came, the world snapped back. Same room. Same time. Same breathless, aroused Chuuya pushing him down and licking into his mouth like it was the first time. Always the first time. Every loop, the same. He didn’t know what caused it. He didn’t know how to break it. All Dazai knew was that it never ended.
And worst of all, Chuuya was just so good at fucking him. Every time. Without even trying.
“You like that, Osamu?” Chuuya murmured now, dragging his cock out almost all the way before sliding back in with a slick, brutal push.
Dazai cried out, arms shaking, nails clawing at the sheets. He couldn’t stop the way his hole fluttered around the stretch, clenching like he was begging for more.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Chuuya’s voice was amused. Pleased. “Such a goddamn slut.”
Dazai shook his head frantically. “I c-can’t—Chuuya, please—can’t come again, I can’t, it’s too—”
Chuuya just laughed and adjusted the angle, one hand sliding down to stroke Dazai’s cock. “You say that every time. Still end up making a mess all over yourself.”
No he didn’t. He—wait.
No.
No, he did say that every time.
Was he… saying the same things?
Dazai’s vision blurred. His cock twitched in Chuuya’s hand.
“No,” Dazai whimpered. “No, no, please, don’t touch—”
Chuuya was stroking him gently. Just two fingers, just the tip, just enough to make Dazai arch and buck like a ruined thing.
“You poor baby,” Chuuya crooned. “All fucked out and we’re just getting started.”
Dazai sobbed again. He didn’t want to like it. He didn’t want to be hard. He didn’t want to be drooling and begging and crying with his body locked open like this. But Chuuya didn’t let up. Just kept fucking into him, smooth and deep, making his cock jolt with every thrust.
“Don’t make me come,” Dazai pleaded. “Please, please don’t make me come yet.”
Leaning in close, Chuuya’s lips brushed his cheek. “But you look so pretty when you do.”
Dazai let out a sobbing, hysterical noise and tried to twist away—but Chuuya grabbed his wrists, pinned them down above his head, and fucked him harder.
Dazai came.
And—
Reset.
—
Next time, Dazai didn’t even make it to penetration. Chuuya had him on his lap, naked and flushed, one arm around his back, the other hand stroking him slow and mean while whispering filth in his ear.
“You keep dripping like this, Osamu,” Chuuya murmured, voice honey-slow, “and I’m gonna think you like being fucked dumb.”
“N-No…”
“No? Then why’s your little cock twitching like that, huh? Look at you. Soaked. Slutty. Just begging to be milked.”
Dazai was already crying.
His thighs trembled. His cock throbbed. His head lolled forward, and he whimpered into Chuuya’s shoulder, hips trying so hard not to rut into the hand moving over him.
But he did. He came again with a broken little cry, sharp, helpless, and loud, the orgasm so overwhelming that his ears rang.
Reset.
—
He came.
Then he blinked, and he was hard again.
Clothes gone. Knees up. Chuuya grinning down at him like a fox like they were just getting started.
No, Dazai thought, no, no, we’ve already—
Too late.
—
At some point, Dazai stopped talking. He was too far gone to make sense.
He had no idea how long it had been. His body was flushed and trembling and wet all over, from tears or sweat or spit or pre-cum or maybe all of it. He was flat on his stomach now, legs spread wide, hands pinned behind his back, and Chuuya was thrusting into him like he was trying to fuck him straight through the mattress.
His cock was untouched. He didn’t need it touched.
Every push of Chuuya’s hips against his ass made him shake, made his cock throb helplessly against the ruined sheets. He was beyond words. Beyond sense. Only able to sob and twitch and breathe out little broken pleasepleasepleases that weren’t even words anymore.
“God, look at you,” Chuuya groaned. “Dripping all over my cock like a whore in heat. That what you are now? Just a little hole to fill up?”
Dazai couldn’t even respond. He was crying openly now, his voice high and breathless and grateful, like being used like this was a gift. A mercy. A blessing.
He was going to come again.
He didn’t want to.
He wanted to.
He did.
Reset.
—
This time, he didn’t fight it.
He just slumped into Chuuya’s arms and let it happen. Let himself be stripped and spread and softened like a thing made only to be touched. Let his cock twitch and drool as Chuuya pushed his thighs apart and teased the tip with slow strokes until he came untouched, trembling like a leaf.
Reset.
—
This time, Dazai begged.
“Please don’t make me come. Please. Please, I can’t, I c-can’t do it again, please.”
And Chuuya looked confused, gently stroking his sides.
“Dazai,” he said, low and firm, like he thought Dazai was sick or delirious. “The hell is up with you? You’re okay. Just breathe. Relax. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Dazai let out a shattered whimper and sobbed again. It was too late. He was already hard.
—
Eventually, he broke.
There was no grace to it. No final moment of clarity or understanding. Just the moment he collapsed backward onto the mattress, eyes glassy, lips parted, legs still twitching, tears drying sticky on his cheeks as Chuuya finally pulled out and kissed his temple.
He didn’t come.
He didn’t come.
Chuuya ran a hand down his side and whispered, amused and a little breathless, “Guess I fucked you stupid enough to shut you up for once, huh?”
Dazai didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
He was still here. Still soft. Still real. Still not resetting.
He blinked, slow and dazed, and let his body melt into the pillow. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was over. Maybe he could finally rest. Maybe he could—
Chuuya touched his cock.
Just a light, idle graze.
Dazai came.
Reset.