Molly's Fics Cause she Refuses to Read Them on Ao3

Sharp Nothings

Tw/Tags: Knife Play, Verbal Humiliation, Window Sex
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Chuuya hadn't been thinking when he kicked open the Agency's door and barreled in with the single goal of slicing Dazai's throat with his blade, seeing as he thought an impromptu assassination would give him the upper hand in their ancient dance.

It didn't take long before the tables were turned.

So now here he is, dressed in nothing save his black choker, his flushed body spread in front of the fourth floor window for all to see in the light of Yokohama's setting sun—a wanton and licentious display of submission.

Whining, Chuuya closes his eyes and drops his head back, resting it on the man's shoulder as he bounces up and down on his cock.

"It's your fault," taunts the raspy voice purring in Chuuya's ear; the words are dripping in pure sin, smoother than whiskey and more bitter than wine, and he can't help but moan as each syllable is accompanied by a snap of the other's hips.

A fully clothed Dazai clad with the executive's fedora on his head threads the fingers of his left hand through his curly red tresses and yanks, forcing him to crane his neck in a way that allows Dazai to leer down at him. Through hazy blue eyes blown wide with lust, Chuuya stares up at the brunet and watches as a salacious smirk slowly curves the corners of his mouth. He lets out a soft whimper.

"This is what Chuuya gets for trying to kill me...again," Dazai says, emphasizing the statement with a hard thrust to his prostate, pummeling the sensitive bundle of nerves in the most brutal of ways.

Stars burst behind Chuuya's eyes and he screams, crying out shamelessly as Dazai does it again, and again, and again until he's a quivering and whimpering mess in his lap. And just when he's about to topple over the edge, Dazai slows down and moves in a gentle rocking motion. Chuuya let's out a frustrated whine, which earns a mocking chuckle in response.

"You're—hah—a bastard," he gasps.

Humming with amusement, Dazai leans in and presses his mouth against Chuuya's, capturing him in a kiss that's too gentle, too soothing for the words that are yet to come; it leaves Chuuya gasping wantonly, yearning for more when they part. Rather than pull away, Dazai stares down at him, his breath ghosting across his swollen pink lips.

"Mmm..." Dazai tilts his head in thought, and Chuuya can feel the sound vibrating through the sliver of air resting between their mouths. "I wonder what Ane-san and Mori-san would say if they found out Chuuya was here."

He turns Nakahara's head to the side while his soft lips brush along his cheek until they finally settle on his ear. "That Chuuya waltzes into the ADA every week and begs me to fuck him."

Chuuya moans, loud and erotic enough to entice the brunet to drive into him again. "D-Dazai," he groans into the other's ear. He swallows thickly, digging his fingers into the tops of his thighs, his nails scraping across the sweat-slicked flesh as he pants with each bounce on Dazai's cock.

Suddenly, Chuuya feels something cold press against the side of his neck below his right ear. He stills and out of the corner of his eye, he can see something long and metallic refract against the sun's light—his knife. His blue eyes flick to Dazai, who's now gazing at him, his own brown eyes drowning in searing arousal, pinning Chuuya to the spot.

"I guess after all this time, Chuuya still hasn't found anyone to fuck him like the slut the Port Mafia knows he is." Dazai twists his hand tighter in Nakahara's hair, holding him in place while he graces him with a lecherous smirk; it widens at the sharp hiss of pain rushing through Chuuya's clenched teeth.

"But then again," he breathes, "they know better than to touch what's mine; wouldn't dare to lay a finger on my whore."

Snarling, the redhead glares at the grinning waste of bandages. "You're such a fucking ass," he spits out. "I should've—" The remaining retort catches in his throat as the distinct tip of his knife caresses his bottom lip; the cold metal against his flushed skin is like a breath of fresh air. Each brush of its edge sends shivers cascading down Chuuya's spine, his pupils dilating with every caress.