Soukoku Oneshots

Back at My Desk

"What are you doing back here in front of me, huh?" Questioned Dazai, his eyes clouded with that same menacing light that you could find lighting a hallway in a horror movie.

The lazy drag from Chuuya's cigarette filled the room with the essence of a disregard to Dazai's question rather than smoke. "Just doing my job... not my fault the A.D.A. and Port Mafia haven't made a truce yet," Chuuya spoke groggily, with a tone of bitterness dripping from his lips.

Deep down, a truce between the two organizations would make things so much easier. An alliance and the assurance of safety to one another sounded too good to be true. And so it was, too good, and not true.

Otherwise stuck in between a rock and a hard place. It was almost like one of those stupid books you would find on the shelf of a dentist's office.

"Two lovers destined to be together only to be separated by force. It seems as if every side is trying to pull them apart."

But this wasnt a stupid book or novel, this was a face to face breathless agreement between the two. They were both in favor of tough love, no matter how strong the desire to keep the other in a web of comfort and love, they were always down to play along with the other's dialogue.

After all, it was his job.

Dazai parted his two fingers to gently pluck the cigarette from his lover's lips and took a slow drag on it himself before moving it down against Chuuya's wrist. Putting it out and leaving the butt of it on the edge of the table before flicking it toward the "No Smoking" sign by the door.

"Putain de batard!" Chuuya said rather loudly, the noise echoing off the empty walls of the interrogation room.

"Gardes le silence," Dazai mocked, using the same use of French language to silence him.

Chuuya sat back cursing under his breath.

"Do you think the pound will have a muzzle that would fit you, Chuuya?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes, exasperated. An "interrogation" they said. They weren't interrogating shit. But Chuuya was ready. He was always ready, for whatever twist Dazai held deep in his eyes. Which at this point in time were dancing wildly with pride over Chuuya.

"Y'know, darling..."

"What, Osamu?" He responded. He was ready.

"Most of the time, when suspects won't open up, we resort to torture methods."

There it was.

Dazai slid his warm hand over Chuuya's, accentuating the smooth, cold metal of his ring against his skin.

Chuuya smiled, a short reminder of their love with a touch of the ring.

"Oh really?" Chuuya asked, his words sultry and sinful, he was none the less experienced when it came to torture.

"Of course," He responds, tilting his chin up with his finger to get a clear view of his neck.

Dazai only continued, "I could lock you to this chair and I'd have free range over you, you know that? After all, it is my job~"

There it was. That voice, those eyes, those hands. So addicting, drawing him in with every breath.

So tantalizing, breathtaking almost. It would've been so easy to sink back into the chair and listen to what he had to say. Let that look in his eyes wash over him and engulf him in its manipulating trance. Though, he wouldn't let it win today. He wouldn't let him take it.

Dazai could see a small flame building in Chuuya's eyes, and he was lucky Dazai didn't lock him to that damn chair yet.

Long story short, though it couldn't have been that long. Chuuya's leg was propped up on the arm of the chair, but this time he was in front of Dazai. Above Dazai. Chuuya had swiveled around so that Dazai was sitting in the chair he previously sat at, with Chuuya staring at him, half his weight on the floor and the other half on the leg of the chair.

With Dazai being trapped between his leg and the thick air that surrounded them. Dazai enjoyed this sigh, obviously, and he would never admit it.

"Wow, you are...gorgeous," Dazai sighed out breathlessly.

Nevermind of course he would admit it.

"No way I'm letting you get anything out of me this time," Chuuya said, letting his broad neck breathing heavily, letting the sight of his buckled collar rising and falling with his breaths.

"Oh, and will Chuuya be trying to get something from me this time~"

"You bet your ass I do!"

"And will I be betting my ass?"

"Osamu, what the actual fuck."

Dazai just shrugged at his simple joke. Confusing Chuuya with the sudden weird statement.

Chuuya disregarded the comment after a few seconds, "I have the upper-hand here, for in the Port Mafia, it's rule that we can torture regardless of anything."

Dazai sighs, "You are begging to fuck me."

"Hell yeah I am."

Dazai's face peppers with a light red dust, a blush that highly contrasts from his facade of confidence. The sly remark Dazai emitted was quickly taken back with a firm grasp on his neck.

Chuuya held his grip on his neck as he glared at him before forcing him upwards and over the desk Chuuya was previously sat at.

"You little slut," Chuuya spat as he leaned down to kiss the nape of his hair, leaving faint hickeys on his neck.

Dazai shuddered at the light touches from his lips meeting his neck as he awaited the sharp pain gripping the back of his thigh.

Two hours later, Chuuya was tying his hair back up into a low ponytail as Dazai struggled to walk forth to his desk.

Chuuya exchanged a light smirk with him.

Dazai simply sighed as he tiredly collapsed in his office chair. "I love you, Chuu..."

"Love you too, princess~" Chuuya responded slyly as he slipped out of the A.D.A. doors.

Dazai rolled his eyes, smiling slightly as he watched his lover leave from his sight.