[ he touches dazai's face gently; then he reaches downward, closes the gap and kisses him warmly. it's not the breathless devouring feeling of the alley. it's gentle.
fyodor can't say the words. can't request even though he wants to.
he taps: 'Make me yours. Keep me. Don't leave me.']
(if he had touched fyodor as if he were the most precious thing, now it is that he truly is. two people like them shouldn't be like this, considering who they are at their core, but this is so pure that dazai can't help but put it in his memory as it is. pay attention to how each tap feels, to how each breath sounds, how the man's lips taste.
the kiss is gentle, and that is exactly what makes it breathless.
he won't tap back. instead, he'll hug the smaller figure with warmth, kiss his cheek in promise, and let his hands wander into fyodor's pants. the touch is light, like he's testing waters, seeing what makes fyodor tick.)
[ it is vulnerable. the gentleness with which those taps delivered the request and how those words are returned; fyodor makes a sound of acknowledgment, red creeps across his pale flesh and he moves closer instinctively. ]
(oh. this is such a pretty color on fyodor, the rush of blood melting and blending with nearly white skin. he could watch it forever, and it's in that motivation that he removes fyodor's cock from its confines, a rhythm forming with how fyodor reacts best.)
I'll make it a slow and agonizing death. [ his voice falters when dazai puts his hand on his cock, and he jerks his hips to a certain pace. dazai is domineering and fyodor is more passive in this particular situation--a personal preference for someone who holds such rigid control over himself, his emotions, his ability. it's nice to give it over to someone else, to give himself over to dazai. ]
Dazai, if you do it too fast, I won't- I won't last.
(his hands can't quit feeling around skin, his lips return to it, kisses slow, kind, speechless words that he's here. he won't be hurt. each touch is a reminder of 'no longer human' rummaging through fyodor's body, safety, protection.
his hand is simply reacting to how the hips move, and those words make him want to speed, to see fyodor's face as he reaches it, but he promised himself he'd do it as fyodor wants it. slower, slower, slower.)
It's okay if you want to let go. I want to see it.
[ a sound between a moan and something else, something delicate, frail and wounded, leaves his mouth. it's suffocated when he presses his mouth against dazai's skin. dazai knows him and he knows dazai--the wordless affirmations. ]
I don't want to yet.
[ he presses his hand against dazai's crotch, trying to free his erection from those confines because he wants them both to come undone. he wants to feel dazai come inside him. ]
(if there's something he's learning here is that he's going to easily become addicted. fyodor makes such beautiful sounds, his expressions feel forbidden, sinful, and yet something he would never repent from making him to. it shows in the kiss how he wants to swallow fyodor whole, his spare hand helping with releasing him only so he can take both their erections in his hand.
if fyodor wants him the way dazai can see in his eyes, he wants to make it as comfortable as he can. he has to bring them both to lie down, so his fingers may work magic easier. a single digit asks for permission, circling, kisses distract from the tension fyodor might feel.
he wants this so bad that finding slowness might prove to be a challenge.)
[ he presses his face against dazai's neck trying to hide the expressions he is making. ] Dazai— [ his hand joins dazai's and jerks harder seeking friction but also reluctant to have it be too much.
he feels that finger and nods, silent approval. then: ] Do you want me to do that? Open myself for you?
(how mean, to steal him from the view he is attempting to bring out? a little unforgiving, and he lets fyodor keep the work of their hands so he can distance and look.
[ fyodor shakes his head, dark hair obscuring dazai's vision. ] I want what you want. [ and dazai's gentleness, his consideration for fyodor's inexperience physical and emotional, is touching enough for fyodor to have voiced those wants he had. to place himself entirely in dazai's hands and let him have his way with him.
(the look on dazai's eyes is so stupidly fond, smitten. the slowness in how he tucks fyodor's hair behind his ear is so that it's asking to be granted permission to do so, his lips coming to kiss those redded cheeks with all affection, as to highlight his next words.)
It doesn't matter. I just want you, so I suppose we just have to figure out how we work together.
fyodor is too surprised by both the expression and the words to even try to deflect or hide it. he reaches to touch dazai, once more and over and over with reverence. this is different, that fyodor knows but he had not expected how much. ]
Yes.
[ it doesn't need to be difficult right? they've done this before with other people so. ]
(part of dazai wants fyodor to take the lead, solely so that he can learn how their bodies function together through trial and error, exploration and discovery, while another, the one that's winning currently, just wants to teach, learn himself what makes a man such as fyodor tick.
it's rather slow how he moves to shift positions. fyodor can climb back up later, but like this, he thinks it's easier, more relaxing, to have his lips swallow the other's neck as he grinds hips into the hand that embraces it.
it also makes it easier for him to enter, a single finger, slow and steady, each kiss attempting reassurance.)
[ there is an ocean of experience between them; certainly, having some makes this easier, there is more than just theoretical knowledge that allows fyodor to give control over to dazai. tension inside begins to pull taunt and he swallows a moan, mouth pressing against dazai's to silence himself as much as possible.
fyodor is quiet, generally. slow and steady; his hands on dazai's back smoothing over, making sure they are as close as possible while dazai takes the lead.
this is different.
his touch--their touch-- is a new layer of them. he only breaks the kiss to press his mouth against dazai's neck, to rake his teeth along skin and bandages and shiver. he began shivering more and more. ]
(dazai's dazai, he can't be anything else than that. this, however, is extremely special for a man such as him. why should he care about another's comfort to that extent if he didn't mean it? everything is done for fyodor's own sake. that moan he swallows, dazai can feel against his lips, vibrating on his mouth, and it makes him even more eager to find the perfect spot to bring those even more to the surface.
fyodor's voice is beautiful. the man underneath him is beautiful. it'd be a shame not to worship the very breath against dazai's cheek. so he presses, trying to find the spot to bring even more light into his view.)
Dazai-[ a whisper, a shudder. his body opens willing to allow dazai inside. to take every inch of him and he submits without trepidation.
when those infernally dextrous fingers find the right spot and it is so different from what he is used to. being with nikolai is like mania—it is take and give and something utterly animalistic and sentimental; it isn't freedom, it is an act that ties them closer and closer together despite nikolai's desire to end fyodor's life.
this isn't that. this is closer to worship, to prayers in the evening and brushing his fingers along the church's candles and feeling it sting just the right amount to feel good. his hands dig into those bandages on dazai's back, trying to not get loud; his preference is always the quiet sighs but—
fyodor makes a sound, this time loud enough to have it echo in the room. and then looks utterly surprised at this before he jerks his hips trying to get dazai to do that again. ]
(wonderful sound, it indicates to him he's found what he had been looking for. he knows this is not all he will give, but in here, he will give his all. his fingers are long, skilled, and once that spot is found, that's where they'll make sure to massage each and every time they move in, as per those hips request.
he could do this for hours, he has found. to kiss skin, press little messages in the rhythm his lips touch - "you're tight, does it hurt?", "do you feel good?", "you sound so incredible. can i hear more?", "i am in love with how you look right now"--
"i am in love with you", he tells against fyodor's cheek, against his jaw, kiss after kiss encrypted.
[ fyodor is overwhelmed by what dazai is doing and it is simply the start: he gives another low sound, as if wounded by dazai's affection for him. his fingers scramble along a bandaged back, but he doesn't find it in himself to answer those little messages with anything remotely coherent. panting, arching, there is a wetness clinging to his lashes as he kisses dazai trying to silence himself.
this is theirs and the words stick to his insides, those questions, that devotion. fyodor is determined to pay it back, somehow, maybe not with physical intent but there must be something he can offer... ]
(the noises vibrate against his lips, in their kiss, and he knows fyodor won't last long. he doesn't mind if he doesn't get any physical pleasure out of this - he's as satisfied as he could be, hearing his name spill out from the lips he allows to draw breath.
dazai's teeth take the bottom lip, pulling in a gentle nib before he presses a gentle kiss, his fingers speeding just a little bit.)
Don't worry about a thing, Fy. Come for me when you want to.
[ there are always careful considerations that come to mind in moments like this: his ability, for one. the weakness of his body and the fact there are no weapons in range. the fact dazai is too clever to be tricked by fyodor.
he comes because dazai coaxes him to, and it's surprising that his body simply obeys that command. eyes wide and clinging with all limbs onto dazai. his orgasm spills between their bodies, messy and warm, and the sound fyodor makes isn't swallowed. it's like being skewered and loved and held.
what did dazai just do to him? his mind feels placidly blank, quiet. ]
(he feels it in the bandages, in the gaps, and in the way he clenches around his fingers. the sound will be imprinted in his brain, such a delicious gasp that he hopes he gets to hear over, and over, and over again.
they should clean up, but for the time being, all dazai wants so to is to remove his fingers to wrap his arms around fyodor, the kisses he gives his skin calm, like a ground, as he embraces the smaller figure.)
[ he allows himself to be held, warm steady arms around him as his eyes flutter: lashes clumped with unshed tears, fyodor leans into dazai. there are so many unspoken questions about what they just did, declarations that sit heavy in his tongue and on his fingers.
but he doesn't want dazai to be unsatisfied and so his long fingers slip between them trying to offer something back. fyodor can't be the only one who gets off here. ]
(with fyodor, things are so different. dazai's used to sex, he's used to pleasure, and as much as anyone can be used to it, he's used to love. his primary focus between the two is not him, he has already a lot to unpack as fyodor does - the same things, different views.
his focus here is to help fyodor go through the things dazai already understands. there will be a time and place for them to be one, or for fyodor to do the same for dazai. right now, however, all he wants is fyodor's body against him. to look at his face, kiss near the corner of his eye, and his hands to catch the other's.)
[ the slight frown is visible before it disappears under the pleasure of his climax; he's too wrung out to really fight dazai on this or argue. instead he nods, taking those words as truth. fyodor isn't use to things that feel one sided, of being given something without string. sex and pleasure are novel concepts for him, after all, and even as he finds the need to touch dazai to have no purpose beyond wanting to feel him...it's hard.
and feeling that kiss against the corner of his eye, fyodor comes to understand that hearing something and experiencing it can be so vastly different, especially in this area. he nuzzles back. ]
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fyodor can't say the words. can't request even though he wants to.
he taps: 'Make me yours. Keep me. Don't leave me.']
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the kiss is gentle, and that is exactly what makes it breathless.
he won't tap back. instead, he'll hug the smaller figure with warmth, kiss his cheek in promise, and let his hands wander into fyodor's pants. the touch is light, like he's testing waters, seeing what makes fyodor tick.)
I'll keep you forever, Mikhail.
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If you ever leave me, I'll kill you.
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(oh. this is such a pretty color on fyodor, the rush of blood melting and blending with nearly white skin. he could watch it forever, and it's in that motivation that he removes fyodor's cock from its confines, a rhythm forming with how fyodor reacts best.)
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Dazai, if you do it too fast, I won't- I won't last.
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his hand is simply reacting to how the hips move, and those words make him want to speed, to see fyodor's face as he reaches it, but he promised himself he'd do it as fyodor wants it. slower, slower, slower.)
It's okay if you want to let go. I want to see it.
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I don't want to yet.
[ he presses his hand against dazai's crotch, trying to free his erection from those confines because he wants them both to come undone. he wants to feel dazai come inside him. ]
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if fyodor wants him the way dazai can see in his eyes, he wants to make it as comfortable as he can. he has to bring them both to lie down, so his fingers may work magic easier. a single digit asks for permission, circling, kisses distract from the tension fyodor might feel.
he wants this so bad that finding slowness might prove to be a challenge.)
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he feels that finger and nods, silent approval. then: ] Do you want me to do that? Open myself for you?
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(how mean, to steal him from the view he is attempting to bring out? a little unforgiving, and he lets fyodor keep the work of their hands so he can distance and look.
what a wonderful view.)
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when he speaks, his voice is low and raspy: ]
I don't know what you like. What you prefer.
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It doesn't matter. I just want you, so I suppose we just have to figure out how we work together.
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fyodor is too surprised by both the expression and the words to even try to deflect or hide it. he reaches to touch dazai, once more and over and over with reverence. this is different, that fyodor knows but he had not expected how much. ]
Yes.
[ it doesn't need to be difficult right? they've done this before with other people so. ]
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it's rather slow how he moves to shift positions. fyodor can climb back up later, but like this, he thinks it's easier, more relaxing, to have his lips swallow the other's neck as he grinds hips into the hand that embraces it.
it also makes it easier for him to enter, a single finger, slow and steady, each kiss attempting reassurance.)
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fyodor is quiet, generally. slow and steady; his hands on dazai's back smoothing over, making sure they are as close as possible while dazai takes the lead.
this is different.
his touch--their touch-- is a new layer of them. he only breaks the kiss to press his mouth against dazai's neck, to rake his teeth along skin and bandages and shiver. he began shivering more and more. ]
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fyodor's voice is beautiful. the man underneath him is beautiful. it'd be a shame not to worship the very breath against dazai's cheek. so he presses, trying to find the spot to bring even more light into his view.)
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when those infernally dextrous fingers find the right spot and it is so different from what he is used to. being with nikolai is like mania—it is take and give and something utterly animalistic and sentimental; it isn't freedom, it is an act that ties them closer and closer together despite nikolai's desire to end fyodor's life.
this isn't that. this is closer to worship, to prayers in the evening and brushing his fingers along the church's candles and feeling it sting just the right amount to feel good. his hands dig into those bandages on dazai's back, trying to not get loud; his preference is always the quiet sighs but—
fyodor makes a sound, this time loud enough to have it echo in the room. and then looks utterly surprised at this before he jerks his hips trying to get dazai to do that again. ]
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he could do this for hours, he has found. to kiss skin, press little messages in the rhythm his lips touch - "you're tight, does it hurt?", "do you feel good?", "you sound so incredible. can i hear more?", "i am in love with how you look right now"--
"i am in love with you", he tells against fyodor's cheek, against his jaw, kiss after kiss encrypted.
it's theirs.)
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this is theirs and the words stick to his insides, those questions, that devotion. fyodor is determined to pay it back, somehow, maybe not with physical intent but there must be something he can offer... ]
Dazai, Dazai--
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dazai's teeth take the bottom lip, pulling in a gentle nib before he presses a gentle kiss, his fingers speeding just a little bit.)
Don't worry about a thing, Fy. Come for me when you want to.
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he comes because dazai coaxes him to, and it's surprising that his body simply obeys that command. eyes wide and clinging with all limbs onto dazai. his orgasm spills between their bodies, messy and warm, and the sound fyodor makes isn't swallowed. it's like being skewered and loved and held.
what did dazai just do to him? his mind feels placidly blank, quiet. ]
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they should clean up, but for the time being, all dazai wants so to is to remove his fingers to wrap his arms around fyodor, the kisses he gives his skin calm, like a ground, as he embraces the smaller figure.)
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but he doesn't want dazai to be unsatisfied and so his long fingers slip between them trying to offer something back. fyodor can't be the only one who gets off here. ]
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his focus here is to help fyodor go through the things dazai already understands. there will be a time and place for them to be one, or for fyodor to do the same for dazai. right now, however, all he wants is fyodor's body against him. to look at his face, kiss near the corner of his eye, and his hands to catch the other's.)
Don't worry. I'm satisfied, I got to see you.
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and feeling that kiss against the corner of his eye, fyodor comes to understand that hearing something and experiencing it can be so vastly different, especially in this area. he nuzzles back. ]
Is it really this complicated and simple at once?
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tw; suicide ideation, sexual themes
Re: tw; suicide ideation, sexual themes
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