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(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.

it's theirs.)

[ 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... ]

Dazai, Dazai--

(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.)

Don't worry. I'm satisfied, I got to see you.

[ 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. ]

Is it really this complicated and simple at once?

(it's fine if dazai moves to the man's side instead of on top of him. one of his hands keeps the other's hold, bringing it into lips to press against each knuckle. the other, moves hair from fyodor's sweaty face, to look at that tired expression as he comes down. he's so beautiful like this, and the smile dazai gives? genuine, fond, silly.)

If it matters, then, yes. Like everything that matters.

[ he wants to commit that smile to memory. the type of smile that would make him burn down cities, countries, the world--fyodor leans closer. as much as he can despite the boundary between them, the fact he can't crawl into dazai's body and rest within. ]

Mm. [ a hum, then a nod. he doesn't understand but he is trying, he thinks he might be a little closer to making sense of dazai's words. ] Stay another while?

(the blanket now drapes on top of them, dazai makes sure they're comfortable, warm, and once fyodor is close, one arm pulls him even more so

his spare hand ghosts touches with the tip of his fingers agaisnt the narrow waist.)

I was going to sleep here already!

[ fyodor doesn't say 'good' and does not say anything in approval--he does not need to, the way he allows his entire body to be fitted against dazai, the way his breath slows. ]

(there are gentle kisses, pressing fyodor's tired figure against his own. it's warm, and he lets a hand caress his scalp. wonderful, wonderful man.)

Sleepy?

Mm. Unusually so. [ fyodor admits, his hand on dazai's hip and his fingers are curled warmly into that skin. it feels grounding, not just comfortable. ]

You should sleep, my love. Rest against me. You feel good?

(he'd keep making fy feel as such, but alas, he'd kill him, it seems.)

[ a nod, then fyodor is slipping a leg between dazai's: warm and coaxing. he's not used to sleeping with someone else, sleeping naked, sleeping like this. ] Will you be able to sleep?

[ the one blessing of their siberian adventures was the darkness that coated them throughout a few months. ]

Let's see. Even if I am not, I don't see it as a bad thing.

(he wishes they'd been like this back then. it'd make it better, warmer, easier and harder at the same time.)

[ if they had been like this back then...the aftermath would have been a mess. he sighs content, for a change--everything seems good. ]

You just want to watch me sleep. [ he accuses, warm. ]

Is that so bad?

(holy shit, what a sight. he can't keep his lips from kissing, from pressing.)

[ fyodor looks so human in dazai's arms; the glimmers of a creature that is not demon or conjurer, but sleepy and warm. harmless, if only at first glance, and fyodor opens one eye to look at dazai. ]

I only fear it is boring for you.

[ he's doing his own assessment of dazai, committing every feeling and sensation to memory as he nuzzles into the other. after all, it's not like he would do this in public. ]

(it's a bit of a battle to just let fyodor sleep, to be honest. he wants the man to find rest, he does, but that means he risks waking him if he presses his kisses, squeezes softly, or caresses. it'd never be boring, but the control? ah, the control...

a kiss. another kiss. before he knows it, he's moving the man on top of his naked self, arms protecting as much as caressing.)

It'd never be so.

Voyeur. [ the smile is a flicker in the shadows of the room; mouths meeting warmly— fyodor feels his body moving against dazai's until he's on top of the other--skin and bandages. there's a little of more fire now, as he presses his fingers against dazai's throat, the gesture is gentle.

and then, the line is set. ] Give me your death. [ the sweetly set suggestion, fyodor doesn't mean kill dazai, he means die with him. ]

If you go with me, sure. I don't wish to die alone, you see.

(quite literally. those fingers are inviting, and he tilts his head back as a promise that they should, they would, his throat exposed to every move. fyodor's so naked, so vulnerable, and he's so tiny, even as tall as he is. dazai is having trouble not pressing his body against his.)

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