[ soft but firm, he thrusts and the firmness between them is just the right amount of pleasurable pressure. ] You're not going anywhere. [ downward? no sir, not when he's close like this and then fyodor can kiss dazai to his heart's content. it is a luxury he has never allowed before, just the deep kisses of exploration. ]
(if he's not going anywhere, he isn't exactly sure where this is going to go. he had plans of turning such a dangerous terrorist into a melted puddle with his mouth, but all in due time. he'll do this in any pace fyodor prefers, in any way, and that thrust works for him to feel that fyodor feels just the same.
he can't go lower than this, so his lips attach to the man's ear, pulling the flesh between teeth.)
(the laugh that exits him at that promise. endearing, a little reminder that they're both dangerous - he feels like there's no exaggeration in it. the soft noise makes him bite down with more desire, as if dazai wants nothing more than to hear it again, along with his own name that only fyodor calls.
unfortunately, to rid fyodor of his clothes, he needs to distance. it's short, and if fyodor'd like, he could also take the opportunity to remove dazai's. he doesn't have to warn about the bandages - he knows the other wouldn't, with how in all these years, he has never let him peek.)
[ that bit causes a moan, louder and thankfully they are in their small private space and no one else can hear fyodor making those sounds: vulnerable and wanting as they break apart in order to get rid of clothing.
fyodor knows and that is why he does not make an attempt to even tug on the bandages, he skims his fingers past, touching the parts of visible skin and urging dazai to lie on his back. he's discovered something that works well for him to start with.
not really about dominating his partner but offering something. fyodor is not generally a very active individual and so-- ] Osamu.
(dazai's dominating, which shows in the way he grips fyodor's hips to move with his, albeit every move he offers the other has a larger layer of concern, of care, like fyodor is something too precious for him to hold in his hands - even if the moan is trying to a man like him.
being on his back means he'll pull fyodor to be on top of him. that position does allow a wonderful view of how the other looks, skinny, pale, but he sees the curves, and his fingers can't help tracing the man's waist.)
[ 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... ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ soft but firm, he thrusts and the firmness between them is just the right amount of pleasurable pressure. ] You're not going anywhere. [ downward? no sir, not when he's close like this and then fyodor can kiss dazai to his heart's content. it is a luxury he has never allowed before, just the deep kisses of exploration. ]
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he can't go lower than this, so his lips attach to the man's ear, pulling the flesh between teeth.)
Can I touch you, though?
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his hands move beneath the shirt, untucking it and just— ] Osamu. [ the name is warm on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed. ]
cw they gon fuck
unfortunately, to rid fyodor of his clothes, he needs to distance. it's short, and if fyodor'd like, he could also take the opportunity to remove dazai's. he doesn't have to warn about the bandages - he knows the other wouldn't, with how in all these years, he has never let him peek.)
cw yes they are
fyodor knows and that is why he does not make an attempt to even tug on the bandages, he skims his fingers past, touching the parts of visible skin and urging dazai to lie on his back. he's discovered something that works well for him to start with.
not really about dominating his partner but offering something. fyodor is not generally a very active individual and so-- ] Osamu.
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being on his back means he'll pull fyodor to be on top of him. that position does allow a wonderful view of how the other looks, skinny, pale, but he sees the curves, and his fingers can't help tracing the man's waist.)
Yes?
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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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tw; suicide ideation, sexual themes
Re: tw; suicide ideation, sexual themes
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