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“Ah, my dog brought me breakfast?”
Watching Chuuya stop, seemingly surprised to find Dazai naked in his apartment this early in the morning, made Dazai snicker, stretching out further on Chuuya’s plush couch. It was a deep burgundy and faux velvet, or maybe real velvet-- that seemed like the kind of thing Chuuya would spend money on. Either way it was soft , and Dazai would never tire of the feeling of it against his bare skin.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Chuuya sets his groceries on the counter and folds his arms over his chest, looking particularly irritated. “I have plans this morning and they do not involve you whatsoever.”
“But they could.” Dazai wiggles his eyebrows and spreads his thighs a little, grinning victoriously when Chuuya glances down between his legs briefly before settling his gaze back on Dazai’s smug face.
“That’s not going to work. Get up, get dressed, and get out.”
What a boring response-- that’s not what he came here for at all. Dazai whines. When that doesn’t make Chuuya’s expression change, he kicks his legs against the couch and whines louder, huffier. “But doesn’t my dog want to spend the day with its owner?”
“Not in the slightest. And I’m not your fucking dog.” Sighing, Chuuya moves to the kitchen to put his groceries away. Dazai is off the couch in a moment, following after him, traipsing shamelessly, nude, around the apartment like it’s his own. He makes sure to sway his hips a little extra, even if Chuuya is pretending not to look at him, busying himself with the groceries.
“Are too.”
Chuuya grunts, slamming the fridge door. “I’m not having this conversation again.”
“Yes you are. Because you’re gullible and you always rise to the bait.”
Another slam as Chuuya puts a bottle of wine on the countertop a little harder than necessary. “Not this time. Get out of my house, Dazai.”
Disregarding the redhead, Dazai climbs onto a barstool, putting his elbows on the countertop. “My dog is so aggressive lately.”
“Don’t put your bare ass on my stools, you freak,” Chuuya hisses, rubbing his forehead. “You’re a wild animal. No housetraining whatsoever. If anything, you’re the pet here.”
Dazai snorts. "That's absurd."
"Is it? You're more of a dog than I am."
That makes Dazai stiffen, words dying on his tongue. He scrambles, all his eloquence drying up, leaving him to sputter, "That's- you're-"
Chuuya raises his eyebrows, lips parted in surprise. "What? Did I actually trip you up?"
"I'm nothing like a mutt."
"You are." Chuuya shrugs, putting his hands on the countertop and leaning forward a little, lips quirking into an interested grin. Dazai follows the movement with his eyes. "You're obnoxious and an attention whore, and you are easily swayed by simple affection."
"I'm not."
"Dazai, you are the most touch-starved, pitiful, needy person I've ever met."
Dazai feels his cheeks flare, and purses his lips. He feels suddenly out of his depth.
“And,” Chuuya continues, on a roll, “You are the whiniest bitch in all of Yokohama.”
“Harsh.”
“And true.”
Slumping forward onto his arms, Dazai buries his face against the countertop, whining. This isn’t what he came here for. He came here for a quick fuck and maybe some of Chuuya’s expensive alcohol. Or a nap on Chuuya’s expensive mattress. Not a shitty psychoanalysis.
He squeaks when gloved fingers descend into his hair, rubbing at his scalp and behind his ears like he really is a dog. It makes Dazai’s stomach clench in a new, exciting, and utterly embarrassing way. “I can’t believe I’ve never thought of it before. You’ve been projecting onto me this whole time,” Chuuya snickers.
“What an awful thing to say,” Dazai huffs, not moving to shake Chuuya’s hand off. It feels good, little sparks tingling along his scalp. “All lies.”
“Mhm.” Chuuya retracts his hand, and Dazai almost lets out an involuntary sound, biting his tongue. He decides he doesn’t like the lens being turned on him. There’s a bit of shuffling, and then the heat of Chuuya’s body is next to him. The hand returns, this time on the back of his neck. Chuuya’s fingers tighten, like he’s holding a puppy by the scruff of the neck.
A little shudder works through Dazai, and he sits up, turning to face Chuuya. “I’m not-”
“Uh huh.” Chuuya gives a little tug, hauling him off the stool with ease. “I said to get your nasty ass off my stools.”
“My ass is cute.” Dazai wrinkles his nose. “And clean.”
Chuuya snorts and shoves him towards the bedroom, snickering when he trips over his own feet. “You’re right. That flat ass is probably your only redeeming quality.” When Dazai whirls on him, hackles raised, ready to defend his flimsy honor against the redhead’s assault, Chuuya only raises his hand and shoos him forward. “Face down on the bed.”
Dazai perks up immediately, breaking into a grin. “I thought Chuuya said he wasn’t in the mood?”
“Changed my mind. It seems I have some dog training to do.”
Shoulders raising to his ears, Dazai hisses. Dread and excitement crawl up his spine and he whines, “I did not come here to be ridiculed and demeaned .”
“Yes, you did. Face down on the bed.”
Scrambling for some kind of comeback, Dazai huffs. “Well-” He hates the way Chuuya’s looking at him, like he can see right through him. He’s not used to this flipped dynamic, and part of him wants to run home and pick it apart, to analyze this situation and plan his next move. The other part of him is turned on. He stamps his foot to make himself feel better and insists, “I’m going, but not because you said so, and not because I’m a dog.”
“Mhm.” Chuuya returns to the kitchen to finish clearing the groceries. When he hears Dazai’s footsteps padding towards the bedroom, he calls after him, “Good boy.”
-----
It’s only a few minutes before Chuuya’s heading into the bedroom, plans already formulating. The look on Dazai’s face when he’d called him a dog was worth all the pain the brunet had caused him over the years. He’s never seen Dazai so easily, honestly tripped up like that and it was beyond rewarding. His plans for the day had been far from this-- a long nap and then a bottle of wine were in his intended future-- but he doesn’t mind the change in plans. He leaves his gloves on the counter and his vest and harness on the couch, loosening the top few buttons of his shirt.
Dazai is on the bed like he’d asked, but he had decided to be an ultimate brat and was sitting against the headboard, picking through Chuuya’s motorcycle magazines. There were shreds of paper scattered on the ground beside the bed. At the sound of the door, Dazai looks up, maintaining eye contact as he rips another page, the sound echoing through the room.
Chuuya lets the door slam behind him. “Put that shit away.”
Dazai rips another page and hums.
“You’re even more poorly trained than I thought. I guess I really have my work cut out for me, hm?”
Almost imperceptibly, Dazai stiffens. He scrunches the magazine in his hand, the pages crinkling audibly. Chuuya steps around to the side of the mattress and snatches it out of his hands, and, in a stroke of genius, rolls it up into a tube and smacks Dazai upside the head with it. “Bad dog,” He says smugly.
Dazai whines and sinks into the pillows, seemingly accepting his fate. Stretching his arms out to either side of himself, he wiggles in what he likely thinks is an enticing way, but which really makes him look like a worm. Dazai’s clumsy attempts at seduction have always endeared Chuuya more than he should. Each poorly-planned foray into romance is truly laughable-- Chuuya often wonders how he’s gotten so many women interested in him-- but Chuuya keeps falling for it, as evidenced by the way he’s climbing into bed now, leaning over Dazai thoughtfully.
“Don’t hit me today,” Dazai tells him, spreading his legs, baring his cunt to Chuuya, who hones in on the sight greedily. “Be gentle.”
Chuuya hums in acknowledgement, smoothing his hand over Dazai’s side. He’s only wearing a few bandages, just the wrists and neck, and so he’s able to feel each and every bump along the smooth skin. When Dazai continues to squirm, trying to get comfortable on the mattress, he pinches the flesh, hard enough that Dazai yelps.
“You even sound like a dog,” Chuuya mutters. “Why does it bother you so much for me to call you that, hm? After you’ve been throwing it at me for years?”
Dazai looks for a second like he’s going to bullshit him, eyebrows quirked in that way he does before he says something truly stupid, but he only purses his lips instead, falling still against the mattress. When he doesn’t say anything for a beat, Chuuya leans up and pushes some of the curls away from his face, watching him take slow, steady breaths. Dazai’s cheek is warm under his hand, and he can hear each soft puff of breath that fans over his thumb. It’s almost meditative, watching Dazai think of a way to be honest. Chuuya’s other hand rubs circles over Dazai’s naked hip.
“A dog is not a person,” Dazai says after a long beat, like it’s a question rather than a fact. “And the whole point is that I’m trying to be a person.”
Humming again, Chuuya leans forward until he can wrap his lips around Dazai’s collarbone, letting his teeth nip at the delicate skin. Dazai gasps above him, one hand curling into his hair. The other is still limp at his side, fingers dangling off the edge of the mattress. When Dazai says it like that, sincere and wondering, it doesn’t really feel like much of a game anymore. Chuuya bites down until he’s sure that there’s going to be a mark before he leans back up to look at Dazai.
To his surprise, Dazai is smiling a little, shy. “But it’s probably okay if I’m only Chuuya’s dog, and only for a little while, right?”
Chuuya pinches his hip. “Guess so. I thought I told you to lay on your stomach.” Maybe if he acts like this is normal, just another one of their poorly advised hookups, Dazai will relax a little. Another pinch makes him roll over, flopping like he’s greatly pained. The theatrics are comforting.
When Dazai’s properly laid on his stomach, Chuuya backs up, kneeling behind the brunet. With a hand on each hip, he hoists him up so his ass is in the air, hsi spine delicately curved so his chest and face can press into the mattress.
“Ouch,” Dazai says, and Chuuya watches his toes curl a little. He knows Dazai likes being tossed around, likes the show of strength-- the reassurance that, while Chuuya probably won’t hurt him for real, he could if Dazai asked him to.
But tonight, Dazai has asked him the opposite, and so Chuuya keeps it to a minimum, only pinching him a little. It’s cold enough in the room that Dazai’s got little goosebumps on his thighs, and Chuuya runs his hands over them reverently. When he pushes Dazai’s hips up higher, Dazai whines at the stretch but doesn’t move, letting Chuuya move him. The sight makes Chuuya groan under his breath, squeezing Dazai’s ass with one hand.
“You know, I never realized how much you whine , you dumb mutt.” Chuuya leans forward to moth over one of Dazai’s asscheeks, sinking his teeth in briefly before muttering against the skin, “Like a dumb puppy.”
“Dumb?” Dazai asks, turning his head so his cheek is pressed to the pillow and he’s staring at the wall.
“Yeah,” Chuuya slides two fingers over Dazai’s cunt, nothing but a light touch. Dazai shivers a little, at the words or the feeling, he’s not sure. He decides to give a little more of both. “You like the sound of that? Dumb little Dazai? Stupid mutt?”
Dazai makes a strained noise and buries his face in the pillow again. Chuuya slides his fingers over his folds again, humming. With Dazai in this position, his ass up and his cunt bared to him, knelt behind him on the bed, he can see clearly the way wetness begins to dribble out of him. He leans forward and runs his tongue in one smooth motion over the seam of Dazai’s cunt, groaning in appreciation.
“You-!” Dazai yelps, thighs tensing involuntarily. “Don’t do it from behind-!”
“What, too much?” Chuuya runs his tongue over him again, faster now, with more pressure. Slick spreads over his tongue and he moves his hand to spread Dazai’s folds. He groans, collecting it on his tongue. Dazai whimpers and reaches one hand behind himself to lace through Chuuya's hair again. His thighs shake in Chuuya's periphery and he lets out a yelp that dies into a moan, high-pitched and reedy. Chuuya’s tongue presses forward, pressing past his folds to prod his entrance.
Dazai’s back arches further as he presses his hips back into Chuuya’s face. When his nails dig into Chuuya's scalp, sending pleasant tingles down his spine, Chuuya groans against his cunt, "Good dog."
He loves Dazai like this, not yapping but instead letting Chuuya do what he needs to do. It’s a little like taking care of the mackerel, which makes Chuuya’s stomach clench in pleasant ways as he draws circles with his tongue. He's hard in his pants, still fully clothed as he eats Dazai out, one hand on Dazai’s cunt and the other bracing his weight against the mattress. Dazai's letting out a steady stream of sounds, muffled into Chuuya's silk pillowcases, and when the redhead leans up briefly to pant fresh air, he sees a puddle of drool under Dazai's face. It makes him laugh, pinching Dazai's thigh again. "Aw, does that feel good, puppy?"
Dazai nods into the pillow with a pitiful sound. When he turns his head to look behind himself at Chuuya, he looks a little raw, eyes wide and wild, face splotchy. He nods frantically, desperately, panting and tugging at Chuuya’s hair.
“See, can’t even talk. What a dumb puppy.”
Dazai puts his face back down, jolting when Chuuya shoves his two fingers into his cunt.
“You’re so easy to train, though… all it takes is a little treat and you’re rolling over for me.” He can see Dazai’s toes curl in his periphery. It’s cute. He kisses Dazai’s thigh and spreads his fingers, feeling out his soft inner walls. “All that yapping for nothing…”
“Mm,” Dazai says uselessly, canting his hips back into Chuuya’s hand.
“Bitch,” Chuuya says affectionately. There’s so much slick leaking out around his fingers that it drips down his palm. It’s such a waste, he thinks, licking his lips and watching a droplet fall to the mattress to get absorbed by the sheets.
Dazai arches harder when his finger hits a sensitive spot inside him, and Chuuya grins, pressing down as hard as he can. “You look so perfect on your knees,” He muses out loud, “It makes me wonder why you bother walking around at all. Or talking. You should just stay like this, dumb and useless.”
The sound Dazai lets out is almost pained,a dn the only indication that he’s coming is the way his walls spasm around Chuuya’s fingers. Shamelessly, Chuuya leans forward and sticks his tongue in beside them, groaning. His cock throbs in his pants. Each swipe of his tongue draws another hitched moan out of Dazai as he comes down, starting to pull at Chuuya’s hair harder as he becomes more sensitive.
Reluctantly, Chuuya obeys, sitting up and looking down at Dazai, now slumped. He glistens with sweat, shaking a little. Chuuya leans over him and latches his lips around the back of Dazai’s neck. “Good doggy,” He says cheekily into Dazai’s ear, scratching at his scalp with the hand still coated in the brunet’s slick. Dazai heaves a little under him, wiggling until he can get his face out of the pillows to glare at Chuuya, mouth twitching when Chuuya grinds his clothed cock into his hip.
“Gimme a few minutes.”
Chuuya hums, licking at the side of Dazai’s neck to make him laugh.
“Ew, ew, slug trails.”
Chuuya scratches at his scalp again, sinking his teeth into Dazai’s neck. He doubts they’ll talk about it, even if he’s burning with a quiet interest at this little peek into Dazai’s psyche. Dazai’s still pink and flushed underneath him, moving one hand away from the sheets so he can wipe drool off his chin.
“Drooling like a dog,” Chuuya comments, nipping Dazai’s jawbone.
Dazai reaches over and wipes his drool on the front of Chuuya’s shirt in retaliation, embarrassed. “Only for a little while.”
Easily, Chuuya agrees, “Right.” If that’s the break Dazai needs, far be it from him to inhibit it. He of all people knows how much Dazai deserves it.
That won’t stop him from rubbing it in, though, not after years of enduring the dog treatment. He sits up, detaching his mouth from Dazai’s neck and looking down at him. He pats one of Dazai’s ass cheeks like he’s swatting at a misbehaving animal. “Alright. What other tricks do you know?”
Dazai whines and flops onto his back. “If you make me go fetch I’m never coming back here.”
“Good riddance,” Chuuya mutters, starting on his belt buckle.