The candlelight flickered lazily across the room, casting soft gold over Dazai’s bare shoulders as he hovered above Chuuya, breath hitching. The silk sheets rustled beneath them, tangled and messy—like everything between them tonight. Neither spoke it aloud, but it was written in the glint of their eyes: this meant something.

Chuuya smirked up at him, chest rising and falling with every teasing breath. “You’re staring,” he said, voice low, laced with heat.

“Of course I am,” Dazai murmured, brushing a thumb along his jaw. “You’re gorgeous like this… undone and smug.”

“Undone?” Chuuya chuckled, gripping Dazai’s wrist and yanking him closer. “You haven’t even seen half of me yet.”

The teasing gave way to something heavier. Their mouths met in a desperate kiss—no finesse, just years of tension burning all at once. Dazai’s hands explored slowly, reverent. But Chuuya arched into every touch, still in control even while beneath him.

Clothes hit the floor. Skin met skin. The air turned electric. Dazai hesitated for a second—Is this okay?—until Chuuya’s eyes locked with his, full of fire and something softer.

“Don’t hold back,” Chuuya whispered. “I want it.”

What followed was a blur—tangled limbs, gasped curses, stuttering firsts. Chuuya met every movement with fierce vulnerability, grounding them both. He owned it.

After, when the world was quiet save for their breathing, Dazai collapsed beside him, brushing damp hair from Chuuya’s face.

Chuuya smirked, soft now. “Told you I’d wreck you.”

Dazai laughed, pulling him close. “Yeah… you did.”