Chuuya loved leaving marks on Osamu. Whether it be love bites, hickeys, or scratches on his pale, broad back, Chuuya loved it. He didn't quite now why it pleased him so much to see Dazai all marked up from his love, but it did. Arahabaki went oddly quiet when he did so, as if Chuuya biting Osamu soothed the destructive god.

Chuuya lay in bed. It was about 6:00 a.m. Old habits die hard, Chuuya supposes. It was hardwired in his brain to wake up early during his days in the Port Mafia, and even now after 7 years he still rises before the sun. Osamu, on the other hand, slept till noon. During this time, Chuuya did either one of two things; he got up and cooked breakfast, or he continued to lie in bed and watch Osamu sleep. Today, he was staring at his slumbering husband.

The white, lacey curtains hanging over the window fluttered, blown gently by the rotating fan on Osamu's nightstand. The warm sunbeams shining through the glass shone on Dazai, bathing him in an ethereal glow. Osamu was so beautiful. It took Chuuya's breath away. His partner looked like an angel against their silken sheets; messy brown hair stark against the pillow like a stream of dark ink and creamy skin looking like porcelain and impossibly soft. Chuuya reaches out, his fingertips caressing the apple of Osamu's cheekbone. He cups Osamu's face, a soft sigh escaping him.

Chuuya scoots closer to Osamu and tucks himself against the brunet's warm, solid, safe chest. He snuggles close to his beloved husband, burying his face in Osamu's neck and nuzzling the soft skin there. Arahabaki purrs in Chuuya's head, almost as content as Chuuya was. Parting his lips, Chuuya licks a hot stripe over the side of Osamu's neck, gently and fervently kissing the area. Then he bites down; not too hard but not too soft. Something Osamu would surely feel, but it wouldn't hurt.