...That's really cute, Chuuya. It almost sounds like you've missed me.
[ Except that Dazai utters the word between them in the tone of a secret worth sharing. As if the concept of longing lies somewhere along a spectrum of the obscene, halfway between a profane declaration and a sexual invitation.
Chuuya's stolen glass is still in one hand, yet it does little to hide the hitch of a grin that's nearing wolfish satisfaction. It hovers at his lips, patiently awaiting another kiss of Dazai's mouth until he finally obliges it's insistence on attention. The entirety of that long hard swallow plays out with their eyes locked, the whole moment reading like a continued discussion without any need for words.
The scene tonight overlays like thin vellum atop too many with the same theme, varied in every way except their paired presence amid shot glasses and tongues tinged in liquor. This was of course before Odasaku or that single irreversible shot which sent their trajectories spinning outward. The death of one man caused Soukoku's unified orbits to careen away at light speed, and ironically it wasn't either of their own.
It's dangerously easy to let the years apart slough off like leaves from seasons already spent, revealing the bare branches that tangle and knot them together. And why not? Nostalgia is a good enough excuse to simply coexist for a moment. Even if it's torture to resist ruffling Chuuya's feathers purely for the sake of making him scream Dazai's name, red-faced and breathless in a way that shouldn't remind him of Chuuya on top of him, yet always does. ]
Who says I'm not chasing something?
[ The words coil out, all smoke and dark promises, sounding less like he's correcting Chuuya's assumption and nearer to that of a cautionary warning Chuuya has never heeded until it's too late.
Dazai leans in close enough for it to read as a threat or some conspiratorial discussion, as though he's bestowing his prior partner with some time-honored lesson about courtship. Not that either of them need it. Everything there is to know about sex was learned ages ago, long before his partner could hold his liquor well or stumbled home with anyone but the man at his side.
Reflecting only the flicker of candlelight and amber hues dancing along the wall of caramel-colored bottles, Dazai's eyes shunt out all other light, losing their tawny tones in place of something brackish, edging just this side of red. ]
no subject
[ Except that Dazai utters the word between them in the tone of a secret worth sharing. As if the concept of longing lies somewhere along a spectrum of the obscene, halfway between a profane declaration and a sexual invitation.
Chuuya's stolen glass is still in one hand, yet it does little to hide the hitch of a grin that's nearing wolfish satisfaction. It hovers at his lips, patiently awaiting another kiss of Dazai's mouth until he finally obliges it's insistence on attention. The entirety of that long hard swallow plays out with their eyes locked, the whole moment reading like a continued discussion without any need for words.
The scene tonight overlays like thin vellum atop too many with the same theme, varied in every way except their paired presence amid shot glasses and tongues tinged in liquor. This was of course before Odasaku or that single irreversible shot which sent their trajectories spinning outward. The death of one man caused Soukoku's unified orbits to careen away at light speed, and ironically it wasn't either of their own.
It's dangerously easy to let the years apart slough off like leaves from seasons already spent, revealing the bare branches that tangle and knot them together. And why not? Nostalgia is a good enough excuse to simply coexist for a moment. Even if it's torture to resist ruffling Chuuya's feathers purely for the sake of making him scream Dazai's name, red-faced and breathless in a way that shouldn't remind him of Chuuya on top of him, yet always does. ]
Who says I'm not chasing something?
[ The words coil out, all smoke and dark promises, sounding less like he's correcting Chuuya's assumption and nearer to that of a cautionary warning Chuuya has never heeded until it's too late.
Dazai leans in close enough for it to read as a threat or some conspiratorial discussion, as though he's bestowing his prior partner with some time-honored lesson about courtship. Not that either of them need it. Everything there is to know about sex was learned ages ago, long before his partner could hold his liquor well or stumbled home with anyone but the man at his side.
Reflecting only the flicker of candlelight and amber hues dancing along the wall of caramel-colored bottles, Dazai's eyes shunt out all other light, losing their tawny tones in place of something brackish, edging just this side of red. ]
Isn't a bar the perfect place for that?