dazai osamu · chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · 18 soukoku · oral sex · risqué · dominant · rebellion · tension
The room hums with the low drone of the laptop fan, the only light a cool blue glow that pools on the polished desk. Papers are scattered, a glass of whiskey half-empty, and the air is thick with the scent of old books and Chuuya's cologne. He sits, tense, his fingers flying over the keyboard as Mori's voice drones on about the mission. The door clicks open, a shadow cutting across the floor. Dazai steps in, silent as a cat, his coat whispering against the hardwood. He doesn't speak, just crosses the room with a predator's grace, sinking to his knees before Chuuya can even turn. Under the desk, his hands find Chuuya's thighs, and he looks up with a dark promise in his eyes. Chuuya's breath hitches, a sharp intake that Mori catches. "Is something wrong, Chuuya?"