Against Better Judgement
“I’m not fucking you,” Chuuya said flatly.
“You always say that,” Dazai countered, crowding Chuuya, getting in close, and Chuuya let him. “I’d make it good,” he offered, low and breathless.
Chuuya didn’t answer, just caught his own breath at the feeling of Dazai’s hand going places it shouldn’t, deftly worming his way through too many layers of shirts and trousers and—
“Ah.” A soft sound of triumph matching perfectly Chuuya’s gasp as he closed his eyes to pretend this wasn’t Dazai painting his face with his breath.
“Chuuya,” Dazai crooned. “Look at me.”
Chuuya shouldn’t have, but he did.0