Tainted (A soukoku fanfic)

Chapter 10

That night, Chuuya dreamt.

He dreamt of red, and passion and violence. Of being taken, owned, possessed— of Dazai filling him with hardness, fucking him over the pool table.

Chuuya woke to his fingers wrapping firmly around his uncovered cock. His underwear was still snagged around his thighs because he had clearly eased himself into this, even through sleep. The scarlet cotton matched his pinked skin wonderfully and he struggled to free himself of the underwear, still not entirely lucid. " U-ugh," he let out a throaty moan as he carried on pumping his fist. A weak dribble of precum splattered on his lower stomach, glistening in the thatch of his scarce pubic hair. The bedroom filled with the lurid sound of him jerking himself off hard; the sound of his cum-slick fist pumping around his cock and thumping down onto the base with a wet slapping sound. Under this was the soft creaking of the bed springs as the redhead lifted his hips up and thrust them like a dog in heat rather uselessly. But the loudest sounds by far were the deep moans of pleasure coming out of Chuuya's slack lips. He wasn't even trying to muffle himself but he did have his other arm over his eyes so that they were blocked from view. That was a sign of something close to shyness, or maybe shame.

Toes curled and back arched as the orgasm he denied himself previously rippled with an intensity echoing in his teeth. His heart raced as he came back to earth with a loud gasp, uncramping his feet. God... what the fuck was he thinking masturbating over Dazai? But that was the problem, he wasn't thinking when he did it. Chuuya groaned. He shouldn't be turned on by that bastard– he was supposed to hate him damnit! Releasing his now limp length with disgust, he squirmed uncomfortably at the damp spots that had formed below his belly as well as below his ass cheeks from how much he'd come.

" Fuck," he mumbled, propping himself with an elbow, slick hand fisted tightly over the ruined sheets. His whole body trembled with revulsion, though neither hand moved to uncover himself and expose his mess. What was wrong with him? You are a sick, sick man, his inner voice said with distaste. Blue eyes filled with tears, and he threw himself back on the bed, letting out a strangled sob. Why was he so fucked in the head?! More sobs escaped his chapped lips, and he clamped a perspiring hand over them. Why, why, why?!

Lying in the dark, stomach empty, heart ruined, he wept quietly. His body throbbed with repugnance, and for the first time since his arrival, Chuuya let the carousel of bolted emotions spring free.

*

Time slowed. Seconds crawled into unwilling minutes, turning into tomorrow and next week.

Chuuya hadn't seen much of Dazai after that fateful night. He only caught glimpses of his thick mop of brown hair in the halls as he cleaned. As much as he didn't want to own up to it, it drove him on edge because each time he caught him in his peripheral, his heart hammered in nervous anticipation, thinking the brunette had come for him to fulfill his promises of that night. His emotions were a complete jumble of both relief, and to his chagrin, disappointment every time Dazai changed course just so they wouldn't bump into each other. He almost appeared to be running away from Chuuya on some occasions. Though the chestnut ruled that thought out— he said he wanted him, so he wouldn't do that, right? Unless, he's running from something else..?

At the end of the day though he'd given up on fretting over what went on Dazai's messed up head, and the week flied by much too fast than he'd like it to. Chuuya would never acknowledge it, but being sold to Dazai was pretty uneventful, tediously so. On certain nights, part of him wished for Dazai's company, for his deliciously sinful touch upon his meek flesh, and Chuuya hated himself for it. He hated how his body had completely accepted the dark haired to the point that it grew hot with want at the alarmingly frequent wet dreams about the man.