31 Days Of Dazai

pinned down

When coming to, it's to the cool, sharp sensation of blade held to his exposed throat.

Now, this isn't particularly unusual, after all, Mori gets a kick out of catching Dazai off guard, however he knows, distinctly, this is not Mori's doing.

There's someone sat on his lower back, pinning him to the cold, damp concrete beneath him, his sharp bones poking and grinding uncomfortably against the pavement. Bandages from his neck and face missing, Dazai feels a gag tied around his throat and a blindfold across his eyes. The fabric in Dazai's mouth tastes gross and the sensation of his teeth biting into the fabric brings awful fullbody shudders down his spin, moving his jaw grinding into the towel. He keeps his mouth as loose as possible to avoid this sensation.

The brunette teen must have made a noise behind the gag, because the man sat atop him calls out to another person boisterously.

"'Ee's awake!" The man atop him calls, and the knife at his throat shifts, travelling lower down, nearer to his collarbone.

A hand winds tightly into his hair, twisting the locks into a tight grip before savagely slamming the boys face into pavement hard. A crack shatters the air and Dazai sucks in a deep breath, eyes watering instinctually at the damage down to his nose, now no doubt broken due to the force in which he struck the ground.

Dazai's face is yanked back upward, and for a moment he worries he'll be meeting the concrete once more, a niggling concern that if he does so again he may start breaking teeth, something of which Mori would most certainly be displeased with. Instead, however, the man pulls his back back achingly far, stretching the muscles in his neck, back and shoulders at the angle he forces the teens head in, pressing the blade back to his throat again, this time much harder, the blade actually cutting into flesh, biting it and exposing strained sinewy muscle beneath.

"He's all skin and bone! He must be smart to make up for what he's lacking! Really, though, the Port Mafia must be in dire straits if they're hiring such weaklings." Another voice speaks up, voice condescending and foreign as boots clunk in his direction.

Dazai's head is released, though the relief is extremely short lived when a steel toed boot presses his head into the pavement hard, head cocked to the right, ear crushing and scraping against the wet, rough concrete.

Dazai wants to say something, think up the nastiest words he can string together and hiss it in their direction, but his current predicament doesn't allow it. So, he remains in a quiet, seething silence as weight is bore down upon him and he's forced into a pose of such humiliation.

"Get his phone, we're making the call." As he thought, hes being held for ransom, a payment Mori wouldn't make. That isn't to say, though, that the doctor wouldn't be getting him back. He most certainly will, he always does. It'll just be a blood bath as he does it.

The foot releases his head, and with the pressure lifted his back relaxes minutely. The quicker they call Mori, the quicker this is all dealt with and he can return to their shared quarters.

The man returns and seemingly kneels down in front of him, flicking through his contacts on his phone for Mori's. It doesn't take him long, considering how few he actually has.

From where Dazai lay, he can hear the first ring, the second, and then the click of Mori picking up the phone.

"Ah, Dazai-kun! There you are! Wandering off on your own is foolish--"

"This isn't your brat." The man replies, voice egregiously smug as he regards the boss through the phone, a behaviour not at all tolerated by the man, Dazai being the only partial exception. He also hates how the man refers to him as Mori's. He knows that's the case, he knows Mori owns him-- that he's every bit of him for years, taken everything precious from him with such an impressive ease and tenderness in doing so, completely unlike what any other could do-- but knowing that an outsider looking in could tell, knows what Mori had made out him fills him with an unbelievable hopelessness, a feeling of utter loss and despair that he is so thoroughly owned by the man that others can tell just from seeing him.

It's, frankly, humiliating.

"I see... I thought this was likely the case." Mori seems contemplative through the phone, and the way he says it sends a spark of dread through him.

"Ten million yen if want to see him again, we come up with the drop off location, you bring the money in cash alone, and we'll exchange the pipsqueak for it--"

"No." His captors caught off guard silence speaks for what they were expecting from the ex doctor, their expectation of getting the money nice and easy from the doctor-- hold his bitch hostage, ask for the money and set up a drop off point and isolate the target. While this would likely work for most people had you targeted them, however the person the were going after was the boss of the Port Mafia, the man who lead the sorts of deals every day without a hitch. The idea that these two assholes would manage to get Mori, a master in manipulation and extortion is completely insulting.

Dazai can't help but snort at the idiocy these men were so openly displaying, and recieved the butt of the blade that was just head to his neck to the back of his head for his troubles. He doesn't let it deter his amusement at the situation.

"There will be no transaction. In one day, the Port Mafia will come to retrieve Dazai-kun--"

"We'll fucking kill him! Don't test us you fucking creep, I'll slit his damn throat right here!" The man sat atop him howls at the phone, and Dazai can't resist flinching at his unnecessary volume.

"That's your choice. You can do as you please to him, kill him, torture him, rape him-- but keep in mind, what you do to him will come right back to you. Think of it as karma! What comes around, goes around!" Mori is distressingly pleasant as he explains this to the men, and Dazai's stomach churns uncomfortably. That asshole-- putting him in this situation! Dazai wants nothing more than to die, but pain is, most certainly, off the table of the he wants. He doesn't want to be in this damn situation with these two-bit thugs, completely vulnerable and at their mercy.

What is Mori playing at? Had Dazai recently done something to warrant the mans wrath? He doesn't recall any particular moments in the last while of him being too annoying or destructive. He'd kept the clean up on his suicide attempts to a minimum, so it's not like that has been a recent worry, he hadn't refused the man anything as of late nor argued too petulantly. What had Dazai done to recieve Mori's neglect in this moment.

"You see, Dazai is very neglectful of his wellbeing, he doesn't watch over himself, and gets himself into these situations too regularly and relies on me to get him out of these situations. This will not be the case from now on, so, Dazai-kun, I know you can hear me, I hope your stay with your wonderful new friends teaches you an important lesson!" Dazai's entire body is bitterly cold, he expects the men to return a shout to Mori's words, to scream through the receiver at him, however he responds by hucking the cell phone at the far wall, the sound of the phone making contact with the brick wall and shattering filled the room as hissed cusses followed.

The weight that held him pinned down stood up and moved away, presumably wandering the room, distressed.

Heart thundering, Dazai found opportunity and slipped the bonds, reaching up and tearing blindfold and  pushing himself upwards onto two feet, attempting to stumble away.

An alarmed shout sounds behind him and a hand catches the collar of his shirt and yanks him back. The man, a blonde haired white man drags him to the floor once more, straddling his hips as hands wrapped tightly around his through, grip a vice as the air fled his lungs.

Hands pulling, tearing and jabbing whatever they could reach, the man remained determined to wring the breath from him. His vision blots black as his mouth attempts to suck in air, mouth a silent O, body contorting and twisting, attempting to writhe out from the mans hold.

Nothing works, robbed of breath, vision fading, Dazai wonders if the bruises from his current strangulation with even be visible against the scars of previous cuts and rope burns.

Consciousness flees him and in that dirtied basement he remains.

~~~~

Later the next night, Dazai is treated by hands too soft and kind for eyes filled with such sick, paraphillic pleasure as he heals the wounds born of the men's mounting anger.

He touches the bruises and cuts across his throat sweetly, admiring him as he does so. Dazai wonders if the doctor is jealous that he himself wasn't the one who got to do it.

Nonetheless, Dazai does learn his lesson, and is more careful, from there forward, lest Mori abandon him like that again.