31 Days Of Dazai

"stay with me"

The russet haired mans skin is flushed red, chest hitching as Dazai's lips graze along his throat, pressing kisses softer than Dazai could imagine himself normal placing.

The man is laid beneath him, nude and relaxed. Dazai shifts his hips over top of Oda's, the place where they connect sending sharp, spine tingling sparks of pleasure up his body, thighs tense and shaky and he leans back upright, relinquishing the startlingly affectionate kisses he had been lavishing onto the older man.

Dazai splayed his palms against the former assassins gut, bracing himself upon the toned stomach before lifting himself slowly. Oda grunts, hands darting out to grasp the youngers hips, setting on his hip bones and lightly massaging.

The brunette sinks back down, fire burning is his gut as he spears himself on the other man, breaths coming out weighty as he begins to set a rhythm.

Dazai keeps his eyes squeezed shut, rolling his hips and bouncing atop him, not daring to make eye contact with the older man. He didn't think he'd be capable to do such a thing.

Eyes were terrible; they told far to much of a person and their intentions, a person's eyes lay their plans and aspirations bare in front of him, and yet Dazai held no ability to read them.

That was something he deeply feared-- when he looked into someone's eyes, he saw something incomprehensible and alien, something so different clouded that he could nearly see his own reflection in them. Eyes are the mirror to the soul, and yet that mirror was two way. They could see him and all his pitiful debauchery and in inhumanness, and yet in their eyes he only saw reflection, nothing he could comprehend, as if he were locked out of mans thoughts.

Humans like their secrets, he knows this, he likes his as well, however he himself bore no ability to conceal said secrets. They had their secretive eyes that saw but did not allow to be seen, and Dazai had his that allowed too much.

He was afraid of what Oda would see when he opened his eyes, or what Dazai wouldn't.

Oda was familiar, he was secure in a way Mori never could, but at the same time he was unpredictable in a way. Dazai knew what Mori was thinking because he thought like Mori, calculative and cruel, he grew up under the mans thumb, however Oda was different.

Oda took care of orphans without an ulterior motive, he refused to take life and he wanted to be a creative. Mori and Oda did not share these characteristics, Mori only took care of him so he could take from Dazai, and had Dazai killing at only fourteen years old.

Oda taught his kids how to write and colour within the lines of their disney colouring books. Mori taught him how to tear the strongest of mans secrets from within him with just his bare hands.

Dazai had seen Oda tuck the kids to bed before, he watched him speak quietly in whispers to them before sausaging them up into their blankets, drawing giggles and laughs from them before bidding them sweet dreams.

Dazai had often shared a bed with Mori, the mans presence while seemingly soft and kind brought nothing but stress, hands too exploring and words too graphic, no sweet well wishes of a good night, only the lingering presence of a man too interested in the immoral bearing his weight down on him.

These differences made Oda and Mori a different type of secure. While Mori may have been an active figure within his life, a constant and a distraction from previous situations and problems by creating others, Oda was secure because from what he could tell there was no ulterior motive. Not sex nor status, the man hung at his side for what seemed like no other reason then to be there. Having someone be there because they just want to bask in your presence and not take was beyond relieving, to be able to know with most certainty that what was said between them wouldn't be coerced out of his by Mori, something truly private.