31 Days Of Dazai

numb

Their bodies are locked together-- it's competitive, in a way, the way they move. Fighting for some sort of dominance, to overtake the other, yet simultaneously in sync. It's odd the two detectives got to this state in the first place. They're so similar, yet worlds different at the same time. For them to take part in such intimate relations as this, to fall in bed together despite their initial wariness of each other-- it's completely surprising, something neither likely predicted, appropriately so.

But now, here they are, in the throws of passion once more.

Yosano slides her palms down Dazai's ribs, feeling every bump and ridge from long aged scars, the bones of his ribs defined, a tad bit too defined, perhaps, but in the moment, this moment, she is no doctor. No, she is just a woman in bed with her lover, nothing more, nothing less.

"Dazai." She hums, lips forming a smirk as she shuffles above him, bearing down upon him yet still holding the reigns of this encounter-- completely in control.

Shes in control. She likes that, to be able to dictate the outcome of things, whether that be what tool she'll use to revive Atsushi for the third time this month, or in bed with Dazai, fighting tooth and nail for him to relinquish his hold on her. To leave her in control, and to simply let her handle things.

Yeah, that's how she likes it, however Dazai is one stubborn bastard, which they both most certainly have in common, and so these occasions are not unlike a battle of strengths-- the most powerful shall reign victorious, and thus take their throne.

It's competitive and thoughtless, all based in primitive feeling. That's why she likes it best. She can truly let go and allow herself to sink into just feeling-- no thinking whatsoever involved.

She reaches and grasps the brunettes had in her own, locking them together as she moved, falling headfirst into the sensation, feeling Dazai lightly squeeze her hand back. His hand is firmly interlocked with hers, connected in more than one way.

It's all so intimate, something she would likely have scoffed at, and yet she's not only doing it, but initiating it. Dazai would never do so, so she does, because for all Dazai's flirting and teasing, he always keeps himself at an arm's length, frustratingly, and so she always closes the distance.

At first, it bothered her. While she likes her independence and takes great pride in it, but still, it would be nice if Dazai extended some sort of affection other than sex. But, he never really did, and she slowly realized he never would. At least, not in the same way she did. In fact, she began to notice the way he acted when she did such things.

He'd clam up, become motionless, hand limp in her own, or she'd cup his face in her hands and he'd stare straight through her like she wasn't even there. It was startling to realize that the entire time she attempted to lavish affection on him, it bothered him so deeply.

For a while, she refrained from any passing touches, running her fingers through his hair, holding his hand or any kind intimate touch. For a long time, it remains like that, and neither of them bring it up. 

It becomes their normal, until the cycle is broken.

They're both at a café, idly talking, spending a weekend afternoon in each other's presence, quiet and unintruding. It's while she's telling a story that fingers brush against her own resting on it table, and to her immense surprise, gently Dazai rests his fingertips atop hers, not mentioning it nor giving any indication of it. He just does, and she is left in surprise.

And so, slowly she could hold his hand without him clamming up. It took damn near two years to get to that stage, so once they've reached it, she's quite pleased with herself.