[ fyodor meets dazai's gaze, the fondness in his expression vanishing like a footprint on the sand meeting the unending tide. his eyes lack their usual blank hardness, the apathy that seems to unfalteringly set losing terrain for a moment. he considers the question, an invitation too.
but if he's to remain holy, should he really take a seat at this table? ]
It seemed impolite to interfere too much. [ but he shuffles on his hands and knees, taking a spot between chuuya's legs so the redhead is trapped between dazai and himself. this last round had been dazai's win but fyodor is sliding one hand, without gentle consideration beneath the waistband of chuuya's pants.
ah, what had he made chuuya do to dazai earlier? come as fast as possible, correct? well, that will be the rule then as his hand squeezes, hard and then begins to move.
utter hubris to think he can both participate and remain saintly. ]
[Chuuya is feeling incredibly lightheaded as he falls to the floor, his weight against Dazai. A few more seconds and he might have passed out. At least the rope is allowing him to breathe now, if barely, so he desperately draws in air, eyes a bit unfocused as Dostoevsky moves to sit in front of him. He doesn't even react to him at first.
Until he starts to touch. Chuuya gasps, though he doesn't have the air to spare yet, hips pushing into the touch. Being choked had just made him more turned on, and the touch already feels almost painful.
And it's making it impossible to catch his breath. he keeps blinking, trying to focus, legs sliding against the floor like he's barely aware that he's moving them. He reaches up to grab at the rope, but without his ability there's no way for him to break free, not like this, and it's all he can do to grab at it uselessly. It's overwhelming. He's close to passing out again. It barely takes a minute and then his hips are jerking forwards as he spills himself all over Dostoesky's hand.
It's so fast he barely had time to feel good, and he's whiting out, feeling distant from the whole situation. It's definitely not a satisfying orgasm in the end.]
[This is as Chuuya should be, always: struggling. For what and in what way doesn't really matter to Dazai, but struggle, Chuuya must. The guy has it far too easy, so damn satisfied with life in spite of everything.
Dazai really, genuinely hates that. Sometimes he's willing to let it be, but when Chuuya decides to make himself a pain in the ass to Dazai in particular, Dazai figures he deserves everything he gets as payback for his hubris. (That, truly, is the only hubris here.)
Since Chuuya is still struggling, he's clearly doing just fine, and Dazai lets that be his guideline for how much pressure to keep on that rope. He does offer a bit more breathing room once Chuuya comes, but once that happens, he doesn't see the point in dragging this out any further. Except of course for one reason: Fyodor hasn't had a whole lot of fun here, yet.]
Care to use him? You'll rarely find him this broken in.
[It's up to Fyodor, really: Dazai is happy enough to call it a night and hit the shower.]
[ a variety of scenarios run through his mind. how would it be to force the godling's mouth open and force him to swallow? perhaps he could use the cum in his hands to open chuuya open before sliding in, taking his pleasure that way. another thought: to come on that slack face, watching awareness seeping back in slowly.
he cannot.
dostoevsky is a creature who survives due to extreme caution and open shunning of humanity and intimacy. ultimately, post-orgasm he would be exhausted in the middle of double black and that is not a position he trusts; he doesn't trust the truce to last that long or for dazai not to see something he might use against him in future. after all, that had been fyodor's intention in instigating this entire situation but what he had seen had cracked something deep inside.
he wants this and he can't allow himself to want it.
slithering upwards, he presses that cum-stained hand against chuuya's face and neck, wiping it on chuuya's skin as he presses a mockingly chaste kiss against the side of dazai's mouth. ]
Not tonight, I'm tired, dearest husband. Next time, break him in again for us, yes?
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no subject
but if he's to remain holy, should he really take a seat at this table? ]
It seemed impolite to interfere too much. [ but he shuffles on his hands and knees, taking a spot between chuuya's legs so the redhead is trapped between dazai and himself. this last round had been dazai's win but fyodor is sliding one hand, without gentle consideration beneath the waistband of chuuya's pants.
ah, what had he made chuuya do to dazai earlier? come as fast as possible, correct? well, that will be the rule then as his hand squeezes, hard and then begins to move.
utter hubris to think he can both participate and remain saintly. ]
no subject
Until he starts to touch. Chuuya gasps, though he doesn't have the air to spare yet, hips pushing into the touch. Being choked had just made him more turned on, and the touch already feels almost painful.
And it's making it impossible to catch his breath. he keeps blinking, trying to focus, legs sliding against the floor like he's barely aware that he's moving them. He reaches up to grab at the rope, but without his ability there's no way for him to break free, not like this, and it's all he can do to grab at it uselessly. It's overwhelming. He's close to passing out again. It barely takes a minute and then his hips are jerking forwards as he spills himself all over Dostoesky's hand.
It's so fast he barely had time to feel good, and he's whiting out, feeling distant from the whole situation. It's definitely not a satisfying orgasm in the end.]
no subject
Dazai really, genuinely hates that. Sometimes he's willing to let it be, but when Chuuya decides to make himself a pain in the ass to Dazai in particular, Dazai figures he deserves everything he gets as payback for his hubris. (That, truly, is the only hubris here.)
Since Chuuya is still struggling, he's clearly doing just fine, and Dazai lets that be his guideline for how much pressure to keep on that rope. He does offer a bit more breathing room once Chuuya comes, but once that happens, he doesn't see the point in dragging this out any further. Except of course for one reason: Fyodor hasn't had a whole lot of fun here, yet.]
Care to use him? You'll rarely find him this broken in.
[It's up to Fyodor, really: Dazai is happy enough to call it a night and hit the shower.]
no subject
he cannot.
dostoevsky is a creature who survives due to extreme caution and open shunning of humanity and intimacy. ultimately, post-orgasm he would be exhausted in the middle of double black and that is not a position he trusts; he doesn't trust the truce to last that long or for dazai not to see something he might use against him in future. after all, that had been fyodor's intention in instigating this entire situation but what he had seen had cracked something deep inside.
he wants this and he can't allow himself to want it.
slithering upwards, he presses that cum-stained hand against chuuya's face and neck, wiping it on chuuya's skin as he presses a mockingly chaste kiss against the side of dazai's mouth. ]
Not tonight, I'm tired, dearest husband. Next time, break him in again for us, yes?