things you said when you thought i was asleep
He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, letting his dog’s scent—rich, earthy, and slightly sweet—slowly lull his senses. He stifled a yawn, or something softer, something far more meaningful. Not far away, Chuuya was humming some stupid tune as he wrapped up his nightly routine. Dazai gripped the sheets until his knuckles went white.
Soon, he would have to leave.
Soon, before the alpha infected his heart with sappy words, with kisses that would root themselves deep in his chest and with promises they both knew he’d eventually ruin, Dazai would hide behind a hooded smile—one loaded with intention—and let the words he knew by heart, the ones rotting on his tongue and clogging his throat, choking him, spill from his lips.
He rubbed his nose against the pillow, catching a trace of Chuuya’s musky scent. He shivered. Soon, Dazai would press all the right buttons until the redhead’s gaze darkened, anger dancing in his mismatched eyes, devouring any hint of affection. And maybe, if he was lucky—if his words cut deep enough—Chuuya would lunge at him, grab him by the hair until he tore a moan from him, and crush their mouths together.
Dazai smothered a gasp into the pillow and squeezed his thighs tight.
Teeth and tongues—a fight he’d gladly drown in until he ran out of air. Maybe, if he was lucky, Chuuya would sink his fangs into his lower lip and blood would flood his mouth. He rubbed his thighs together for a bit of friction and writhed beneath the sheets.
Or maybe, just maybe, Chuuya would get tired.
But that thought—once a shield he flaunted with bravado to justify his need, to justify crawling back to Chuuya’s door time after time—caught in his chest now, turning sour on his tongue. Dazai curled in on himself, feeling pathetic.
The faucet shut off.
Dazai froze.
The door opened without a sound, and his presence—stifling, warm, steady—flooded the room, which already reeked of him. Or of them, if Dazai would just stop using patches that burned his skin raw and blockers that drowned his senses.
Chuuya crossed the room and Dazai counted down. He’d stay just a little longer, ten more seconds. The alpha set a knee on the mattress, and Dazai tensed ever so slightly, clutching the sheet. He’d stay just a little longer—be selfish for ten more seconds.
The mattress dipped behind him. Ever the gentleman, Chuuya didn’t touch him without asking, didn’t force his presence or his scent or his stupid pheromones on him, even though he must have sensed Dazai’s rejection. Blockers or not, the idiot slug had always seen right through him.
Dazai matched his breathing to Chuuya’s when the redhead brushed his arm with the tip of a finger. It wasn’t a caress; it wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t have affected him after everything they’d done in the last hours, but his heart faltered and he had to restrain himself from leaning into the touch.
The room stank of sex, but the only thing Dazai could smell—his nostrils flaring, a shiver running down his spine and warming his stomach—was the calm, the domesticity, and the quiet longing radiating from the redhead.
Dazai wanted to ruin him.
And yet—
Chuuya’s lips curved into a small half-smile. Dazai didn’t need to turn around to know. It was carved into his memory. It was too soft for Dazai’s comfort, a tiny curve that hid nothing yet told far too much.
Dazai wanted to lash out.
But Chuuya struck first.
“Stay tonight,” Chuuya murmured, tearing down all his defenses. When Dazai didn’t respond—or maybe because he didn’t—Chuuya grew bolder. His fingers drifted up and down his arm, barely a ghost of a touch. “Just tonight. Tomorrow I’ll make you that stupid sugar bomb you call coffee and maybe we could…”
He leaned closer, the sheets rustling, and Dazai’s heart hammered so hard it felt ready to burst from his chest. Panic twisted into something warmer, maybe desire, maybe longing.
This time his voice tickled, and his fingers trailed up toward Dazai’s face. Chuuya brushed a strand of hair aside and tucked it behind his ear. Would he trace his face with his eyes for fear of forgetting it? Would he lean in and kiss his lashes, bury his nose in his hair?
Dazai would.
Dazai would kiss the freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.
Dazai would trace the shape of his mouth with his fingers.
Dazai would redraw every line of his face so he wouldn’t forget.
“We could spend the morning doing nothing,” Chuuya continued, brighter now, more confident. Gently, he traced the curve of Dazai’s jaw, pausing at the small scar on his chin. Dazai didn’t move. “Play some dumb game, ruin my kitchen, or just… be together. Like before.”
His words cracked at the end, breaking apart, sadness thickening his voice until it was suffocating. His scent soured, like spilled wine and burnt gunpowder. It didn’t last. Dazai shifted, rolling over until his nose pressed into the alpha’s throat.
A clumsy purr, almost strangled, vibrated in Dazai’s chest, somehow soothing Chuuya’s restless heartbeat. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the alpha answered with a low croon of his own.
Chuuya combed lazy fingers through his hair—a touch that warmed Dazai’s chest—and that croon should have sent him running, but instead it made him soft, pliant. He couldn’t stop purring.
“I like what we have,” Chuuya said, releasing more of his scent with each stroke. His fingers wandered, grazing the bandages around Dazai’s neck, and Dazai leaned closer, wanting more.
Wanting what he shouldn’t.
It wouldn’t end well.
It never had.
They weren’t meant to belong.
“The s3x is good,” Chuuya admitted, voice sheepish. Dazai hated not seeing the blush he knew was there. “And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my ruts, but… everything else? Damn it, I want to try.”
Dazai was selfish.
Chuuya was his to use, his to break, his to devour but everything else?
Chuuya deserved better.
Someone who would soothe the wounds afterward and hold him under the blankets.
Someone who’d walk beside him with their fingers intertwined.
No shadows.
No masks.
No past choking them.
Someone to stay up gaming with until dawn, to share lazy breakfasts in bed with, to kiss in the morning despite awful breath.
Dazai couldn’t give him that or worse, he could, but it wouldn’t last.
Nothing ever lasted.
But he wanted to. That was the problem.
Chuuya’s hand stilled abruptly, and as if he could read Dazai’s thoughts—through that bond, torn and frayed yet still impossibly alive—he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dazai’s forehead.
And there, against his skin, like a knife sliding into his chest, “I want you. Only you, Mackerel.”
Dazai bit his tongue to keep in the gasp threatening to break him. Tears gathered behind his lashes, his throat tightening, and chest burning.
And softer still, afraid the words might linger and turn against him:
“I love you.”
Chuuya sealed his doom by wrapping his arms around him. The alpha inhaled deeply against Dazai’s hair, maybe grounding himself, maybe calming the fear curled in his gut or maybe, and Dazai refused to dwell on it, because he longed for his scent.
The ghost of his scent.
“I’m here,” he whispered, closer still, until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Dazai tightened his hold around his waist and Chuuya crooned louder. “And I’m staying.”
He wouldn’t sleep.
He wouldn’t stay but he did.
To @loulits, for posting the first chapter of your omegazai, I’m very proud of you, and for letting me be there for you. Your words always inspire me :blob_love:
Little by little, I’m compiling my ficlets/threads on ao3. You can bookmark the collection here, if you want!
dividers by: @cafekitsune
