Trying to allow myself to write short sequences instead of a whole AU. So. Have a sliver of self-indulgent vampire!Chuuya skk in Meursault, @wishing-on-stardust, in hopes that it may quench the torment nexus a little bit.
"...well? Come at me, Chuuya. Amuse me with your lame ass punches.”
Dazai's smile, brazen and sharp as a knife, cuts through the violent turmoil of the factions warring for his body. It stabs with pinpoint accuracy into the trigger he must know is there; the one he put there himself, through repeated aggravation.
The desire to punch the smile off the bastard's smug face burns within as primal instinct, stronger than any compulsion or even Corruption itself. Without so much as a stray thought, Chuuya lunges for the bastard's head.
"Stop."
Dostoevsky's command echoes through the grainy intercom, and despite Arahabaki backing up his rage, the clammy control of the vampire contagion freezes him mid-motion, just short of punching Dazai. Chuuya finds himself snarling; he's trapped at the back of his mind just the same, but at least with Corruption, he's untethered. The short leash and control the vampire contagion exudes drives him mad with rage. Especially with the faint trail of sweet blood lingering in the air.
"He's provoking you." Dostoevsky says, as if he's so damn brilliant for figuring out the natural order of things. "If you touch him, he will nullify the vampirism. Back up, and put him down."
It is the easiest order in the world. Dostoevsky is doing him a favour, really. Chuuya can get the last laugh, finally, by denying Dazai death the way he wants it.
But not like this.
If Dazai dies, it should be by Chuuya's will; not with him as a fucking tool at the hands of a fairytale villain.
Fury burns in his veins, his lungs, his mind. Chuuya lets it. Its warmth is achingly familiar, black and red and angry; the fury is his own, his home, in Arahabaki. Better the demon you know than the devil you don't.
Arahabaki he knows how to steer, even if he can't control it.
His bullet pierces Dazai's shoulder.
"Shit! That hurt!" Dazai whines, like music to his ears. "Where the hell were you aiming, you god damn klutz?!"
His words fade into static, as all of Chuuya's sharpened senses narrow down to what's inside of Dazai. All that matters is the beating of his rotten heart, the pulse in his body, the delicious scent of blood in the air, so close he can almost taste it-
Hunger digs its claws into his soul, and for the first time since he was bitten, Chuuya gives in to his desires. The vampire contagion knows a certain way to kill, after all.
Hidden from the camera, Chuuya smiles as his fangs sink into Dazai's neck.
The first thing he tastes is pain. It pulses in time with Dazai's heartbeat beneath him, in time with the blood welling up hot and thick into his mouth. He presses in closer, less distance for the blood to travel, and the taste of pain spikes. Oops, perhaps he shouldn't have leaned against Dazai's injured shoulder.
It's strange.
Dazai should be cold and numb, inhuman, but right now, he feels so very much alive against Chuuya's lips. Struggling for breath, his heart beating wildly out of control, and through his veins, beneath that delicious current of pain, pulsate the sweet emotions that assured Chuuya his impromptu plan would work.
How was his hunger supposed to resist the temptation of trust, old and sweet and heavy, so thick it permeated the air between them? There simply was no way. They would have always ended up like this, in the end.
Chuuya drinks, and drinks, and drinks. Dazai's bittersweet nostalgia and airy relief and that sickeningly-sweet faith settle warmly into his stomach, burn up into his heart. No Longer Human washes through him in cool waves, working hard to subdue both Arahabaki and the vampire contagion.
Arahabaki is the first to go; perhaps because No Longer Human knows it well, by now, perhaps because Chuuya has no need for rage when the onslaught of emotions beneath Dazai's skin settles warmly in his stomach.
Only slowly and reluctantly, the contagion relinquishes its hold on Chuuya's limbs. The red tint on his vision lightens, and his fangs recede to normal canines. At last, the complex taste of Dazai's blood vanishes into sheer copper.
What a shame.
"Welcome back, Chuuya," Dazai nuzzles his face into Chuuya's hair, his voice a little slurred. "Took you long enough."
Chuuya gives himself three seconds to rest against Dazai's side. Then, he slowly steps back. "Wouldn't have taken so long, if you hadn't found the world's most remote ditch to try to die in." He offers Dazai a hand to get up.
"Wasn't my first choice either, Dostoevsky picked the venue." Dazai takes his hand nonchalantly, but Chuuya can see the spark in his sharp eyes, can feel the warmth of his skin seep into his glove. Dazai looks like a bloody mess, but he's as alive as can be.
"Ah yes, I knew we forgot someone." Chuuya turns to the surveillance camera, still holding Dazai's hand. "Hey, Dostoevsky. I suggest you start running, right about now."
He can't help but lick his canines. Perhaps the vampire contagion isn't completely out of his system yet.
Then, he turns back towards Dazai. He tosses a piece of rubble over his shoulder carelessly, destroying the camera.
Dazai squeezes his hand.
"Let's go, partner."
