kuroimasu

[kuroimasu]

Tales from a bar's restroom

-> BSD One shot Fanfic;

-> Drunk Fyozai having competitive sex; Nikolai later joins them;

-> Smut with a lil plot; threesome; anal fingering; blowjob; handjob; piss drinking; power play;

-> ~6,3k words

Dazai had accepted that strange Russian's invitation to visit his country. On his going-MIA-trip, he makes sure to adventure himself as much as he can. Maybe he is going overboard by travelling to such a far away and unknown city, but his lack of self preservation sense screams louder. “Russia sure looks like a beautiful country, I’ll make it worth the shot ”, thought which leads him on this adventure.

Upon his arrival in Moscow, his expectations are not disappointed. The way the city is taken by newly born flowers, accompanied by a clear blue sky and a cool breeze, sounds slightly familiar. “Yokohama shouldn't be much different than that... But definitely warmer.” goes through his head, missing for a moment the town he had left behind.

Osamu takes a cab and hands over the paper with his destination address written on it. Maybe he should know basic Russian to get involved in this insanity. But his non-verbal plan works and the car drives off, while he watches the landscape passing by the window. Once it becomes static for no apparent reason, like a traffic light or intersection, Dazai assumes the answer: “I’ve arrived .” He then struggles to say the only word in the foreign language that he could use in conversation with strangers to thank the driver for his work－ “Спасибо!” － but fails miserably in its pronunciation.

Finally, he gets out of the car and heads towards the house showing the same number as the paper in his hand. Its structure looks quite simplistic, but all the walls are pitch black with white details. Lights that looks like Christmas lights decorate the windows. A strange house in the middle of the rest, which makes him sure it is the right one.

"What should I do now? What's the etiquette around here? Should I ring the bell or knock on the door?”  he wonders as he approaches the front door, the only completely red detail in that view. But his questions soon turn to deep confusion when he sees an eye － a literal eye － staring at him amidst the wood. Before Dazai could consider it an adornment, it moves and a good-natured voice addresses him:

“Ah, you’re finally here! Please come in!"

The eye disappears and the door opens, but no one appears to be behind it. “This is going to be fun... ” the foreigner thinks as he enters the mysterious house. Its interior is strange, but compatible with its exterior. The floor is black and the walls are all in white, filled with paintings and similar items distributed across it in a chaotic and yet orderly manner; very peculiar and difficult to explain. From the top of the stairs comes what appears to be its owner, given that the colour palette remains the same between them.

“Welcome to Russia! I hope you enjoy your stay! But first..." － the host smiles pretentiously, without breaking his cheerful voice － "let's see your ability to keep me entertained! A quiz!”

“Oh! I love games!" Dazai says excitedly.

"First question!" － He says after raising his arm and pointing with his index finger upwards － "What brings you here?”

“Protest: too vague of a question. Here Russia/Moscow or here your home?”

“Ho… you're sharp! Here Russia.”

“I don’t know either, I just accepted an invitation.”

“My home?”

“It was the address on the paper I was given and I just handed it over to the taxi driver.”

“How do you know it’s not a trap? It’s not just anyone Fyodor sends my way.”

“I don't know, but I seriously doubt my ability to die so easily.”

“If I try to kill you now, what happens next?”

“Why don’t you try and find it out yourself?”

They both finish approaching what they had started while talking. Their gazes tear each other apart from a distance and the tension in the air seems palpable.

“Nikolai Gogol”

“Dazai Osa-... Osamu Dazai. I forgot you speak backwards.”

Nikolai extends his hand when he finishes speaking and Dazai reaches for it, shaking it firmly.

“You are an interesting fellow, Dazai Osaosamu Dazai. Makes sense how you caught Fedya’s eye.”

“I must say the same about you. Your lovely house sure does it justice.”

"Thanks!!! It took me a long time trying to decide on it and I ended up just leaving it the way it is." A brief pause and a smirk shows in his face. "I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Dazai is then taken to the guest room to store his things. It's... how can I say this? Incredibly normal. Nikolai must have left it that way on purpose so that his chaos wouldn't invade his visitors' space. An unexpected sense of worry by his figure, if you ask me. While unpacking his bags, the detective hears the host talking, probably on the phone, but cannot decipher what is said. The acoustics muffle the sound very well, even though he's right by the hallway.

They both go downstairs and prepare lunch while they wait for Fyodor. The conversation is pleasant and fun, but Dazai soon realizes that the two cannot spend too much time alone. The result would definitely not be good for anyone. I mean... at least for someone it would, but he is not able to guarantee so easily that he would be the beneficiary; Nikolai is too chaotic to allow such predictability.

Nikolai blurts out, while preparing the table, “Oh! Right on time!" and puts a hand inside his overcoat. The door opens and his hand returns. Given the amount of times he did this while cooking, Dazai had already understood what his ability is and gets no longer surprised. However, the eye-in-the-door trick still bothers him.

Fyodor makes his entrance in the kitchen, slightly surprised, taking off his coat that is no longer deemed as necessary.

“I see you two hit it off. I was slightly afraid of getting here and having to help hiding a body. Did he properly welcome you, Dazai? I don’t want you to leave here with a negative image of my beloved Russia.”

"Yes! Thank you for the invitation. I'm sure the three of us will have a lot of fun.”

“Ah, don't worry about Nikolai. He’s not coming with us.” Fyodor says as he sits at the table. He seems to reach for what is his usual spot, given the naturalness of his movements.

“Why not, Fedya??? I'm already giving up my house!! At the very least you must take me for a walk too.” Nikolai seems personally offended.

“Kolya, you are too flashy. I could include you in something but it's the kind of activity where you'll get bored and make a mess. You don’t want to stand around in a museum admiring and analyzing old paintings, do you?”

"... no."

“Then meet us at the bar later. Are we agreed?”

“Yes, sir...” Nikolai’s tone shows how defeated he feels. It's not like he can say Fyodor is wrong... So he heads to the platters to serve the food.

“Oh, so we’re going to the museum?” Dazai wonders as he adjusts himself in a chair as well.

"Yes. The Kremlin Museum is holding an exhibition that should interest you. Kolya, what did you make us to eat?”

“Borsch, but the red is from the blood I got from you last night.”

“...should I ask?”

"Please don’t. What he says mustn’t be taken so seriously.” Fyodor sighs. He didn't expect to have to deal with this kind of thing in front of others so soon.

Their meal is delicious. Nikolai, being Ukrainian himself, obviously knows a recipe that is not so easily found elsewhere. He's aware and that's why he loves cooking such a dish on special occasions like today.

The exhibition is also very well enjoyed by the duo. Dazai gets surprised by the level of comfort he finds in Fyodor, and the opposite is true. The tour is pleasant, filled by morbid jokes used to proclaim their deep appreciation for the art surrounding them. A perfect balance that both seem to find only between themselves. Everything was going well so far.

“Now that I’ve shown you the erudite part of the city, we shall head to the worst bar in the area.” Fyodor says after walking through the museum's exit door. Behind him, the dark night contrasts with his light clothing.

“You surely don’t strike me as the type of person who goes to establishments such as those...” Dazai wonders.

“It’s a great social experiment. Human nature emerges better in this type of space than in any similar high-class space.”

“I see... Shall I participate in your experiment, then, and drink as much as I can bear?”

“Only if you can handle more than me.”

“It’s a bet then!” They both smile, excited about the possibility of proving themselves in a competition.

“Keep in mind the relationship that we Russians and you Japanese have with the subject. I don’t want a battle that will be easily won.” Fyodor teases.

“Don’t worry, I’ll love seeing you throwing up by the toilet before I do.”

“Tsk. Cocky."

“No more than you.”

Nikolai meets them at the bar shortly after they had arrived. A draught beer for each is found already on the table, and both half empty. When asked, they say it is "just a warm-up for what is to come". Incredibly enough, Nikolai proves to be the only sane person among the three: he decides that it's better not to drink (much), as he would have 2 bodies to take care of in not much time.

As soon as both competitors finish their glasses, the real battle begins. Shots. Pure vodka. The first one goes down, burning as fuck. Dazai lets out a cough.

“You won’t last long this way, Dazai-kun!” Fyodor teases.

“You trust your bat too much, Fyodor, and that will be your demise.”

Down goes the second one. And the third, with a little time for both to breathe right after. Nikolai orders some fries and convinces them both to eat some before proceeding with their battle. The tension between the two only increases, as does the level of alcohol in their blood. If it hadn't been for Nikolai to pull both of their leashes, who knows how quickly the first of them would have ended up on the floor. He hates having to fulfill this role, as he feels trapped by who he needs to control; he feels deprived of his much-loved freedom. But the consequences of not taking that position would be infinitely worse, so he does what he needs to do.

With that much alcohol in the blood, a basic need of every body becomes oppressively urgent: pissing. Almost at the same time, both their bladders send the same signal to their respective brains. But anyone who thinks that any of them would volunteer to be the first weakling to recognize such a condition is completely mistaken.

“Oy, Japanese one," － Fyodor’s accent gets stronger and stronger with drunkenness － "holding your shit up good? You know you can still give up, right?”

“Desperate to this point, Fyodor-kun? Trying to make me give up so you won’t have to be tortured any longer?”

“Just making sure my rival is okay and I don't need to humiliate him more than needed. It would be sad if I kept drinking and you stopped on your third.”

“I couldn't agree more! Are you sure you can continue, Fyodor-kun?”

“Can we, then?

"Please."

Silence. Neither of them wants to get up if not to head directly to the restroom like a guided missile. They stare at each other, waiting for the other to make a move － any move, for that matter.

Nikolai just absorbs the scene, not knowing what to do so he can stop cringing hard. He then sighs and expresses his desire to get rid of them both:

"I'm going to the restroom"

“That sounds like a great idea!” they both bark, almost at the same time, and get up running towards the restroom.

“No fucking way am I’m getting in between them now. I’ll wait for them to come back...” Gogol vents again, now to himself, trying to decide whether to order something to drink now or when he gets back later.

However, when they enter the door (all limp and worm-eaten beyond repair), Fyodor and Dazai are faced with the worst scene they could imagine: the restroom is small and used to only have two stalls facing each other in addition to the sink nearby the door; “used to” because the wood that isolated them is no longer there. That bar is really precarious indeed. However, neither of them want to appear affected by the scene. That's why they head towards their respective toilets, somewhat disconcerted and almost glued back to back.

When pulling down his pants and underwear, Dazai thinks out loud: “I bet I piss more than you”

“Don’t be cocky. I lasted much longer without pissing than you” Fyodor replies, lowering his own too.

“Whoever finishes first loses.”

Fyodor sighs.

“3...2...1...”

By the end of the counting both force their bladder, holding back as much as they can to last as long as possible.

"Told ya! Mine’s nosier and much more imposing than yours, Fyodor-kun.”

“Tsk. That’s not what’s being competed about.”

Never have they needed to test such specific control over their bodies. Piss enough to make a louder noise than the other; not enough to use up all the accumulated urine. It's difficult and requires a lot of concentration. Fyodor expels his last drop, embarrassed that he can still hear a simple flow behind him, that doesn't take much longer to finish either.

“I said I would own this one.” Osamu teases, convinced of his ability.

“Congratulations, Dazai. What are you going to do with it now?”

”Hey, don’t belittle me! I lasted a lot!”

“If lasting 2 minutes and 38 seconds is 'a lot' for you, I’ve got news to tell you.”

“Are you implying that I come quickly, you rat?” Now it's gotten personal and Dazai doesn't intend to take it lightly.

“I didn’t insinuate anything, but if the shoe fits…”

“I bet I last longer than you.”

“…”

“You’re quiet because you agree.”

“I just don’t know how to convince you otherwise.”

"It is not obvious?" Dazai is slightly confused, as he no longer knows if the idea in his head is not shared.

“Are you so desperate to prove yourself better than me that you want to do this here?”

“You try to run away because you know you’re going to lose.”

Fyodor lets out a sigh and considers the offer, but the alcohol in his brain doesn't give him the best decision.

“Any rule you want to agree on?”

“Just jerk off already.”

Both are still standing, they haven't even pulled up their pants. The same way they pissed, they stood. And, in a way, it's practical, as they began to touch themselves almost synchronously. Both due to the situation they were in and the amount of piss they had held, their dicks were already hard. At first, they decide to go slowly and use little pressure, just enough to consider it a handjob and not be disqualified. However, the excitement soon begins to hit along with the adrenaline of being caught in that moment and Dazai is the first to give in. His movements grows in intensity and his breathing soon becomes shorter; Fyodor promptly realizes.

“I didn’t know you were such a desperate whore, Dazai... You’ll end up losing this way.”

"Shut up... How do I know you're not cheating too?

"What?"

“You’re not doing anything, are you?” － the paranoia hit him.

“Of course I-”

"Then come here!"

"Wh-"

“Come here, Fyodor, let me see if you’re not cheating!!”

Dazai turned around as he spoke and now tries to pull Fyodor by the shoulder. He eventually turns, still holding his dick, very ashamed of the situation he ended up in. But now it's too late to turn back, and that is true for both of them. They urgently need to prove themselves the best to put an end to this joke as soon as possible.

“Now take a sit there so I can assure you’re jerking off too” Dazai says as he sits on the toilet behind him and continues to masturbate.

“Ordering others around like that doesn’t suit you, Dazai” Fyodor replies while does the same.

“And yet you obeyed me.”

“I just want to make sure I can appreciate the defeated look on your face when you cum before me.”

"Why? Would that turn you on?”

“Very much, yes” in a deep and sadistic voice, Fyodor provokes his rival.

And, fuck, it works so well. Dazai is now desperate. His body screams for him to go faster, for his hand to squeeze tighter. His head begs for him to give in and give his rival what he wants most: his humiliated defeat. He doesn't want to lose, but he goes crazy just imagining the pleasure in Fyodor's eyes; pleasure caused by his own. Dazai needs this. More than anything in this world, he needs this. But his ego contains him. Whenever Osamu speeds up and starts moaning, his free hand goes to his mouth and he takes a deep breath midst a bite. But Fyodor? Quiet and (apparently) uninterested as always. His face shows off arrogance, superiority, dominance, while he touches himself without any rush. Compared to the beginning, he is, yes, going with more intensity. However, his self-control proves to be divine and this leaves Dazai desperate. He will lose if he continues like this.

“You... are stealing I... I know you are...” Dazai tries to speak amidst the suffocated moans and sighs.

“This accusation is old, Dazai. Just admit your defeat and cum for me already.” phrase which gives Osamu chills.

“You're not... touching... the most... s-sensitive spots...”

"How would you know?" Fyodor teases with a smug smile on his face.

"I’ll prove… you."

With that sentence Dazai jumps forward and falls to his knees in front of his opponent. This one gets scared and tries going further back on his seat, releasing his cock and grasping the toilet. Little does he know that is all Dazai needed. With his way clear, Osamu grabs Fyodor's cock and begins to stroke it. “The best place to touch yourself is right here” is said before putting the length inside his mouth and going down to its base, using his tongue to lightly tease the nuts. Startled, Fyodor groans and holds his rival by his hair, not knowing whether he would like to take him away or hold him like this so that he never leaves again. His breathing becomes deep and erratic very quickly. After some ups and downs, he decides he wants out and pulls Dazai away.

“I thought the competition only included handjobs” he says while panting, trying not to let the desire and excessive pleasure he felt overflow his senses.

“I asked if you wanted to set any rules…” Osamu says as he continues masturbating but soon has his hand held, stopping his work from continuing.

“I was the one who asked that, you cunt.”

"Was it?" his head is already very fuzzy, without thinking straight anymore.

“All this because you don’t want to lose?”

“All this because I just want to see you cum.” As much as this was said in an impulse to get out of the situation, Dazai didn't lie.

Fyodor chuckles, amused by the way their interaction is unfolding; amused by the distorted way Dazai proclaims his desire for him.

“Okay, I'll grant you your wish," － Osamu's eyes gleams at this information － "but on one condition: you'll keep masturbating too. And now, for sure, whoever cums first loses.”

Osamu instinctively obeyed. Still on his knees, he touches himself again with his face being held in front of Fyodor's dick, also being stroked by its owner. At this point, as much as they both wanted to maintain their high posture in front of each other, the pleasure began to speak louder. Their hands move faster and faster, tighter and tighter. Their gazes focused on each other. Desire, power, domination... all consuming their heads.

Fyodor caresses Dazai's face, who softens upon the touch. His erratic breathing and racing heart makes it blush slightly － but not enough, the Russian decides.

A slap unexpectedly hits Osamu and a soft whimper mixes into his moan.

“You don’t want me to cum? Huh?"

“I w-” －another slap.

“So what are you doing about it? You surely don’t seem engaged enough to me.”

“I-” － one more slap.

“Open your fucking mouth for me.” and then he stands up.

Dazai is no longer able to think, for his mind is being consumed by the urge to have Fyodor's cum in his mouth. He complies with the order and sticks out his tongue as he gets into position, ready to receive his reward for behaving.

“Who said I’m going to cum already? I’m not a desperate little whore like you.” is what he hears before his head is held again and dragged until his mouth reaches the base of Fyodor's cock. And in this way, Dazai is just used as an object, gagging on that dick being shoved deep into his throat. Not that he’s much different from an object at this point. He thinks no more, all he can focus on is his pleasure and what he is being able to provide to Fyodor, whose moans only intensify by the second. Everything overwhelms Osamu's head and, before he knows it, he loses the competition. His body shudders and all his muscles contract; including his throat, which wraps around Fyodor and he ends up cumming not long after.

The moans become rarer and transform into intense sighs. Both panting, they gaze at each other, proud of their performances but slightly surprised by their abilities to drag each other into such a situation.

“And here I was, worried about you two.”

The duo freeze and instantly look towards the source of the sound. Nikolai, standing at the door, looking at the two.

“Very sweet of you, Kolya. We are very much alive, thank you.” Fyodor responds as he adjusts his pants.

“I think 'alive' may be a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think? Look at him!”

Fyodor looks down and sees Dazai still kneeling with his head down, panting hard; probably without the strength to get himself up.

“Hey, Dazai, are you okay? Need some help?"

“Nikolai... How long have you been there...?” Osamu questions.

“Hmmm... I guess... it’s none of your fucking business! Now come on, I need to piss too. You’re not the only ones with bladders in this world.”

“Piss for real or piss like we did?” Fyodor teases.

“I have no interest in power games, Fedya, thank you! I know my place in the hierarchy very well. I can prove it to you once we get home, if you decide to object.”

"As you wish!" Fyodor heads for the door, but Nikolai doesn't let him through. “Oy, I thought you wanted to piss, excuse me.”

“I think you broke him, Fedya.” Gogol says while looking at the ground.

Dazai still lies on his knees, his pants down, staring at the ground. His thoughts returned, in a not-at-all positive kind of way, when faced with reality again. He lost a competition. Not only that, but he got humiliated. He tried desperately to do everything he could to not look defeat in its eyes... and it was no use.

“Just to confirm: he came before, right?”

“Yep”

Worse. Worst of it all: his humiliation and defeat were seen by a person he had just met that day; and on top of that, one he would be forced to share a house for the duration of his stay. As he stares at his already softened cock, still cummed just like his hand, with that filthy restroom floor decorating the background of his view, Dazai suffers. He doesn't want to get up. He doesn't even want to be seen in those conditions. He must move for that to happen, but his body doesn't allow him the luxury of doing such. Fyodor is clean, intact, thanks to his good work; but not Dazai. He wouldn't even have the right to that. He is nothing more than a loser.

A voice in the background seems to call him. He knows what it's about, but he can't abide. His mind is too far away and shame prevents him from coming back. However, when he feels his hair being pulled, raising his field of vision to the source of the calls, he has got no options left.

“Dazai, are you still here? Are you feeling unwell?” Nikolai asks him, but is met with a lost gaze, unable to provide complex answers. “Blink twice if you’re feeling sick from drinking." － The gaze is sustained and now looks at him more firmly. －"Then blink twice if it’s because of what happened between you and Fyodor.”

Embarrassed, Dazai obeys. Not satisfied with losing, he's now making a scene about it. He's definitely the king of the losers.

“Don’t let it get into your skin this way, the drinks you had just caught you up in the worst timing. If it helps you with anything, I found it all a fucking turn-on. I was even tempted to join but I didn't want to disturb the couple. You got too busy with each other.” Nikolai says as he uses his other hand to caress Dazai’s cheek. But seriously, how long had he been there watching?

Everything gets mixed up in the loser's head. Is he happy with the affection or does he desperately want it to stop? Before he's able to realize, Dazai says his thoughts out loud:

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me like that. I don’t need you to pity me, I need you to treat me like the loser I am.” His voice conveys his shame.

“You’re asking for it, then..." － Nikolai responds, still holding Osamu by his hair with one hand and using the other to undo his belt and lower his pants － "Since he won't get out of my way, the loser will receive his punishment.”

Nikolai, by his loved one’s wishes and begs, had been holding himself back in the guest’s presence; behaving well so he would get his praises about it afterwards. But with this permission, Nikolai can get himself free for once

Dazai is now faced with his host's cock, hard, just a few inches above his face. It's beautiful, but... too big to let his guard down. They are still in the same restroom and Dazai is overcome by the fear that Nikolai will decide to fuck him there, without lube or anything. He surely wouldn't take it. Fyodor getting deep into his throat had been tolerable. It wasn't as big as this and his inner slut managed to handle it with some ease. It didn't last long, anyway. But now? The alcohol in his blood makes him afraid that he will end up vomiting if Gogol decides to do the same.

“A cock as magnificent as this just for me doesn’t seem like a punishment.” Dazai teases, trying to get some hint about what would happen to him.

“Ah, don’t worry, my dear loser! I know very well how to treat whores such as you. － His smirk grows wide. － Now, open your mouth for me.”

Dazai hesitates at the order. As much as he wants to, his embarrassment stops him, trying to hold on to what little dignity he still has left. He tries to look down even though Nikolai's hand holds him quite still － the same dirty floor with his cum spread all over it －, he looks to the sides and Fyodor is leaning against the door, simply enjoying the beauty of such a scene with a smug face. Shame. That is really all he can feel. Before he is allowed to get lost in his thoughts again, he hears Nikolai's voice.

“Since you have decided not to obey me... Fedya, lend me your mouth for a moment.”

"Sure thing!" he responds, enthusiastically, as he approaches them both.

Osamu looks compulsively down (the most he can, at least), staring at the black and white striped pants in front of him, terrified of every possibility that crosses his mind. He doesn't want to find out. He definitely doesn't want to find out. His body shudders, startled by each stimulus it receives. A red cloth is seen falling in the corner of his vision. Wet noises, probably from one of their mouths, followed by some kissing. Fyodor crouches down next to him and whispers in his ear, after a light lick:

“At least be polite and look your host in the eye, bitch.”

Dazai's body trembles all over. His eyes widen and a soft whine escapes his mouth. As soon as he finally looks back at Nikolai’s sadistic gaze, a lot happens at once. Too much for him to even process. Quickly, his ass is slightly spread and something hard and wet enters his hole. A moan mixes into a scream, both out of desperation, and they are soon suffocated by a cock that his mouth finds as he propels himself forward in fright.

“I told you I knew how to deal with whores such as you.” Nikolai speaks after taking back the breath he had released with a groan.

Suddenly, everything makes sense in Osamu's head. Fyodor used his saliva to moisten Nikolai's finger, who used his cloak to finger him from a distance and force his mouth open in a gasp. Out of all the possibilities that crossed the loser's mind, this was definitely not one of them. Gogol seems to have done this several times, given how masterfully he handled the situation. And now, his dick is deep down his slut's throat as his finger presses against the sensible prostate at his reach.

The pressure he applies with his finger grows in intensity, and Dazai moans follows. After thrusting a few times, Nikolai stops, still inside Osamu's mouth but with half the length out. Even though he’d like to be relieved, the poor loser finds the lack of movement strange.

He looks up and is met with Nikolai rolling his eyes. His dick contracts and he lets out a sigh of relief. “Is he... cumming like this?”. But as soon as his taste buds are overwhelmed with an intense, salty taste, accompanied by a non-viscous liquid, Osamu realizes how wrong he was.

Piss. He is being used as a urinal. He is being punished for losing the competition with Fyodor. He is being punished for not standing up. He is being punished for not getting out of Nikolai's way and allowing him to piss in the toilet. The finger comes out of him and the lack of pleasure reminds Dazai about his body. Dirty. It's still dirty. On the outside, cummed; on the inside, piss. That's what he deserves, after all. There is no more dignity, no more honor... nothing. To be disgraced upon the overwhelming filth and its sticky feeling is nothing more than a loser’s destiny.

However, while he concentrates on his thoughts as well as swallowing that much urine correctly, so that he wouldn't choke on it, Dazai sees Nikolai's hand come out of the overcoat; the hand that was inside him. To his surprise, he hears:

“Don’t you want to honor your opponent and taste him too? He already got you all to himself.” as Gogol looks at Fyodor, leaning against the wall next to him.

"My taste? " Dazai wonders in his head. "Why mine too? Why do you even want to touch me? Look at how horrible I am. Look -”

His train of thoughts get interrupted. Fyodor delights in what remains of Dazai’s fluids, taste and smell out of his lover's fingers. His contained groans, added to the eagerness of his movements and his slightly rolled eyes makes all of Dazai's thoughts and feelings go down the drain. Fyodor wants him too. Badly. To the point of clearly holding back from losing control just for the chance to taste a tiny part of him. Imagine what would become of him if Fyodor touched him and tasted him completely. The dirt and filth in his head becomes increasingly distant, being replaced only by pleasure and lust; by the memories of the competition with Fyodor being re-signified, now with mutual desire latent in their bodies and looks. Even at this state, Fyodor wants him back.

The sensation in his hand makes Nikolai sigh out brief groans and unconsciously contract his muscles, causing the flow in Dazai's mouth to intensify once and for all. Soon, their respective pleasures are over. So intense, yet so brief. Dazai swallows the last drop of piss in his mouth; Fyodor lets go of Nikolai's hand, taking a deep breath to contain the desire and pleasure in his mind; and the latter, while panting, caresses the head of the one kneeling in front of him, gazing in his direction while adjusting his pants. An honest smile is visible, rare to be seen on his face. His semblant shows he’s proud of something, but Dazai can’t tell what.

“Whenever these competitions are held between you, I will be very happy to help with the results.”

“Hmm thanks Kolya but I don’t know if I want to.”

“???” －they both look at Fyodor in shock.

“Dazai will always lose to me and I want a taste of your punishments too, Kolya. As much as I love seeing him defeated like this, I will end up getting jealous.”

“Fedya, my love, I find you too cocky for my taste. Just because you won a battle in the war between you, do you think you will never bow your head down to our dear guest?” Nikolai says, sarcastically, but all he gets is a dry “I’m sure I won’t” in response. His smirk grows and his gaze is directed at Osamu, still kneeling in front of him, recovering himself from it all.

“Dazai, my dear, do you intend to come home dirty like that?”

This one has his head patted again. Embarrassed, he just uses it to gently waves a “no”.

“Then stand up, please.” Nikolai orders.

Dazai again obeys out of pure instinct. He knows little about his host, but the clear change in his pitch, without good humor or joy, leaving it low and firm, was certainly a sign that he is dead serious and is not to be opposed. Once standing, grabbing his pants to keep them from falling, the dialogue between the couple returns.

“Fedya, your turn to work now.”

"What do you want me to do? This whore is old enough to be able to clean herself-”

“Fyodor. " The recipient of the speech shudders, as he was rarely called by this name by Nikolai. "You left it in this state. It is your responsibility to take care of it too. It’s the very least you can do.”

“…”

“Hurry up or I won’t feel sorry for you once we’re at home.”

“What that supposed to be a thre-”

“It’s not in a sense that you’ll like it, I can promise you that.”

They both stare at each other aggressively for a few seconds before Fyodor abides the order he’s given. It's not like he doesn't want to suck every drop of cum that awaits him on Dazai's dick － quite the opposite. The truth is that he didn't want to give any space for this to be noticeable. Sucking Nikolai's fingers was shameful enough, given how much he moaned at such a simple act; but it was still possible to argue that it was just because he was his boyfriend. Directly on Dazai's dick, though? He would have no way out.

Fyodor positions himself in front of his opponent, their shared glances shows unsettleness, and his attempt to slowly kneel is frustrated by Nikolai quickly pushing him down. A pang on his knees for hitting the floor, a sigh, a pull of hair and a cock covered in cum in front of him. The Russian blushes, trying to hide his hard-on for that moment.

“Please, Fedya, do the honors.” Gogol says as he lets go of his beloved's head.

Dazai is silent. Or rather, paralyzed. He definitely didn't expect this turn of events. Just now he had been blaming himself, ashamed of his actions. Feeling like a dirty and filthy loser had taken over his senses. But now? He looks down. His eyes meet Fyodor's, brimming with desire for him. His dick, filthy from so much cum and sweat, now begins to be cleaned by the same person who got it in that state, claiming them. Nothing seems capable of becoming more right than this very moment. Fyodor is the owner of that cum, he provided that pleasure. Fyodor is the owner of that sweat, it's for him that Dazai worked so hard. And now, Fyodor, who had caused all of this, shared in the resulting filth, leaving Dazai dirty with nothing else but his own drool. A fair exchange. Now, one has the dirtiness from the other.

Fyodor finally heads back, away from Dazai, after having swallowed everything he could find and reach. Both panting, due to the excitement and pleasure felt in the process. Their eyes look at each other again, conveying all these feelings that neither of them would have the guts to say out loud.

Nikolai caresses his boyfriend again.

"Good boy. Now come on, I shouldn’t be the only one to have been needing to use this restroom.”

[kuroimasu]

The choice is yours, and wanting to is enough.

—> Ficlet

—> Oda’s thoughts before he dies in Dazai’s arms

—> ~1.200 words

—> CW: Hurt/Comfort; Suicide; Depression.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

My conscience is wavering like a flame from a candle whose paraffin has already melted entirely. I believe I won’t last much longer. In the distance I can almost feel your embrace as you hold on tight to my body and cry your soul out.

I am sorry, Dazai.

I wish I could stay a little longer with you before I fade away for good. I do not regret the choice I have made, I just wish I could postpone its results so I could talk to you a little longer.

Will what I said be enough to help you?

Have I been clear in my message?

Should I have phrased it differently? Worded it differently?

I never planned my last words, much less what I would say to you. Somehow, what I managed to blurt out has always been in the back of my mind, but I never thought about it enough to prepare them in advance.

Dying surely is complicated, after all.

I hope you are able to make something good out of my last moment with you.

I know I wished to be a writer but words have never been my strongest feature. You knew it from the start, but never cared enough. I believe this was one of the reasons I always felt so comfortable in your presence.

You always saw through me, Dazai.

And I always saw through you.

Because deep down, we are the same.

You have always looked up to me and I never understood properly why. Being a role model has never been my intention, so I couldn’t fathom how it happened or the reason to it. But having been put in this position forced me to honour it somehow. And, in the end of the day, you helped me stay in the line and fight to keep my promise of never killing again. It wasn’t just for me, anymore, but also for you.

Though I never felt it weight on my shoulders; quite the contrary. With you by my side, life became lighter. And brighter.

Other people never mattered enough to me. No wonder I grew up killing them for a living. I never felt wrong doing so. Such concept has never affected me like it does to others. Maybe I should feel guilty for having stopped because of a self indulgent reason. I thought about it once or twice but I still can’t care enough to force the feeling upon myself. My sense of morality has always been quite different from what everyone expected from me and I was fine with it. But being such an excellent assassin from a young age made me believe deep down this was my purpose in life. People feared me over my skills and my lack of empathy as a child. I didn’t think I would make it other way when I first decided to change.

Then life went on.

One day after the other, I made it.

As the weeks went by, then months, then years… it all became easier.

Perhaps it’s not the reason that leads us to change that matters, but whether if it’s for the better or for the worst.

If I am to be honest, I knew I would never write anything. I wasn’t sure how to start. Or where. Or when.

How long did I have to wait after stopping to kill people in order to grasp human life in another perspective? I took each day as an experiment to try seeing people in their natural state: living their life. It was hard. People surely are complicated. Nonetheless, that wish still guided me in my journey so far. Like chasing an unreachable horizon, what mattered is how far I walked because of it.

I could use that metaphor in one of my writings…

Even with that goal in mind and the sun to guide me, most of the days I just felt wandering around with no purpose. Never I had someone in my life looking out for me, seeing me, so I felt I could give up at any given moment. It wouldn't be nice to, but it would have been easy doing so.

But then you came around. And suddenly it all felt real. Even if we never talked about it, I knew you were watching me, and I couldn’t falter anymore. If I did, you would ask me why. Then I would have to explain myself while looking you in the eyes. So I had to keep fighting to make it happen. I felt I should spare us both from this headache, discussion, and disappointment.

Disappointment, huh...

Why did this word suddenly came up?

I know you are not disappointed in me. Why would you anyway? But my success in following my dream meant something for you, I feel...something deeper and personal...not only out of care for me, but also...

Now that I think about it…

Dazai...I was your hope, wasn’t I?

You saw yourself in me the same way I saw myself in you. But from your point of view, I was living proof that you had a chance too, wasn’t I? Now I see why you were so desperate with my suicide... You, too, were an abandoned kid, extraordinary at killing people from a young age, with everyone around telling you how you were born to perform this role. I have this sense you have been wanting out of here for a while now, but you just don't know how to do it or where to go. And if I made it and found a life outside of that predicament, then you still had a chance in finding your own path as well.

I too thought I had no other option besides violence and murder, because that was all I knew and was good at. But even so I made it. Just because I gave up on living any longer, it doesn’t mean I failed, neither nulls out how far I came. What I was able to do for Kousuke, Katsumi, Yuu, Shinji, and Sakura was real. And mattered the world to them. Thanks to Pops, to them, to you, to Ango... life was a little more beautiful. And this mattered to me.

I am sorry to have given up on everything. Watching them die in front of me, because of me, took away my right to write a story like I wished to. So I decided there was nothing left to fight for. It was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. I could have dealt with this differently, but t he choice was mine to take.

Just like now you can choose to live.

You are still here because you believe you still have a chance in life. And I know you have. We all do. As long as we want to keep fighting, there is always a way to be found. If you can’t find it, make one yourself. Carve it out with your blood and sweat; with your intelligence; with your nails and teeth; with your guts; or with your pettiness. I can't point you the direction you should head towards to, for that is up to you and no one else. But I know you will find it.

Live, Dazai, it’s what you wish to and ache for.

Stop worrying about having a bigger meaning to it. Wanting to is more than enough.

Chase your own horizon. The one you find most beautiful and fun.

And one day at a time you will make it.

I will be there with you, alongside all the people I know you will be able to help.

And I know you will, of course, because I am your friend.