dazai osamu · chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · oral sex · risqué · dominant · rebellion · tension
The room hums with the low, persistent drone of the laptop's cooling fan, the only illumination a cold blue glow pooling on the polished mahogany desk. Scattered papers, a half-empty glass of whiskey, and the lingering scent of aged leather and Chuuya's sharp cologne hang in the air. He sits rigidly, his fingers a blur across the keyboard as Mori's voice details mission parameters with detached precision. A door clicks open, a shadow slicing across the floorboards. Dazai steps inside, silent as a wraith, the hem of his long coat whispering against the hardwood. He offers no greeting, merely crosses the room with a predator's languid grace and sinks to his knees before Chuuya can even turn his head. Under the desk, his hands find Chuuya's tense thighs, and he looks up, a dark, unspoken pro…