[ biting, stabbing, punching, kicking, strangulation aside the worst decision of the evening is doing all this in front of fyodor fucking dostoevsky who has absolutely zero (0) qualms about using this entire scenario as a personal learning experience to be categorised, filed and referred to at a later date.
his fantasy for this setting is rather different, he thinks of how he could both use crime and punishment fast enough to kill one, then stab the other while they're occupied like this. two birds, one stone. but he remains, sitting and watching, a fondness visible in his expression despite it being unknown to himself.
(but with some nostalgia he thinks that something like this might not be such a weakness as he first had assumed. if he were to call gogol and invite him to a soiree like this, just the two, who would leave the evening alive?
he is missing something here; just out of his reach.) ]
[Chuuya only catches Dostoevsky's expression out of the corner of his eye. Most of his attention is on Dazai now, on this challenge, which is already promising to be fun. He looks excited when he feels the rope tighten, and immediately puts more strength into his own grip around Dazai's throat, matching pressure and threat.
Although Dazai definitely has the advantage here. Chuuya is stronger, but the rope more than makes up for that, wrapping all around his neck, cutting off blood flow as much as air. That's fine. He likes a challenge.
He's already a bit lightheaded, but he tries to squeeze tighter, put some of his weight into it.
[Dazai, for his part, doesn't pay attention to Fyodor beyond keeping a rough eye on where he is, because he doesn't regard Fyodor above last-minute murder attempts. Subtle things like Fyodor's expression, though? Dazai can't afford to waste time and energy on that, because a physical confrontation with Chuuya will take all he has.
And so it does. The rope is the only real advantage he has here, but it's enough. Not only does it conveniently circle all around Chuuya's neck, but if Dazai's pull on the rope should falter, as long as he keeps holding it, he has little to lose. Chuuya, meanwhile, needs to put in a lot more effort, in addition to reaching up.
Before long, they're both starting to slip, getting lightheaded and needing more oxygen than they can spare just for standing there, but thanks to the rope, Chuuya is the one to falter first, and Dazai, who's been watching like a hawk the whole time, immediately jumps on the opening. With Chuuya's grip slipping, Dazai makes his final move as low effort as possible, letting himself fall into a seated position behind Chuuya, Chuuya's back against his chest, still holding the rope more or less in place. It's going to chafe, but hey, Chuuya asked for this.
Sitting with Chuuya basically between his legs, still halfway strangling him, Dazai catches his breath, and finally turns his attention to Fyodor again.]
And? [His voice is a bit raspy from being strangled, but why acknowledge that?] Still don't want to play?
[ 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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his fantasy for this setting is rather different, he thinks of how he could both use crime and punishment fast enough to kill one, then stab the other while they're occupied like this. two birds, one stone. but he remains, sitting and watching, a fondness visible in his expression despite it being unknown to himself.
(but with some nostalgia he thinks that something like this might not be such a weakness as he first had assumed. if he were to call gogol and invite him to a soiree like this, just the two, who would leave the evening alive?
he is missing something here; just out of his reach.) ]
no subject
Although Dazai definitely has the advantage here. Chuuya is stronger, but the rope more than makes up for that, wrapping all around his neck, cutting off blood flow as much as air. That's fine. He likes a challenge.
He's already a bit lightheaded, but he tries to squeeze tighter, put some of his weight into it.
(He's unlikely to win this one.)]
no subject
And so it does. The rope is the only real advantage he has here, but it's enough. Not only does it conveniently circle all around Chuuya's neck, but if Dazai's pull on the rope should falter, as long as he keeps holding it, he has little to lose. Chuuya, meanwhile, needs to put in a lot more effort, in addition to reaching up.
Before long, they're both starting to slip, getting lightheaded and needing more oxygen than they can spare just for standing there, but thanks to the rope, Chuuya is the one to falter first, and Dazai, who's been watching like a hawk the whole time, immediately jumps on the opening. With Chuuya's grip slipping, Dazai makes his final move as low effort as possible, letting himself fall into a seated position behind Chuuya, Chuuya's back against his chest, still holding the rope more or less in place. It's going to chafe, but hey, Chuuya asked for this.
Sitting with Chuuya basically between his legs, still halfway strangling him, Dazai catches his breath, and finally turns his attention to Fyodor again.]
And? [His voice is a bit raspy from being strangled, but why acknowledge that?] Still don't want to play?
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?