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Looking at their relationship, an outsider might mistake Dazai for the sexual explorer, but that just wouldn't be true. Out of the two of them, Chuuya was forever the kinkier of the two.
And Dazai would always put up with that, only because of how much he loved his boyfriend. Even when he was strapped to the examination table below him, their sex dungeon decorated like a hospital room. He eyed the scalpel on the tray like it personally burned him, the sharp blade becoming Chuuya's new favorite toy.
The brunette could feel the wetness pooling under his ass, slick dripping from his cunt like sap from a tree. Chuuya had just finished making him cum again, his mouth covered by his lover's own hand. His clit throbbed, begging for attention that wouldn't recieve just yet.
The cool feeling of an alcohol wipe swiping across his belly was startling, only for a moment. It glided from one hip to the other, a guideline for the fun yet to come.
Gloved hands lifted the instrument from the tray when Dazai wasn't looking. The sharp blade pressed down hard, enough to have the lanky man choking back screams. The blade traveled across the trail the wipe had blazed before it, slicing through fat and muscle like warm butter.
Blood trickled from the incision, sliding down his stomach, leaking down his mound. The dripping blood mixed with clear juices, slicking and sticking up his cunt.
The gash across Dazai's abdomen was mostly clean, a few waves and bumps that kept it from being perfectly straight. The skin around it was peeled back like split leather, pinkish-grey and slick with fresh blood. Beneath the flaps of flesh, his insides bulged obscenely, slick and glistening, the loops of intestine half-visible through the gore. A slow, viscous ooze of blood pooled at the edges, threatening to spill over, thick with the iron scent of life seeping out. The jagged tear had depth, revealing layers of muscle and tissue that seemed to quiver with every breath he took, his body fighting to keep it all together. The edges of the wound fluttered, a grotesque bloom, pulsing faintly as if it had a heartbeat of its own. His stomach trembled, intestines shifting ever so slightly, teetering on the brink of falling out completely, like a sickening secret ready to unravel.
When the knife moved away, the last remnants of red liquid spilled out of Dazai's slit, the crimson fluid mixing with his slick. As his body reacted to the laceration, his muscles failed him, his bladder emptying all over himself and the table below. He let out a choked sob, his entire body shaking in agony. The pain was excruciating.
Chuuya stared, watching Dazai wet himself like an untrained dog, pulling his own cock from his trousers. He couldn't hold himself back.
The shorter man was on Dazai in seconds, pushing his thick organ into Dazai's slit, lubed up with a sick mix of blood, piss, and his lover's arousal. He let his hips thrust on their own as another wave of red came from Dazai's second-best hole, sliding down his hips and thighs.
He watched as the tears fell from Dazai's eyes, his lips parting open as he tried to swallow his cries, failing utterly. Chuuya pushed deeper into Dazai's cunt, his head thrown back as he fucked the taller man with everything he had. His mind was consumed by nothing other than the need to fuck his partner, to fuck him until the man's body went numb, the climax crashing into his senses like an orgasmic tidal wave.
The redhead forced his own orgasm back, even as Dazai tightened and came around his cock, reaching for the sterile suturing kit waiting for him in the tool tray.
Chuuya's hands moved with a practiced grace, steady despite the excitement flickering in his eyes. The needle pierced the bandaged man's torn flesh with a soft, wet pop, the sensation drawing a low groan from him. He pulled the thread tight, knitting Dazai's skin together with careful precision, though the wound gaped wide beneath his fingers. Each stitch seemed to pull the edges of the wound closer, but only just—blood still welled up around the sutures, dark and thick, like oil bubbling from a cracked pipe. The thread glistened, slick with blood, and he worked in a rhythm that seemed more like an artist at work than a medic in a crisis.
Dazai's muscles tensed under Chuuya's touch, his breathing ragged as the needle punctured his skin again and again, each stitch sending a jolt of searing pain through him. Yet there was something else there too—a dark pleasure woven into the agony, a heady mix of sharp pain and the electric thrill of Chuuya's control over his body. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, as he felt fingers pressing into his skin, guiding the thread through with a slow, deliberate pull. The pain was raw, primal, but there was something euphoric about it, the way the older toyed with his limits, stitching him up piece by piece like he was putting him back together, just for Chuuya.
Chuuya tied the knot as he finally finished, letting himself go. His come spurted into Dazai's pussy, his head thrown back as he filled up his boyfriend.
When he finished, he collapsed next to Dazai, panting heavily as they both caught their breaths.
“Fuck…” He moaned. “Fuck, I don't know what got into me…”