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Smoke falls over the old auction hall like a sheer shawl that offers neither comfort nor warmth. Men in black suits with gelled-back hair and fat cigars in their mouths converse with buzzing anticipation. There are no windows here, but if there were, one would be able to see the heavy snowfall outside. It’s only the end of November. His driver had complained numerous times about the icy road and the whiteout that made it difficult to see more than a few meters ahead.
He observes the large hall with cold indifference and a matching drink in hand. Well-muscled guards are positioned at each corner and entrance, keeping it calm with their mere presence. To Chuuya’s left, a well-stocked bar with all the right booze to keep even the most eccentric customer satisfied. On the other end of the dark, dim-lit hall, a long velvet curtain hides the stage behind.
Chuuya leans back into his chair and waits. He doesn’t count himself as part of the haughty crowd whose excitement is near palpable with bare hands. Unlike most of them, he’s not here to shop for amusement, but to possibly acquire a useful asset. An asset he has dreaded investing in and will not invest in unless he finds something truly fitting tonight.
The chatter comes to an abrupt halt when the curtain opens, and the fat auctioneer makes his way up the stairs to the podium on the left side of the stage. An old man in his sixties. His red face and sweaty forehead say everything. He’s not got long left to live, and Chuuya can imagine why. He has just seen this man down an entire pint at the bar, not even twenty minutes ago. God knows how many he’s had before Chuuya arrived and how many he plans to have after the auction.
The man tips his head back and clears his throat— an ugly, hoarse sound. Could’ve at least covered the microphone. Pulling at his red bow tie, he leans into it now.
“Welcome, gentlemen, to this year’s most anticipated event yet. Our premium omega collection auction is ready to begin.”
There is applause and a spike in excited pheromones. By now, everyone who is here to bid has taken up their designated seat at one of the round tables and pulled out their bid cards. Despite what this event is, Chuuya has been promised that it’s usually a tasteful affair. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come.
Omega auctions are rare, some might say even outdated. Modern people prefer to date and match up on their own, but that usually means being open to rejection. Not every alpha can handle it, especially those who have high standards but little to offer themselves. Then there are people like Chuuya, who are often too busy and don’t have the time to spend running around and looking for a suitable partner.
Not that Chuuya is looking for a partner.
The first omega is led on stage by two guards. A young woman, no older than nineteen, he guesses. She’s dressed in an elegant red dress that leaves just enough for the imagination, but doesn’t hide that she has pretty long legs and generous curves.
“And here is our first pup of the evening! Number one. Obedient, quiet, and comes with perfect medical results. If you’re looking for a housewife, this might just be the one for you!”
The auctioneer’s voice is cheerful, almost delighted, as he continues to list more pre-determined characteristics of the omega on stage. Her gaze is downcast. She’s from a good, but likely strict, family, judging by the polite way she stands in her place.
“We’ll start the bidding at 10,000 dollars. Do I have 10,000 dollars?”
The crowd comes to life. Several bid cards rise into the air, but it’s first-come, first-served here. As the crowd continues to bid, the auctioneer breaks into a rhythmic chant, keeping up with the offers and driving the price higher and higher. The bidding ends at a generous 30,000 dollars from a brawny man in a navy suit. Chuuya hasn’t raised his card once.
An omega is like a pair of shoes. It’s possible to buy a decent pair at any shoe store in town for a small fortune, but unless they are tailored exactly to one’s own feet, they will never wear the way you expect them to.
One after another, they’re being led on stage. Some cry, some bask in the attention.
Chuuya sighs and rubs his face with disdain. What a waste of time.
An hour goes by of numbers being thrown around, cards being raised, and champagne bottles being opened in celebration of a successful bid. Some of these men will go home with a new toy tonight. Chuuya’s pounding headache suggests he will leave empty-handed, unless a bad mood counts.
He throws his head back as he downs the rest of his drink and grabs the armrests of his chair to hoist himself up, when the auctioneer announces, “And the last omega of the day.”
Chuuya clicks his jaw and remains in his seat. Might as well be polite and wait for the auction to formally finish before dipping. There is loud stomping on stage, and Chuuya looks up, catching a first look at the last omega set to be auctioned off today. He’d never seen anything quite like this before.
The omega in question is tall and slender, dressed in an elegant white blouse and tight black dress pants, tall enough to hug his waist nicely. On the street, one might have taken him for a runway model. There is no provocative display of skin supposed to entice a potential buyer. A flash of metal, a loud groan. Unlike the ones before him, he is bound at both arms and legs and gagged on top of that. Frizzy brown hair stands up from his head as if he had been rolling around on the ground just before entering the stage.
Even from a distance, Chuuya can see how deeply the anger sits on the omega’s face.
“I-I must admit, this one is a bit difficult. He’s temperamental and hard to control. He needs someone with a firm hand, that’s for sure.” The man scratches his head as if he’s out of things to say. “We’ll start the bid at 5.000 dollars.”
There is a held-back murmuring in the crowd. Unsure glances from table to table, trying to estimate what the other bidders might possibly think of this omega. Those who haven’t had any luck so far might have a better chance now, if they are willing to take it.
“He’s pretty but…I don’t know. He looks like he might bite my daughter. Or me.” A middle-aged man at the table next to Chuuya’s utters to his companion, who nods in silent agreement.
“5,000 dollars, anyone?”
The auctioneer wipes the sweat from his brow with a cotton handkerchief that he keeps periodically stuffing into his pocket, only to pull it back out a minute later. The thought of having to keep the omega seems to put him under immense stress.
The hall falls into heavy silence.
The omega raises his chin, eyes sharp with dignity despite the gag.
Not frightened or obedient.
Challenging them all with just a gaze. Daring them.
What a brat.
…
“10,000 dollars!”
Heads snap in search of the brave man who has dared to double the price right off the bat.
For the first time that night, Chuuya’s bid card is raised into the air. And it remains the only one.
***
Twenty-five minutes. That’s how long it has been since Chuuya managed to drag the omega into the house. For the past twenty-five minutes, the feisty thing has been sitting on the carpet and glaring at Chuuya with fiery hatred in its eyes.
“Untie me,” he demands.
Chuuya sits opposite him, one leg thrown over the other and arms crossed in front of his chest. In exactly five minutes, he will ask again, and Chuuya will answer with the same question.
“Are you going to behave?”
He thinks Chuuya hasn’t figured out the rhythm yet, but that’s because he doesn’t know Chuuya. The omega tenses his jaw and averts his eyes again, and the whole spiel begins anew.
“Listen,” Chuuya says. “Dinner is served at six. If you don’t want to go to bed hungry, it is in your best interest to promise me you’ll get your act together and behave. Otherwise, you’re left with no choice but to wait for breakfast.”
The omega glances at him for a moment, broody. Then goes back to what he was doing, clanking the cuffs on his hands together to create a migraine-inducing sound. A former business partner once subjected Chuuya to a one-hour listening marathon of Yoko Ono. This doesn’t faze him.
The omega doesn’t ask again when the five minutes are over. Now he waits for six. He waits until the tall Grandfather clock in the corner strikes six and Chuuya himself asks once again, “Are you going to behave?”
“Fuck you!”
That’s a no then.
“Fine.”
Chuuya doesn’t argue. He doesn’t get angry. He gets up and nods at the bodyguard standing by the door.
“Take him to his room. Don’t let him out.”
He doesn’t stay to witness the omega hiss and claw at the man, larger and stronger than him. He doesn’t care. Dinner is served to him alone, as it usually is, and he enjoys the peace while it still lasts. This is a big change that he never really looked forward to, and now that it has come and he has made the decision to take in an omega of his own, he has to do it right.
Maybe it would have been easier if he had chosen to bid on one of the more well-behaved ones, but Chuuya has always enjoyed a little bit of hard work. Makes achievements feel more genuine and deserved.
When he pays the omega’s room a visit the next morning, he hopes yesterday’s lesson and a night spent hungry have taught him how to hold his tongue. The room he’s staying in used to be an old guestroom. This house has a few more of them, so this isn’t a significant loss of space. Certainly better than to take a risk and keep him in his own room.
It is as bare as can be, with only a bed, a closet, and a desk inside. The windows, three of them, don’t open. Just a safety precaution. Chuuya had a maid lock them just in case the omega gets any dumb ideas.
He’s still curled up in bed, sleeping. Chuuya quietly carries the chair from the desk over and sits down. The omega looks more peaceful like this. Much more enjoyable to look at, and that’s half the reason why Chuuya currently still considers this a lucky purchase.
With the tip of his index finger, Chuuya lifts some hair off his forehead to take a better look at his face. Youthful innocence. Chuuya doubts he has any of it left himself. Then again, he has been through things this little beast probably could never imagine.
The omega’s nose scrunches up, and his eyes flutter open to an immediate expression of confusion.
“Don’t touch me.”
He must have been really exhausted, because even his flinch away from Chuuya’s touch is slow and disoriented. He looks around a little dazed, sheets still tangled around his body after moving and rolling in them all night, subconsciously trying to scent them to replace the scent of laundry powder.
“Good morning,” Chuuya says. His eyes glide freely over the omega’s body regardless of his obvious distrust towards him. He’s still wearing yesterdays clothes. Couldn’t have been very comfortable to sleep in. He makes a mental note to let the maid know to bring him some new clothes.
“Your name is Dazai, isn’t it?”
Now that earns him his attention.
“How do you know that?” the omega asks.
Chuuya crosses one leg over the other. “I have my ways.”
Hazel eyes under furrowed brows. Even just for those looks more people should’ve bid on him. If not his looks, then his name, but of course, no one knew it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put him last nor foregone its mention in his introduction. An interesting purchase indeed.
“Are you hungry?” Chuuya asks.
“What do you think?”
There’s a mocking undertone that Chuuya chooses to ignore for now.
“Are you going to behave?”
Like throwing a match into gasoline, those words draw a hiss from the omega. Chuuya pauses for a moment. Recalculating.
“Let me ask this differently then,” he says, “If I take you with me to have breakfast, will you act civil?”
Dazai stares at him for a few seconds, clearly looking for something on Chuuya’s face that will reveal the intention of a trap or an underlying motive. When he doesn’t find anything, he nods, albeit wary.
He changes into the clothes the maids bring up for him, under Chuuya’s gaze, ignoring him the entire time. Pretending he doesn’t mind. Or maybe he really doesn’t. There are several nasty, blue, and green bruises all over his body. Harsh handling of a feisty omega back where they kept them before the auction, if he had to guess. No wonder he’s so angry.
Despite admitting to being hungry, Dazai eats like a pigeon, shuffling his food back and forth in his bowl as he stares off into space, thinking about who knows what.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Chuuya asks. He’s almost done himself.
Dazai looks up at him, then back down into his bowl and eats another spoonful, almost as if he forgot that the porridge is there to be eaten, not looked at. When staring at the food becomes too boring, Dazai’s gaze begins to wander yet again, more conscious now.
“What do you do for work?” He suddenly asks.
Chuuya wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“I’m an investor of sorts.”
“What do you invest in?”
“All sorts of things,” Chuuya says with a lazy motion of his hand. “Business ventures, innovations. Anything I find interesting, really. Sometimes I invest in people, and in turn those people make me more money.”
Dazai shuffles in his seat, and Chuuya realizes how that must have sounded. It’s not a lie, though, so he doesn’t correct himself.
“I assume your investments are successful? Considering you live in this…mansion?” Dazai motions around with his spoon.
“It’s just a house.”
“It’s a mansion.”
“I am very successful, yes,” Chuuya says, sharply determining this to be the end of the conversation.
The rest of breakfast goes by quietly until Dazai finishes his food, and they both end up sitting on the couch in the living room. The fireplace warms the space gently, fresh wood cracking apart as it burns. The maid puts something on the small round table next to the couch and excuses herself.
“Dazai, come here for a second,” Chuuya says, catching the omega’s attention while he’s busy chewing on his nails. He looks nothing like the wet cat he brought home yesterday.
“Hm? Why?”
Chuuya sighs and reaches down to grab Dazai by the ankle and pull his legs over his lap, causing Dazai to slip and fall onto his back. He’s not a patient man. Dazai tries to pull away from Chuuya’s metal grip, but before he can, Chuuya has already tossed the tube of ointment onto his chest with the words, “Open this for me.”
Confused, Dazai picks it up.
“What’s that for?”
Chuuya answers by pulling down Dazai’s pants to his ankles and inspecting his bruised legs. Several nasty-looking spots there, no wonder they had him covered up like that at the auction. Chuuya needs them to heal before he can take Dazai out with him.
“Do they hurt?” He prods at one of them, and Dazai hisses. He’ll take that as a yes.
Dazai hands the open tube into the hand asking for it. The cream is cold, brought straight from the refrigerator. He warms it up between his fingers and gets to work, trying to be gentle. What alpha wouldn’t try to be a little gentle with a damaged omega in his lap? As much as Dazai tries to hide it, Chuuya can see that this closeness and care bothers him a lot.
“Pull up your shirt,” he instructs. Dazai visibly bites his tongue and complies, seeing that Chuuya is serious about helping him heal.
There is a big bruise right on his ribs, and it stretches every time Dazai inhales and exhales. Chuuya’s hand glides over the purple mess softly, but even that seems to hurt. Dazai chews on his lip so hard Chuuya is sure it will start bleeding any second.
“Are you alright?”
Dazai glances from his hand, which still hovers, to his face.
“I don’t like pain.”
Chuuya nods. “Yeah, me neither.” He sighs as he squeezes out more of the ointment onto his fingers. “But there is bad pain, and there is good pain. Sometimes the good pain helps us get closer to healing from the bad kind.”
“That sounds right.” Dazai breathes out the words, “But it still hurts regardless.”
“You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“I don’t.” Dazai says, flat out. There is a pause.
“But you take good care of your investments, don’t you? Mr. Nakahara Chuuya.”
His gaze is challenging. Like an invitation to disagree with the statement thrown into the air to see if it will fly or crash, depending on the alpha’s reaction. This omega has done the first thing right; though, despite his chaotic struggle on that stage yesterday, he’s managed to remember the full name of the man who bought him.
The awaited reaction doesn’t come. Chuuya has learned long ago how to be less impulsive, despite his nature. Dazai sighs and leans back, closing his eyes.
“Let’s get it over with.”
Chuuya studies his face for a moment.
“…Yes. Let’s.”
For Dazai’s good, he ignores his squirming and hissing as he spreads the cold ointment on the sensitive skin. Chuuya is known in other circles for having a short temper and a violent hand. Where he doesn’t make an effort to remain calm. For his own good, he ignores how obviously hard Dazai’s nipples get from his cold, medicinal touch.
No space for thoughts like that now. Not when Chuuya has to leave for a business meeting in half an hour, and the omega is a ticking time bomb full of unpredictable emotional baggage.
He takes it upon himself to carry Dazai back to his room, pointedly ignoring the arms that wrap around his neck and the nose that sniffs his suit, probably thinking he doesn’t notice it.
***
Chuuya yawns into his sleeve as he descends the stairs to the ground floor. Barefoot and still in his sleeping clothes. The house is eerily quiet; neither of his two maids has arrived yet. Outside, the dawn breaks silently over the horizon. Weeks have passed in the blink of an eye, and most of his estate is covered with several centimeters of powdery snow now.
Stepping into the living room, he gets hit by an unexpected chill around his ankles. When he follows the direction of the breeze with his eyes, he sees that the thick glass door to the veranda is cracked slightly open. With a suspicious frown, Chuuya goes to check it out. Did one of the maids leave it open by mistake?
He’s about to close it when he spots a speck of purple in the white. It’s Dazai, dressed in little else but his favorite new silk robe, who steps around barefoot in the snow. Long naked legs taking turns lifting up and down like a sort of…human flamingo of the winter.
“What the hell are you doing?” Chuuya scratches the back of his neck as he watches the scene in front of him with skepticism.
The omega whips around. Didn’t expect to see Chuuya up so early, it seems, considering how late he comes back from work most nights. Under Chuuya’s questioning gaze, Dazai tugs his robe closed where it had come loose.
“Nothing,” Dazai says, then reconsiders. “I’m just looking for something.”
“And what is that?”
Chuuya raises an eyebrow. What on earth could Dazai be searching for in the snow?
“I lost something.”
“What did you lose?”
Dazai gnaws on his lip.
“You will be mad.”
Chuuya sighs, “I promise, I won’t.”
Dazai looks around the perimeter once more before saying, “That hairclip you brought back from France last week. I lost it.”
Ah.
Chuuya brought back a designer hair clip for Dazai as a gift when he went to France last week on a spontaneous business trip to visit one of the companies he invested in last year. It was last-minute, and he didn’t even have a chance to personally speak to Dazai before he left, so he thought he’d at least bring something back for him.
He has noticed that the omega likes gifts. That’s…not unusual.
In the few weeks since he had brought Dazai home, Chuuya has spent a generous amount of time and money on spoiling the little omega with gifts of clothes and jewelry. The room that used to be bare is already growing full of things that the omega likes. Although sometimes Chuuya isn’t sure if Dazai actually likes the gifts or simply likes owning them.
He can’t personally blame him if it’s the latter.
“I doubt you’ll find it under all that snow.” Chuuya says, chuckling a little. “Just wait for it to melt.”
“That’s going to take ages!” Dazai whines and, almost frantically, begins to shovel more snow with his hands.
A cold breeze blows, and Chuuya shivers, gritting his teeth. How can anyone even consider playing in the snow this early in the morning, wearing only that? Not that he’s complaining.
“Just leave it. I’ll buy you a new one.”
Dazai pauses for just a moment to consider it, but returns to digging through the snow. His offer must not have been convincing enough.
“Come on, Dazai. Get inside. You’ll catch a cold.”
“Two.”
“What?”
Dazai turns to him, “I want two hair clips.”
He sounds like a precious princess as he makes this demand.
“Fine.” Chuuya rolls his eyes, “I’ll buy you two new hair clips next time I’m in France. Now come inside, or I’m locking the door.”
He doesn’t need to repeat himself. The omega sprints up the stairs and into the living room, groaning when his numb, wet feet come in contact with the warm, heated floor. Could’ve at least put on some shoes. Probably couldn’t wait for dawn to go and look for it in secret, hoping he wouldn’t have to tell Chuuya he’s lost it already.
If Chuuya actually cared about Dazai or the clip, he would have found it…endearing.
While Dazai goes to change into warmer clothes, Chuuya boils some water for tea. Earl Grey with milk. They settle on the couch and turn on the TV to the morning news. Dazai picks oat-banana biscuits off a platter on the coffee table and dips them into his cup.
Chuuya rubs Dazai’s calf absentmindedly while he watches the news, and the omega warms his naked feet against Chuuya’s warm thigh.
He looks satisfied and comfortable. Calmer than when they first met. Like a stray cat learning the comfort of a gentle owner for the first time.
Later that day, after Chuuya has spent some time working alone in his study, he comes down to the living room where Dazai is lounging in front of the fireplace, and hands Dazai a square jewelry box. The omega’s eyes light up immediately, assuming it’s yet another pretty gift, and he wastes no time opening it.
Inside the cushioned box he finds a black velvet leather choker. The very kind that upperclass omegas wear when they’re officially promised to be claimed by an alpha in the near future. An engagement of sorts.
“I’m taking you out to an event tonight,” Chuuya says. “I want you to wear that.”
“Why?” Dazai asks, unsure.
“So everyone knows who you belong to,” Chuuya answers with a little teasing. He needs Dazai to make the right impression.
Dazai’s face grows a little timid, and his fingers run over the jade stone charm hanging from the middle of the choker. Considering it. Chuuya knows he’s hit the nail on the head. There has yet to be a gift that Dazai hasn’t majestically paraded around the mansion with no witness but Chuuya and his maids.
By the end of lunch, Dazai can’t stand just looking at it anymore and asks Chuuya to put it on for him.
***
Social events like charity galas aren’t Chuuya’s idea of fun. He attends for one reason: business, and only when there’s something to gain. Despite his name, he isn’t invited to all of them. Some are curated by the wives of important men, dressed up as charity but meant for display. Fine clothes, perfectly done hair, and carefully arranged company. Singles aren’t welcome. Not at this kind of event.
Chuuya needed an excuse to get in.
Many of the men he wants to do business with have long since withdrawn from the spotlight, only appearing when dragged out by their spouses. So when he coincidentally ran into the mayor’s wife— who has eyed him more than once— he also coincidentally mentioned he should get home before his omega gets cranky.
That was enough to spike her curiosity. The official letter of invitation was in his mailbox the very next day.
Dazai fidgets in the car next to him, twisting the gemstone hanging off his neck. Dressed to the nines in a silk black blouse with a deep V-neck cut and hair tucked neatly behind his ear, he’s sure to turn heads. Even Chuuya can’t help but run his eyes over him from time to time.
Dazai hasn’t been away from the house since the day of the auction. Since then, his anger has mellowed out, and the sweeter sides of his nature have started to show. Chuuya hides a smile behind his gloved hand as he turns to look out the window. Omegas are so simple.
“Here we are,” The driver grunts behind his mustache, “Have a good time.”
“Thank you, we will.”
Chuuya opens the car door for Dazai, who pulls his black fur coat tighter around the neck as he steps right into a breeze.
“Chuuya, where are we?”
Chuuya hooks his arm around the omega’s waist, guiding him up the stairs of the quaint Villa.
“I’m about to introduce you to the mayor and his wife.” He bites his lower lip, and the distance between their faces grows shorter the closer he leans in. “I need you to make a good impression and be on your best behaviour tonight. Can you do that for me?”
Dazai’s gaze wavers between Chuuya’s eyes and his lips. He nods.
“Good boy.”
Chuuya strokes over Dazai’s head, and as he turns to ring the doorbell, he doesn’t catch the way Dazai presses his lips together into a tight line and breathes in.
A young butler collects their heavy coats in the marble foyer. Another escorts them down the hall towards a double door, behind which the reception is already in full swing.
Chuuya keeps Dazai close as he scans the room. Crystal glasses clink and sing, accompanying the soft piano music coming from the corner of the room. Waiters thread through clusters of guests carrying platters of bite-sized pastries and champagne. Rich men with their partners hanging off their arms.
“Chuuya! You made it!” The familiar shrill voice of Mahoko, the mayor’s wife, cuts through the buzz. “And you brought someone with you. How wonderful.”
“Thank you for having us,” Chuuya offers her a polite smile and extends his hand to the mayor, who follows closely behind his wife and gives Chuuya a firm handshake.
Mahoko’s skinny hands clasp around Dazai’s, and the corners of her eyes crinkle up with her giant smile. “So good to meet you, I’m Mahoko. What’s your name?”
Dazai’s right cheek twitches.
“Uh, Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”
“Osamu, then.” She hums, “You look lovely. Doesn’t he look lovely, dear?” She looks over her shoulder, her hands tighten around Dazai’s.
“Yes, dear.” Her husband replies, looking over Dazai with unabashed curiosity in his eyes. Dazai hates the way he looks at him. He wants to hiss. He wants to pull his hand out of that woman’s grasp, but one look at Chuuya and—
Well. He did promise to behave. To make a good impression. Despite all of his instincts telling him to flee as far as he can see, he doesn’t do it. His free hand twists the little gem around his collar between his fingers, and he forces himself to calm down and return a grateful smile.
Chuuya has been good to him. Dazai knows it could have been anyone else, and instead of pretty pins and shiny gems, he could’ve been wearing bruises and cuts right now. That would have been an alternative Dazai wouldn’t have tolerated for himself, no— he would have done something drastic about it. Something deadly, even.
He doesn’t want to waste his chance to be good to Chuuya, too. Playing the pretty thing in the rich man’s mansion is a good compromise considering his past and any other possible future. The collar sitting around his neck, heavy like a promise and snug as a reminder, leads his racing mind to patience.
***
Dazai has never been so bored before. The following hours after their arrival are filled with introductions upon introductions to people whose names he doesn’t want to remember, but inevitably will. He has a very good memory. Something he considers a curse, not an advantage.
He must be on his fourth glass of white wine when he finds himself sitting at a round table with Chuuya, the mayor’s couple, and an older gentleman with charming looks. Hirotsu is his name. Dazai sighs into his glass. A young woman leans against Hirotsu’s shoulder, looking as drunk as Dazai feels, though he’s much better at hiding it.
“I’m going to excuse myself for a moment,” The older man says as he pulls out a small cigar box. Dazai can feel Chuuya straighten up next to him. He didn’t even notice how hard he was leaning against the alpha. The only somewhat familiar, dare he say, comforting thing in this room that he doesn’t want to be in.
“Mind if I join you?” Chuuya asks.
“Not at all, the more the merrier.”
Hirotsu smiles a little mischievously and sticks a fat cigar between his lips as he gently pushes his companion off.
“Dazai, stay here, alright?”
Chuuya gives his head a gentle pat, and even though the idea of cold air against his warm cheeks seems like heaven right about now, Dazai nods. He’ll stay here.
“Okay.”
At that, Mahoko perks up.
“I’ll walk with you to get your coats,” She says.
Hirotsu motions with his head, “Oh, you don’t have to.”
“I insist!” She pulls both men away by their arms.
A small pout forms on Dazai’s lips watching that scene with his head leaning in his palm. This is what Chuuya gets up to when he’s not home? How boring. Dazai would much rather be in his nest right now. Between the softest silk pillows and the warmest camel fur blankets.
He nearly smiles just thinking about it, when out of nowhere, there is a warm, thick hand on his knee.
The mayor turns to him.
“So, Osamu. How are you liking this little get-together so far?”
Dazai frowns.
“It’s nice.” He says, tight-lipped.
“I’m glad. I hope Chuuya brings you along more often from now on.” He teasingly tugs at the charm on Dazai’s collar, “But I don’t have to worry about that, do I?”
It takes everything in Dazai not to bite his hand off right then and there. How dare he touch what Chuuya gave him? He breathes out through his nose. He doesn’t bare his teeth. He can’t.
Chuuya will surely send him away if he does. Away from his nest, away from the peaceful mansion outside the city where Dazai can run around barefoot and play in the snow whenever he pleases as long as he behaves when it matters. He can behave. He has learned from his past that bad things happen to him if he doesn’t.
Now he even has a collar.
His very own collar.
If someone had told him a month ago that getting sold at an omega auction would result in a collar and pretty gifts from France, he would have laughed. And clawed their eyes out.
However, it would take an idiot not to see that Chuuya has an agenda. There’s something he really wants. If Dazai dares to stand in the way of that, then that will be it. Then he will take his promises and his gifts away.
So Dazai smiles. Pleasantly, like a dumb, precious little thing.
“I’m sure Chuuya would love to come again,” Dazai says, “If you’ll have him.”
“Of course we’ll have him.” The mayor laughs, “It’s loud here, isn’t it?”
Dazai hums, “Must be the music.”
“Do you like music, Osamu?”
His name sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard coming from him.
“Yes,” He lies, “I do.”
“I want to show you something. Come with me.”
The man gives his knee a squeeze and gets up. Dazai glances at the other omega at the table for help, only to find that she has fallen asleep sitting up. Great. He didn’t know that was an option.
Upstairs, far away from the hall, there is a room with a piano. A shiny black giant that looks as pristine as it sounds when the man sits down on the small stool behind it and plays something from memory. Dazai stands awkwardly next to him, observing the carefree, drunk look of delight on his face as he plays.
“Sit down.”
Dazai hesitates but eventually joins the man on the stool, not wanting to offend the man.
“Do you know how to play?”
“No, not at all.”
“Well, first of all.” The man says in a lecturing tone, “Keep your back straight and scoot forward.” He places his hand shamelessly on Dazai’s ass with the excuse of pushing him forward to the edge. Then, he reaches around Dazai and rounds his hand next to his on the tiles, whispering into his ear, “Pretend you’re holding a small apple.”
Dazai clears his throat. He has absolutely zero interest in learning how to play the piano. His drunk teacher proceeds to teach him ‘Frère Jacque’ note by note until Dazai can play it rather confidently. It is also by that point that the mayor’s hand has come to rest on Dazai’s right hip, rubbing circles into it that make all the hairs on Dazai’s body stand up.
He’s in the middle of replaying the melody for the tenth time when he abruptly stops and says, “I think we should get back to your guests. Your wife is probably looking for you.”
“Relax,” The mayor pinches his waist and ruins the perfectly tucked-in blouse. Dazai can feel a quiet rumble build up in his throat when the door to the room flies open, and Mahoko herself marches in with Chuuya in tow.
“There they are.” She exclaims, trying to sound joyful about it.
As if struck by lightning, the man’s hand pulls away, giving Dazai the perfect opportunity to flee and grab Chuuya’s arm. The alpha gives him a quick look over before addressing the couple.
“I’m afraid we have to leave now. We have quite a long ride home.”
While the hosts return to their guests, Chuuya leads Dazai to the foyer to grab their coats. His gloved hand feels hot between Dazai’s shoulder blades as it pushes him to walk.
It’s nice. Allows Dazai to turn his head off for a little bit and let himself be directed. His mind is busy, always. He doesn’t get a break from it. Not when he’s drunk, nor when he’s out in the cold at the crack of dawn, digging through the snow while half-naked.
Their driver calls Chuuya back when they’re already standing by the curb. He won’t make it on time, he says. Icy road, and all. Chuuya tells him to drive safely and not to rush.
Dazai nuzzles into the soft fur of his black coat. Chuuya smokes a cigarette next to him, blowing away from him like a true gentleman. God, Dazai is drunk.
“Good job today,” Chuuya says. “You bought me some time to close a deal with Hirotsu. You know, Kento is not the kind of company you want around when striking up business conversations, so it’s good you kept him busy.”
Kento. The mayor’s name. Dazai was trying so hard to forget it.
Distracting Kento meant buying Chuuya the time he needed to work his magic. Dazai bites his cheek. It feels oddly good to do something right without really meaning to. In the past, Dazai barely ever meant to do anything right. Upsetting his previous ‘owner’ used to be his bread and butter.
“What do I get for it?” He asks. Because he’s drunk, and drunk people are honest people.
The alpha chuckles and takes a slow drag of his cigarette. For a moment, he thinks Chuuya is about to ask him what he wants, to which Dazai will honestly reply with ‘a new cashmere sweater’, because they’re soft and comfortable, and they hold scents so well.
But Chuuya doesn’t ask; instead, he throws the finished cigarette to the ground and takes Dazai’s head in his hands, pulling him down for a kiss so insistent that it leaves Dazai’s drunk head spinning. All previous thoughts scatter into the dark night as they stand there, kissing under a simple street lamp.
When Chuuya pulls away, the taste of tobacco and whiskey left on Dazai’s mouth feels almost cruel.
“Satisfied?”
Is he supposed to be?
Disappointed, that’s what he is.
Chuuya chuckles, quite intoxicated himself, at Dazai’s scandalized expression, but he doesn’t do anything more about it.
They come home to a quiet, empty house. The silence is comfortable, as they’re both spent from the loud evening. Inside, Dazai is still reeling from the kiss earlier. He steals glances at Chuuya as he follows the alpha like a shadow to the kitchen and gratefully accepts the glass of water offered to him.
Leaning against the fridge, Chuuya’s thoughtful expression fades, and he regains enough clarity to catch Dazai staring at him from the chair he sits in.
“Are you alright?” He asks.
“Yes,” Dazai answers, taking another shy sip from his water. “Is that what work looks like for you?”
Chuuya licks his lips, “Amongst other things, yeah. It’s a lot of talking and smiling. Quite tiring.”
“I can imagine,” Dazai hums, “I don’t want to smile for a week, please.”
That draws an unexpected laugh from the alpha. It makes Dazai’s heart flutter with self-serving satisfaction. They move to the living room with another bottle of wine and a bowl of chips. Chuuya turns out to be really chatty when he’s happy and drunk. Illuminated by the flames in the fireplace, his auburn hair seems to glow. Dazai nuzzles his face into his crossed arms, lying belly down on a large pillow on the ground as he watches Chuuya. He tells him of all the great places he’s been to, and Dazai listens. He likes to listen to Chuuya.
“I’ll take you with me sometime,” Chuuya says, pushing a stray hair out of Dazai’s face with his finger.
“To Paris?” Dazai asks, a little amused.
“Yeah, to Paris.” Chuuya agrees, “We’ll get you more of those clips. They look pretty on you.”
“Thank you,” The omega says, and it’s sincere.
Chuuya’s hand lingers, hesitation on his face. Dazai can see ‘want’ on it too. He leans a little closer, and like pressing the trigger on a gun, the alpha flips him over on his back, towering over him. Butterflies in his stomach. The alpha dips down for another kiss, breathing out in relief like it’s something to indulge in. A sweet treat after a run.
Dazai feels it too. How ripe and sweet he has become since he came here. Their lips move slowly against each other, savoring the moment, wanting the fire between them to last a little longer.
But Chuuya pulls away much sooner than Dazai wants him to, forcing himself back to a reality that seems to prevent him from taking the omega once and for all.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Dazai asks hastily.
Drunk people are honest people.
Chuuya considers it.
“Sure.”
Later that night, when they finally make it upstairs and climb into Chuuya’s bed, surrounded by his scent, Dazai sleeps more deeply than he thinks he ever has. So deep that he doesn’t notice himself clinging to the alpha like a lifeline he didn’t know he needed.
***
“Put the damn thing on, Dazai!”
Chuuya’s voice echoes through the corridor on the second floor, and if the maids weren’t busy cleaning out the cellar, they would have flinched. But not Dazai, no. The omega is sitting in the corner of his room, legs pulled close to his chest, and his teeth bite hard into his cheek to keep himself from talking back.
Chuuya holds the collar in his fist as he corners Dazai, having picked it up from where the omega had thrown it on the ground earlier. All that’s missing from this picture is a leash to go with it so Chuuya can drag Dazai to yet another event to parade him around like a trophy he won and use him to distract more lovestruck old geezers who’d love to get a feel of his perky young ass while their equally young children are away at college, studying to live a life Dazai never got to dream of.
Tears prick at his eyes at the unfairness of it all, and he grits his teeth.
“I don’t want to go.” He repeats, suppressing either a sob or a growl. He’s not sure what he feels more right now, sad or angry. Betrayed, yes. That’s a good word.
A new event, week after week. Months have passed, and Dazai is still as he was; unmated. Just a pretty thing on Chuuya’s arm. A moneymaker. Chuuya has been abroad more times during those months than Dazai can count on one hand.
“Well, that’s too damn bad.” Chuuya huffs, “You are going, and you’re putting this on.”
“Why?” Dazai asks with a voice that wavers, “Because you want them to think I actually mean something to you?”
That shitty thing. That empty promise.
Chuuya never really meant it.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Chuuya hisses. “Just put it on. You know you want to.”
“No!” Not anymore, at least.
Chuuya doesn’t allow any more pushback. His temper is shorter than Dazai anticipated, and the next thing he knows, the gentle hand that used to pet and caress him after a good outing grabs his hair and yanks him up by it. Dazai grows dizzy with the pain, so much so that he can barely stand when he’s turned and pushed against the cold wall, and Chuuya slings the collar around his neck, securing it in place so that it won’t come off without the key to the mechanism on the lock in the back. He won’t make the mistake of letting Dazai take it off to bathe again.
No matter how much Dazai pulls at it, the thing doesn’t give. The little frustrated sob he lets out as he slides down the wall to his knees doesn’t fall on deaf ears. The alpha’s hand, violent a second ago, suddenly gentle again, strokes over his head.
“You would be much happier if you’d only just listened to me, Dazai.”
Dazai used to believe that. When it was just him and Chuuya, in this big house, and the winter that subconsciously drew them together, the colder it got. When Chuuya was drunk and nice and kissed him silly, when he let him sleep in his bed— If not a free man, or the child of a rich couple, then at least a well-taken care of trophy mate, that’s what Dazai thought he was going to be in this house. Bullshit.
“You just want me for the money.” Dazai whispers, “Because if I’m there and I’m pleasant, they want to do business with you. I make you look so much better than you are.”
He sounds delirious.
Saying the quiet part out loud. It’s what really gets Chuuya, who is so used to playing the game of context clues and unspoken rules. Dazai can smell the foul shame on the alpha. How he hates being seen through by an omega.
An enemy in his own house.
“You’re pathetic.” Dazai sniffs.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Chuuya replies, coldly. “I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes. You don’t want to know what will happen if you’re not ready by then.”
The ride to the gala is quiet. Dazai spends most of it staring out of the window, dissociating. They at last reach the venue, moody and late. Dazai doesn’t shine. Has stopped shining several times ago, when Chuuya once again left him to entertain sharks while he was off making his little deals.
When did Dazai agree to play decoy? Was it that first time he asked Chuuya to put the collar on? How stupid.
The same thing, over and over again. Greetings, introductions, the same ‘Oh, we have met before, haven’t we?’, and of course, Dazai remembers their names. He always does.
Tonight is no exception either, but people seem to notice the cold distance between Dazai and Chuuya. They move on quicker. To warmer places. Dazai is grateful for that, at least.
“We have met before, haven’t we?”
A voice from behind them.
A hand on Dazai’s shoulder.
Then, the drop of his stomach and a sudden lightness in his head.
“Dr. Mori,” Chuuya greets, urging Dazai to turn around as well. It really is him.
“Dazai, this is Dr. Mori,” Chuuya introduces them. “Although you two already know each other, don’t you?”
His head snaps to Chuuya. How does he know? He can’t possibly know—
“Yes, indeed,” Mori says, sly smile on his mouth. “I was looking for Dazai everywhere after he very suddenly disappeared. Seems the auctioneers got their hands on him before me. What a shame. You know, I almost didn’t believe it when rumor said a little omega by the name ‘Dazai’ had appeared in high society out of nowhere.”
Dazai shrinks into himself. This is the worst.
“And then of course, taken in by none other than Nakahara Chuuya himself. My my, what a coincidence. And right after my company had to reject your very generous offer. What a coincidence, indeed…” Mori almost sings. Dazai knows that tone. He knows the symptoms of Mori’s sweet anger well.
He had been working under Mori for a few years before he met Chuuya. One of his prized possessions. His job was similar to this: entertain guests, remember their names. Be polite, smile, sit on their laps if they demand it, and keep your mouth shut no matter what.
Only, there were no nice gifts in return. Only food and a place to sleep. Some safety. No future.
So Dazai ran away. Right into the arms of people who saw enough value in him to sell him, to a man who seems to know exactly who Dazai used to be.
“I’m taking great care of him.” Chuuya returns a sly smile.
“I’m sure you do.” Mori hums, “Nevertheless, I’d like him back.”
Dazai grabs Chuuya’s arm, hard.
“I need to go use the bathroom.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
Locking the bathroom door behind himself, Dazai falls to his knees in front of the toilet bowl and empties his stomach of everything he had consumed that day. When he’s done, he can’t seem to stop heaving for air. Dizzy and disoriented, he collapses on the ground. Everything is spinning, and the ground feels like cotton. Is he going to pass out?
He breathes, but the oxygen doesn’t make it to his brain. Dazai turns to lie on his back. The coldness of the tiles seeping through the fabric of his clothes is all he can feel for a while, as he stares up at the ceiling. He claws at his throat. The collar feels suffocating.
Why did he think he could escape?
Of course, Chuuya knew who he was this whole time. Otherwise, he never would have bid on him. He never wanted Dazai for himself. That’s just a lie Dazai badly wanted to believe.
His mind races. He covers his numb face.
God.
He wants to die.
After a few minutes, he sits up, flushes the toilet, and washes his face. He returns to Chuuya, who is right where he left him, and wordlessly takes his hand. What else has he to hold onto? Mori is nowhere to be seen. But Dazai can’t stop searching. He can’t stop trembling.
The alpha looks him over, noticing the pale complexion and chattering teeth, and silently pulls him to the edge of the party, where it’s quieter, and people don’t notice them. To stop Dazai’s eyes from searching, he positions him to face the wall.
Chuuya cups his face, “Hey…”
It doesn’t matter what he says now. Dazai can’t seem to hear him. It’s like he’s not there at all. Blood rushes in his ears. Everything is going dark.
***
Chuuya jerks awake. Head slipped from his fist. He fell asleep again.
Blinking, he scans the room. The bed. The empty bed.
Empty?
Suddenly alert, he jumps up from the chair he was sleeping in, guarding Dazai’s bed. After the omega fainted at the gala, Chuuya had rushed him home. Didn’t want to make any more of a scene. Everyone had seen the way Dazai looked tonight. Sad and gray. Pale and out of it.
He searches the second floor.
“Dazai?” He calls into the darkness. He’s not in the bathroom, nor Chuuya’s bedroom. Downstairs then. By the fire, probably.
Chuuya remembers the words the doctor said.
“I’d like him back,” and later, “Let’s negotiate some time. I’ll be in touch.”
Not a pleasant man. Ruthless and uncompromising, always two steps ahead. But doing business with him is in Chuuya’s personal interest. Their last negotiations didn’t bear any fruits and the failure to strike a deal still eats away at him. The Mori Corporation controls the entire Port of Yokohama. Chuuya would be a fool not to agree to a new proposal. And yet…
“Dazai!”
The fire has gone out. It’s pitch black and cold. In fact, it’s freezing. A breeze around his feet. The glass door is wide open, and the white curtain is sucked out of the house, swinging in the wind. Chuuya forces his way through it, searching the backyard with his eyes. There’s no one there.
Only the gate of the fence is swinging back and forth. Fuck.
Chuuya lunges ahead, running across the lawn to follow. He doesn’t get very far because something sharp pricks his foot a few steps in, and he tumbles to the ground with a yelp.
“Shit,” he groans, feeling around. He half expects to have stepped into glass. It’s hard to tell in the moonlight, and because the thing is covered in mud, but when he looks closer, he recognizes the Parisian pin Dazai lost last winter. The one he had promised to replace, and still hasn’t.
Chuuya grits his teeth and gets up. He stuffs the pin into his pocket and continues on. The grass on the fields surrounding his estate is still low and wet after the winter. Snakes, rabbits, and various insects could be lurking in them, but he’s not worried for himself. It’s Dazai he doesn’t want to get hurt.
After their fight and the encounter with Mori, it’s no surprise that he ran away. Chuuya underestimated the severity of Dazai’s fear of the man. He thought he could use him to strike a nerve in Mori. He can’t, if it means Dazai will pass out the moment he’s in the same vicinity as the man.
Chuuya wades through the wet fields until the sun begins to rise on the horizon, and he nears the nearby river. A bad feeling spreads in his stomach. He’s careful not to slip as he gets closer to where he knows the earth dips. He used to play here as a child. Dazai wouldn’t know.
“Dazai!”
Dazai didn’t know.
As quickly as he can, and carefully too, Chuuya climbs down into the river. Freezing water knocks the breath out of him as he wades across the stony ground under the bridge. The purple silk of Dazai’s favorite robe is almost black as it floats in the water, the body it’s wrapped around, motionless.
After that, everything is a blur. Chuuya doesn’t remember how he managed to carry Dazai back up the steep ridge, or all the way back home. He doesn’t care that he dragged mud into the house, that the cuts on his feet sting like hell as he dials his doctor’s personal number with only his omega on his mind.
He doesn’t remember what exactly he told the doctor for him to arrive so quickly. Now he’s in the room with Dazai, while Chuuya sits in the corridor, exhausted and pale.
Terrified.
Perhaps for the first time in his life.
Chuuya rubs his face. He didn’t mean for this to happen.
“Mr. Nakahara?”
One of his maids squats down beside him. Her voice is gentle, comforting. He looks up at her.
“I brought you a towel.” She whispers.
Chuuya clears his throat, “Thank you.”
She nods, handing it to him, and leaves without another word. Chuuya appreciates that. It all feels a little too much right now. He’s never been hated so much to the point of death being preferred over another moment with him.
He dries his face and then his muddy feet. He should get up and change out of his wet pants and shirt. Yesterday’s outfit. Looks nothing like it did yesterday. Changed Dazai into his robe and didn’t leave the room, too… worried.
Pulled up a chair, too much of a gentleman to sit down in his nest. A nice one, too. Chuuya was surprised to see it happen. An omega, building a comfortable little resting place in a room in this house, this— mansion.
Cold and big and empty. Before Dazai, it was.
“He’ll be alright,” The doctor says. Chuuya stops chewing his thumbnail.
“Is he…?”
“He woke up,” Fixing his glasses he says, “I had to put on a few stitches but he’ll live. I’ll send over some medicine for both of you.”
“Thank you,” Chuuya says, a little ashamed. This man has seen him grow up, saw his parents die. Never saw Chuuya look more distraught than right now.
He walks into the room and the smell makes him sick. Pheromones of a miserable omega still linger in the air, accumulated over weeks. He notices it now.
The delicate, naked body of the young man he once would have taken for a runway model now looks more human than ever. Little cuts from the fall, sick complexion, and eyes pressed shut pretending to be asleep so as not to face him.
Chuuya sighs. He sits at the edge of the bed, knowing there’s only one thing to say now.
“I’m sorry.”
He takes Dazai’s hand. Feels the pulse under his fingers. He kisses the back of it. There’s still a damp softness to his skin.
Dazai is quiet but he looks at him now. Allowing Chuuya to keep stroking his arm with the hand that doesn’t hold it up against his wet chest. He swallows the lump in his throat. Where did all his ire and courage go? Chuuya hates being scared, and this silence, it scares him.
“Say something?” He pleads.
“I want to die.”
Chuuya’s breath hitches, “Not that.”
Dazai averts his gaze.
Chuuya shifts in his seat and feels something poking him. Right. He takes out the muddy pin and places it in Dazai’s palm, winning back his attention.
“I found it,” he says, “In the garden.”
Dazai considers the pin carefully.
“It’s not pretty anymore.” The omega says.
Chuuya hums, placing another kiss on Dazai’s hand.
“It’s had a rough winter.” He says. His gaze wanders over Dazai, beaten up and cut. Notices the stitches on the side of his head, barely concealed by his tousled hair.
“Hm.”
“I really am sorry,” Chuuya sighs. He’s not used to apologizing.
Dazai sighs too, turning on his side, duvet sliding down so far he can see the trail of hair down from his navel. Now it’s Chuuya who looks away, flustered. Dazai doesn’t seem to care; he places the pin on his nightstand.
“I don’t usually suck at running away,” He mutters, “And I usually have a really good reason to do so.”
There is a patronizing edge to his tone that he’s hearing for the first time. A new layer suddenly stripped away from their relationship. Rose-tinted glasses fallen off the omega’s eyes. Chuuya swallows hard.
“I don’t want you to run away, Dazai.”
“Of course, you don’t. Nobody does.” He huffs. “It doesn’t matter. I’d have to die to make it stop.”
“Don’t say that.” Chuuya frowns.
“Why? Scared I’ll try?” Dazai asks and fidgets with the little jade on his collar.
Chuuya’s lips press together into a tight line as he nods. Yeah, somehow when Dazai says it, it sounds like he might do it.
“How long?”
Chuuya frowns, “What?”
“How long until I have to go back?”
Dazai’s piercing gaze is sobering. His tone is impatient. Chuuya can nearly see the clockworks in his mind turn, assessing the situation. Trying to come up with a plan. He’s never seen him like this.
“Who said I’m giving you back to him?”
“Don’t be stupid, of course you are. You’d be crazy not to.” Dazai hisses, “It’s not every day someone has something to offer that Mori actually wants.”
“Over my dead body.” Chuuya sits back, sober now. They exchange looks, each trying to gauge how serious the other is.
“You want to keep me?”
“Yes.” Chuuya blinks, “I admit, I knew who you were when I bid on you, and I did intend to go see Mori with you, but I won’t let you go back there.” Not after everything that has happened.
“Bullshit.” Dazai sits up with a grunt. “You can have a share of the Port. He will give you that, in return for me.”
“If you’re so much more valuable than the Port in his eyes, why the fuck would I trade you in, Dazai?” Chuuya asks, leaning forward.
Dazai clicks his jaw.
“You know, you’ve got a point.”
***
Warmed by the nearby fireplace, Dazai sits on the ground between the couch and the coffee table, typing away at the laptop Chuuya got for him. He’s slow. Never taught how to type properly. That’s not what he was for back then.
He’s getting the hang of it now and using it to write out the names of the men Mori likes and doesn’t like to do his business with. They came to an agreement that day, after a long, honest talk over coffee down in the kitchen. They are on the same side here, holding a grudge against Mori. With combined forces, Chuuya’s money and Dazai’s intel, aided by his top-notch memory, they have a realistic chance at getting revenge.
Every time Dazai thinks back on that horrible time, he forces himself to keep typing, to keep remembering things and names he tried to suppress for so long. A new fire in his chest. A new purpose.
Of course there’s no guarantee that Chuuya won’t use the information and then hand Dazai over anyway. But that’s something Dazai will deal with if it comes to it.
“How’s it coming along?”
Chuuya tosses his briefcase on the couch, having just returned from work, and takes a seat. Looking over Dazai’s shoulder at the document, his breath tickles Dazai’s ear.
“Slowly,” Dazai says, biting his tongue as he concentrates.
“You’re getting better at it.” Chuuya praises, now resting his chin on his shoulder.
“Your head is heavy,” Dazai whines, pushing Chuuya’s forehead away. “Are we still going out tonight?”
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Dazai rolls his eyes, “If I don’t go, you won’t either. You’re getting lazy.”
Chuuya hums, amused. “It’s more fun when you’re there with me.”
“I prefer not to get groped.”
“Oh?”
He can practically hear the sly smile on the alpha’s face.
“Is that so?”
“Chuuya!” Dazai yelps as he’s pushed down against the carpet by Chuuya’s full weight, getting trapped between his arms and subjected to a sudden onslaught of kisses pressed against his neck and jaw. Ever since the incident, the alpha has been acting…different. Dazai can barely get a second of alone time whenever Chuuya isn’t at work.
He nibbles at the skin, leaving yet another possessive red mark under the collar, but his hands go further, sliding down his sides and under his ass to give it a self-indulgent squeeze.
Dazai tips his head back, exhaling. He can’t think.
“Here?” he asks, not expecting an answer. And he doesn’t get one because Chuuya is too busy pushing up his cotton tank top to get quick access to his chest. Slightly raised mounds. Dazai’s first heat since he left Mori is coming up, and his body has been getting softer, sweeter lately.
Chuuya is responding to it by lapping at the hard nipple, something he’s dreamed of doing for months but couldn’t decide to actually do until…well, now. Dazai hums in delight, a low purr rumbling in his chest. Primal instinct. The need to put his body to good use for his alpha.
After years of not knowing where he would end up, in a ditch or a brothel. Finally, giving himself away by choice.
The musky smell of man and pinecones. Sweaty from spending the entire day in a suit. Dazai licks his lips. His hands find the button of the shirt he’s going to steal for his nest later, but for now, he just needs to get it off. Release more of the pheromones. Wants to drown in them and never come up for fresh air.
“Someone’s eager,” Chuuya teases. Eyes meet. Chuuya doesn’t look away when he sticks out his tongue and swirls it around the rosy bud.
“You’re one to talk,” Dazai huffs.
At some point during that whole interaction, they began grinding against each other. Dazai pulls Chuuya’s shirt off, letting his hand glide over the toned chest. Such a contrast to his own. His mouth waters, and the scent of desire spreads through the room.
“What if the maids see us?” He asks.
Chuuya’s response is to hook his fingers under the waistband of Dazai’s pants and tug them down.
“Let them.”
Damn Dazai for getting wet at that. Chuuya spreads his legs and sees the glistening slick peek out between his cheeks. Pulls at them, and it drips. Dazai looks away, suddenly flustered.
Shamefully realising how badly he wants Chuuya to touch him there, yet at the same time, scared of the pleasure he knows he’ll feel. He doesn’t know the alpha, looking down at him with hazy eyes, is just as affected.
Coming to the realization that omegas aren’t as simple and disposable as he thought. That getting one wasn’t at all like purchasing a pair of shoes.
The alpha’s hands keep wandering over the warm inner thighs, up to glide softly over the leaking cock resting against Dazai’s stomach.
“You’re a perfect little thing, aren’t you?” He asks, or rather, states. In awe at what he’s seeing. He circles two fingers around the puffy, wet entrance. “I thought nothing of it when I brought you home, and now here you are, so fucking perfect. You don’t know what I want to do to you.”
Dazai’s breath hitches. Slowly breached by Chuuya’s fingers, his mouth falls open.
“What do you— haa…want to do?”
Chuuya licks his lips, free hand stroking over his belly. Soft, unlike his own. Fingers tapping into the soft flesh above the untouched womb. Eyes unfocused, glassy, and dreamy. So affected by the pheromones.
“Want to put a pup in you.” He whispers, the unspoken desire to give into the primal urge now dripping from his tone like honey. “Show everyone you’re mine now.”
“A collar’s not enough?” Dazai rocks softly against Chuuya’s searching fingers.
“Can’t make up my mind,” Chuuya admits in a hazy whisper. “Don’t want their eyes on you anymore, but at the same time I want everyone to see you grow round with it. I don’t know. I can’t think clearly when you smell like this.”
Dazai reaches out and pulls Chuuya down for another tender kiss. The idea of it has ignited a fire in the pit of his stomach. Must be the heat brain. Has Dazai thinking about it too, has him imagining it. A pup inside him. Put there by Chuuya. Most precious gift in the world.
“Fuck me, Chuuya. Please.”
“Here?”
“Wherever.”
Chuuya chuckles against his mouth, “But what if the maids see?”
Their lips crash together, wet noises filling the entire room like a warning for any passerby. Slick coats Chuuya’s entire hand, and he adds more fingers, making use of the omega’s natural ability to stretch.
Before they know it, they’re both naked and hard, pushing the coffee table out of the way blindly to make space. Chuuya lines himself up, precum already leaking just from the foreplay and the fantasy. When he bottoms out, Dazai’s legs cross behind him; a silent threat not to leave. It won’t be forgiven.
The drag and push of Chuuya’s hips is nothing short of delicious, only emphasized by the prickling of the carpet rubbing against his back.
“You’re so tight,” Chuuya gasps, “So perfect.”
Dazai cries out when he finally hits that sweet spot inside that makes his head spin and the knot in his stomach slowly unravel. He loves being perfect. Being good, but only for Chuuya.
“There!” He moans, squeezing his eyes shut. The shocks of pleasure intoxicating, but also borderline driving him crazy. He wants it, he can’t take it. Chuuya pounds into him without mercy, snapping his hips with force and passion.
Dazai can’t see past the blur in his eyes, what sort of expression Chuuya makes. The alpha groans quietly as his cock swells more and more, stretching him wider and…even wider, until it feels almost obscene.
Scents of anticipation and lewd desire spike as they both silently realize that there is no pulling out now. Too swollen, too connected. The in and out drag of his cock getting slower until eventually, there is only grinding.
Dazai shudders underneath the alpha. He jerks every time Chuuya’s tip rubs over his sensitive prostate. Then a hand wraps around his jerking cock, not quite there yet but so, so close.
“Chuuya, no—“ He doesn’t mean it. It’s a reflex. A ‘no, don’t push me over the edge, I might die from the pleasure’. Adrenaline. Like jumping off a plane, glued to an experienced jumper. Knowing logically he’s safe enough but his brain still protests.
Chuuya knows better than to take it seriously.
His eyes roll back into his head, white spots everywhere. Chuuya huffing above him, grinding and jerking. Leaning down to breathe in his scent at the curve of his shoulder. Dazai’s desperate whimpering and Chuuya’s equally undone huffing. An unintentional moan slips past his lips, and Dazai’s insides pulse from how fucking hot it sounds. Getting a peek behind the alpha’s shy mask. Not that he would ever admit he’s insecure or shy about the sounds he makes.
“Fuck,” is all he says. Stumbling over that word alone.
“Close…” Dazai grabs a handful of Chuuya’s auburn hair for support.
“Mhh.”
Chuuya’s lips are on his neck, one moment, then suddenly his fangs are bared, sinking into the delicate skin. Everything goes white as Dazai cries out, pain and pleasure mixing in his brain. One soothing the other, equally. The orgasm that washes over them as Chuuya’s knot pops to its full size and they’re connected, physically and literally. Forever.
Tears stream down Dazai’s face, but he’s barely aware of it, still spasming from the orgasm and the new bond. Chuuya, warm with a quiet rumble in his throat, licks over the wound, cleaning up the blood that keeps rising. Soothing the omega.
His omega.
Dazai can’t seem to stop sobbing. Overcome with strange happiness, relief, and the realization that he’s really not going anywhere. Claimed. Someone took him and decided that he’s good enough to be kept. Not just kept around but kept in their mind, their heart, their life. Souls joined. No takebacks.
Dazai’s crossed legs finally untangle, falling into the waiting hands at each side. Exhaustion and bliss on both of their faces when the pain subsides, and Dazai can finally look clearly at his mate. There’s relief on Chuuya’s face, too, when he sees that what he did has been deemed good. This is what they both really wanted all along.
Thinking back to the auction.
Chuuya didn’t know it then, and Dazai wanted it, but didn’t know how to get it. Somehow it worked out. Somehow, Chuuya caught up to Dazai, and now there is no need to run anymore.