She stumbles slightly as she's pulled closer, her legs feeling weak, causing her to lean a little heavier against him. There's a lot of margin for error here--her outfit doesn't cover her a lot to begin with, but it's just enough, the gauzy material just opaque enough in the moonlight to coverher scars. In her home he'd probably be able to feel or see them easier; here she can at least pretend he maybe won't notice.
There's a lot of other little factors, but Mikan's not thinking about too much of it when the choice boils down to 'wait, or don't' and she...
"I-I don't want to wait." She whimpers out, her face turning bright red. Beautiful? Her? She looks away and shakes her head, leaning in to hide her face against his chest. "Pl-please... Make me yours'." Her fingers curl desperately into his shirt, her body trembling with need. "It's unbearable."
Well, if this is what she wants...he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it, too. The moon overhead seems to have made his sense of smell stronger even with the dulling effect of the bracelet, and the idea of doing this, here in the alley where anyone could walk down and see, could see them--
She buries her face against his chest, and that just won't do. Not for this. His fingers wind through her hair, combing, soothing, reaching up to stroke the base of those quivering ears atop her head, and after a moment he shifts his arm and shoulder, nudging her to get her to look up at him. To meet his eyes, just for a moment. "I won't say that anymore if it makes you uncomfortable, Mikan-chan," he murmurs, and his voice is more intent, the change small but noticeable. "But I want you to look at me. Just at me. Can you do that?"
Her ears twitch in response to the touch, a shiver of pleasure going down her spine and she sighs contently. It feels nice to be pet like that, to have fingers through her hair that aren't yanking just to cause pain for pain's sake. There's a slight resistance as he nudges her back, but she gives in and looks at him with embarrassed, slightly watery eyes.
"Ah, it's... It's not that I don't like it, it's just... P-people don't say those things to me. I-I don't know what to do..." But the change in his tone catches her attention, holds it and she holds her breath a moment too as she stares at him.
Sometimes it's hard to keep eye contact with someone, there's something embarrassing about it, but she finds herself unable to look away from him. He is, she thinks, someone who's used to his commands and orders being met in one form or another and she can't even begin to imagine what might happen if she were to disobey. Not that she'd want to disobey anyhow, her tongue wetting her lips slowly before she nods.
"Y-yes. Okay. Only you." SHe can do that. She's good at focusing her care and attention on one person, good at taking and following direction-- likes being given the direction, rather than scattering her energies all over the place. Something eases inside of her and she breathes again, her fingers curling slightly into his clothes as she watches him with large, dark eyes.
Contrary to what he's said many times to others, pain in certain contexts isn't a bad thing. Pain sometimes makes you feel alive, makes your heart beat faster and the world feel more vibrant and vital. But that's not every circumstance, and this is definitely not the time for pain. Now is the time to be gentle. To seduce, to coerce, to help her sink comfortably into an abyss of pleasure. He's always been very, very good at that.
Mikan looks up at him with those pretty, pale brown eyes, and Dazai doesn't look away, fingers combing through her hair, his touch soothing and gentle. "That's very good," he murmurs, and his other hand slides around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Now, I'm going to say you're beautiful, and you're going to say 'I'm glad you think so.' Can you do that for me?" His voice is silky, coercing, drowning out all the sounds coming from beyond the alley. Here, it's just the two of them.
It feels a little like the world is crumbling away beneath her feet, until really all the remains of the world is the patch of ground they stand on and Dazai. Dazai and his voice that caresses her as surely as his hands are, gentle, coaxing. Guiding. She’ll step right off that ledge if it means he’ll meep going, if she can have his gaze focused that intently on her.
She’s stepped off the ledge for less.
Mikan leans into him, her eyes watery and her fingers curling desperately into his clothes like she might fall away should she let go. She wants to stay here and worship at his feet. She wants to dig her nails and teeth in until the imprints left behind are too deep to ever heal, deep enough to carve into his very bones and never shake her off, never forget. The desire is strong enough to stop her breath for just a second.
Instinctively she glances away before hastily bringing her gaze back on him, once there hadn’t been any permission to look away, her body trembling against him with pent-up desires both similar and distinct (violence and sexual so often went hand-in-hand, after all).
“O-okay.” Her voice sounds small and uncertain, but she swallows hard and nods again. “B-because it’s you... I’ll do whatever you say. O-only for you...” Because she can’t possibly dream of displeasing him, even if the praise and compliments make her feel strange.
Good. That look is good, the way she leans into him, the way she clings. There's a want there that he craves in turn, a need to obey, to be good that he can sense in his bones the same way he can sense the craving for violence. She's much more than she seems, isn't she? Not like Yosano at all, it's a very different kind of medicine she's practicing. Dazai thinks she might want to wound just as much as she wants to heal.
There might be another time for something like that. But now, there's just this, and he gives her a sweet, brilliant smile as she answers him. Whatever he says, only for him, and even if this is some of Iris's influence, that's not all it is, is it? "Good girl," he murmurs, and his fingertips part the gauze of that costume, brushing lightly against the bare skin of her lower back. "I think you're beautiful, Mikan-chan," he whispers, his face looking down into hers expectantly, as he waits for his answer. It's not a lie, either. She is beautiful, especially like this--trembling and terrified and aroused all at once. It's the best kind of sight, really.
She feels her knees going weak at that smile. 'I'd kill for that smile,' isn't a foreign thought to her, and while she's sure people exaggerate about their lovers like that it's an unfortunate reality for her. She would kill for the smile. She's killed for that sort of smile before, though a different face was wearing it.
But her mind isn't on killing right now, not exactly, and it certainly can't be on Junko, not in a moment like this. Besides, it's hard to think of much else when his hands are on her and bare skin against bare skin that has her shivering. The compliment has her gaze automatically shifting away in shy embarrassment before she remembers herself and quickly looks back.
"I'm-- I'm glad you think so."
It takes every fiber of her trembling being to not blunder on with excuses and trying to reject the compliment or something. She presses against him, her fingers slowly uncurling from where they'd been clutching desperately at his shirt to instead lay flat against his chest, partly so se can touch more of him and partly because her knuckles were beginning to ache.
"Like that?" Her voice is small, almost a whisper, like an actor wanting to make sure she'd gotten the line right.
There we go. There are her fingers uncurling, her eyes flicking away and then back, like she's remembering his words, taking his soft requests for the commands they're meant to be. He knew he hadn't been wrong. She felt it too, didn't she? The pull towards this. The proper balance of their roles.
"Just like that, Mikan-chan," he says, and his smile is benevolent. "That's perfect. Now you can say that whenever someone compliments you. And they should, because you're very pretty, especially like this." Trembling under his touch, on the verge of tears still, yearning towards him. Part of him aches for just a little more, wonders how she'd look tied up and quivering, body taut and flinching from his touch...but that's not for now. Not that kind of encounter. Instead, he strokes her back, soft, gentle touches, soothing her.
"Can I kiss you?" The question is just as soothing, just as calm, and he looks at her expectantly for an answer. Somehow, it seems like just a 'yes' might not be exactly what he's looking for.
She lets out a breath she hadn't been fully aware she'd been holding, pleased beyond reason at having done a good job. Her smile is shakey, but true, and at the compliment she hesitates.
"I'm...Glad you think so...?" He'd called her pretty, so that's how she was supposed to respond, right? She's not sure if it was deliberate test or not, but she peeks up at hm shyly, uncertain.
But god, she wants to kiss him. Every fiber of her being practically aches for more of his touch, but she can tell he doesn't seem to want just 'yes.' She doesn't know what, exactly, he's looking for though and anxiety worms its way around her heart. "I...I want to kiss you. B-but... But you don't have...to ask permission..."
Yes, very good. She remembers, she infers, she looks for the right answer and looks for approval, and there's a part of him that warms to that, that wants to continue to pursue that avenue of inquiry. What can she learn? How will she apply it? If he told her to call him something other than his name...
...Maybe another time. When there's not so clearly an outside influence.
She tells him he doesn't need to ask permission, and that tempts him again down other avenues, but for now it's more important to him to establish certain guidelines. "Maybe in the future I won't," he allows, expression a little thoughtful. "Maybe there are other things I won't ask permission for, either. But I think right now, it's important to ask before I do things. After all, we're still kind of strangers, aren't we, Mikan-chan? We're friends, but I don't know what you like and what you don't. Some people don't like kissing. And I want you to like what I'm going to do to you." The words become a promise, a caress all their own, and his hand tilts her chin up just a little more as he leans in. "But since you said this was okay..."
The kiss starts soft and slow, gentle, but deepens as she reacts, Dazai's intention to keep her focused on him and only him as his clever fingers explore her bare back, her sides, her ribs, eventually sliding up to brush his thumbs over the lowest swell of her breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here, too?" The words are whispered in between kisses, against her soft lips.
It makes sense, she has to reluctantly admit. It makes sense and she knows it's a good thing, but there's something dark that twists and grumbles about it all. She didn't want gentle or careful. She wanted it to hurt, she wanted it all stripped away from her because isn't it the least she deserved? To be hurt, to be punished... And at the sametime, she doesn't. She likes this, the gentle voice and being able to pretend this is something more akin to making love.
And she wanted to hurt (and not hurt) him too. He'd look lovely pressed down against the sheets of a bed or the ground, his hair splayed out and a blindfold (bandages?) over his eyes. But no, that wouldn't do either because she'd ant to see his eyes, his expression if there was the threat of going juuusstt a little too far, of not being able to stop before something terrible happened. There were all sorts of specific points on someone's body you could use to your advantage if you knew where to find them. And Mikan did.
It's a terrible duality that wars inside of her (dark and light, hope and despair), and she whimpers, knowing shamefully that there's very little he could do that she wouldn't like or react enthusiastically to. She knows, too, that if given the chance she could really damage him in return, but she thinks, maybe, he might not mind it so much himself either.
The kiss is met with a soft moan, as if that was all she needed, and her fingers curl into his shirt again to pull him closer. There's a hint of aggression to her movements and her kiss, her breathing harsh as she breaks the kiss to answer. "Please." A plead, that's almost said more like a command. Less 'please touch me,' and more 'you better touch me.'
Dazai might be more familiar than she knows with those warring instincts. Soft, indulgent, gentle things are nice, but harsh, cruel, violent things can be just as wonderful. The ecstasy a little pain can bring...he's well acquainted with that, as well. And maybe there is just a touch of sadism in the way he keeps every single one of those caresses light, the way he never quite goes too hard, only the faintest hint of ferocity in the way he devours her mouth, like she's a meal he's going to take his time consuming, and when he's done there will be nothing of her left but her bones. They aren't entirely separate urges, after all. Punishments can be given with love, and the gentlest touch can be colder than winter frost.
There isn't anything wrong with duality. There's nothing wrong with wanting both. Maybe he'll show her that, too. Later. Next time. When they're somewhere that isn't an alleyway, somewhere he can take his time and make her beg properly, leave her with tears in her eyes and sobs in her throat as her body quivers through another climax in an endless series.
And maybe, he thinks, as that please echoes deliciously somewhere deep in his bones, as she grips him tighter than he expected and pulls him into another hiss, maybe she won't be the only one. She is a nurse, after all. The Ultimate Nurse. Hadn't she said? And the things she must be able to do with a scalpel...
He's less gentle as he kisses her again, as his hands slide over the curve of her breasts, long fingers finding the sensitive peaks of nipples and teasing them to hardness, tugging and pinching just this side of painful as he backs her a little more into the alley, a little closer to a wall, nudging her legs apart a little to allow him to slide his body between them. He'll tease until she's begging for more, until she's telling him to take her, and then...
Her breath hitches a little, a soft "yes," escaping her as his movements turn a little rougher. Her hands travel down his body, feeling the bandages that lie beneath his clothes with a trembling desire to know just what they hide. Scars, similar to her own? She hadn't thought to ever wrap beneath her clothes since normally what she wore covered everything up and almost no one ever took her up on her offers to strip for penance.
She want to take them apart. Take him apart. Her hands finally stop at his waistband, fingers curling into them, regretting her hasty decision to do this here. But next time-- There would be a next time, wouldn't there? She's sure she could coax him into it again--
She tilts her head to kiss him again, pulling him against her as she leans back against the wall, gasping out quietly at the sparks of pleasure-pain that run through her as his fingers manipulate her. She doesn't start undoing buttons or anything just yet, but the slight tug she gives his waistband again couldn't possibly be more clearer. "Dazai-san..." His name is a soft, needy whine and she squirms. "I want...I want to touch you too... I want more..." She trails off, looking a bit uncertain at voicing her own wants here, but her grip is steady and sure; despite herself, she's still aggressively holding onto him.
Yes, she says, and he's more than happy to oblige, peppering harder, sharper pinches and bites in among the lighter caresses. After all, she seems to like it well enough. Well enough that she's feeling a little braver, and he lets those fingers curled into his waistband tug his hips forward towards her, his arousal definitely hard to miss as he presses her back against the wall.
(There will definitely be another time. He's too intrigued by these little glimpses of a very different Mikan, too interested in seeing just what it is she's hiding. She sounds so young, so frightened, but then her grip on him is incredibly firm, and the way she talked about the violence earlier makes him want to show her more. She's one person he thinks might actually understand the scars on his body. She might...well, that they can save for next time.)
"You can touch, if you want, Mikan-chan," he murmurs against her hair as his hands squeeze her breasts once more. "You can touch anywhere you want. Should I touch you, too...?"
Teasing, as his hand runs down her side, over her thigh, fingers warm through the thin gauzy fabric of the costume she's wearing. The urge to rip it apart is incredibly tempting, but then she's still got to get home afterwards, doesn't she? He probably shouldn't be that rude.
There's a small squeak of pain, of pleasure, pressing her chest against him as he lights little fires all over her skin and deep in her stomach. It's warm and makes her head fuzzy, the world seeming to spin out of control around her and all that was anchoring her to the world was Dazai's touch.
The permission--and subsequent question--is met with an enthusiastic moan and her fingers making quick work of his belt and buttons, fumbling only a little with getting them open. He's hard--He wants her too?It's a weird thing to only realize now, because she can't really imagine he'd be doing any of this if he didn't want it too. But it's a strangely...powerful feeling. To be wanted,to be desired, for someone to touch her and not recoil in revulsion, even if that revulsion from others is often just perceived in her own head.
"T-touch me more." A plea, a demand, softened when she seems to remember herself and her eyelashes flutter as she averts her gaze a little. "Please." Her finger slide down over his cock, inhaling sharply; he practically radiates heat and she wants to get closer, a shiver of desire going down her spine.
Of course he wants her, too. She's beautiful, after all, all soft, voluptuous curves, heaving breasts and full hips, thighs he wants to dig his teeth into, lips he could devour. That's not even going into all of the other things that just keep drawing him in. She's beautiful, and the way she makes that demand and then tries to pretend it's only a request only makes his interest grow.
Dazai's breath leaves in a sigh between parted lips as her fingers slide over him, the touch teasing, promising more. He wants more, too, and his other hand drops, too, both of them fisting in the gauzy front of her skirt and then yanking apart with a sudden, violent motion, the fabric tearing apart. He's watching her as he does it, watching for her reactions as those long fingers now run over her bared thighs, one hand slipping between her legs to find her already wet.
"Go ahead, Mikan-chan," he murmurs, fingers rubbing against the outside of her, not yet going further. "Tell me what you want. It's okay, I promise I won't be mad. I want you to tell me. Tell me while you're touching me." His words are a purr, a husky promise as he touches her, light and teasing but with that promise of violence only a breath away.
The sigh makes her gaze flicker up to his face, interested and pleased, wanting to draw out further noise from him. Could she make him moan, like he's made her? Could she have him pleading for more, breathless and wanting? She's sure she could--she knows how to torture someone with pain, surely with pleasure couldn't be so hard to figure out? It'd probably even be easier.
The sudden tearing of fabric hits her hard and leaves her stunned by the sudden violent action. Her eyes go wide and her heart pounds in her throat, mouth dropped open in surprise. But the gaze she levels on Dazai darkens and she doesn't recoil away, instead pressing up against his fingers eagerly, breath coming out in soft pants. It had startled her a little, sure, but the potential for violence that laid under such an act only really seemed to excite hermore. Dimly she thinks that it's a bad thing he ripped the skirt like that, but that's a problem for future Mikan.
Present Mikan is too busy being embarrassed over having to use her words, essentially. What did she want? Too much. She wanted too many things and she whimpers helplessly as her fingers curl around him, rubbing him slowly. "I-I want..." She begins, stammers, and swallows hard. Where did she begin? Her voice goes soft, red blooming across her face. "I want... I want you inside me...I want you to f--" She cuts herself off, not entirely sure she has it in her to be that vulgar with it. Would he like it, or find it gross? She hesitates and then squeezes her eyes shut a moment. "F-fuck me!"
She swallows hard again and reopens her eyes, tears prickling a little at the corners of them in her embarrassment. "I want you to hurt me, I want it to feel good... I want to bleed, and to scream, and...and..." And things like that, but she doesn't know howto voice it all.
That look in her eyes as she stares up at him does make him regret doing this here, a little. The things they could do, if they were someplace a little quieter, where they might be less likely to be interrupted...pleasure and pain, both. A slow torment, the kind where neither one of them might crawl back out whole.
He does enjoy making her use her words, though. He likes the way it makes her voice sound, the way she has to struggle against herself, the way her eyes dart away before she drags them back--the half-voiced sob as she pushes back against both her own restraint and his hand, her own touch slow against him. It's fine. He doesn't need much. He just likes to hear it, and to know he's been right all along.
"I'll give you all those things, Mikan-chan," he murmurs in that same, silky voice. "I'll give you everything you want. It can hurt and feel good at the same time. And if you want more, all you have to do is ask me." To use those words again, to tell him exactly what she wants.
It doesn't take a lot of effort to tear her panties the same way he tore the skirt, and he's smiling this time as he does it, letting the fabric fall away as his hands stroke her bare thighs, eventually tightening hard and picking her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he presses her back against the brick wall of the alley. With his oversized coat, chances are no one's even going to be able to tell what it is they're doing, really. Or at least, they won't be able to see, as he rubs against her, breath catching at the feeling.
"Shall I?"
The words are a teasing whisper in her ear. He already knows the answer, of course, but hearing it again is never a bad thing.
For such a skinny noodle of a man, Dazai's got some real strength behind him, as Mikan is quick to find out. She inhales sharply and squeaks as she's suddenly hauled up into his arms, her back pressed heavily against the cool brick of the building behind her. It scratches against her skin and makes her inhale sharply, the cold of it sending a slight shock through her body. Perhaps because of how hot the rest of her body feels, the chill feels especially prominent.
She holds her breath, her fingers digging into his shoulders a moment before she thinks that that isn't good enough. She wants to feel his skin beneath her nails and she begins to pull at his shirt, pulling at buttons to get it open enough that she can touch at his shoulders and neck-- bandaged or not, it doesn't matter, her vision feeling dim as he rubs against her.
He's a devil, she thinks, gasping out and whining softly as he asks his question. Wasn't the answer obvious? She whimpers and pulls him in for a heady kiss, desperate and frustrated. "Please, please...! Dazai-san, don't tease me any more, I can't take it...!"
He's definitely not as strong as Atsushi or Chuuya, but he's strong enough for this, and the support of the wall and her own strong limbs definitely helps as he holds her up, pressing her back against the cool brick. Mikan starts to fumble with his buttons, and Dazai's not about to stop her; there are bandages wound around his neck, bandages that cover part of one shoulder as they continue down to encircle his chest, but the shoulder she manages to reach is bare, bare enough for her to find skin instead.
She is desperate, isn't she? And he might be a sadist, but it would really be absolutely cruel to prolong this anymore. And he doesn't want to. So as he returns that kiss, he shifts her slightly in his arms, the tip of him pressing at her already slick entrance, pressing inwards. "Tell me if it hurts, Mikan-chan," he breathes, and then kisses her again, kisses her breathless as he pushes upwards, shuddering faintly at the sensation.
Her hips twitch forward, desperate for him to get a move on already. Her fingers curl into his shoulder, nails digging in as he begins to press inside.
She's tight, of course, and that alone might be clue enough that she's never done this before. It hurts, yes, and she holds her breath at first as she tries to adjust. The kiss is a nice distraction and she hardly has time to think much as he pushes in, her breath stuttering a little.
"I-it hurts, a little..." Her voice is slightly strained but there's an almost delirious little laugh as she kisses him again. "But it's--Fine. It's okay. D-don't stop." It's okay that it hurts, because she can't say she minds that it does. She's more worried that he might stop, and she's fairly sure she'll absolutely die if he does.
It's something of a clue, yes, but then it could just have been a while for her, or she's just smaller than average. And it's not like he'd taken the time to do any actual prep work. Not that she'd asked for it, or that she seems to be missing it, but he does wonder. Even at a time like this, it's not like he can just turn his mind off. It's always picking up context clues, looking at a situation, analyzing...truthfully, there are a lot of times he'd rather be able to turn it off. But then, if he did, he wouldn't be able to use that for her benefit, would he? And that would be a shame.
"I won't," he murmurs against her lips, fingers tight on her thighs, pushing up slowly, slowly, until he's fully seated inside of her, almost breathless for the feeling of it. "You feel amazing, Mikan-chan, it's perfect--" He'll pause for just a moment, long enough for her to start to get used to the feeling, before he shifts just a little. Enough to start making room, enough to add a little friction. Enough that she should definitely be able to respond, to do some moving of her own, if she wants.
Every movement feels like the breath is being taken from her lungs, her mind swimming. She feels dizzy, like the world has condensed to a pinpoint and she's left clawing back towards the surface to get things a little more levelled again.
Her nails dig into his shoulders, panting against his ear as she clings to him and shifts her hips to meet his, gasping out loud at the feeling. It reminds her a little of falling into that spiral of despair, a feeling that had always bordered on the perverse to begin with, but this had weight behind it. Actual sensations, the feel of him inside her, the swelling of her heart that's something like lust mixed with love.
(It's not, not really, because Mikan knows that the release of endorphins is just confusing her, but she's also always been so quick to fall for people. She could fall for him .She will. But she won't, either, because it would be a disaster for them both in so many ways.)
There's a soft moan that might be his name and might be a plea for more--or maybe it's a bit of both and she can feel her nails beginning to piece his skin, just a little. "I..I'm going to end up h-hurting you..."
It's even better as she shifts with him, moving against him as his own motions grow more confident. A little more, and a little more, it's not hard or rough but it's deep and she's so hot, the feeling of her and the sounds she's making against his ear and the sharp sting of her nails in his shoulder.
I'm going to hurt you, she says, and he thrusts a little deeper inside her at the words. "I don't mind," he says, breathing just a little ragged as his hands shift against her, as he brushes a kiss against her bare shoulder, tongue licking at sweat-slicked skin. "It's okay, Mikan-chan, it's fine, I don't mind, I just want you to feel good--"
The rest of the world might as well not exist anymore. Her view has narrowed in until it's just the two of them, the only sound being their breathing and the sound of his hips meeting hers'. She digs in more, responding positively to the little show of affection with a whimper.
Between the moonlacing amping everything up and her own neediness, she doesn't think she's going to last too much longer here. The sensations are all overwhelming and overlapping, mingling together and making her dizzy. She pulls her hand away to hide her face against his shoulder instead, her breath hitching.
When, at length, she feels her orgasm approaching, she opens her mouth to say--something. Warn him? She doesn't know, because she doesn't really get the chance. Her breath hitches in a whine as it hits her and, in an attempt to stifle herself from crying out too loudly, Mikan does the next best thing: She sinks her teeth into Dazai's bare shoulder until she's tasting blood on her lips.
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There's a lot of other little factors, but Mikan's not thinking about too much of it when the choice boils down to 'wait, or don't' and she...
"I-I don't want to wait." She whimpers out, her face turning bright red. Beautiful? Her? She looks away and shakes her head, leaning in to hide her face against his chest. "Pl-please... Make me yours'." Her fingers curl desperately into his shirt, her body trembling with need. "It's unbearable."
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She buries her face against his chest, and that just won't do. Not for this. His fingers wind through her hair, combing, soothing, reaching up to stroke the base of those quivering ears atop her head, and after a moment he shifts his arm and shoulder, nudging her to get her to look up at him. To meet his eyes, just for a moment. "I won't say that anymore if it makes you uncomfortable, Mikan-chan," he murmurs, and his voice is more intent, the change small but noticeable. "But I want you to look at me. Just at me. Can you do that?"
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"Ah, it's... It's not that I don't like it, it's just... P-people don't say those things to me. I-I don't know what to do..." But the change in his tone catches her attention, holds it and she holds her breath a moment too as she stares at him.
Sometimes it's hard to keep eye contact with someone, there's something embarrassing about it, but she finds herself unable to look away from him. He is, she thinks, someone who's used to his commands and orders being met in one form or another and she can't even begin to imagine what might happen if she were to disobey. Not that she'd want to disobey anyhow, her tongue wetting her lips slowly before she nods.
"Y-yes. Okay. Only you." SHe can do that. She's good at focusing her care and attention on one person, good at taking and following direction-- likes being given the direction, rather than scattering her energies all over the place. Something eases inside of her and she breathes again, her fingers curling slightly into his clothes as she watches him with large, dark eyes.
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Mikan looks up at him with those pretty, pale brown eyes, and Dazai doesn't look away, fingers combing through her hair, his touch soothing and gentle. "That's very good," he murmurs, and his other hand slides around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Now, I'm going to say you're beautiful, and you're going to say 'I'm glad you think so.' Can you do that for me?" His voice is silky, coercing, drowning out all the sounds coming from beyond the alley. Here, it's just the two of them.
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She’s stepped off the ledge for less.
Mikan leans into him, her eyes watery and her fingers curling desperately into his clothes like she might fall away should she let go. She wants to stay here and worship at his feet. She wants to dig her nails and teeth in until the imprints left behind are too deep to ever heal, deep enough to carve into his very bones and never shake her off, never forget. The desire is strong enough to stop her breath for just a second.
Instinctively she glances away before hastily bringing her gaze back on him, once there hadn’t been any permission to look away, her body trembling against him with pent-up desires both similar and distinct (violence and sexual so often went hand-in-hand, after all).
“O-okay.” Her voice sounds small and uncertain, but she swallows hard and nods again. “B-because it’s you... I’ll do whatever you say. O-only for you...” Because she can’t possibly dream of displeasing him, even if the praise and compliments make her feel strange.
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There might be another time for something like that. But now, there's just this, and he gives her a sweet, brilliant smile as she answers him. Whatever he says, only for him, and even if this is some of Iris's influence, that's not all it is, is it? "Good girl," he murmurs, and his fingertips part the gauze of that costume, brushing lightly against the bare skin of her lower back. "I think you're beautiful, Mikan-chan," he whispers, his face looking down into hers expectantly, as he waits for his answer. It's not a lie, either. She is beautiful, especially like this--trembling and terrified and aroused all at once. It's the best kind of sight, really.
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But her mind isn't on killing right now, not exactly, and it certainly can't be on Junko, not in a moment like this. Besides, it's hard to think of much else when his hands are on her and bare skin against bare skin that has her shivering. The compliment has her gaze automatically shifting away in shy embarrassment before she remembers herself and quickly looks back.
"I'm-- I'm glad you think so."
It takes every fiber of her trembling being to not blunder on with excuses and trying to reject the compliment or something. She presses against him, her fingers slowly uncurling from where they'd been clutching desperately at his shirt to instead lay flat against his chest, partly so se can touch more of him and partly because her knuckles were beginning to ache.
"Like that?" Her voice is small, almost a whisper, like an actor wanting to make sure she'd gotten the line right.
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"Just like that, Mikan-chan," he says, and his smile is benevolent. "That's perfect. Now you can say that whenever someone compliments you. And they should, because you're very pretty, especially like this." Trembling under his touch, on the verge of tears still, yearning towards him. Part of him aches for just a little more, wonders how she'd look tied up and quivering, body taut and flinching from his touch...but that's not for now. Not that kind of encounter. Instead, he strokes her back, soft, gentle touches, soothing her.
"Can I kiss you?" The question is just as soothing, just as calm, and he looks at her expectantly for an answer. Somehow, it seems like just a 'yes' might not be exactly what he's looking for.
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"I'm...Glad you think so...?" He'd called her pretty, so that's how she was supposed to respond, right? She's not sure if it was deliberate test or not, but she peeks up at hm shyly, uncertain.
But god, she wants to kiss him. Every fiber of her being practically aches for more of his touch, but she can tell he doesn't seem to want just 'yes.' She doesn't know what, exactly, he's looking for though and anxiety worms its way around her heart. "I...I want to kiss you. B-but... But you don't have...to ask permission..."
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...Maybe another time. When there's not so clearly an outside influence.
She tells him he doesn't need to ask permission, and that tempts him again down other avenues, but for now it's more important to him to establish certain guidelines. "Maybe in the future I won't," he allows, expression a little thoughtful. "Maybe there are other things I won't ask permission for, either. But I think right now, it's important to ask before I do things. After all, we're still kind of strangers, aren't we, Mikan-chan? We're friends, but I don't know what you like and what you don't. Some people don't like kissing. And I want you to like what I'm going to do to you." The words become a promise, a caress all their own, and his hand tilts her chin up just a little more as he leans in. "But since you said this was okay..."
The kiss starts soft and slow, gentle, but deepens as she reacts, Dazai's intention to keep her focused on him and only him as his clever fingers explore her bare back, her sides, her ribs, eventually sliding up to brush his thumbs over the lowest swell of her breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here, too?" The words are whispered in between kisses, against her soft lips.
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And she wanted to hurt (and not hurt) him too. He'd look lovely pressed down against the sheets of a bed or the ground, his hair splayed out and a blindfold (bandages?) over his eyes. But no, that wouldn't do either because she'd ant to see his eyes, his expression if there was the threat of going juuusstt a little too far, of not being able to stop before something terrible happened. There were all sorts of specific points on someone's body you could use to your advantage if you knew where to find them. And Mikan did.
It's a terrible duality that wars inside of her (dark and light, hope and despair), and she whimpers, knowing shamefully that there's very little he could do that she wouldn't like or react enthusiastically to. She knows, too, that if given the chance she could really damage him in return, but she thinks, maybe, he might not mind it so much himself either.
The kiss is met with a soft moan, as if that was all she needed, and her fingers curl into his shirt again to pull him closer. There's a hint of aggression to her movements and her kiss, her breathing harsh as she breaks the kiss to answer. "Please." A plead, that's almost said more like a command. Less 'please touch me,' and more 'you better touch me.'
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There isn't anything wrong with duality. There's nothing wrong with wanting both. Maybe he'll show her that, too. Later. Next time. When they're somewhere that isn't an alleyway, somewhere he can take his time and make her beg properly, leave her with tears in her eyes and sobs in her throat as her body quivers through another climax in an endless series.
And maybe, he thinks, as that please echoes deliciously somewhere deep in his bones, as she grips him tighter than he expected and pulls him into another hiss, maybe she won't be the only one. She is a nurse, after all. The Ultimate Nurse. Hadn't she said? And the things she must be able to do with a scalpel...
He's less gentle as he kisses her again, as his hands slide over the curve of her breasts, long fingers finding the sensitive peaks of nipples and teasing them to hardness, tugging and pinching just this side of painful as he backs her a little more into the alley, a little closer to a wall, nudging her legs apart a little to allow him to slide his body between them. He'll tease until she's begging for more, until she's telling him to take her, and then...
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She want to take them apart. Take him apart. Her hands finally stop at his waistband, fingers curling into them, regretting her hasty decision to do this here. But next time-- There would be a next time, wouldn't there? She's sure she could coax him into it again--
She tilts her head to kiss him again, pulling him against her as she leans back against the wall, gasping out quietly at the sparks of pleasure-pain that run through her as his fingers manipulate her. She doesn't start undoing buttons or anything just yet, but the slight tug she gives his waistband again couldn't possibly be more clearer. "Dazai-san..." His name is a soft, needy whine and she squirms. "I want...I want to touch you too... I want more..." She trails off, looking a bit uncertain at voicing her own wants here, but her grip is steady and sure; despite herself, she's still aggressively holding onto him.
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(There will definitely be another time. He's too intrigued by these little glimpses of a very different Mikan, too interested in seeing just what it is she's hiding. She sounds so young, so frightened, but then her grip on him is incredibly firm, and the way she talked about the violence earlier makes him want to show her more. She's one person he thinks might actually understand the scars on his body. She might...well, that they can save for next time.)
"You can touch, if you want, Mikan-chan," he murmurs against her hair as his hands squeeze her breasts once more. "You can touch anywhere you want. Should I touch you, too...?"
Teasing, as his hand runs down her side, over her thigh, fingers warm through the thin gauzy fabric of the costume she's wearing. The urge to rip it apart is incredibly tempting, but then she's still got to get home afterwards, doesn't she? He probably shouldn't be that rude.
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The permission--and subsequent question--is met with an enthusiastic moan and her fingers making quick work of his belt and buttons, fumbling only a little with getting them open. He's hard--He wants her too?It's a weird thing to only realize now, because she can't really imagine he'd be doing any of this if he didn't want it too. But it's a strangely...powerful feeling. To be wanted,to be desired, for someone to touch her and not recoil in revulsion, even if that revulsion from others is often just perceived in her own head.
"T-touch me more." A plea, a demand, softened when she seems to remember herself and her eyelashes flutter as she averts her gaze a little. "Please." Her finger slide down over his cock, inhaling sharply; he practically radiates heat and she wants to get closer, a shiver of desire going down her spine.
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Dazai's breath leaves in a sigh between parted lips as her fingers slide over him, the touch teasing, promising more. He wants more, too, and his other hand drops, too, both of them fisting in the gauzy front of her skirt and then yanking apart with a sudden, violent motion, the fabric tearing apart. He's watching her as he does it, watching for her reactions as those long fingers now run over her bared thighs, one hand slipping between her legs to find her already wet.
"Go ahead, Mikan-chan," he murmurs, fingers rubbing against the outside of her, not yet going further. "Tell me what you want. It's okay, I promise I won't be mad. I want you to tell me. Tell me while you're touching me." His words are a purr, a husky promise as he touches her, light and teasing but with that promise of violence only a breath away.
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The sudden tearing of fabric hits her hard and leaves her stunned by the sudden violent action. Her eyes go wide and her heart pounds in her throat, mouth dropped open in surprise. But the gaze she levels on Dazai darkens and she doesn't recoil away, instead pressing up against his fingers eagerly, breath coming out in soft pants. It had startled her a little, sure, but the potential for violence that laid under such an act only really seemed to excite hermore. Dimly she thinks that it's a bad thing he ripped the skirt like that, but that's a problem for future Mikan.
Present Mikan is too busy being embarrassed over having to use her words, essentially. What did she want? Too much. She wanted too many things and she whimpers helplessly as her fingers curl around him, rubbing him slowly. "I-I want..." She begins, stammers, and swallows hard. Where did she begin? Her voice goes soft, red blooming across her face. "I want... I want you inside me...I want you to f--" She cuts herself off, not entirely sure she has it in her to be that vulgar with it. Would he like it, or find it gross? She hesitates and then squeezes her eyes shut a moment. "F-fuck me!"
She swallows hard again and reopens her eyes, tears prickling a little at the corners of them in her embarrassment. "I want you to hurt me, I want it to feel good... I want to bleed, and to scream, and...and..." And things like that, but she doesn't know howto voice it all.
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He does enjoy making her use her words, though. He likes the way it makes her voice sound, the way she has to struggle against herself, the way her eyes dart away before she drags them back--the half-voiced sob as she pushes back against both her own restraint and his hand, her own touch slow against him. It's fine. He doesn't need much. He just likes to hear it, and to know he's been right all along.
"I'll give you all those things, Mikan-chan," he murmurs in that same, silky voice. "I'll give you everything you want. It can hurt and feel good at the same time. And if you want more, all you have to do is ask me." To use those words again, to tell him exactly what she wants.
It doesn't take a lot of effort to tear her panties the same way he tore the skirt, and he's smiling this time as he does it, letting the fabric fall away as his hands stroke her bare thighs, eventually tightening hard and picking her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he presses her back against the brick wall of the alley. With his oversized coat, chances are no one's even going to be able to tell what it is they're doing, really. Or at least, they won't be able to see, as he rubs against her, breath catching at the feeling.
"Shall I?"
The words are a teasing whisper in her ear. He already knows the answer, of course, but hearing it again is never a bad thing.
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She holds her breath, her fingers digging into his shoulders a moment before she thinks that that isn't good enough. She wants to feel his skin beneath her nails and she begins to pull at his shirt, pulling at buttons to get it open enough that she can touch at his shoulders and neck-- bandaged or not, it doesn't matter, her vision feeling dim as he rubs against her.
He's a devil, she thinks, gasping out and whining softly as he asks his question. Wasn't the answer obvious? She whimpers and pulls him in for a heady kiss, desperate and frustrated. "Please, please...! Dazai-san, don't tease me any more, I can't take it...!"
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She is desperate, isn't she? And he might be a sadist, but it would really be absolutely cruel to prolong this anymore. And he doesn't want to. So as he returns that kiss, he shifts her slightly in his arms, the tip of him pressing at her already slick entrance, pressing inwards. "Tell me if it hurts, Mikan-chan," he breathes, and then kisses her again, kisses her breathless as he pushes upwards, shuddering faintly at the sensation.
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She's tight, of course, and that alone might be clue enough that she's never done this before. It hurts, yes, and she holds her breath at first as she tries to adjust. The kiss is a nice distraction and she hardly has time to think much as he pushes in, her breath stuttering a little.
"I-it hurts, a little..." Her voice is slightly strained but there's an almost delirious little laugh as she kisses him again. "But it's--Fine. It's okay. D-don't stop." It's okay that it hurts, because she can't say she minds that it does. She's more worried that he might stop, and she's fairly sure she'll absolutely die if he does.
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"I won't," he murmurs against her lips, fingers tight on her thighs, pushing up slowly, slowly, until he's fully seated inside of her, almost breathless for the feeling of it. "You feel amazing, Mikan-chan, it's perfect--" He'll pause for just a moment, long enough for her to start to get used to the feeling, before he shifts just a little. Enough to start making room, enough to add a little friction. Enough that she should definitely be able to respond, to do some moving of her own, if she wants.
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Her nails dig into his shoulders, panting against his ear as she clings to him and shifts her hips to meet his, gasping out loud at the feeling. It reminds her a little of falling into that spiral of despair, a feeling that had always bordered on the perverse to begin with, but this had weight behind it. Actual sensations, the feel of him inside her, the swelling of her heart that's something like lust mixed with love.
(It's not, not really, because Mikan knows that the release of endorphins is just confusing her, but she's also always been so quick to fall for people. She could fall for him .She will. But she won't, either, because it would be a disaster for them both in so many ways.)
There's a soft moan that might be his name and might be a plea for more--or maybe it's a bit of both and she can feel her nails beginning to piece his skin, just a little. "I..I'm going to end up h-hurting you..."
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I'm going to hurt you, she says, and he thrusts a little deeper inside her at the words. "I don't mind," he says, breathing just a little ragged as his hands shift against her, as he brushes a kiss against her bare shoulder, tongue licking at sweat-slicked skin. "It's okay, Mikan-chan, it's fine, I don't mind, I just want you to feel good--"
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Between the moonlacing amping everything up and her own neediness, she doesn't think she's going to last too much longer here. The sensations are all overwhelming and overlapping, mingling together and making her dizzy. She pulls her hand away to hide her face against his shoulder instead, her breath hitching.
When, at length, she feels her orgasm approaching, she opens her mouth to say--something. Warn him? She doesn't know, because she doesn't really get the chance. Her breath hitches in a whine as it hits her and, in an attempt to stifle herself from crying out too loudly, Mikan does the next best thing: She sinks her teeth into Dazai's bare shoulder until she's tasting blood on her lips.
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