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dangans-ur-ronpas · 4 months

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Chapter 8

this was gonna be a naegami sex chapter but i got embarrassed sorry. BUT BE AWARE THAT THERE ARE SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS ONE...LOOK AT THE CONTENT WARNING TAGS!!!!

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

Was gonna make it horny but then realized. They would not fucking be like that. They would not be fucking like that.

I'm headcanoning Byakuya to have received the weirdest sex ed in the world. Procreation 101: How to Continue a Bloodline

Future sex chapter? Who knows...

Beta-read by @moonlighttogami!!

Content warning tags: initial dubious consent, explicit consent discussion, half-hearted attempt at sex, sharing a bed

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‘You are incredibly arrogant for someone who has nothing.’

In his bedroom, Byakuya fumes silently, pacing in a circle. A lesser man might’ve gone into a rage, knocking down the furniture or screaming, but Byakuya’s anger manifested in sharp barbs and poisonous words, and when there was no target for such things, as silence, his teeth digging into the inside of his cheek. Emotional outbursts were displays of weakness, and something he could not afford.

Especially now. Even in the supposed privacy of his own room, he leaves the lights off, and ignores the vague, pale shape of the camera that extends from the ceiling. A grotesque limb of the mastermind behind it all, the surveilling eyes that occupied every space. The rules stated that they weren’t allowed to damage these, or cover them, but he does not have the luxury of displaying uncertainty.

If it weren’t for her… He thinks, for what must be the thousandth time. Fury clouds his thinking. His surroundings are dark, but in his mind’s eye all he can see is that infuriating woman - a mass of vague shapes. It was even more frustrating, that the target of his ire didn’t even have a defined appearance for him to hone in on.

If she hadn’t interfered. If she had been direct about her intentions from the beginning. If she hadn’t, for some reason, decided to aim for Naegi…

Her and Naegi. Naegi and her.

Metal bursts and covers his tongue. He’s bit down too hard, and broken the skin. He pauses in his pacing, the sharp flare of pain easing the anger muddling his thoughts.

…What does it matter? He was being ridiculous. Kirigiri’s words had some truth to them. He knew perfectly well the fragility of his position, wasn’t that why he had been putting so much effort into ensuring he’d be able to uphold his end of the deal, no matter what? He worries the open wound with his tongue.

‘You are incredibly arrogant for someone who has nothing.’ That much might be true, he couldn’t give Naegi much more than a promise. And to someone of Naegi’s standing, he might not understand the weight of a Togami’s honor. But that didn’t mean Byakuya couldn’t find something else to offer.

He worries at the wound with his tongue, feeling a gush of fresh blood. He had limited material goods, an impaired body, and no access to his wealth. But his brilliant mind was still intact. For simpletons like Naegi, all he had to do was find something that they wanted, or else, make them want it.

He grimaces to himself in the dark, a bitter attempt at a smile. If she had no intention of staying out of his affairs, then he had no obligation to do as she said.

___

“Makoto.”

It’s a reversal of that night after the first motive’s reveal. He stands at Naegi’s door, staring down, unimpressed, at the boy before him. It was quite late, past the ten PM curfew, and Naegi seems to be dressed in pajamas; or, what could pass as pajamas for commoners, Byakuya supposes. A graphic t-shirt and dark shorts, and what looks like a white towel draped over his shoulders. He smells oddly floral, and his hair seems to be noticeably wilted; he must have just showered.

“Um, Byakuya?” He sounds bemused. “What are you…?”

“Come with me.” He turns on his heel and walks quickly towards his door. He hears shuffling behind him, the fumbling jingle of a key, before he senses Naegi’s presence behind him once more.

He pushes the door to his room open. “Come in.” It’s more of an order than a greeting. As he shuts the door behind his guest, it encloses the room in near darkness, except for the light from the cracked-open bathroom door.

“Should I turn on the-?”

“Leave it.” He’d rather have the lights off for this. “Sit there.”

He points at the mattress, and as soon as he hears the creak of springs, begins to pull off his jacket and strip. There’s a sharp clap as Naegi hurriedly covers his eyes.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing!?” He squeals, and Byakuya sighs. He should’ve expected this reaction.

“Calm down. What does it look like?” He snaps, throwing his jacket in Naegi’s general direction and hearing a soft, satisfying thwap and a grunt as it meets its target. “Fold these for me, then wait here. I’m going to shower.”

He waits until he hears the rustle of cloth, before he continues. After taking the role of heir, he’d been granted a platoon of servants, all of whom were there to help him dress and undress, but before that it had been Pennyworth who drilled into him the proper etiquette of clothing oneself, enough that he could do it in his sleep. At the time he thought the lessons pointless. Now, he couldn’t be more grateful.

First the tie, carefully folded and set on the nightstand table. Then the suspenders, slid from his shoulders before being unhooked at both ends, looped around his hand to be put away. Then the belt, looped and put away in a similar fashion.

He pauses a moment with his thumbs still looped beneath the waistband of his pants. His back is facing Naegi, so he has no idea if the other boy is watching or not, but it’s not like he gave the order to turn away. And if anything, he wants Naegi to watch.

He shucks the pants down quickly, stepping out of them along with his shoes. He can’t tell where Naegi’s eyes are, but he hopes they’re on him, trailing up the length of his legs from his socked feet. Resting on the pale flesh of his thighs, squeezed by the shirt garters that he wore. He thinks he hears Naegi’s breath hitch as he hooks a finger underneath one of the leather loops, tugging on it slightly until the clasp frees itself with a small click.

That’s right, he thinks. He feels breathless, like his heart is about to pound out of his chest; he hopes that with the darkness, the heat coloring his cheeks wasn’t visible. Keep looking. Keep wanting.

This was a tactic he had been hoping to never need to use, but if it’s Naegi he can do it. He unfastens the other garter and unbuttons his shirt, fingers flying between the buttons with practiced speed. He was losing his nerve now, unable to read Naegi’s reactions, unable to gauge his interest.

By the time he’s fully nude, standing in only his slippers, the only thing he can hear is his own heart, and the sound of Naegi’s breathing. He wonders how he looks right now, pale and naked in the darkness of his room, illuminated by only the thin strip of light from the bathroom. He’d never had reason to be ashamed of his physique, but he suddenly feels self-conscious.

“B-Byakuya?”

He almost jumps out of his own skin, and whirls around, marching stiffly towards the bathroom. “Stay here when you’re done. Wait for me.” He barks, not bothering to turn around. “Understand?”

He swings the door shut before he can hear the reply.

___

When he reemerges, hair still damp and wrapped in a white bathrobe, Naegi is still sitting on his bed, occupying the farthest edge of it as if afraid to take up any space.

He jolts up as Byakuya reenters. With the light from the bathroom, shadows are thrown over his face, and some of his features are thrown into definition - and other ones, cast entirely into darkness. Byakuya can’t make out his eyes at all.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself firmly. Whatever look he was wearing, as long as it wasn’t disgust, he could work with it.

“Tell me,” He says as he approaches, voice languid and casual, not betraying the anxiety that was thrumming under his skin. “What are you thinking, Makoto?”

“W-w-w-” He stutters like a broken toy, and tilts backwards as Byakuya stands over him. “W-wait, what’s going on?!”

He barely refrains from rolling his eyes at that. As if he wasn’t making it perfectly obvious. “What does it look like,” He deadpans, as he leans forward, pushing Naegi backwards against the bed, arms caging him against the mattress. “How about you tell me?”

“I-I really don’t-” He breaks off with a squeak as Byakuya presses a hand lightly, experimentally, against his chest. His physique was slight, and nothing of particular note. He trails his hand down carefully, slowly, down the length of Naegi’s torso. “B-Byakuya-!”

He halts instantly. Hardly dares to breathe. “Do you hate it?”

“That’s not…” Naegi shuffles upwards, leaning on his elbows. “No, but-”

“So what’s the problem?” He resumes, though moving glacially slow. He tugs the hem of Naegi’s shirt upwards, places his fingertips against the thin strip of exposed skin of his abdomen; it jumps beneath his touch, warm and flexing. A living body, he thinks, a little irrationally. It feels like his heart was about to jump out of his throat.

“This sort of thing-” Naegi bites down another quiet sound, as Byakuya travels slower, hands tracing down his waist, his hips, his thighs. “I-it’s - we can’t-!”

Suddenly, there are hands on his shoulders, shoving him back. He stumbles a bit and lands on his knees with a grunt. “What was that for?!” he hisses, but he’s a little relieved. He has no real experience in this, beyond the materials he had gotten ahold of for…relief, in his more delicate pubescent years, and a cursory educational course after he’d been named heir. If things had gone on, he was worried that Naegi would have noticed the sweat collecting on his palms, the hesitation in his slow pace.

He suddenly realizes that the hands on his shoulders are trembling, and feels cold break out on the back of his neck. Had he misread it? Had he made a mistake?

“...Makoto.” He leans back, presses his hands to his lap. “Are you alright?”

He says it quietly, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it himself. But above him, Makoto’s head jerks in a nod. “Yeah, no, yeah, I’m okay. I’m just…I’m surprised, I guess.” He tries a laugh, but it hardly sounds like one. “And…this sort of thing is for, like. People who l-lo- people who like each other, right?”

…Are you serious.

“Hardly,” He huffs, a little exasperated. “Sexual acts are a means of exchange between parties. Romantic connotations are reserved for people who need the leisure of such delusions-” Like yourself, he almost adds, before remembering the delicate emotional situation they were in right now and reconsidering it. “Anyways, this was just…”

An offering. A transaction. A trade of physical pleasure, in exchange for a promise; don’t betray me. Don’t stray from my side. “...Well, I’m not a monster. If you don’t want to, just say so now. We’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”

Makoto doesn’t respond, and he feels a thin thread of relief run through his body, even as a deep-rooted dread sank into his gut. His plan failed, it seemed, and probably even backfired. “I’m going to count your silence as a ‘no’.” He sighs, and moves to stand-

But the hands on his shoulders tighten, and he halts. “Wait,” Makoto sounds hesitant, and a little breathless. “I…I didn’t say I hated it. I just had no idea what was going on.”

“...I thought I made it pretty clear what was going on.” He’d stripped in front of him, for god’s sake. Makoto couldn’t possibly be denser than he thought.

“That’s…well, yeah, but I didn’t know why. A-and to be honest… I still don’t know.” Byakuya frowns, but he supposes that was fair. He hadn’t exactly stated that part clearly. “I’m a little nervous, but, if you really want to…”

“No.” The word leaves his mouth before he can even second-guess. But it’s true that for as much preparation he had done, it still wasn’t enough. He hurriedly adds: “But, maybe some other time, if you give me early enough notice. And I do reserve the right to change my mind.”

“Okay. That sounds good.” In the dim light, he sees a glint as Makoto smiles. “But…are you okay?”

“...Of course I am.” He says, voice steady, not betraying his earlier anxiety. Surely, his unease hadn’t been noticed? He had been so careful, hyper-aware of his own face and gestures, trying to carry himself as confidently as he should be. “Why do you ask?”

“Just…wanted to make sure. Did you, uh…do… this, before?”

He feels his face turning warm. “What do you think?” He hadn’t.

“Wait, so that means-?”

“As if I’d tell you that.” He snorts, pinching Makoto lightly on the calf and eliciting a yelp. “Help me up.”

With the tension gone, Makoto pulls him up by the elbows, and he wobbles for a moment, unsteady. “My pajamas should be folded and on the dresser. Fetch them for me.”

“Does this mean you’re letting me work for you again?” Makoto asks, half-jokingly, as he presses the clothes into Byakuya’s waiting hands. He huffs, amused.

“Let me get dressed before I make a decision. And help me button my shirt.”

The silken lounge pants are easy enough to put on, even in darkness, but he’s too exhausted to even try fumbling for the pearled buttons. He stands still, feeling Makoto’s hands fumble up the length of his torso, his touch warm and ticklish. The anger, frustrations, and stress of the previous days were giving way to a warm, heavy fatigue, and suddenly all he can think of is crawling into the bed.

“Should I…” Makoto wavers, standing halfway between the bed and the door.

“Turn out the bedroom light.” Byakuya hums, as he curls up beneath the covers. Then, almost as an afterthought: “It’s pretty late after curfew. You may stay if you wish.”

“R-really?!”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

The lights go out completely, and a moment later he feels the other side of the mattress sink, as Makoto crawls in. There’s a moment’s quiet, where all he can hear is the beat of his own heart, the soft whoosh of Makoto’s breath.

“Byakuya?” He asks, a bare whisper.

“What?”

“Why did you do all that?”

It’s spoken hesitantly, carefully. Byakuya shuffles a little deeper into his pillow, debating whether or not to give a clear answer.

Ultimately, he decides not to. It would be a blow to his pride to admit such a thing out loud. But leaving it undefined may lead to misunderstandings down the line, and he would rather not have to deal with an unnecessary schism a second time.

“Why don’t you tell me what you think,” He decides. “I’ll tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

There’s a quiet creak of springs, as Makoto shifts. As he speaks up again, he sounds closer, the soft puff of his breath tickling against Byakuya’s neck.

“Were you…I guess, doing that to…make up to me? For what you said?” His voice grows smaller with every word, as if realizing how embarrassing it was to say such a thing out loud. “Sorry, that’s probably not-”

“Why do you think that?” He finds himself asking.

“Because...Kyoko said that you might.” Kyoko. For a moment, Byakuya half-considers kicking Makoto out. As if sensing this, he adds quickly: “She-she didn’t say that it’d be ‘making up’, or that you’d be doing, uh, this, specifically, just that you wanted my help again-”

“Alright, enough.” That damn woman and her meddling. But he supposed that she did give him an easier explanation for his actions. It’d be harder to admit his actual reasoning. “I have nothing to apologize for. Everything I said was, frankly, for your own benefit, and I’m still rather disappointed that you failed to understand that.”

He pauses, then continues. “But, I suppose…I could have phrased my words better,” He turns his face into his pillow somewhat, as if Makoto might see the warmth crawling up it. “I’d rather not have someone in my employ be led astray, after all.”

He swears he can hear Makoto smiling, and, suddenly annoyed, yanks the covers up further. There’s a small grunt as the shorter boy is suddenly completely covered. “Now go to sleep. I’m not interested in continuing this conversation.”

“Okay, okay.” Makoto shifts upwards, out from the confines of the blanket. Even with eyes open, Byakuya can’t see anything, not even the other boy’s face that must be just a few inches from his own. His world is submerged in darkness.

Somehow, that isn’t as frightening as it should be. He lets his eyes close.

“Good night, Byakuya.” He hears Makoto say quietly.

He feels himself drift.

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#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #naegami #sure i'll tag it with that #byakuya guy with the worst sex ed in the world vs makoto guy who thought he was straight until thirty minutes ago #deadass this was going to be. a bj scene. but i got really embarassed before i could even get to that part #i think it turns out better this way tbh. this is a slow burn after all

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