Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being with Amemura Ramuda had its wide range of ups and downs.

Most of the time, the guy was annoying as fuck. He’d go out of his way to drag him out of his gambling sprees just to make him do something completely pointless, like he was some dog that listened to his every beck and call (though he’d usually treat him to a meal afterwards, which kind of balanced it out in a way).

Sometimes, he’d be normal. Well, as normal as Ramuda could be, anyway. These were the more private times, the times he’d step into Ramuda’s home on an off-day and find the designer actually living a somewhat normal life.

Occasionally, he was downright terrifying. He wasn’t sure what part of designer school taught Ramuda that kind of acting skill, but he definitely remembered the genuine feeling of murderous intent, and the chill down his spine when the air literally froze around him.

And well, there’s the very obvious brick wall that he puts up around him, but Dice didn’t really care much about that.

He could say every moment spent with Amemura Ramuda was like a gamble in and of itself- an entire maze of possibilities, each with their own, distinct path. And though he didn’t quite know what the jackpot for this bet would really be yet, it wasn’t like he gambled for the prize. He gambled for the moments in between, the tension as the wheels of fortune make its spin, the moments of suspense just before the pull of a trigger.

And so, if he had to describe this man in one word…

Thrilling.

That’s the word he’d use.

So he doesn’t know why he’s surprised when he finds himself fidgeting awkwardly on one of Ramuda’s many spinning stools, his body (or most of it, anyway- these things had weird holes in them that he couldn’t really classify as rips) covered in fabrics that were way too complicated to actually have any practical use, with the designer himself running his delicate hands over his skin as he skillfully adds layers of lines, colours and shimmers to his face.

On one hand, he had expected it.

When Ramuda had- almost against his will, even- picked him up off the streets and dropped him into what he promised to be a thrilling ride, he knew it was more than just a simple gesture of goodwill.

When he had offered for Dice to take up residence in his studio- messy and way too colourful, but a comfortable place to return to, regardless- and basically gave him free reign, he knew he’d eventually have to offer something in return.

(And there was also the debt that Dice almost had to pay with his own organs, but he preferred not to bring that up.)

Dice always knew that Amemura Ramuda was a wild card, but he just never had any reason to expect it to come circling back to...this.

“Daisu~” Ramuda had started, his eyes sparkling at him in a way that made him want to run away immediately, “so, you see~ I have a fashion show tonight, but boo hoo, my main model had to go and injure himself  last-minute…”

Small arms then wrapped around his, Ramuda continuing without a single pause, “So you’ll be my model for the day~!”

He hadn’t even been given a chance to object before he had been dragged away, the designer’s hums of “paying rent” effectively shutting down all hope of saying no.

So, now, stripped of any trace of comfort and drowning in whatever the hell this was, the only thing that Dice can do at this moment...is watch.

Ramuda’s oddly silent as he moves, fingers brushing past his skin only when necessary- and even though Dice had no knowledge whatsoever in anything related to makeup or fashion design, he could tell just by the precision of his movements alone that Ramuda was incredibly skilled at his job.

There’s an art in everything- even gambling, really, that he can’t help but appreciate.

And there’s also the fact that he’s trying really hard to focus on not moving because, as Ramuda had put it: “Fidgeting will only make things worse, Daisu~!”

How the fuck do people do this for hours on end?

But, well, he’s mildly succeeding so far, not quite as still as Ramuda wants but still enough for him to be able to work, the makeup remover coming into play less and less, but...

...the silence is really getting to him.

Aside from the initial few minutes, when Ramuda had pulled his coat off, rummaging through his pockets- “Woah, they were 7-sided dice~? Haha, you're soooo weird, Daisu!”- before hanging it up in the corner and then demanding he not move for the next two hours, they hadn't exchanged a single word between them. And he's still technically not supposed to move, but Ramuda's finally moved away from his face and hair to smooth out the creases in his clothing now, so talking was at least okay, right?

“Oi, Ramuda?”

“Hm~? What is it?” Ramuda doesn't even look up at him, clearly making no attempt to focus on the conversation, his hands continuing to tug and twist at the fabric so they'd sit at just the right place.

He realizes at that point that he'd been so focused on breaking the silence that he hadn't actually thought of what he wanted to ask- so he just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Why'd you decide to become a fashion designer, ‘nyway?”

And if Dice notices the way Ramuda's hands pause just the slightest at his question, he pretends otherwise.

“Let’s see...why do you ask?” Ramuda pipes back smoothly, moving to the other side and motioning for Dice to stand up- an instruction he's more than willing to follow. His hand moves to scratch the back of his neck now, wracking his mind for the answer to Ramuda's question because, well, he honestly didn't have one.

“Uhhh...curiosity?”, is what he finally comes up with, which prompts Ramuda to finally meet his gaze for the first time since forever, eyebrow raised- before he's fussing with his clothes again.

There's a very short silence between them until Ramuda speaks up again, one hand moving to twirl the long strands of his hair as he thinks a little.

“Hm~~ because it seemed fun!”

Dice waits a few more moments for Ramuda to continue, to dive just a little deeper into his answer, but when the following silence stretches out with no indication of Ramuda saying any more, Dice decides to just leave it be.

It hangs over them for just a few more minutes before Ramuda finally pulls away completely, happily humming to himself, proceeding to guide Dice towards the full-length mirror in the room to let Dice take a look at his reflection for the first time and- shit, is he actually looking at himself?

The first thing that catches his eye is his hair- it’s where Ramuda spent the majority of his time on, and it shows: his long, messy locks have been tied into countless braids and pinned neatly to the back of his head, the remaining, escaped strands creating a shape that matches the curved hairpin that’s also been slipped into the gaps. Ramuda had let him keep his own charm as part of the outfit, and now it hangs from the back of his ears, the hair that normally falls wildly around that area slicked back but maintaining a sense of loose-ness that allows the remaining strands to frame his features.

There’s no significant change to his face aside from how smooth it looks under the light now, and when Dice peers closer he spots the shadow of colours that seem to make his eyes glow a bit brighter, and the gold glitter that’s been carefully spread around the corners of his eyes, black lines drawn towards the edge to make his lashes look longer than they actually are.

And then there’s the outfit: smooth leather stretches over his thighs and calf, perfectly outlining the shape of his legs, complimented by a weirdly neat mess of translucent fabric that falls loosely around his shoulders and past the length of his torso. The only semblance of a top on him is the white, not-quite buttoned blouse that sits underneath all the layers, accentuated by a gold pin that’s holding all the layers together, along with a single gold bracelet hooked around his wrists and a low-hanging, matching pendant.

“What do you think~?” Ramuda asks him, a wide smile spread across his features now, obviously proud of the work he’d done.

Dice takes a few more seconds to take in the sight before him, and holy fuck, is what he wants to reply, but somehow it catches at the back of his throat and “...uh,” is the only thing he ends up saying in response.

And Ramuda seems to take it as a positive sign, because his grin only widens.

“Don’t worry, Daisu!” He exclaims, bounding over to stand in front of him, hands reaching up to adjust his collar, “It’ll be very exciting~ trust me, okay?”

Ramuda winks at him then, not hiding the way his fingers quickly slide from the collar and across Dice’s exposed collarbones before pulling away again.

“You’ll be perfect.”

As it turns out, Ramuda’s job is a lot more intense than Dice would’ve ever expected.

And he’s used to crowds and noise and things being busy in general, really, but this was something else altogether.

The floor they exit on is flooded not only with others wearing similarly fancy clothes, but also staff running around with scissors, piles of clothing, makeup tools he remembers seeing Ramuda use, photographers, and way too many people on phone calls.

Ramuda keeps a tight grip on his arm as he weaves through the crowd like there’s an invisible path, greeting people as he passes them- his voice hits a mellow tone Dice doesn’t quite recognise, one that doesn’t hold the forced edge he always carried with him- he’s greeting them by their names too, no trace of his usual “onee-san~!” ringing into the air, and there’s suddenly three conversations happening around him, Ramuda somehow managing to keep up with all of them at once, his answers straight and direct.

Dice could tell then, that this Ramuda was different- professional.

And strangely enough, he finds himself wanting to see more of it.

Ramuda quickly finishes up with his touch ups as well, and in the bat of an eye Dice finds himself being pushed into a long line of guys and girls both taller and shorter than him, the bob of pink hair that trails behind him an odd source of comfort in this alien world he had been abruptly placed into.

“Uh, Ramu-”

“Okay, Daisu,” he interrupts, as if he had been waiting for him to ask, “all you need to do is follow the the person in front of you, and be back over there in less than three minutes.” He points to the spot back near the mirror, Dice leaning forward to squint at it as if that would help him remember the spot any better.

And then he only has a second to spot the mischievous glint that’s returned to his eyes before Ramuda’s closed the distance between them, any hope of Ramuda not fucking around with him instantly vanishing as his hand slides to trace the outlines along his half-open shirt, and it prompts a sensation that causes Dice to straighten his back immediately-

He shoots a glare that’s both confused and surprised at the designer, but Ramuda only beams at him in return.

“And no slouching~! See you soon!”

Then he’s gone.

Dice somehow manages to avoid making an embarrassment out of himself, his years of gambling amazingly coming into use when it came down to looking confident in front of people. He’s out and back in a matter of what seems like mere seconds, and he’s kind of thankful now that Ramuda’s pink hair sticks out like a sore thumb because it makes it slightly easier to find him in the crowd.

Ramuda’s holding another pile of clothes in his arms when he sees him, and he lets out a strangled noise of surprise when Ramuda proceeds to start stripping him on the spot the moment Dice reaches him.

“W-w-wait-”

“Daaisu, stop squirming! We’re changing clothes.”

It takes a little more time for the sentence to click, but when it does, he’s left feeling kind of like an idiot, not only because he had completely forgotten these things do usually involve more than one outfit, but also because it was more than clear from Ramuda’s instant reply that he had completely expected him to forget.

The next outfit is less layer-y and more puffy, also involving a thin scarf and the addition of round glasses- and it’s all kinda normal until Ramuda’s leaning in from behind to fix the way the scarf falls around the new jacket, soft breaths against the back of his ear- something that he could completely stand if not for the sudden whisper of “you’re doing veeery well~”, and his leader’s sudden decision to nip softly at his earlobes as he does so.

He’s out of the chair in a flash, the thick layers of makeup the only thing hiding the flush that’s rushed up to his cheeks- but Ramuda’s already found a way to disappear, his pink hair vanishing from view, and Dice has no choice but to obediently follow the crowd again.

Thankfully, he calms down by the time he’s on the runway again, and the second round goes without a hitch as well.

The third outfit’s on the thin side and more focused on the leather bands and accessories covering his arms, which on one hand, is good, because it takes less time to put on- but that also means he’s feeling every single movement of Ramuda’s hands through the fabric which is...not as good.

“Ramuda-” he breathes in, “you’re doin’ this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Of course not, Daisu,” Ramuda simply replies, and Dice decides he doesn’t really like this new tone of voice at all, “I’m just adjusting your outfit...there!”

The designer makes a deliberate move to sweep his arm against his waist then, and this time he makes sure Ramuda sees the glare he gives him, though he only responds with another innocent smile, which doesn’t make things any better at all.

He keeps himself focused on the noise around him this time and the third round, fortunately, ends peacefully for him too.

The fourth (and apparently final) outfit is back to the layers, but slightly shorter this time, with the addition of a gaudy belt attached with long chains that dangle past his knees, and maybe Dice’s glare did get to him earlier, because this time Ramuda’s doing everything...normally.

“Last outfit, Daisu!” Ramuda pipes up as he pulls the last layer through Dice’s arms, “you won’t need to change out of this so just meet me at the lobby when you’re done, kay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah- sure.” One last round, and it’d be over. Dice moves to stand up, breathing a short sigh of relief-

But the relief doesn’t last long.

“Ah, wait- I forgot to tuck your shirt in!”

And yeah, Ramuda’s tucking his shirt in, but he’s also not forgetting to nudge against there as he does so and this time a small moan escapes Dice that he’s really glad the noise around him completely drowns out.

“Ramuda, fuck, seriously-”

“Thanks, Daisu! See you at the lobby!” Once again, Ramuda makes no attempt to let him finish- and he makes sure to send Dice an over-exaggerated wink before he disappears again, leaving Dice thankful for all the fancy layers he’s wearing despite the discomfort, because these tight-as-fuck leather pants were doing nothing to help with hiding the warmth that’s rushed to places he’d rather not want other people to know.

The last round is uneventful in spite of everything- and Dice thinks he really has the layers to thank for that.

Ramuda’s already at the lobby by the time he gets there, and greets him with his usual tone- he makes no mention of anything, and Dice opts not to, either- not yet, at least- because, okay, there is definitely this being a public space and all, but he also just really, really wants out of these clothes as soon as possible.

...And maybe visit the new casino nearby he’d caught wind of.

The walk home is spent almost in complete silence, save for Ramuda's hums as he skips along the streets, Dice trailing behind him, the cool air against his cheeks a welcome change as he tries to forget the lingering feeling of Ramuda's touches.

It’s not a long walk at all, and the view of the silhouette of his studio is almost a release for Dice-

but then Ramuda's deliberately leaning against him now as he pretends to struggle with the lock, an overly cheerful “We're home~~!” bursting from him as pushes open the door and skips into the space inside, sliding his hand against Dice's arm as he does so-

And he doesn’t even make it past the door before his lips are on Ramuda’s, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he closes the distance between them, the designer’s constant teasing and his annoying as fuck antics throughout the whole night finally coming to a brilliant crash against Dice’s already low self-restraint.

But Ramuda must’ve predicted this, because when their lips make contact there’s already a familiar sensation inside his mouth, exploring every single nook and cranny- hands tug harshly at Dice’s hair, hours of hard work falling apart in a single instant- and then he’s on the couch, layers of clothing that had been meticulously arranged for him sprawled out in an unapologetic mess, barely even registering the tingling from the hair around his neck when they finally pull away in a breathless huff.

And in the second it takes for him to catch his breath, he realizes- fuck, he hadn’t even asked, he had straight up just-

Dice quickly unwinds his arms from around Ramuda and moves to sit up, blurting out the only words he can think of at that moment, “Shit, sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

But he’s only met with the force of his back slamming against the couch again, the feeling of hands snaking around his wrists and pressing them against the cushions, Ramuda locking him down with a strength he never would’ve expected as he adjusts his position ever so slightly to fully climb on top of him, knees pushing softly against his thighs, all while  wearing a not-confused frown that Dice somehow just knew was hiding a smile inside.

“Hm~? What are you sorry for, Daisu ?”

Then he only has a split-second to take in the smile that’s spread on Ramuda’s face- his mind briefly, stupidly thinking about how weirdly honest it looked- before he loses his breath again, his body this time fully registering the feeling of the designer’s hair falling neatly onto his face, the sensation of protest around his roots, and the icy cold of Ramuda’s hands, in complete contrast to the fire he had seen in his eyes, as he smoothly moves to find the crevices in-between the complicated folds of the fabric.

And then buttons are being undone, snaps and zippers pulling apart with familiar ease as the layers of clothing wrapped around him fall away much, much faster than they had taken to put on, exposing him to the wave of cold air that hadn’t seeped through everything he had been wearing.

Ramuda stops for a second then, his neon-blue eyes looking high and low, as if taking in the sight- his hand's nonchalantly running small circles on his chest as he does so, slowly increasing the pressure to move into a gentle massage around his hips, and Dice instinctively brings his arms up to stifle the inevitable moan that escapes him because- fuck, is it supposed to feel this good?

He must've been heard, though, because he finds them being pried away in the next moment, Ramuda gripping tightly at his wrists again to push them aside- god, he can feel how pathetically flushed he was- and proceeding to give him a frustratingly light peck on the side of his lips before moving down to slowly nip at the nape of his neck, sucking deeply at his skin in a way that wouldn't not leave a mark.

And all the while, he's maintaining the steady pressure and rhythm of the circles he's drawing on his hips, which doesn't help control the subsequent moans that he lets out- except he's not even allowed to muffle them now, unable to even muster the energy to break out of other's hold.

The stiff leather nudges against him, and at this point he doesn’t even need to look to be able to tell how hard he already is- and though part of him tries desperately to try and hold on to what little control he has left, the other, louder part of him screams for him to simply fold his cards, to just let things run their course- because that’s where the thrill lies, isn’t it?

And against better or worse judgement, he listens.

The sound of pulsating blood throbs inside his ears, his shoulder blades aching from the trails left behind by the smaller man: and somewhere along the way his pants must’ve been pulled off as well, because the next thing he knows Ramuda’s slid down the length of his body to explore his inner thighs, his kisses and bites only increasing in intensity as he works his way back up.

His hands are free but he makes no effort to move them again, his energy instead directed to the shudders that run through his body at every point of contact, as he’s made to squirm and gasp and moan again and again at Ramuda’s command.

And when Ramuda finally stops just long enough to let him rest, he’s left huffing breathlessly, his chest moving in tandem with the throbs coursing throughout, his hands weakly gripping at the expensive fabric strewn around him as he feels his whole body flush with heat.

Ramuda sits up then, meeting Dice’s unfocused gaze- and despite his clouded vision, he can tell that the other man’s flushed with excitement, too, even when he ignores the massive and somewhat unhinged grin that’s also undeniably there. He feels Ramuda’s gaze travel along his entire being, his eyes lighting up with delight at the sight before him, before his sing-song voice rings into the air again.

“Look at you, Daisu~! ...and we’ve barely even... warmed... up.”

And he’s returning to pull against his hair as he bites on his ears, breathing against his jaw, his voice dipping as the words roll off his tongue in low growls, purring against him as he curls against Dice, his fingers poking at the hard tip of his nipples in a gentle motion that really, really doesn’t help in any way at all.

And any protest he may or may not have had disintegrates into mere whines as Ramuda laps down his sides, pinching at the skin above his ribcage while also pressing into the gaps, pain and pressure mixing together into stimulation and creating noises that Dice didn’t even realize he could make.

“Daisu, you’re so pretty…” Ramuda gasps through his kisses, briefly grasping and intertwining his hands with Dice’s before pulling them towards him so that his fingers catch into the gap between the buttons around the neck of his blouse and tugging at the fabric with an audible snap.

Ramuda doesn’t stop there, though, bringing his hand down ever so slowly to help him undo the rest, making sure that Dice’s fingers are tracing and exploring every detail of his deceptively adult body as he makes his way down before twisting them away at the last second to push his wrists back above his head, leaning in to emphasize the action and closing the distance between their lips, his tongue reaching in with a force that almost makes him gag.

They pull away much too quickly, Dice instinctively arching up ever so slightly to seek for the contact again, but Ramuda only squeezes at his wrists even harder- fuck, that’s bruising for sure- before leaning away and that’s all it takes for Dice to know that this was his leader commanding him not to move even if he was to let go.

And he does let go, then, poking at the tip of his nose, the ends of his lips curling into an angelic smile as Dice obediently stays still. “Good boy. Sing for me more, kay?”

And in the next instant Ramuda’s sitting square between his legs, one hand pushing up on his thighs, forcing Dice’s weight against the couch, Ramuda’s nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood as his mouth moves to explore unmarked areas- the other hand slides to a tight grip around his sides to hold him in place, his fingers once again finding the opportunity to trace the outlines that had already become familiar to him.

“Ramuda,” Dice manages to breathes out in a desperate gasp, almost dissolving completely again into the skillful brush of delicate fingers against his hip bones, the way Ramuda moves against him, travelling across his thighs and nipping at all his sensitive points but never quite getting to the spot he needs him to be- and Dice knows it’s deliberate, but he’s always been willing to beg.

“P-please…l-let me...”

The only response he gets is the feeling of lips against his bones again, Ramuda planting deeper kisses upon the bruises back along the length of his torso with almost inhuman precision, his hands perfectly mapping the waves of pleasure travelling throughout at every point- moans escape him uncontrollably, his body arching up even at the slightest touch, as even the simplest brush of hair, and the smallest breaths against bare skin, sends even more trembles down his spine.

“R-Ra-”

He’s stopped by the touch of fingers on his lips as Ramuda moves to cup his hands around his cheeks, forcing him to refocus his gaze with his- and he expects to be kissed then, his body almost pulsing with anticipation- but he’s only met with a simple shake of the head.

“Uh-uh, Daisu,” Ramuda whispers, his voice somehow both too soft and too loud for him, “not yet.”

And then he’s being broken down bit by bit again, by the tongue that’s now impossibly hot in his mouth, the sensation of fingertips that are at too many places at once, and by the desperate call of his body for a release that he knew the other man wouldn’t let him have easily.

Dice doesn’t quite remember when he fell asleep after...everything, but he wakes up to a gentle stream of sunlight falling against the mess that Ramuda calls his bed.

The person in question’s already awake, fingers tapping away on his phone as he hums a tune that Dice feels like he recognises. The light pricks at his eyes, and he instinctively brings his arm up- catching the distinct line of purple that’s formed around his wrists- in an attempt to cover them, his body aching way too much in silent protest during the process, and Ramuda must’ve caught the movement as well because he perks up and turns to focus his gaze on him.

“Good morning, Daisu~”

The light falls around him almost like a halo as he smiles at Dice, and Dice just chalks it up to morning haziness or just the sun being way too bright because there’s no way he had really thought, even for a second, that Ramuda looked like an angel.

“...mornin’,” he grumbles in reply, the raspiness painfully obvious in his voice, and- god, everything hurts.

He briefly considers lifting up the blankets to check for the damage, but when even shifting a little in the bed is already enough to elicit a painful groan, he decides he’s better off not knowing for now.

Ramuda now takes the opportunity to reach up and fold his arms comfortably on top of Dice, still smiling as he looks up at him. He’s kicking his legs back and forth, adding unnecessary pressure to his already aching body, but there was probably no point in trying to push him off, anyway.

“Hungry?”

And fuck, yes, yes he is- but he’s also really damn tired, so all he manages to respond with is with a soft mumble, though the growl from his stomach that accompanies it ends up being more than indicative of his answer.

Ramuda leans over him to grab a small jar of cookies on the bedside table next to him (Dice doesn’t bother trying to work out whether Ramuda just kind of keeps it there as a morning snack or whether he brought it in while he was still sleeping), and pulls one out, his hand reaching towards Dice but retracting at the last second, instead deciding to plop it into his own mouth and reaching forward with that .

And he knows Ramuda’s playing with him- but he’s really, really hungry- so he reaches up to take it from him anyway, their mouths brushing against each other in the process, Ramuda licking up the escaping crumbs into his own.

The cookie’s sweet- too sweet.

Ramuda feeds him another- normally, this time- and laughs a little before moving back to his previous position, resting his head on his chest.

“Hey hey, Daisu. Let’s do this again~!”

And Dice would’ve shot up instantly at that if not for Ramuda’s weight on top of him, so instead he just ends up awkwardly lifting his head up just a little and narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Wait, y’don’t mean-”

“The onee-sans loved you, you know?” Ramuda cuts him off- again, ”They said you’ve got more than what it takes!”

For a moment Dice is left wondering why Ramuda’s ‘onee-sans’ are suddenly being brought up, until he realizes:

...Right. He meant the show.

He doesn’t know why he finds himself actually considering it- because not only were the damn clothes uncomfortable as fuck, the tire from the rush overriding any sense of thrill that might’ve arisen from the experience- there was also the feeling of thousands of eyes on him bringing back memories he’d rather not recall.

But a small part of him really wouldn’t mind it again, because getting to see this new, different side of their leader (even if he only showed it towards anyone but him), and seeing a glimpse of the world that he sees, somehow made it bearable.

Dice tries not to drift to everything else that had come with it, because Ramuda was talking about the show, right?

And plus, he had been the one to start it- Ramuda only accommodated him, like he would with every other girl out there. Sure, it hadn’t come out of nowhere, but that was just Ramuda being...Ramuda. He was the one who’d gotten way too worked up.

He doesn’t quite understand why that thought makes him frown.

And, well, even if he was referring to more than that...getting involved with Ramuda's antics was tiring enough. Getting involved with the man himself just sounded even more troublesome.

More trouble than it was worth.

And he tries very hard to ignore how, despite that, he doesn't actually completely dislike the idea.

“Daisu. Daisu~~!! Are you listening?” Ramuda’s voice breaks into his thoughts at that moment- and Dice only realizes then that he had forgotten to answer.

“Ah, m’bad…got distracted.” He’s running his hands nonchalantly through Ramuda’s hair now, earning himself a small noise of disapproval, though Ramuda makes no attempt to move away from him, even seemingly leaning into the warmth of his hand.

“So~?”

His brows furrow as he thinks again, a sigh escaping his lips as he makes his decision. “I dunno, Ramuda…’was pretty cool and all, but I ain’t a fan of doin’ somethin’ more than once.”

Something he doesn't recognise flickers through Ramuda's eyes, then, but it disappears in the second it takes for him to see it, the designer proceeding to shoot him a dazzling smile, hands twirling around his locks, before he directs his gaze to the morning sun drifting through the curtains.

“Awwww, what a waste...you would’ve been a star, Daisu! Imagine all the money you’d get!”

And well, sure, it’d definitely earn him tonnes of cash, but- “Nah, s’ boring. There's no thrill in earnin' money like that, so what’s the point?”

His answer seems to come as a bit of a surprise, because Ramuda’s eyes widen briefly- only for him to burst out laughing in the next instant, leaving Dice wondering what he had said wrong- he ends up finding out soon after, though.

“Haha, Daisu is Daisu after all~! I guess I can keep the pay you earned, then!”

And he’s all but prepared a full complaint against that, since this was the first time he’d heard about pay: he had said he wasn’t interested in a next time, but he still deserved what he already worked for, no? So-

“A~ah. It would’ve been fun.”

Ramuda doesn’t give him the chance to voice his complaints though, rolling off his chest and curling into the blankets around him before moving to play with his own hair, his eyes drawing shapes against the ceiling.

And it's probably- definitely just the light playing tricks on him, because he swears Ramuda's eyes were almost...shimmering.

They opt to spend the next few moments in silence, Dice having missed the right timing to speak up again. He’s finding Ramuda before he’s aware he’s doing it though, his eyes following the tones of what he can see of the other man, which, now that he takes a much more thorough look, are quite defined.

Their gazes meet when he reaches his eyes- and then suddenly Ramuda’s back on top of him, his hair tickling the surface of his cheeks, their faces centimetres apart and their breaths mixing into each other.

“Dice,” he breathes out, his voice soft. “What about me ?”

And if the sudden lack of distance wasn’t enough already, that sends his mind into overdrive, too many thoughts hitting him at once- wait, wasn’t he just referring to the modelling thing? Wasn’t he? And if he wasn’t, what did he mean by him? Did he mean-

“Haha, just kidding~!” Ramuda’s laugh interrupts his thoughts before he can even begin to organise them, pulling away and sitting up before sending him a grin, making no effort to conceal his mischievous tone, “You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

And he’s sitting up too, despite the protests coming from his body- he catches a glimpse of it for the first time since last night when the blanket falls away from his torso- and he had been intending to send Ramuda another glare, but his eyes end up widening, an uncontrollable flush rising up to his cheeks at the realization of just how many marks there are on just his chest alone.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Ramuda, either.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he hums at Dice now, finger on his cheek as he pretends to be deep in thought. “Daisu. Let’s make a bet!”

Huh. That wasn’t what he had expected.

“A bet? On what?”

He’s not even trying to hide either the confusion or interest that he’s definitely showing, though Ramuda either doesn’t or pretends not to notice because he just continues to tap his finger against his skin, seemingly still thinking.

“Hmm...on whether you keep being my model!”

And that just kind of leaves Dice even more confused. “Huh? I already said no-”

Ramuda grabs at his arm then, shaking it around like a kid who had been robbed of his candy, his voice rising back to his usual (annoying) pitch as he whines, cutting off his attempts at objection once again, “Don’t be like that~ working with those people gets boooring, you know~? Just once in a while, when you’re free?”

He’s unrelenting as he shuffles closer to Dice, keeping the grip on his arm as he does so. “Lady Luck can make the call for us, right~?”

There’s a pause, as if Ramuda was expecting an answer.

“Or are you saying that…”

Then he’s purring, curling himself fully around his arm and locking their gazes together, “you don’t trust in her, anymore?”

And Dice is fully aware it’s an underhanded provocation, but he isn’t about to let that slide.

He steels his gaze against Ramuda’s. “Fine- it’s on.”

“Yay, okay!” Ramuda immediately bounds over to where his jacket’s hanging to reach into its pockets and pull out the three die, quickly placing them into Dice’s hands. “We’ll use these again!”

He closes his fingers around them, missing the feeling of the unusual shape in his palms as his gaze travels back to find Ramuda’s neon-blue. “So?”

Ramuda blinks at him, before an “Ah oops, I have to choose, don’t I?” escapes from him while he makes an exaggerated motion, as if he had only just remembered that fact. “...odd!”

...The opposite of last time, huh.

“Right, so even for me, then.”

He throws them to the ground with some force, so that neither of them can reach, and to make sure that Ramuda can't rig the results while he isn't looking, he watches intently as they roll to a stop.

When he does register the numbers they land on, Dice can only laugh.

And he can't tell whether Lady Luck had decided today was a good day to fuck around with him, or whether he just really sucked at lying, because hell, he’s dreamt of this scenario way too many damn times, maybe happening during a life-changing gamble, or during a dangerous bet with more than just his life on the line- it’s always remained in his dreams, though, and Dice was okay with that, because that meant Lady Luck was saving it for something special.

But even as Dice blinks twice, three times, to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, even as Ramuda’s laughter rings into the air and he closes the distance between them again-

The three 7s of his dreams sits in reality beside him, as he’s left wondering whether losses and jackpots make winning bets.

Chapter Text

Arisugawa Dice wasn’t the type to get used to things, really. It usually meant boredom, a disappointing plateau in the ups and downs he thrived on.

But sometimes, just sometimes, there were things he wished he could get used to.

This was one of them.

“Why are these always so damn tight?” The fabric wraps too tightly around his limbs, tickles his skin in all the strangest places. What the hell was fashion, these days? Do people really need all this fancy shit? It had been a success, sure - Ramuda wasn’t lying when he said the staff liked him - but Dice could never wrap his head around why all this was really necessary, in the first place.

But then again, this was Shibuya. He’s probably the weird one, for not caring about any of it.

“You should be used to it by now, right~?” Fingers sweep through his hair, meticulously pulling out the pins that hold it in place. Ramuda always insisted on removing the clothes last, to Dice’s mild frustration: to avoid damaging them, according to the designer. And while it is interesting to watch Ramuda work; witness sincerity he wouldn’t really find anywhere else - sometimes he just wished the designer would hurry up.

He growls. “Y’think I could ever?”

Ramuda simply pouts in response, sweeping over him with a somewhat curious gaze - before breaking into an innocent smile, words spoken with certainty; question phrased more as a fact. “It’s nice to be rewarded, isn’t it?”

“I- I dunno? ‘S weird, bein’ touched and stared at like that…” Positive attention is something Dice honestly isn’t accustomed to; not something he ever really needed. The compliments; feedback; intimacy, and levelled gazes- it’s not like he hasn’t been touched like that before, but it’s always been Ramuda on the receiving end of this blatant flirting. To be placed in the same position...it’s weird. His thoughts drift back to the evening, at the proximities - and violet hues flicker.

Hands pause in tandem; a questioning eyebrow raised. A first sign, that Dice tries to ignore. “You say it like that, but…” Aquamarines scrutinise him like he’s committed a crime, the designer leaning closer as he leans away - but a finger trails down his body with a knowing smile regardless, as if it’s all too evident otherwise-

And touching a solid bump. “Daisu, you were turned on, weren’t you~?”

His reaction betrays him: cheeks flushed, speech stuttered. Caught red-handed, like a child stealing candy. But no one could blame him, right? He hadn’t meant to, it just- “T-That’s jus’ because they were-!”

“It’s okay~!” Ramuda cuts him off, carefree demeanor more nerve wracking than reassuring as he tugs him down towards the couch, cheerful hums a message Dice understands all too well. “That’s what your benevolent leader is here for!”

Ah, fuck.

It’s a message he makes more than clear soon after: damage and whatnot seemingly thrown aside as legs circle around his hips; as a smile spreads to bright blues in coloured lust.

“I’ll help.” Ramuda’s voice is low when he speaks again, and Dice almost curses at himself when he reacts, spoken denial a last ditch attempt to calm arousal; to reorganise jumbled thoughts. “Wait, Ramuda, you don’t hafta-”

“Rejected~!” Innocence is an accessory to be worn by the smaller man, casual smiles a trigger waiting to be pulled. Dice knows, at that moment, that he’s lost - the same thoughts only echoed in his leader’s next words: “You want it, don’t you?”

Hands palm at him through fabric, and- yeah, fuck.

Always letting himself be caught up in the designer’s pace - it feels like a seemingly straight path, with endless detours. And maybe he’s really just a masochist, at the end of the day. For finding thrill in split roads; excitement in possible dead-ends.

But- if he really had to make an excuse for himself - Ramuda makes it pretty damn clear he never takes no for an answer, so he might as well enjoy the ride, right?

Right.

With that - and any remaining traces of hesitation - out of the way,  Dice lies back, and slowly begins to move: fingers find open crevices, and he slips between without pause, no thought spared for cost or value as he pries apart buttons, zippers, snaps; uncomfortable complications no more than simple obstructions to be rid of.

And if there was one thing he was good at, it was at making things count.

His own hands feel almost a little too hot against skin when they finally meet, and Dice focuses on every sense: pressing into bones, flesh, everything in between - up, across his chest, brushing past stiff nipples; down, past his ribcage, sharp and intentional across hip bones; the slow, pressured touch he offers himself soaking heat into his bloodstream, purposeful moans dripped from his throat like honey, a show put on in lidded eyes and flushed skin on their personal runway.

He shifts, next, fingers threaded into belt loops to release himself from tightened confines - but a smaller hand curls around his wrists before he can finish, his ventures interrupted by a frustratingly short kiss that leaves him wanting for more, violet and aquamarine rippling with mirrored desire.

“I’m kind of jealous, Daisu. You’ve been so popular with onee-sans, lately…” Ramuda whispers, and Dice shudders. This sickly-sweet voice had no right sounding so nice in that exact moment, but somehow the words tug at a corner of shameless want , and along with it, Ramuda’s lips to his own again, rocking up to the smaller man in a feeble, unsatisfying attempt to urge him on because god, there’s still so many layers and impatience is slowly killing off the thrill and suspense he so desperately needs. “Nn- Ramuda, please-”

“I just don’t like it, you see~?” Ramuda pinches as he says that, twisting his nipples like it’s a switch, and fuck, fuck, if it doesn’t turn him on. Dice feels his back arch almost instinctively at the contact, head tilting back into the cushions as he moans with want - which only amplifies when Ramuda decides to run the flat of his tongue across his collarbone, biting firmly and leaving a bruising trail. “I should be the only one they’re kissing.”

Honestly, Dice couldn’t care less about that, but Ramuda’s being a shit and taking his time as he carefully sucks at where Dice vaguely remembers being touched that evening - it’s excruciatingly slow, which is why Dice makes a deliberate move to rock up into the other’s hips again, lips curling in pride when it manages to elicit a small noise from the smaller man: a grin that widens and promptly dissolves into a satisfied groan when Ramuda responds by nudging hard against him, the pressure sending waves of heated stimulation through his veins, and- fuck, why are clothes so damn annoying?

Ramuda begins to lean his entire weight into the pressure, kneeing and massaging circular motions into his cock - and Dice has done this enough to know it’s all just a tease, the smile curled in the other’s lips all too evident of that fact - but still it drags a long moan from Dice’s throat, sound escaping without much control, and the next thing he knows Ramuda’s swallowed the sound with a deep kiss, tongue shoved into his throat and leaving him little space to concentrate on anything else.

When they part, they part connected by a string of saliva - one that Ramuda hungrily licks away, clouded eyes lit with lust as he hums, skilled fingers undoing whatever remains of his clothing and stripping him clean for bare contact with the cold air. Bright blues run over him like predators would for prey, and even though Dice is somewhat used to being treated like a meal to be had it still somehow sends a jolt of inexplicable adrenaline through his body, heart beating just a little faster as he feels his cheeks flush; cock twitching in impatience. “Ramuda, come on-”

“Shh.” A hand claps over his mouth, cutting off whatever complaint Dice would’ve voiced, and violet eyes follow the other man with a confused, yet expectant gaze as Ramuda leans closer - past his gaze, breath ghosting over his ears while he nips softly, before - “Good boys don’t talk, okay?”

It’s pathetic, but the only thing that serves to do is sending heat straight down between his legs, shuddering almost excitedly as Ramuda responds in kind: lurching back, hands shifting to hold his hips in a firm grip as he grinds into him - the nape of his neck showered with blossoming purple, the ache only intensifying shameless pleasure and making Dice whine with wanton desire.

It’s not normal, surely, to want to be degraded into a mere thing to be devoured, but Dice has nowhere enough pride to care about that - it feels good and that’s all that really matters, almost putting on a performance with long, needy moans, twisting and grinding hips even harder together to urge to other on: an action that goes rewarded at a brief, teasing flick of a tongue against nipples before fingers curl firmly around his hardened cock and strokes.

Ramuda is merciless when he wants to be and that’s what he’s doing now, every stroke brimmed with intention as he jerks him off relentlessly. Dice lurches forward in immediate response: back arching as he desperately follows the other, pure noise dragged from his throat with every touch. Ramuda feeds on his pleasure, swallowing noise with a tongue pushed inside his mouth again - the bitter taste of cigarette almost seems sweet with tongues twisted around each other, and Dice indulges: eyes squeezed shut, fingers curling into fabric, moaning brazenly into the other’s throat, every sensation a fervent push to a climax - “Nm, mm- Ramu-!”

Release comes in a violet shudder, streaks of cum dirtying his stomach and spreading to stain what are probably expensive clothes - though Dice doesn’t bother to think about that, lips stretched in a satisfied grin while he pants heavily against the smaller man, violet glazed with bliss and already reaching up to do away with the other’s clothing even as Ramuda smears and laps his own fingers clean.

A familiar sight greets him when Ramuda kicks the jumbled heap aside - he’s defined, for a man of his stature, and Dice watches eagerly while Ramuda prepares himself; shifting to let pale arms lift him up with strength that betrays his appearance, slicked fingers tracing a soothing line down his thigh. Every nerve prickles with anticipation - but the only thing he can do is wait , whimpering hungrily at the sensitive touch of fingers against skin, the taunting tease against his entrance, and then- “Okay! My turn, Daisu~”

Ramuda finally puts him out of his misery and pushes his fingers in, rubbing feverently against his walls as he thrusts and opens him up with little relent, only pushing in further with every movement - it feels fucking amazing but not enough all at the same time, and Dice whines, moans, tilts his head back at the stimulation, rocking his hips and somehow trying to fuck his insides against Ramuda’s fingers because- “fuck, fuck, R-Ramuda, harder -”

He’s scissored and stretched out in satisfying response, fingers curling tightly into fabric as he’s dug deeper, pushed harder - Dice melts and arches off the couch at the same time, gladly sacrificing control for slick pressure, shame a mere concept to be discarded as he twists and searches for friction, for pain, for anything that can make him feel.

Ramuda adds a third- or a fourth? He can’t tell - doesn’t bother to care -  it’s simply an ever-increasing force spreading out inside him and Dice lets his pleasure be heard, coherency thrown out in favour of reducing himself to a bundle of sensations and noise. Ramuda treats him like a hole to be entered and Dice is more than happy to be exactly that, streaming tears and desperate cries only tools to be used, urging and urging and willingly drowning in brimming ecstasy, begging and begging for more, before-

A pause. A dreadfully long pause, frustratingly enough for his vision to focus, to see lips curled in an enticing smile, to hear; whispers echoed in an empty mind, shudders, chilling and burning him to the core - “I’m all yours.”

Then - a tight, delicious burn, no second wasted as Ramuda fills him up and thrusts . It’s a full and rhythmic bliss, pleasure given and received as he’s fucked without grace - the exact way he loves it, and Dice feels his eyes roll back underneath his eyelids, enjoying every moment of being ripped apart from the inside, moans shared in tandem as Ramuda rams into him over and over again, dragging out every inch of pain and overwhelming pleasure.

It’s good, but it could still be a lot more - Dice curls his legs around the other’s hips, and pulls him in, grateful pleasure falling from parted lips when it grinds them harder, pushes Ramuda deeper. They move almost in sync - thrusts and grinds in equal measure, friction sparked in raw contact; skin on skin over every possible area. It ripples and rouses and Dice drinks up every drop it offers, the prospect and thought of being used as a mere object only making him harder and more determined to be fucked senseless, groaning and whining with pure need, arms wrapping tightly around the other's neck as he groans and pleads for more- "Ramu- Ramuda, fuck , please, more, please-"

“You’re- mm, really so, nnh, beautiful, Daisu…” Ramuda’s low murmur brushes past his ears, and he pushes, leans further, and sinks his entire weight into Dice - it nudges perfectly into his sweet spot, fills and presses tightly against him, and what remains come undone - Dice stops being able to tell where he finishes and the other begins, only registering stimulation, bliss, pain that amalgamates into burning heat, every hard thrust a wildfire that burns every vein.

Screams disintegrate into broken noise as it pools in his stomach, flushes his skin, leaves him heaving nothing but hitched breaths and airy moans - before he's finally rewarded by gratifying enclosure, slim fingers around his cock stroking and pushing and drowning him thoroughly in pleasure and over-stimulation; every thrust a delightful push to the edge, building and building until- “R-Ramuda, nnh, hah, ah- Ramu-!”

His vision flashes white as he cums again, toppled over the edge in a violent tremble: blissed out, run dry, every inch of him a tingling mess. Coherency returns in disjointed stutters, chest heaving in heavy pants, throat burning on overdrive - he thinks he felt the other shudder too, thinks he heard the sound of his name, but it comes to him all too slowly, and Dice decides it doesn’t matter. Ramuda pulls out, and he rests.

Hazy colours focus into piercing gaze, day and night a spectrum connected by sunset: by lips curling into warming smiles; by breaths drawn, just in time to be stolen away - in deep kisses, tongues dancing in shared passion - in shared affection, one might even say, if they didn’t know better.

“...'was good.”

“Hehe~ of course it was!”

They share a long silence, after that, neither of them bothering to move: Dice from exhaustion, and Ramuda from simple satisfaction. Ramuda’s a comfortable weight and Dice finds himself running stray fingers through smooth strands, the designer leaning into his touch with a soft hum as he ties braids into navy - one of their more normal moments, a rare instance of peace, and Dice opts not to think about when exactly he started considering it as that.

“O~kay!” True to Ramuda’s style, the silence falls apart not long after, the designer rolling off him without much effort - and Dice watches curiously as his leader slips on a nearby coat and skips away with a melody before reappearing and sliding back next to him, a cup pushed into his hands and a warm towel dropped onto his stomach. “Here!”

“You're pretty thorough, aren’t ya?” It’s not the first time, but it’s something Dice finally comments on, downing the water and wiping himself clean nonchalantly as he fixes Ramuda a curious gaze. Dice supposes he just finds it somewhat...surprising, in its own way. Ramuda just never seemed the type- but then again, there’s a lot of things Dice doesn’t expect from the other man: not that he really minds it, of course. That’s what makes it fun.

The designer simply beams at him in response, giggling softly before planting himself on top of Dice again, the coat settling around them almost like a blanket, of sorts, as Ramuda draws circles into his chest with a wide smile.  “Why wouldn't I be? I pride myself on being a good lover, you know~?”

It’s warm. Dice laughs, fingers threading through the other’s hair again, and leans back into familiar comforts.

Lovers, huh? What a temporary concept.