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The only thing surprising about finding Ranpo in a bar is that it's this bar, the sleaziest one on Chuuya's radar. It's dim and almost entirely underground, and usually empty. It's one of Chuuya's favorite places to unwind, mostly because he's unlikely to be bothered by anyone, half because it's so empty, and half because the types of people who come to a place like this know him well enough by reputation not to push their luck.
But there's Ranpo, pushing his luck.
He sat down beside Chuuya at the bar two hours ago and just won't leave, talking Chuuya's ear off in a way he hasn't had to endure since his last encounter with Dazai, a lovely four months ago. Four months of peace, out the door.
It's hard to tune him out, too, because he's so invasive, brazenly getting into Chuuya's space with no remorse, talking loud enough that Chuuya's certain the whole bar can hear him.
"Can you keep it down?" He snaps, swirling his wine. It tastes a little too sour in such awful company.
Ranpo shrugs. "I could."
But this he says at nearly twice the volume, so it seems unlikely.
"What are you even doing here? Aren't you goody-goody types supposed to hang out at libraries?"
Ranpo cocks his head to one side, narrowing his eyes. "Do I seem like a goody-goody type?"
Chuuya pauses. "Not even close."
"Hm." Ranpo quiets for a moment, sipping his drink--something bright blue and surely disgusting. For a moment, Chuuya thinks that he's finally going to get the solitude he came here for, but then Ranpo pipes up, thankfully in a quieter voice than before, "So, I hear your dick is huge."
Chuuya sets his glass on the bartop, swiveling so he's facing the detective head-on. "What the hell? Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me, it only matters if it’s true.” Ranpo turns to face him as well, grinning widely like they’re talking about the weather, or some new game. “So? Lemme see.”
“Hell no. What’s wrong with you?”
Ranpo frowns. “Don’t be boring. I want to see.”
Chuuya shakes his head in disbelief and picks his glass back up. “You’re unbelievable.”
"What, scared?"
Chuuya clicks his tongue. "I'm not scared of shit. I just have a little decency."
"That's not what I heard."
Shaking his head, the redhead takes a sip from his glass, regarding Ranpo. When he says nothing in response, the detective leans forward and, with a squirrelly grin, puts a hand high on Chuuya's thigh.
"That's enough."
"Not for me." Ranpo squeezes a little with the pads of his fingers, humming at the feel of hard muscle. "Come on, let loose a little. I know you're a bit of a wild card."
Chuuya squints at him, then rolls his eyes. "Dazai's talking shit again."
"He's just telling stories. Good stories. I want a few stories of my own." His hand slides further up Chuuya's thigh, dangerously close to Chuuya's groin. Despite the grimace on his face, Chuuya does nothing to deter him, doesn’t push him off, even if they both know he could snap Ranpo like a toothpick if he were really mad about it.
Ranpo takes it as a sign to press forward, fingers crawling up to tap a nail against the metal of Chuuya's belt buckle. The lighting is dim enough that no one could see if they were to look over, his hand adequately hidden in the shadows under the bar, and empty enough that even if someone were to see, it wouldn't matter. No one important is here tonight, no one they know. No one who would care if they were to act indecent.
Ranpo smirks like. he's already won, sliding the leather through in one slow smooth motion. Chuuya takes another slow sip and watches the rest of the bar, wary of the few other customers, stifling a surprised noise when Ranpo pops his belt in one motion.
It’s been long enough since the last time Chuuya got with someone that he is a bit tender, hissing through his teeth when Ranpo presses the pads of his fingers into his groin. He's only beginning to harden up, but there's a bit of a thrill to this-- to doing this somewhere so public with someone so glaringly opposite him, technically his enemy-- that makes arousal simmer in his gut. For a brief moment, he has to wonder just which stories Dazai told the detective to get him so intrigued, but he presses it to the back of his mind, content to interrogate Dazai on it some other day.
For now, he focuses on the feeling of Ranpo's skilled fingers. He's unsurprised that Ranpo's deft with them, that he's obviously had a lot of experience in this department. He’d had a secret inkling the detective was a bit of a slut. There's something almost slinky about him, about the way he moves and talks and looks at people, slimy and sleazy and overly salacious in a way that suits Chuuya just fine. He can match him blow for blow in this-- he sets his glass on the bar and spreads his legs wider, one knee jutting out from under the bar into the open air.
Ranpo grins at the open challenge, dipping two fingers under the waistband of Chuuya's boxers. His hand is warm, and he drags the tips of his nails over the sensitive flesh at the base of Chuuya's cock, watching him attentively, drinking in the little shiver and the way his dick twitches at the light touch.
Chuuya moves one foot so it's pressed to the side of Ranpo's calf, not much but a warning, just the smallest amount of reciprocal contact. In turn, Ranpo presses the rest of his hand inside Chuuya's boxers and wraps his fist around the base of his dick. It puts his elbow at a weird angle, something that surely would look a little odd to outsiders, though not particularly brazen. He rubs his fingers over the length of Chuuya’s cock almost thoughtfully, feeling him out like he’s trying to build a mental map for later.
The bartender walks past, stopping to take a rag behind the bar in front of Ranpo and staying there, seemingly polishing something. Ranpo turns his head slightly away from Chuuya to grin toothily at the bartender, asking loudly, "Can I have another?" at the same moment he squeezes Chuuya's cock, harder than anything he’s done so far.
It makes Chuuya jolt, barely catching a soft groan. The bartender doesn’t seem to notice, simply moving to make Ranpo’s drink.
Ranpo keeps a slow, steady pace with his fist, moving over Chuuya's now-hard cock almost dreamily as he watches the bartender make his drink. When it's set in front of him, he grins widely again, rubbing the pad of his thumb into the slit. "Thanks, mister."
The bartender makes a face and moves towards the other end of the bar. Chuuya breathes a quiet sigh of relief, though there's a jittery tingle in his skin at having been so close. There's still the possibility of eyes on them at any moment, and he casts his gaze around the bar excitedly. No one's looking, but they could be. It's invigorating, and he shifts a little in his seat, sliding his foot up Ranpo's calf.
"Fun, isn't it?"
Chuuya scoffs, trying to pretend it doesn't bother him when Ranpo sees right through him. He hates being so easily read. It gives him the heebie-jeebies.
"You're a fucking creep," He tells Ranpo, trying to make himself feel better even as he begins to leak precome under his thumb. It's a little embarrassing, how easy he is right now, but he's pretending it's not happening just like he's pretending that he doesn't like the way Ranpo's looking at him, like he's some kind of prey animal. It's not anything he's used to, and the feeling makes him bite the inside of his cheek and take another swig of wine, letting the liquid sit on his tongue awhile. Pleasure ebbs through him, and he stifles another groan.
Ranpo puts the elbow of his other arm on the bar top and puts his cheek in his palm, so he's fully facing Chuuya and jerking him off with one hand. "You don't get to call me that when you're dick's half out it a public bar."
"You took it out."
Ranpo shows his teeth again in a grin. "Good excuse." He swirls his thumb over the head again, then dips the nail underneath the ridge, pressing hard in a way that makes Chuuya jerk a little, nearly spilling the wine over himself. And wouldn't that be embarrassing, almost embarrassing as this whole situation. He thinks for a moment that he should be more ashamed of himself, but then Ranpo presses his nail in harder and the thought disappears.
“Fuck, you’re good at that.”
Ranpo visibly preens, tucking a chunk of hair behind his ear with the hand on his cheek.
Chuuya laughs despite himself. “I’m calling you a slut; don’t be proud.”
“You’re a slut too. There’s, like, fifteen people here who are currently being unknowingly violated by you.”
“Not just me,” Chuuya snaps.
“ My dick’s not out. I take no blame.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “How do those Agency freaks put up with you?”
“They have no choice. I’m entirely indispensable.”
“You’re entirely getting on my nerves--
fuck
, do that again.”
Ranpo snorts and obeys, rubbing his thumb in quick circles over the head of Chuuya's cock. With the precome bubbling out of him, it's a wet slide, and Chuuya briefly cringes at the thought of closing his pants back up over it now. He hates messes like that.
But it's hard to really dwell on it when pleasure is boiling over in his stomach, his thigh tensing a little on the stool. He groans again, biting his lip. The wine glass is nearly slipping from his hand, and he raises his other to press into his mouth, muffling another sound when Ranpo squeezes his cock again.
And then, with a stupid flashy grin and one terribly preformative glance around the room, Ranpo leans forward, folding in half until he can wrap his lips around the head of Chuuya's cock.
"What are you doing?!" Chuuya hisses, squeezing the wine glass so hard he's afraid it'll shatter in his hand. It's happened before. "Don't fucking- shit- you can't just-"
"Shut up," Ranpo says, then lets a glob of spit dribble from his lips to kiss the head of Chuuya's cock. It’s hot , and Chuuya shakes a little in his seat, nearly tipping over the edge.
"You're awful." His voice is shakier than he wants to admit.
"Thanks babe." Ranpo laps at the head of his cock indulgently, like he's got all the time in the world. Frantically, Chuuya glances around the room. No one's looking, of course. But the threat of being caught has suddenly become a lot more real with Ranpo's head in his lap.
Still, it feels so good, and the detective is so damn talented with his tongue that the worry is almost a second thought, and Chuuya bites his finger to hold back a moan as Ranpo sinks down farther, groaning softly around his dick. Chuuya wonders how the hell he got here, the world's greatest detective's head in his lap in a sleazy bar.
Predictably, Ranpo doesn’t even flinch when Chuuya comes, easily swallowing, one hand holding his hair out of his face. When Chuuya’s finished, he sits back up, shamelessly wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Chest heaving, Chuuya whips his head around, trying to find prying eyes.
“Relax, no one cares.”
“I have a reputation to uphold.”
“What you have is a reputation that you’ll kill anyone who looks at you funny. If they saw anything, they won’t say anything.”
That makes Chuuya relax a little, sipping his drink. Embarrassingly, his hand is shaking. He realizes that his pants are still open, and quickly fumbles to get them closed, cursing under his breath.
“Dazai was wrong,” Ranpo says thoughtfully, sipping his own drink.
“Eh?”
“He said you were seven inches but I think you’re definitely more like eight-”