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The sun had descended since the time Izaya had entered Shinra’s apartment, leaving twilight to settle in soon after, indicating a shift in the seasons. He paid little attention to such things for the most part, but as the year waned the night came quicker, growing bold and overpowering the shiny blandness of the day earlier and earlier, which he had come to appreciate. The cool had come to stay, lingering long after dawn, crisping up afternoons, leaving fingers and noses numb and red if they weren’t protected properly. Shadows grew thicker; time passed. At least, it did in most places.
Not much seemed to change at Shinra’s, demonstrated by the fact that he was back once again to have an injury tended to even so many years after they’d first met, never having bothered to find another doctor, never needing to. Izaya found it a bit strange, wondered if Celty might have something to do with it, if her supernatural nature extended to her surroundings, but also didn’t mind it, particularly when everything else seemed to be shifting, which it always was these days. Orihara Izaya thrived on fluctuation, was a master of adapting to changing conditions and manufacturing them himself when they didn’t come often enough for his taste.
He’d gotten so good at it that sometimes he thought he actually overlooked developments that might give others pause, so quick was his pace. And that, he knew, didn’t always work out so well in his favor.
Izaya shook the train of thought that had been haunting him recently from his mind. He’d had a long enough day without dwelling on that for another night.
He didn’t generally enjoy his visits to Shinra’s and this time around was no different, but he thought he’d better drop in, endure it. There was a lot going on and he couldn’t waste time lying around in a hospital, doing inane things like healing. The past couple of weeks had been a bit rough, client-wise, and even though he knew well enough by then how you were supposed to roll after having been pushed out of a moving vehicle it didn’t always go as planned and he’d landed badly on his ankle. He’d felt the beginnings of bruising creeping up his side as well. If he did have some more serious injury, internal bleeding or the like, he thought it’d be better to go to Shinra then and get it over with all at once. At least if he did he wouldn’t have to waste time and effort trying to sneak out. Shinra knew well enough not to expect him to stay for longer than a few hours unless he was physically unable to move.
Shinra had put on his surprised face as he always did when Izaya showed up unannounced as he always did, because it wasn’t like the other man could ever be bothered to invite him over and even if he had chances were Izaya wouldn’t find it worthwhile to show up. Izaya’d waved him off impatiently and he’d gotten down to business, chattering ceaselessly per usual. Everything was routine and Izaya found that, for once, he didn’t mind. He thought they had to be about done. Shinra had scurried off to the back room to do something or another and left Izaya in one of the armchairs out in the living area. Apparently his injuries hadn’t necessitated actually going into the operating room proper.
Izaya put his foot up on Shinra’s coffee table, mostly because he knew how it annoyed the other man, but also because his ankle was throbbing and he had to be able to walk home. Celty was nowhere to be found, probably out on a job. It was sort of a shame. Izaya did enjoy their talks most of the time. She was far more interesting than Shinra in any case.
Shinra shuffled back in then carrying a capsule of pills and an ice pack. “Well, that’s about all I can do for you,” he informed him brightly. “It might hurt for a while, but you should be fine.” He caught sight of his foot and his expression tightened. “You have the right idea for your ankle, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that on our coffee table. We do eat out here.”
It was always “we” and “our” with Shinra even when it made no logical sense. It made Izaya even less inclined to move than he had been before. “Always so helpful, Shinra,” Izaya commented, holding his hand out and not moving his foot. “Your bedside manner is impeccable.”
Shinra laughed gratingly and shoved the items into his grasp. “I’d tell you what to do with those, but I know you won’t use them anyway, and if you do, you should be able to read the instructions. It’s not like you have a head injury. Really, I’d appreciate it if you came in for more visits like this.”
“I’m sure you would,” Izaya said, tucking the pills into an inner pocket of his jacket. “I know how you enjoy my company.”
“I also enjoy when I get paid for what was basically a cursory check-up you could have gotten from any doctor at a lower rate,” Shinra said.
Izaya dropped the ice pack on the coffee table and took his foot down carefully. He’d been told that it was only twisted which was equal parts annoying and relieving. On one hand, it could have been fractured. On the other, there was nothing much he could do to make it heal faster but stay off of it, which he wasn’t going to do. He didn’t feel like getting involved in a conversation at the moment, not in the mood to trade quips back and forth, so he settled on a brief, “Glad I could be of assistance,” and went to stand when there was a heavy knock on the door.
Izaya froze. He knew that knock, probably too well.
Shinra glanced up, frowning. “One second!” he called, only sparing a brief glance at Izaya before he went to answer.
Izaya was left to ponder whether or not he should make himself scarce. Ordinarily he would have been game to sit around and poke at Shizuo until he went off too soon like a cheap firecracker, but considering the circumstances of their last meeting he wasn’t so sure that would be the best idea. He was curious to see how Shizuo would act, but if he got it into his head that he wanted a raincheck for the time previous when he’d made no move to follow Izaya after he’d gone running off, well, he wasn’t exactly in any state to be doing all the fancy tricks it took to evade Shizuo.
The crux of the issue was last time they’d been together Izaya had sensed something shifting on the years-old playing field the two of them had been circling around since back at Raijin, something changing unexpectedly in the dynamic between them, something he hadn’t predicted. It had come on so quickly and surprised him so entirely, leaving him unprepared in the least to handle it, that he had chosen to make a strategic retreat right then and there.
It probably should be mentioned that he’d had Shizuo’s cock in his mouth at the time, but that was merely a contextual detail and hadn’t caused the problem in and of itself. In fact, it was the far more regular occurrence between the two ever since things had escalated one night when he’d been feeling a little reckless and had let Shizuo get just close enough in an alley close to one of his apartments in the midst of one of their chases. Things had spiraled out from there, but they’d done so under his direct watch, because he’d made it happen. What had occurred last time had been seemingly beyond his control, which made it more of a threat.
Furthermore, after the too-much thought he’d given it in the weeks following, Izaya had come to the conclusion that the problem at hand had been around for a good deal longer than just the duration of time that night when Shizuo had seen fit to let Izaya settle in between his legs, a small twist on a familiar if not quite normal situation, and Izaya had thought it might be fun to go down on him.
All that really did was make it more frustrating however. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Why had it started in the first place? Izaya didn’t like not knowing things, especially about himself, and this seemed like a rather large detail to have overlooked.
Though all this ran through his mind, ultimately, all Izaya did was sit still, waiting, while Shinra led Shizuo into the apartment, forced his expression to resemble something less panicked and more like he’d been expecting this all along. (He had been, sort of. He knew they couldn’t stay away from each other forever. More difficult than trying to solve the paradox of the unstoppable force and the immoveable object would be trying to separate the two in the first place. Besides, Shinra’s place had always been a strange sort of no-man’s land for the two of them, even since they were back in grade school, which was, incidentally, another reason it felt like no time passed there, Izaya assumed.)
Shizuo’s eyes flew over to him almost immediately, but he didn’t make any move to charge or demand what had happened. He did seem on edge, but that was par for the course.
“Why’s he here?” he grumbled to Shinra, moving closer, out from behind some of the furniture blocking his line of sight. It allowed Izaya to see the red streaking down his side, staining his clothes, turning the color of his pants from charcoal to soot like he’d lit them on fire. He’d already discarded his vest somewhere. He made no move to try to stop the bleeding, hardly looked bothered at all by the injury which was annoying now where before it had been repulsive.
“Beats me!” Shinra said, ignoring the tension in the room to go grab whatever he needed to treat what was probably a bullet wound. “Don’t sit down until I get towels this time, okay? Blood’s really hard to get out of the couch fabric.”
Shizuo watched him go, but was eventually forced to turn his eyes back on Izaya who kept his gaze unwaveringly still. “Bad day at the office?”
Shizuo scoffed. “Don’t start.”
“You’d really rather we sat in silence? I know your conversational skills are horrendous, but you don’t have to take it out on others who are forced to spend time in your company.”
“You being interested makes me think that you had something to do with this.” Shizuo glared at him in that way he did when he thought he’d solved the puzzle, unveiled all the solutions. The problem with that was his answer never changed even as the question did.
Izaya rolled his eyes. “I’m offended. I know better than to waste my money on hiring thugs to shoot at you. You’re a waste of good bullets.”
Shizuo’s expression swung exasperated where it once might have turned angry. Izaya was vaguely disappointed, but Shinra was returning, toting an armful of supplies before he could express it, laying down towels and telling Shizuo to sit down so he could get to work. Izaya forced himself to his feet meanwhile but didn’t head for the door, instead choosing to make his way out onto Shinra’s balcony to stand. He could walk, he found, but not incredibly well. He could feel Shizuo’s eyes on him the whole way and he did his best not to limp.
It was cool out, the nighttime air biting into his skin where it was bared, but the city was coming to life below and he watched it fervently while he formulated a plan of action. He was tired of wasting time pondering over this minor dilemma. It was time to either move past it or get over it, but that would require answering some questions which would involve Shizuo being present, since he appeared to be at the root of the problem.
Lucky for Izaya he was close by and currently unoccupied, meaning he could take advantage of this encounter rather than having to manufacture another at a later date and begin to investigate the strange blind spot his realization had unveiled in his mind as soon as possible. It was off-putting to say the least, but he couldn’t go on ignoring it. Ignorance led to weakness and in his business, knowing himself inside and out better than anyone else could ever hope to was key. If there was a weak spot he either needed to scratch at it until scabbed over or find another means of covering it up.
His contemplation on the topic had gone on for far too long already, and he was determined to put an end to it, one way or another.
The sliding door swishing open behind him jerked him out of his thoughts, back into reality. He’d been so absorbed that his eyes had gone unfocused, turning the sea of lights before him into one continuous blur. “Fuck,” Shizuo muttered. “What the hell, it’s freezing out here. Are you trying to catch frostbite?”
“Do you even get cold?” Izaya asked rather than acknowledge that he might have a point. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, but he also couldn’t feel his ankle, so that was a plus.
Izaya heard the sliding door slam shut and grinned, turning to follow him back in. He didn’t want Shizuo going off without him. Chances were his freakish body had already healed and Izaya still wasn’t moving as quickly as usual so catching up would be a pain. The door wasn’t locked which Izaya thought was probably lucky until he remembered there was no way would Shizuo have the foresight to do such a thing. The quick, noisy expression of irritation was enough for him per usual.
Back inside, the artificial warmth of the apartment crowded in around him, some of it coming from the several lights that had been flipped on since he’d stepped out, illuminating the space as its inhabitants settled in for the night. Celty was home by then, chatting to Shizuo as she removed her helmet and set it to the side. He didn’t see Shinra, but his work station for Shizuo had been cleaned up. As he approached he heard the telltale signs of them bidding each other farewell. Shizuo looked better, the lines on his face softened as they always were when he was speaking to the dullahan and his vest back in place, leading Izaya to think he must keep some of his innumerable, identical uniforms there since it appeared good as new rather than ripped almost in half by a bullet.
Celty tapped something into her phone and showed it to Shizuo who nodded. “Sounds good.”
He glanced at Izaya before he headed for the door but didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything when Izaya followed after him, waving briefly at Celty who didn’t bother trying to stop him. She’d always been smarter than she first came off.
Shizuo waited until they were in the elevator to say anything, but Izaya could see the way he was tensing the muscles in his arms and neck even before that. When he did speak, however, it wasn’t what he’d expected. “What’d you do to your ankle?”
“What makes you think it’s my ankle? I might be sore from something else.”
That earned him a nasty glare. Shizuo had always been unnecessarily twitchy about the possibility of his infidelity. Izaya didn’t really get it, but he smirked back anyway, hoping it would help to fuel Shizuo’s little jealous fantasies. “Shinra told me, asshole.”
“Then I don’t know why you’re asking me. We both know Shinra gives more information than is ever necessary whenever possible. Surely he told you what happened.” Izaya didn’t particularly like it when Shizuo openly showed him any level of compassion. It made him anxious, restless. He didn’t want to be on the other end of Shizuo’s strange kindness streak. That was for his friends to swallow as they would.
He wanted no part of it, and he was more than happy to remind Shizuo why he shouldn’t waste his breath. This arrangement they had was purely business-oriented, a barter of sorts, set up after that first exhilarating night. They went home together now and again, had their fill, and didn’t mention it otherwise. It worked very well, in Izaya’s opinion, but he thought it got under Shizuo’s skin sometimes. He was too traditional, even, occasionally, when dealing with Izaya. It was satisfying, this thing they had going on, but Shizuo felt the need to look into the morals of it, which sounded far too tedious and naïve for Izaya’s taste. Morals were constructs humans put in place to shield themselves from reality and limit themselves from reaching their true potential for controlling their lives and those of others, nothing more, nothing less. Not that he would ever bother trying to explain such a thing to Shizuo when all he would get for his trouble would be along the lines of a, “What the fuck are you talking about, flea?”
Still, things had been going quite smoothly, all things considered, until the incident from last time had occurred. Izaya wondered if Shizuo was going to break their rules because of it. If he didn’t, Izaya certainly was going to. Maybe it was time for a little change. It would do well to keep things interesting.
The elevator dinged as they reached the ground floor and Shizuo strode out into the lobby. Izaya hurried to tail him, noting the way his ankle complained. The cold night greeted them immediately as they stepped outside. Shizuo didn’t seem like he was working himself up to say anything, was digging around in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter instead, so it looked like it would be up to Izaya.
“Shizu-chan,” Izaya half-sang. “Where are you going?”
“What’s it to you?”
Izaya coughed and waved the smoke out of his face. The mildly haughty look that flashed across Shizuo’s face spoke to that having been intentional and made Izaya tighten his jaw. Shizuo was lucky he was in a good mood and working with a mild injury. That would normally be a quick step in the right direction toward a knife in the ribs. Izaya cast his face pitying. “Ah, I thought that maybe you were getting smarter, but I guess my theory that your cock and your brain have a direct connection was wrong.”
Shizuo elbowed at him, growling around his cigarette. Izaya sidestepped it easily enough laughing, trying to make it look more effortless than it felt. It helped that the thrill that always buzzed through him when he was teasing Shizuo was right on schedule. “You’re seriously asking me to come back with you?”
“Well, I’m certainly not asking you to pick out curtains.”
Shizuo narrowed his eyes at him and Izaya knew why, he just wasn’t acknowledging what was wrong with that. The fact was they didn’t tend to say it in so many words. Normally Izaya would start running and Shizuo would give chase, per usual, and he’d lead them back to whichever of their places was closer. The only variation on that were the times Izaya would simply drop in on Shizuo at his discretion, or, even rarer, when there would be a heavy, demanding knock on Izaya’s door a while after he’d noticed someone was standing outside it, that someone being Shizuo who’d had reconcile what he was doing with himself before he got around to moving his hand.
“You sure?” Shizuo asked and it was accusatory, but there was a deeper core of concern in the question.
Izaya shot him a look colder than the outside air. “Would I have asked you if I wasn’t?”
Shizuo cocked an eyebrow and Izaya felt irritation throb in his chest. He didn’t like that he’d accidentally handed Shizuo something like this to hold over his head. He just hadn’t assumed he’d actually use it much, but it looked like it was unavoidable. Ah, well. He could adapt.
“Take the offer or don’t, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said flippantly. “Go home alone if you want, lay around, stare at the television, lose whatever few brain cells you have left, whatever it is you do. I’m not going to wait around all night for you to make up your mind.”
Izaya was rewarded by the way Shizuo’s gaze hardened and his fingers twitched in a way that usually meant he was going to form them into a fist. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But if you pull the same shit you did last time I’ll kick your ass.”
There it was. Izaya laughed it off like he had no idea what Shizuo was talking about, but didn’t respond otherwise. Rather than turn toward Shinjuku though, Izaya veered off closer to the middle of Ikebukuro. Shizuo didn’t let it slip.
“I thought we were going back to your place.”
“We are. But I’m hungry.” Russia Sushi’s storefront was visible by then, as was the permanent looming fixture that was Simon trying to passive-aggressively bully people into the restaurant.
“You’re stopping for takeout?”
Shizuo looked scandalized. Izaya beamed, quickly restructuring the plan he’d had set in his mind, tweaking it to his advantage. There was no harm in starting early. “Do you want some?”
Shizuo’s eyebrows lowered with impressive speed. “Not all of us can afford to waste money on fancy-ass sushi all the time.”
“Oh, I know,” Izaya said, off-hand. “That’s why I’m buying.”
“What?” Shizuo stopped completely in the middle of the walkway and Izaya had to do a full turn to speak to him.
“Do you want something or not?”
“You’re buying me dinner?”
Izaya blinked slowly at him. “That’s ordinarily what it means when someone says they’re going to pay for your food.”
Shizuo was hilariously incredulous over the whole thing and suspicious in equal parts. Izaya was glad he hadn’t gone to the trouble of making something; the man probably would have refused to eat it, thinking it poisoned or the like. Giddiness bubbled up in Izaya’s stomach, but he couldn’t tell if it was any different from how he always felt when he really got to Shizuo, caught him off-guard.
Fortunately, Shizuo was never one to turn down free food and so eventually accepted or at least started walking again and ordered when Izaya prompted him to go in front of him. He watched Izaya pull out his wallet like he was expecting him to reveal throwing knives instead of yen. Izaya pretended like he didn’t see. Shizuo kept up his intense inspection as they waited around for their order to be filled.
Simon had entered when they had, waving to them and looking far too pleased to see them together—an unfortunate side-effect of this little venture. Izaya expected he wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks. Simon was obnoxiously persistent when he wanted to be, especially concerning his and Shizuo’s relationship. He was actually a bit surprised he wasn’t pulling out party poppers or announcing a new special to celebrate this special occasion. But he was oddly restrained, chatting to Izaya about changes to the city in Russian, telling him about a few new specials they’d be having soon.
There was hardly anyone else in the restaurant and their food was done quickly. Shizuo snapped out of his watchdog routine when Dennis pushed it toward them, reaching over and grabbing it.
“Not staying to eat?” Simon asked both of them in Japanese. “Nice and warm in here. Lots of private booths.”
“Not tonight I’m afraid,” Izaya said, then added, “Maybe some other time,” for Shizuo’s sake.
They departed then, Izaya leading the way, not liking the knowing, even smug, look on Simon’s normally bland, welcoming face, Shizuo trailing behind him instinctively. Izaya hadn’t expected this would cause quite as big of an ordeal as it had. Shizuo looked like he was trying very hard to figure something out as they walked along. Maybe this would end up being more of a study on Shizuo than on himself, which figured. Shizuo had a bad habit of taking over Izaya’s thoughts and ideas suddenly and entirely. It made more sense this time, since he was directly involved, but that didn’t make it any less vexing.
They took the train back to Shinjuku. Normally Izaya wouldn’t have minded the walk, even enjoyed it, but his ankle was too sore and he couldn’t afford to be in pain for the rest of the night, or at least not in pain that he himself inflicted. So they left the white noise and blinking lights and ceaseless energy of Ikebukuro’s nightlife behind, earning a few strange looks that they paid no mind to. Izaya only had eyes for Shizuo on the train. Admittedly, two weeks was a pretty long stretch to have gone without. Knowing Shizuo he felt the same, but had stayed away because of something having to do with that misplaced concern he’d heard in his words earlier.
Izaya would make him wish he hadn’t by the time the night was up, he promised himself.
The silence between them stretched all the way to Izaya’s door which he paused to unlock. This all felt very strange and new. He couldn’t remember a time when Shizuo had entered apartment without the intent to break down the door if he had to or when he wasn’t already completely wound up from having shown up on his own, which Izaya knew was something of a last resort for the other man. But it was no matter. It was a night of trying new things, and that didn’t bother Izaya. He didn’t take very well to getting bored, and really, he didn’t think Shizuo did either.
He pushed the door open with his foot and entered without looking back at Shizuo, flipping on lights as he went. He shrugged off his jacket, noting that his antibiotics were still in there, not that he imagined they’d work any better than run-of-the-mill ibuprofen. Shinra liked to dig his hands as deep into Izaya’s pockets whenever he could, and he’d presented a very nice opportunity to do just that, so the fact that he’d most likely charged him triple for Advil was to be expected.
The warmth of the apartment made him shudder, as did the anticipation he always felt Shizuo was around, and particularly when he had him there in his home, his own domain. There was something he liked a great deal about seeing Shizuo walk around his apartment, kicking his shoes off at the door, setting the food down on the counter like a stray he’d trained to follow him home. Shizuo rubbed his hands together, muttering under his breath about the cold still.
Izaya took the interlude to slide closer to him, reach over and press his hand to one of Shizuo’s bullet wounds. Shizuo hissed and slapped at his hand, but he didn’t move it, only relented the pressure. “It’s not healed yet?” His shirt was rough to the touch, the starchy fabric stuck together with the dried blood, effectively sealing closed the tear that had surely resulted from the shot, even though his vest covered the worst of it, making it so he was able to walk around outside without drawing too much worry or attention. It was certainly one of the reasons Izaya himself wore so much black.
“No,” Shizuo growled. “It’s been two hours, tops, since it happened.”
Izaya hummed, removing his hand slowly, making sure his fingers trailed along Shizuo’s side before he went to start digging through the takeout containers. Shizuo huffed something that sounded like a laugh. “You’re actually going to eat right now?”
“Yes,” Izaya said as patronizingly as he could. “Why else would I buy it?” Having removed his order he pushed the rest of it toward Shizuo. He leaned up on his elbows against the counter, taking his weight off his bad ankle as he began eating, savoring the flavor of the sushi practically melting on his tongue. He was hungrier than he’d expected.
Shizuo shook his head but took his place across from him, pulling out his own food and starting in on it. “This is weird,” he muttered a few minutes later.
It was. Izaya was relishing it, seeing how Shizuo reacted. Everything about this would turn his expectations of Izaya’s behavior on their head, and this was only the beginning. More than anything though, he was watching him eat, observing him take the sushi, put it on his tongue, chew and swallow. In spite of everything he was clearly enjoying it, his expression softening, and it was making Izaya feel warm and sort of like the inside of his chest was expanding somehow. It was eerily similar to last time, and Izaya noted some of his initial assumptions as to what might be wrong with him being corroborated in front of his very eyes. He resisted allowing himself to get lost in the feeling, more determined than ever to continue his experiment.
“Want something to drink?” Izaya said instead of responding to Shizuo’s obvious sentiment.
Shizuo’s eyes were still wary, watching him closely, so Izaya made a show of putting the next piece of ootoro in his mouth, licking his fingers, making it far sloppier than it needed to be. He saw Shizuo swallow and his grip on the counter get tighter, and felt pride flare in his chest. “You trying to get me drunk or something?”
“I probably would have taken you to a bar if I’d wanted to do that,” Izaya said, although that wasn’t a half bad idea. He didn’t have the privilege of seeing Shizuo inebriated very often. Then again, he didn’t have much desire to get drunk, ever really, and he was more interested in natural reactions than ones spurred on by a powerful depressant. Besides, if they were drunk they’d probably already be fucking and they couldn’t have that.
Yet.
“But I’m sure I have something stronger around here somewhere, if that’s what you want.”
He pushed himself up off the counter, setting his weight back down on both his feet carefully and moving around into the middle of the kitchenette, brushing intentionally up against Shizuo as he went. Shizuo was scowling again. “I didn’t say that.”
“But it was on your mind or you wouldn’t have mentioned it,” Izaya pointed out lightly, opening up one of his cupboards to dig around in it. He didn’t buy a lot of groceries but liquor didn’t normally go bad, so there were a few bottles around for special occasions. He pulled two of them out along with a couple of glasses from a different cupboard, started to mix a couple of drinks. “Really, I should be letting you do this, shouldn’t I, Bartend-san? Of course, that would mean that I expect you to have remembered anything so many years later, which, given your track record…” Izaya trailed off uncertainly, picking up the two glasses and spinning to hand one over to Shizuo. It really wasn’t much, wouldn’t do much to either of them, but it was another offering, another test.
Shizuo snatched it from him, almost spilling it and Izaya chuckled. “You’re the last person who should be talking to me about that.”
“You’re still on that?” Izaya asked, slanting the question disappointed as he moved to stand next to Shizuo rather than across from him where he’d been stationed before. “I think Shizu-chan might have a grudge problem.” Izaya took a sip of his own drink, running the liquid over his tongue before he let it slide down his throat, scorching as it went. “I suppose if you didn’t we wouldn’t be here right now.”
Izaya worried briefly for the sake of his glass when Shizuo practically slammed it back down onto the counter. “Like you didn’t have anything to do with it.” Izaya turned so his hip was up against the counter, let his eyes meander up Shizuo’s tense form, lingering on veins being pushed up through the skin of his hand by his grip on the counter, the forced set of his shoulders, the way his jaw worked as he pushed his teeth together, let them meet Shizuo’s finally. “This thing wasn’t just my idea.”
“This thing” was it? Izaya thought, amused by Shizuo’s inability to put it to words, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t made much more progress on that particular front. The straight easy lines of “hate” had gotten smudged along the way somehow, like it’d been written up on a chalkboard and someone had wiped a hand over it, blurring it almost into illegibility, mistakable for something else entirely at times from the right distance. And that was probably the root of the problem, if Izaya cared to admit it. This game he was playing now was superfluous, he was realizing the longer this went on, but he decided he didn’t care. It was too much fun to stop now. “You were pretty eager to try it out though, weren’t you? Then again, I guess you must be pretty desperate.”
Shizuo’s expression grew darker and Izaya tensed in case he actually lashed out. He thought if he pushed off with his good foot he’d be able to hurdle the counter with relative ease. But Shizuo contained himself like an unstable isotope undergoing ionization at just the right time, expelling enough energy to keep from imploding. “Shut the fuck up. I didn’t invite myself over.” He knocked back the rest of the drink like it was a contest and he was going to win. “And I didn’t come all the way over here to talk.”
Izaya let his drink be, above being goaded into wasting good alcohol. “See? Eager.” He started walking, not sure where he was going exactly, but it didn’t matter: Shizuo was on his heels soon enough, backing him up against a wall, pressing in so close Izaya thought it felt like he was trying to suffocate him with his body. Still, he made himself relax, letting their bodies align, sliding a leg up Shizuo’s, hooking it around his thigh. He did it more to take the weight off his ankle than in any attempt at seduction, but Shizuo didn’t need to know that.
Shizuo’s mouth was already on his neck, a warm threat that made Izaya shudder, especially when he spoke and he could feel Shizuo’s teeth against his skin. “I’m just sick of you wasting my time.”
“Wasting?” Izaya echoed, lifting his chin to give Shizuo better access to his neck. This wasn’t how this was going to go—though Shizuo was admittedly good at it—but it wouldn’t hurt to lull Shizuo into a false sense of security over it at first. “Last time I checked I bought you dinner.”
Shizuo paused, which was interesting, even pulled back, using the leverage his hands which he’d placed on either side of Izaya’s head provided. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“But you let me.” Shizuo frowned like he was trying to come up with an appropriately outraged response, but Izaya interrupted him by laughing. “You don’t have to thank me, Shizu-chan. I wanted to. It was good, right?”
Shizuo was confused again which was useful because it gave Izaya time and space to escape the barriers of his arms, ducking underneath them and sliding out of reach, heading over toward the couch instead. It seemed he’d discovered a new variety of distraction to use on Shizuo. It was somewhat satisfying to give Shizuo a taste of his own medicine for once. Being unpredictable didn’t work well in Izaya’s favor most of the time seeing how he liked his actions to be more calculated, but he could make some occasional exceptions if he was going to throw Shizuo off so entirely.
Izaya heard Shizuo approaching behind him, still following like he was holding a leash, and he used it to his advantage. He walked right up to the arm of the closest couch, but stepped out of the way at the last second where he normally would have flopped down onto it or let himself be pushed. Shizuo didn’t stop in time and fell down onto the couch in his place with an “Oof” and a muffled curse. Izaya giggled and moved quickly, shoving at Shizuo’s side so he was on his stomach and climbing on top of him, pressing him down into the couch with the weight of his body. He was glad to have the weight off his ankle once and for all and to have captured Shizuo so handily.
Shizuo was disheveled and flushed red with exasperation, his brows a heavy line over his eyes as he fixed his glower on Izaya over his shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, and his voice was deeper, quieter in a way that made Izaya’s hips twitch out of habit.
Izaya pressed his hands against Shizuo’s back, dragging them down and up, back to his shoulders which he gripped onto, rubbing with more purpose. Shizuo froze up, his muscles stiffening under Izaya’s hands. “Hey, don’t do that,” Izaya complained, pressing down harder with the heels of his hands.
“What the fuck are you doing,” Shizuo demanded, not even bothering to give it the interrogative inflection such a question would normally have carried.
Well, at the moment Izaya was appreciating the way it felt to work the muscles of Shizuo’s back in his hands. He didn’t get to touch it like this as often as he did his chest, but it was equally impressive, strong and broad and warm. He drug his hands back down to push at his lower back and Shizuo made a noise in the back of his throat that was edged with relief, pushing on pleasure, and Izaya hummed back, noting the heat sliding its way down through his own body. Yes, there it is.
“Does it matter?” Izaya asked, trying to sound off-hand.
Shizuo didn’t respond, probably because he’d started pressing his face down into the couch, moving his arms up so his hands were set next to his face as brace points. Izaya started moving his hands in slow, concentric circles, widening slowly until he made his way back up to Shizuo’s shoulders where he took a detour, trailing his fingers up and down Shizuo’s arms, pausing to press his thumbs up against the inside of his elbows and wrists for no other reason than he liked how soft the skin there was, vulnerable in a way that was incongruent to the rest of Shizuo. He could feel Shizuo’s pulse there too, the way his heart was beating quickly like it did only after he’d been chasing after him for quite a while. It seemed Shizuo’s stamina was not an entirely consistent thing.
Really, he didn’t need to feel at his wrists to see how this impromptu little session was affecting the other man. His back rose and fell shallowly and rapidly, and Izaya could hear him breathing. More than that, even though he appeared to be fighting it, sounds kept finding their way out into the open, ripping free from his throat in little pained bursts, sounding more like keening than any noise he normally made. Izaya moved his hands back to his back, pushing harder than before on a particular knot he’d noticed, working it meticulously. When he got it out at last Shizuo groaned louder than before, his fingers twitching as he gripped at the couch cushions. He wasn’t even struggling anymore, just lying there and letting Izaya rub his back. Izaya could barely see how red his face had gotten in the low light of the room too, and all of it, the sight, the sounds, the situation as a whole were undeniably making his pants more than a little uncomfortable.
His own heart was pounding and he knew he was unconsciously echoing the noises Shizuo was making, could see how his hands were shaking, knew he was having to make a conscious effort to not grind against Shizuo. And if his earlier realizations hadn’t been enough, that answered his question in a way that was almost painfully clear. Still, he felt the need to keep pushing, maybe not because he was in any sort of doubt over how this was affecting him, but because of the way it was affecting him.
“Does it feel good?” And fuck it if his voice was rough already, catching in his throat.
Shizuo’s was worse and so much better, breathless and lazy, belying the way he was more or less slowly melting into the couch. Izaya didn’t think he’d ever seen Shizuo so relaxed around him when he still had his clothes on. “Yeah…” he sighed and shifted underneath Izaya, effectively rubbing against him.
Izaya moaned in reply and jerked his hands back, trying to gather himself. The response had shattered him so abruptly that he didn’t know what to do about it at first. Shizuo couldn’t help but one-up him, could he?
Something inside of Izaya was recoiling, demanding he get up, back away, get out of there. He felt like he’d been standing in the sun too long and had only recently noticed, but it was too late: he was hopelessly, obviously burned, probably even scarred from it. The two events were overlapping easily in his mind, right now and the last time they’d been together. In both cases Izaya had taken the initiative to pleasure Shizuo without any real incentive other than he felt like it and had ended up overwhelmed by the results.
To put it as precisely and scientifically as possible, the reoccurrence more or less proved that he, Orihara Izaya, was able to derive a great deal of pleasure simply from giving it to Shizuo and observing the effect it had on the other man.
Which was not how it was supposed to be. He was inherently, intentionally selfish as a creature, particularly in bed. He took what he wanted and if he was dissatisfied or got bored, he moved on. His sexual endeavors were to fulfill his needs, and his alone. He often went long stretches without seeking out partners, not seeing it as necessary, only time-consuming and generally disappointing. Shizuo was as much of anomaly as he always was, even with this. Izaya, thus far, hadn’t found himself even moderately bored, but that was probably to be expected. Moreover, Shizuo was, at his core, far too selfless for his own good. Izaya, for quite a while, had let him take control, do what he would, laid back and reaped the benefits of their trysts.
That explained pretty well why he hadn’t stumbled across this little issue before, though not why it existed in the first place. Something like this had implications that Izaya didn’t really want to think about, spoke of deeper feelings that should not have existed, shouldn’t have been able to even. It made him feel uneasy, anxious, thrown off balance because it was seemingly out of his control. He wasn’t supposed to want to do things like this—paying for dinner, giving a massage—much less enjoy them, especially not with Shizuo. Their interactions were meant superficial, carnal, a means to an end, not romantic as acts like those would indicate, and for a long time, they had been.
But somewhere along the way an error had been made, even if he couldn’t put his finger on when or how or even who was at fault, and now they were caught in the middle of a patch of unexplored territory, groping along in the dark, trying to reorient themselves. It was dangerous, like walking along the edge of a canyon, and Izaya had shoved them straight into the thick of it.
Shizuo had noticed his pause by then, throwing a concerned look back over his shoulder and Izaya suddenly thought he might have noticed this a lot sooner if he’d ever bothered to stick around long enough to wake up with Shizuo one of the nights he’d stayed over. He’d always risen earlier, mostly out of habit, but, if the way he looked now was any indication, he thought he wouldn’t have needed to bother with all this if he had. His eyelids were heavy, his eyes hazy, his hair rumpled, and Izaya didn’t think he’d ever felt such a strong need to kiss him.
The urge reminded him of other, more prevalent physical conditions, the heat in his stomach and the ache between his legs, and while all this was very new and bothersome, he decided he could get a handle on it later. Izaya had never been one to shy away from a little risk. And if making Shizuo feel good made him this aroused, well, better to use it to his advantage while he had the chance. If he repressed the feelings, locked them up away where they belonged, managed somehow to return their relationship back to the way it had been, he might never have another opportunity.
So he stepped down firmly on the anxiety in his chest, crushing it under-heel, let heat take over the majority of his brain functions instead, and ground down firmly against Shizuo’s ass.
Shizuo’s breathing stuttered, but, to Izaya’s delight he was soon pushing back. Let’s try this again, shall we? Izaya thought. Hesitation was annoying at the best of times, and he didn’t wear it well. He’d started this and there was no turning back now.
He reminded himself that even if he wasn’t as in control of himself as he’d like to be, Shizuo didn’t need to know that, and he was still in control of the situation at the very least. He could probably do whatever he wanted—to a point, of course; if he started pulling out whips and chains even in his present state where his defenses weren’t nearly as impenetrable as normal Shizuo would probably get spooked—and that power was intoxicating.
Izaya took a deep breath, leaning forward, pressing his chest up against Shizuo’s back, curling over him like he was trying to protect him from something, and fit his lips to his neck, kissing up to his ear where he then began to apply his teeth. Shizuo whined and Izaya couldn’t help but roll his hips against him again. He knew well enough that Shizuo would be able to feel how turned on he was when he hadn’t been touched hardly at all, but he didn’t really care. He’d never been self-conscious and he wasn’t about to start then.
“Roll over,” Izaya suggested, rolling the words over his tongue, turning them liquid. Anticipation rushed through him when Shizuo complied and he pushed himself up with his hands to give the other more space. As soon as he caught sight of Shizuo’s face he leaned down and slanted their mouths together, kissing him hungrily, pressing his tongue in when Shizuo tried to breathe, and that seemed to wake him up a bit. He didn’t seem to know where to put his hands, not used to being in the receiving position like this and it made Izaya chuckle, but he took pity on him, sliding his hands down to catch at Shizuo’s, drawing them up to his shoulders. That drew a frown out of Shizuo which was grounding for its familiarity, but he held on anyway, a bit too tight.
Izaya nipped at his lips once more and Shizuo pushed back like he was trying to shove him off with his mouth. Izaya used the momentum the force gave to sit up, pressing his hands back to Shizuo’s skin, dragging them down to his chest to where he could feel his nipples were and pushed down harder. “Shizu-chan’s so tense,” he commented, using the heels of his palms to rub slow circles around Shizuo’s pectorals.
Shizuo exhaled in another broken sigh and Izaya drank in how disgruntled he looked. Shizuo caught his eyes before he could drag them back down his body, and screwed his mouth up. Izaya forced himself not to frown. “You’re acting weird,” he forced out, accusatory. Izaya didn’t pause the motions of his hands, instead moving them up to start undoing Shizuo’s vest and the buttons of his shirt, letting a lazy smile stretch his mouth that wouldn’t really give Shizuo any of the answers he probably wanted, but would also rile him up further. “Weirder than usual,” he qualified and Izaya leaned down to bite hard at his collarbone in reply, sucking hard at the wound until Shizuo shoved him back.
“Quit,” he hissed, curling his body up so he could reach up and try to make a grab for Izaya’s wrists. He snagged them back, folding his arms behind him and sat back out of reach. (It didn’t really matter, since Shizuo could knock him off whenever he felt like it, but Izaya had found he had some odd penchant for adhering to set boundaries even when he didn’t have to: if Izaya sat on top of him he’d stay still, wouldn’t usually move him off, if he grabbed Shizuo’s wrists he wouldn’t rip them away forcibly, when they were like this at least, or unless Izaya was doing something he really didn’t like. It was almost cute when it wasn’t vaguely patronizing.) He supposed it meant something then when Shizuo did manage to grab on to his hands, circling his fingers around his wrists like handcuffs. “What’s your deal tonight?"
“Does it matter?” Izaya asked, repeating himself, twisting his hands slightly, testing how tight Shizuo’s grip was, seeing if he could escape the warm strength of his hands. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to be letting going any time soon which was irritating.
Shizuo looked conflicted, watching Izaya as cautiously as he had before, like he was still waiting for all of this to turn out to be some elaborate hoax, and maybe that was fair. He’d probably think Shizuo was pretty stupid if he wasn’t at least a little baffled by the night’s proceedings. He had scarily accurate perception at the worst of times. The problem was that Izaya was, in a way, just as thrown-off by it all as he was; the difference was that he was taking it in stride. Or he’d been trying to, at the very least.
“Since when do you want to talk about this?” Izaya pushed further, still trying to reclaim the use of his hands. “Isn’t it easier on your conscience when you just fuck me and move on?”
That was one step closer to the landmine Izaya knew was somewhere nearby as demonstrated by the way Shizuo’s hold started to hurt. Izaya forced himself not to show it. Whatever sense of ease he’d earned from his earlier ministrations was gone, replaced by the dark of frustration and offense. “Like you’re any better,” he growled and Izaya really wished he could say all of this was diminishing his arousal in the least instead of bolstering it forth, but there were some lies even he couldn’t pull off.
“I am, actually,” Izaya said, making sure his tone was as obnoxiously self-righteous as possible to cover up the half-lie he knew he had to give. The last thing he wanted to do was let Shizuo know what was going on. It was far too soon for that. “Because it doesn’t bother me. I’m not still clinging to some archaic notion that having sex has to be the result of some deeper emotional connection.”
Shizuo scoffed, threw his gaze off somewhere across the room for a few seconds before it was back and more penetrating than ever. “Then what the hell is all this? This isn’t just fucking. And what about last time?” Izaya couldn’t help the way his jaw twitched slightly at the mention and he started struggling harder against Shizuo. He hated it when Shizuo managed to have a coherent point in an argument. He’d never be able to comprehend how he could be so smart exactly when Izaya wished he wasn’t. “You said this doesn’t bug you, but what else do you call that? You’re such a liar.”
“You shouldn’t make assumptions,” Izaya said, giving up on his hands because Shizuo wasn’t going to let go while he was actively trying to get away. “For all you know I had a meeting to get to. Getting you off isn’t exactly my top priority, Shizu-chan.” Or at least it wasn’t normally; tonight was an exception.
Shizuo gritted his teeth. “Fine. Let’s pretend that’s true. What about all this? You fucking bought me dinner. You asked me back here and actually meant it. You were just rubbing my back.” Shizuo’s eyebrows drew together in honest confusion, and he shook his head slightly. Sometimes Izaya wished he wouldn’t wear all of his emotions so openly. It made it necessary to confront all of them head-on, take them in his hands, ride them out, and sometimes it was exhilarating, but mostly it was overwhelming. “What am I supposed to think?”
That was easy at least. “You’re not,” Izaya insisted, finally managing to twist his hands free. He reached one up to card it through Shizuo’s hair, grabbing a handful and holding on tight. He was tired of talking this out. He needed to sort it out for himself first, compartmentalize, regroup, and then they could have this little discussion if Shizuo was so insistent about it, but not tonight. Tonight was simple, a trial run, a minor shift, and Izaya was determined to keep it that way. “Did you ever consider maybe I want something from you?” It wasn’t even a lie, Izaya thought giddily.
That gave Shizuo pause. He squinted at Izaya, trying to riddle it out. Izaya thought he’d be gracious and give him a hint.
He slid back, further down Shizuo’s legs, dragging his hands down along with him, down to Shizuo’s thighs. He squeezed at the muscles there before he slid them down between, pushing his legs apart until there was enough space for him to fit. Shizuo didn’t even fight him, only watched for the time being, wary but not openly protesting. When he was settled Izaya pushed back forward, grinding up against Shizuo again, leaning up over him so their mouths were touching. “Don’t you think it’s time I had a turn? It’s only fair.”
Shizuo opened his mouth as if to speak but didn’t say anything, only lifted a lip. Izaya took it with his teeth, pulled the expression off his mouth, knocked their foreheads together. The frown was back as quickly as it’d gone, sprouting back up like a stubborn weed. “That’s what all this shit was about? You wanted to top?”
“Well,” Izaya began, tracing out the curvature of Shizuo’s arms as he spoke. He was still up on his elbows, curling toward Izaya, leaning in like there was some reason they had to be quiet. “I thought Shizu-chan would be embarrassed, so I ought to butter him up a little first.” When in doubt, making it into a challenge usually helped to drag the ball back into his court.
“I’m not embarrassed,” he snapped. “I don’t care about that stuff.” There was another brief silence and Izaya worried that Shizuo might keep pushing, but finally he seemed to accept the excuse as something like want came alight in his eyes. “You’d better hope you’re good, or you might not get a second shot.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Izaya said. “Let’s stop wasting time, shall we?” He pulled Shizuo’s arms out from under him, causing him fall back and darted after him to reclaim his mouth. When Shizuo started responding gripping hard at his back, pushing his hips at him, he went back to unbuttoning his shirt, thrilled to be back to exactly where he wanted to be, shoving aside the more psychological, esoteric side of all this for the time being, almost eager to see it go.
It felt very different to be between Shizuo’s legs like he was, feeling powerful thighs lifting up, squeezing at his waist, watching the other man spread them for him. The power trip it was giving him was like someone squirting a bit of tabasco into an already strong shot he’d ordered and downed without thinking. He groaned, moving so he could open his jaw and latch back onto Shizuo’s neck. He felt the beginnings of a growl under his lips, but ultimately all Shizuo did was drop his head back, lifting his chin to give him better access. Izaya laved the hurt with his tongue, practically purring at the thought of what was to come.
Most of their clothes were discarded hastily afterward, pulled off by frantic fingers because it really had been too long, but when they were gone, Izaya took his time trailing down Shizuo’s chest, mapping it out, kissing and rubbing much like before, and Shizuo seemed to enjoy it as much the second time, pushing up against his hands, responding on occasion with affirmative noises or, if he was lucky, a quiet, “There.”
Izaya took a detour at one point, dipping his hand around to Shizuo’s side to feel at where he could still see red staining the other’s shirt, pressing at the sensitive skin. Shizuo winced, but didn’t push his hand away. Izaya was careful with the wound, feeling at it but not applying too much pressure. The skin was rougher there, bunched up, already in the first stages of scabbing over, helped along by the row of stitches Shinra had applied.
“Does it still hurt?” Izaya asked, genuinely curious.
“Not a lot,” he admitted. “It only grazed me anyway. The guy was a shitty shot.”
“I can’t believe you thought I would waste money not just on a man to shoot at you, but not even to shoot at you well.” Shizuo frowned and Izaya bent down, kissing at the hurt. Shizuo made a small, sweet noise when he did and he moved on immediately afterwards, concerned by the feeling swelling in his chest.
Izaya played with his nipples for a while as well mostly because he never got to usually, and he more or less figured out why that was. He pinched at one and then rubbed at it with his thumb, noting how Shizuo hissed at him. “Sensitive?” he laughed and then started sucking on it before he could answer. Shizuo did eventually shove him off, swearing irritably at him, but his face was such a pretty red that Izaya didn’t feel too bad about it.
Bothering with foreplay, especially anything as meticulous as this, was a rarity for them, but Izaya thought it was doing wonders for how vocal Shizuo was being as well as for how crazy it was driving both of them. It took enormous restraint to keep up the agonizing pace he’d set when everything in him was aching to touch Shizuo or himself, but he knew it’d be worth it. Shizuo might have impulsively agreed to this, but if it was going to work, he would need to really want it. Just the thought of Shizuo begging made Izaya’s cock twitch.
He’d been nuzzling up against Shizuo’s hip bones when Shizuo tossed a frantic, “Izaya, fuck, hurry up,” down to him and he thought that would probably be for the best.
He pressed one more almost comically chaste kiss underneath Shizuo’s navel considering how close his face was to his erection before he jerked Shizuo’s boxers down without warning and wrapped his hand around his cock, twisting his wrist while he jerked up the way he’d learned Shizuo liked. Shizuo groaned low in his chest, dropped his head back down to the couch and pushed up into Izaya’s hand. Izaya stroked him harder for it, squeezing around the familiar weight in his hand. He set his free hand on Shizuo’s thigh, trying to keep him still because he kept moving and rubbing his ass up against Izaya, but it didn’t do much good. Eventually Izaya gave up and began grinding back, feeling a thrill rush through him when Shizuo opened his legs wider as a result.
“Izaya,” Shizuo gasped, and it was a warning, one that he didn’t need to complete for Izaya to understand. Still, he ran his thumb up the length of Shizuo’s cock a couple more times, squeezing at the head and wiping at the bead of precum that had formed there before he stopped. He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it off, unable to resist. Shizuo watched with parted lips and glassy eyes, chest heaving.
Need flared through Izaya’s body, and he had to physically scoot back some, move away to get a handle back on himself. He covered it by acting like he’d moved back to rub at Shizuo’s calves, turning his head to press his lips up against his knee.
“Don’t you fucking dare start that again,” Shizuo demanded weakly.
Izaya laughed and he could hear clearly how the arousal had dropped his own voice down lower. “Another day then.” He rubbed his cheek against the warmth of Shizuo’s skin, thawed completely from their earlier excursion up into the cold night. In fact, if Izaya didn’t know better, he’d say someone must have been playing around with his thermostat. The heat was almost suffocating, clouding his mind, making his movements less coordinated, making him itch for more. “Scoot back,” he said and Shizuo complied, pushing back so they were better centered on the couch.
Izaya sat up, forced himself to move away from the lovely brackets that were Shizuo’s thighs. “Where are you going?” Shizuo asked, and he sounded pretty frantic which was nice to hear.
Izaya might have poked fun at him at any other time, but he simply didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment, or the desire to waste more time. He was unsteady on his feet, and it wasn’t just because it wasn’t that easy to walk when he was as painfully hard as he was. His ankle was complaining again, reminding him abruptly of its presence which he’d more or less forgotten about, having been off of it and so completely distracted. It ached with a vengeance, but he did his best to ignore it. “Lube,” he said briefly by way of explanation. He’d taken to leaving some downstairs for convenience’s sake since they didn’t tend to make it all the way upstairs when Shizuo showed up unexpectedly, and he was enormously grateful for it then. He grabbed a bottle and hurried back to Shizuo who was being very good, not even touching himself. Izaya wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to do such a thing if their positions were reversed.
He’d kept his legs spread while Izaya was gone, but had pulled his boxers the rest of the way off which gave Izaya a fantastic view to return to. It made him forget his throbbing ankle just as quickly as he’d remembered it. His heart stuttered and he had to press his lips closed so he wouldn’t groan at the sight, choosing instead to strip out of his remaining article of clothing and crawl back between Shizuo’s legs as quickly as he could. Shizuo dragged him down, smashing their mouths together in a series of brief, messy kisses when he did and Izaya wondered how that alone was making him feel far drunker than the small bit of alcohol he’d consumed ever could. He didn’t know how Shizuo had become his own personal drug, but he wasn’t going to fight it. He wanted to take as much of him as he could, soak it up, and revel in the buzz he achieved from it, and he was going to.
Izaya pulled back, trailing his fingers down lower than they’d been before, rubbing with his thumb at Shizuo’s perineum experimentally, watching how the other man reacted, before he kept going. Shizuo’s nerves finally started to show when Izaya started rubbing slow circles around his entrance. He stiffened and looked down, watching carefully.
“Don’t worry,” Izaya assured him. He was past the point of concentration it would take to be mocking. “I’ll make it feel good.” He squeezed at Shizuo’s thigh with his other hand reassuringly.
Shizuo still didn’t look sure, but he nodded. “Okay.”
“You should at least trust me with this part,” Izaya chided. “I do this all the time.”
That drew a breathless laugh out of Shizuo that turned into a helpless noise halfway when Izaya pressed just the tip of his thumb inside of him, and fuck, already he could feel how tight and hot Shizuo was, but he had to remain focused. This would never work if Shizuo stayed the way he was, so Izaya set the bottle of lube to the side for the time being and ducked down, slinging one of Shizuo’s legs up over his shoulder. He’d already been thinking Shizuo looked good enough to eat anyway and he was nothing if not a man of his word.
Shizuo let out a shout when Izaya first started applying his tongue, running it around the rim. “’zaya,” he groaned, sounding scandalized, and Izaya had never heard that one before, but he thought he liked it, so he gave a couple more quick licks, pressing down open-mouthed against Shizuo. The other shifted his legs against Izaya, squirming, seeming caught in between trying to pull away and pushing up for more. The same went for the noise he was making which had become quieter but more constant. He was probably trying to fight it back, and really, that was the last thing Izaya wanted, so he worked more insistently with his mouth, pulling back to use the flat of his tongue instead.
He worked his tongue ardently, licking all the way up to the base of Shizuo’s cock at one point before he returned to press his lips in something of a kiss against his hole. Running his teeth lightly over the rim was the best for making Shizuo twitch, but it was also the best for getting him almost kneed in the head. He tolerated the longer, more insistent passes of his tongue much better.
Shizuo was shaking beneath him by the time he went to press his tongue inside, but he was pretty sure it was from arousal. Before he actually pushed in, he pulled back, unable to resist. “Want me to stop?” he asked, still rubbing at Shizuo’s hole with a couple of his fingers, slowly and with as little pressure as he could, teasing again.
The flush had spread down to Shizuo’s neck and he looked nicely debauched, but his eyes had slipped closed and he was still panting. Izaya’s cock throbbed as if trying to remind him of its presence, but he ignored it, far more interested in Shizuo’s response. There was a moment’s pause, but soon he began to shake his head slightly, and Izaya supposed that was good enough. He ducked back down and speared his tongue into Shizuo quickly. Shizuo groaned like he’d actually stabbed him and clenched up hard around Izaya, forcing him to pull back. Izaya huffed, but wouldn’t be deterred so easily. It took a couple more tries, but with a bit more coaxing Izaya could press his tongue in and out easily enough.
He moved it in steady thrusts, licking, searching, pulling back now and again to give attention to the outside. Shizuo squirmed at first, but settled into the sensation, even pushing back against him occasionally. That made it all more than worth it, and encouraged him to even start sucking against Shizuo at one point.
Izaya kept that up for a while, until Shizuo’s legs had gone limp around him, the one over his shoulder weighing heavily against him, but he didn’t mind. Shizuo had dug his fingers into the cushions of the couch as well, probably ripping it, holding on for dear life. If Izaya didn’t know any better, he’d think that Shizuo really liked being rimmed. The next time he pulled back though, Shizuo caught his attention.
“Izaya,” Shizuo said, slurring on his name. “Please. You’ve gotta…” He shook his head, unable to find the right words, but Izaya understood. His voice was strained, desperate and seeking, and Izaya found himself only able to nod back dumbly, reaching to grab the lube, pouring too much all over his hand. Shizuo hissed as some of it dripped down onto his stomach.
Izaya tossed it aside and smiled down at Shizuo as he rubbed the liquid to warm it up. “Shizu-chan tastes good,” he told him because he wanted to see the look on his face.
Shizuo scowled and it looked ridiculous on him when he was sweaty and breathing hard and so fucking hard against Izaya’s stomach. “Don’t say shit like that,” he grumbled, knocking his heel against Izaya’s back.
Izaya dragged a couple of fingers through the lube in his hand and pumped teasingly at Shizuo’s cock a couple of times before he ventured back down, tracing around Shizuo’s entrance again with the tips of his fingers, scratching lightly against the sensitive skin with his nails. “Why not? I thought you said you weren’t embarrassed.”
“I’m not,” Shizuo claimed, defiant as ever. “It’s—” He huffed, rolling his eyes back. “Whatever. Just get on with it.”
Izaya pursed his lips, not exactly happy about that response, but started pressing one of his fingers in anyway. His work before hadn’t helped much—it wasn’t like he could get his tongue very deep—but it had been a start and Shizuo’s body allowed the intrusion, even if he tightened up around him almost immediately after he was in, keening again. Izaya bit his lip, but stayed still. Pulling it out would probably only hurt more at the moment.
“You have to relax, Shizuo,” he said as calmly as he could, starting up rubbing at Shizuo’s thigh again, trying to ease the tense muscles of his legs. “I won’t hurt you.” He added, “Right now,” when he got a sour look in response.
“I know that,” Shizuo grumbled, taking a deep breath and that seemed to help. Izaya thought about reminding him that he’d had it worse: Izaya was smaller than he was and Shizuo’s fingers were bigger and if he could do it, Shizuo surely could handle a few of Izaya’s more slender digits, but he didn’t really want to piss Shizuo off at the moment and that seemed like the right way to start. Besides, he had a feeling that Shizuo wasn’t the type of guy to finger himself without prior prompting on his own time—quite the missed opportunity, really—, so he didn’t have that going for him like Izaya had.
He might after this, a small voice pointed out, and the thought made Izaya more determined to make this work than ever. “Just one,” he insisted, noting the way the pressure around his finger began to ease. A couple more patient minutes and he was able to begin easing it in and out, very slowly.
Shizuo was soft and warm inside and it took Izaya’s breath away. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to be really inside him. Well, he could, but he didn’t think that would be the best idea at the moment considering how close he already was just from watching all of this. He wondered vaguely if he could get off by pleasuring Shizuo alone, but that was another question for another day because Shizuo was loosening further and allowing him more room to explore.
“I’m going to put another in,” Izaya said, nudging with the tip already alongside the first.
“You don’t have to tell me,” came Shizuo’s gruff response, but Izaya thought he did. He didn’t want to lose progress by surprising the other man.
It was getting easier and easier as Shizuo adjusted to the sensation. Izaya knew from experience that was it was strange at first and probably did hurt at least a little, but he’d never found it unbearable and he hoped it was the same for Shizuo. Izaya eased his fingers in and out of Shizuo, curling and twisting them as he did, rubbing at his walls, opening him up further as his muscles went slack. He liked watching his fingers disappearing into Shizuo more than he would have liked to admit. He was so distracted he accidentally sunk in deeper than he had been before and managed to hit Shizuo’s prostate as a result.
Shizuo jerked below him, choking out another broken sound. Izaya licked his lips and did it again, circling the spot and then pressing against it hard. It made another “Fuck” pull free from Shizuo’s throat, made him sit up slightly and look down at Izaya who made sure to grin lazily back at him, still working his fingers. Shizuo shook his head, but his lips were curved up. He shifted again, bending his knees further, pulling them closer to his body without prompting. “I get why you like being fingered a little more now.”
Izaya laughed fully at that and added a third finger while Shizuo echoed him. The other man gasped, but didn’t clench up too much. Izaya’s movements grew more frantic, becoming more goal-oriented than they had been before. He pushed them in and out of Shizuo, going as deep as he could, spreading them and twisting occasionally, bumping up against his prostate now again and it didn’t take long before Shizuo was laying back and groaning from it again, trying to push back against the intrusion like he wanted more.
“Jesus, fuck,” Shizuo growled, snapping his arm out to stop Izaya’s movements. “You gotta stop. That’s…” He swallowed hard. “That’s way enough. There’s no way I’m not ready.”
Izaya was inclined to agree but he was being careful, and also thoroughly enjoying finger-fucking Shizuo. He gave a couple more quicker, harsher pumps before he eased them out. It made Shizuo groan and Izaya knew exactly how that felt, the ache that came from being so suddenly empty, the anticipation that buzzed through your skin about what was going to happen next, and the odd need that was suddenly present because of it. Shizuo’s expression held all that and more. It was so open and raw and Izaya leaned up to kiss him before he could stop himself, latching on like he couldn’t breathe unless it was with Shizuo’s lungs.
He searched blindly for the lube when something else occurred to him, breaking through the fog in his brain. Shizuo tried to follow him with his mouth when he pulled back which was unfairly attractive, but he eventually relented. “Wait,” Izaya said and the face Shizuo made at the word was hysterical, strung-out and furious.
“What now?” he demanded like this was the third time in a minute Izaya had interrupted rather than the first.
“Do you want me to put on a condom?” Izaya asked, swallowing down his laughter. He tended to like when Shizuo didn’t wear one, but he knew that wasn’t the case for everyone.
“Can you reach one from where you are right now?” Shizuo asked immediately, impatience coloring his words.
“No,” Izaya admitted. He’d have to get back up because he hadn’t been thinking that far ahead before. “But—”
“Then forget it,” Shizuo said decisively. “I’ve had your dick in my mouth before. It’s not that different. If we were gonna catch something from each other, it would have happened months ago.”
Izaya couldn’t say he didn’t like it when Shizuo spoke with such certainty, especially like this. He was still Shizu-chan, after all, and Izaya wouldn’t want it any other way. “Very well.”
He had to bite back what would have been an embarrassingly loud groan when he finally slicked himself up. He was going to be sore the next day so inattentive had he been to himself. He couldn’t find it in himself to really regret it, but finally giving his cock some attention was an enormous relief on the pressure that had been building in his abdomen. Still, he made it quick, not wanting to delay this any longer.
And then, in spite of himself, he took a moment to take it all: Shizuo on his back with his legs spread, looking so sure about all this, flushed and needy, breathing heavily. There was no doubt that Izaya loved making Shizuo angry. He loved riling him up, pushing his buttons, going too far and bearing witness to the results, but this. This was something so completely different from anything he’d ever elicited before, anything he’d ever earned from Shizuo, but he wanted to do it again already and it wasn’t even over yet. And there probably was something deeper to that, Izaya knew, but there wasn’t time to ponder that right now.
Right now, he could only think how, even though he didn’t consider it very often, the man before him was breathtaking, particularly when he knew exactly what he wanted. Izaya could see it all over his face, and he knew neither of them could wait any longer.
Izaya lined up and groaned Shizuo’s name as he began to push in. It was so much more intense than even having his fingers completely inside, setting his nerves on fire and making his vision go fuzzy around the edges. Shizuo groaned in response, squeezing his eyes shut and reaching up to grab onto Izaya’s shoulders. He did tighten up at first, but Izaya drew a hand down to tug a couple of times on Shizuo’s cock, and it wasn’t hard then to push all the way in so he was flush up against Shizuo.
Izaya squeezed his eyes shut, clutching hard at Shizuo’s hips and breathing heavily. He knew he needed to give it a second, let Shizuo adjust, but it was killing him not to start moving already. The pressure around him was fantastic and unbearable. He thought he might have gone just a bit too far working both of them up. He held himself still though; he couldn’t hurt Shizuo now. He didn’t want to leave him with a bad memory of this or it would take forever to talk him into trying it again—and they were going to do this again sometime.
But once again, he hadn’t accounted for Shizuo, or not well enough anyway. “Izaya,” he grated out and it sounded so much like a threat that it made Izaya shiver. “You’re not gonna hurt me. So if you don’t start moving, I’m going to make you move.” He already was, pushing his hips back and forth weakly, trying to urge him into motion.
Izaya whined at the permission he’d been given and pulled back, thrusting back in hard and deep, freezing both of them again. Izaya let the first wave of sensation roll over him, before he started up a rhythm in earnest. It was ridiculously hot inside of Shizuo and the friction was delicious. Better yet was the way Shizuo kept jerking his hips up like he was trying to help and the noises that kept pouring out of his mouth like he couldn’t even be bothered to fight them any longer. Shizuo had never been particularly vocal, so this was completely new and Izaya was loving it.
Shizuo’s legs had fallen open all the way, one of them dangling down off the couch onto the floor, but his grip at Izaya’s shoulders never went slack. It hurt, a dull ache in the back of his mind, but Izaya didn’t want him to stop at all. In fact, he thrust into him with more force in some attempt at a reward. Since Shizuo’s were occupied, Izaya wrapped one of his hands around Shizuo’s swollen cock and began to work him roughly, matching his short, quick thrusts stroke for stroke. Shizuo moaned and it got stuck on the syllables of his name and Izaya didn’t think his chest had ever felt so tight.
When Shizuo came the noise he made sounded like a sob, but he pushed back against Izaya’s thrusts all the way through his orgasm. Izaya sort of never wanted it to end, but between Shizuo’s muscles convulsing around him and the way he looked and sounded when he came, Izaya was following right after him. His mouth was so dry and his whole body ached, but he was finally there, pushing his way through his climax, groaning Shizuo’s name instinctively, before he stuttered to a halt, more or less falling right over onto Shizuo’s chest.
Well, maybe some things didn’t have to change.
Izaya reassembled the pieces of his mind into something that looked like it might actually produce meaningful thoughts after a couple of minutes, noted the return of the distant ache in his ankle that was part of his consciousness once more, and forced himself to turn his head to look at Shizuo who still had his eyes closed. He couldn’t quite reach his mouth from where he was, but he could get at his neck, so he kissed that, paying special attention to his jugular and the area under his jaw, until Shizuo’s eyes slid back open.
His hair was sticking up everywhere, his face was still covered in a sheen of sweat, and his mouth was open as he tried to catch his breath: Izaya thought he looked fantastic. He could feel and hear the heavy beating of Shizuo’s heart underneath his chest. He looked sated and exhausted, his neck splotched red here and there where Izaya had marked it up, and his eyes were so abnormally soft when he looked at Izaya that he bent his head to suck another mark into Shizuo’s neck so he wouldn’t have to think about it. Not tonight, he thought insistently to himself. Just this tonight.
Shizuo clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook him off, drawing his arms up and flopping them down heavily around Izaya’s back, pressing them together which would probably be gross in a few minutes, but Izaya tolerated it at the moment. “Well,” he said, and his voice was extraordinarily rough. It didn’t matter; trying to start up a conversation would be better than thinking. “Did I live up to Shizu-chan’s standards?”
Shizuo made a noise that was probably supposed to be a scoff but made no other move to reprimand him. “What the fuck do you think?”
“I think I’d like to hear you say it.” And he really would, more than anything, because that had been what this whole thing had been about, really. It was what was going to make all of this worth it, all the rules that had been broken, all the risks taken, everything he’d have to deal with when he woke up the next morning and remembered what had happened and what it all meant. The pain it would be in Izaya’s side would be eased, however, he knew, if Shizuo would answer him the way he wanted him to. It would be enough to justify it, at least for a while.
“Of course you would,” Shizuo grumbled and Izaya could feel him shaking his head again and started to think up another strategy to pull an answer out of him, but it turned out he didn’t need one. “It was…fuck. I never really got why you let me do that to you so easily the first few times. I thought you’d fight me for it, but you never did, but…I get it now, I think. But if you ever take that long again, I really will flip you and do it myself.”
Izaya laughed quietly, not bothering to fight down the steady warmth that had grown in his chest. He’d gone much too far to turn back. “I’ll look forward to it.” He knew this was the part where one of them got up and got lost, leaving the other alone and naked and cold, but sated. A part of him wanted desperately to stand and put some distance between the two of them, because all this felt eerily close to cuddling, which was off-putting to even think about, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and he was certain it had something to do with the fact that he was at least 80% sure he could get off just from fingering Shizuo.
Silence had fallen between them, heavy because of everything neither of them were saying, and ultimately it was Shizuo who started to move, shifting underneath Izaya, pulling his arms back and moving like he was going to sit up. “I’ll…get going then,” he muttered.
Izaya sat up, and they both winced when he pulled out. Something panicked twitched around inside of Izaya though, and before he could think it through, he was saying, “You could use my shower, if you want. Before you go.” Shizuo frowned at him, already back to being wary. Izaya swallowed hard. “It’ll be hard to walk home like that. I’d know.”
Shizuo winced at the thought, glanced to the side, and nodded. “…okay. Thanks.”
Izaya lasted exactly three minutes and twenty-three seconds standing on his own in his empty apartment, glancing around at where he’d left most of his clothes, thinking about the meetings he had the next day, deciding he probably ought to get some ice to put on his stupid ankle, watching as tiny flakes of snow began to drift down outside, wondering how much it would cost to fix the couch, listening to the distant sounds of the shower, demanding to know when he’d grown so reckless and why it was you only noticed change after it had already happened, and pausing only to chug down the rest of his abandoned drink before he was knocking on the bathroom door. “Hey, Shizu-chan.”
“Yeah?” came Shizuo’s hesitant reply after a few seconds, his voice quieter after having come through the wood.
“Want to stay the night?”
The pause was longer that time, stretching itself out in a way that made anxiety start to scratch at Izaya’s chest, but finally, there was a simple, “Sure,” in reply, and it didn’t sound quite as suspicious as before.
It was a start. Izaya went to begin cleaning up so he could be upstairs and in bed by the time Shizuo was finished. The anxiety hung around like an obnoxious bug buzzing around Izaya’s ears until Shizuo finally appeared in his doorway, glancing around like he was expecting a trap. They didn’t come up there very often and Shizuo never stayed the night, so Izaya suspected he’d never had the chance to really look at it. He seemed to make up for that then, his eyes flicking all around as he approached, landing everywhere but on Izaya himself. His movements were slow, but not exactly nervous.
He sat down on the opposite side of the bed as Izaya, causing the mattress to decompress further with the added weight, still not meeting his eyes, but looking generally tired and unlikely to bolt at any second. The only thing he’d bothered to throw back on were his boxers and, in contrast, Izaya couldn’t drag his eyes away. When their eyes finally met again, he offered Izaya a small smile that made his chest feel tight again. There was something understanding in his gaze, like he knew what it was that Izaya had been trying to figure out all night and knew that, really, Izaya knew it too. It was terrifying, but it was also oddly comforting, like sharing a secret. It was a reminder, Izaya thought, that he wasn’t alone in this, wasn’t the only one dealing with this shift in their reality, for better or worse, and when Shizuo set his hand down on top of his, curling his fingers, still so warm from the shower around Izaya’s he didn’t flinch back from it.
Shizuo’s voice was quiet when he spoke, like he knew better than to say it too loud. “What was that about not asking me to pick out curtains?”
It might have been insulting if Izaya wasn’t asking himself the very same question.