Ello ello, my lovely readers! I've been wanting to write an Shizaya story, and so, I have written one. I would really appreciate R&R. Thanks ^_^
Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara! or any of its characters.
Lies
"I'm bored," I sigh, spinning around and around on my swivel chair. Feeling ignored, I drug my heel into the wooden floor, stopping the chair in mid-spin, facing Namie and said, louder than before; "I'm bored!"
Namie sighed, sitting up from where she was sitting on the floor, setting down the stack of books she was shelving. She came up to my desk, leaning over it and said: "And just what would you like for me to do about it?" I could tell she was already annoyed with me, not that I minded.
I sat forward, setting my elbows on the desk, resting my chin on my clasped hands. Looking up at her, smirking. "I don't know, entertain me." I wriggled my eyebrows at her, getting a disgusted look in response. She tsk'd and turned, resuming her work. "Kidding! I'm only kidding! I have no interest in women right now." I slumped back into the leather chair, closing my eyes.
"Why not go bother Shizou if you have absolutely nothing to do." I could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice, knowing that I have work to do, but I was too bored to do any of it.
"Hmmm. . . " I let the thought swim in my head. "I've already fought him enough times before that it's nearly boring now. So why bother? It'd just be a waste of my time."
"True. . . but what if you were to get close to him? And use him, manipulate him, find out any secrets, interestingly embarrassing facts that you can use against him." Now this has interested me.
"How would I do this?" I ask, deciding to go with the idea.
She smiled, walking towards me, slinking around my desk and stopped in front of me. She leaned forward, placing her hands on each side of me, her nails digging into the armrests. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said; "Why not find out for yourself?" I smiled up at her, knowing what she was trying to do; she was trying to get into my head and do something she wants to see come to failure.
It's worth a shot.
"Why not? What do I have to lose?" I said.
"Why did you call me here again?" He asked for the tenth time already. He looked at me over the top of his sunglasses, his finger running over the rim of the small glass of liquor that held whiskey inside.
I pushed the food on my plate around with my fork, trying to hide my smile. "Can't I just treat a friend to dinner-oh, you're not even eating." I said, sounding hurt.
"I told you I ate before I came here, you know. But you insisted that I come here, so here I am." He sounded so nonchalant as he said it, like he was bored.
"Hmm, well, you could talk, you're just sitting there, like you don't want to be here."
He looked at me while he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a long, slow sip of the honey-colored liquor. He looked like he was thinking, contemplating what he was going to say next. "So why did you really ask me to come here? Don't lie to me, I want to know the truth."
I smile then, looking at him full-on. The small table barely gave us any room between us so that we are close to about a foot away from each other. Instead of saying anything, my hand shot out and clutches his bow tie.
He could've blocked that, I thought, the alcohol must be slowing his movements.
Before he could do anything to stop me, I pulled, hard, dragging him forward so that his upper body leaned over the table, knocking over the small glass of whiskey he was drinking. I brought his face close to mine, and roughly, pressed my lips on his.
The bitter taste of liquor and cigarettes filled my mouth as I forced his lips apart with my tongue. I felt him shudder under my touch-out of embarrassment, anger, or pleasure? I don't stop to think as I continue. Slowly, I let go of his bow tie, letting my hand slide down. With my other hand, I let it travel upwards, wrapping it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
Wait. I didn't mean to take it this far. Why? Why can't I stop?
My fingers skim the ends of his soft, blonde locks, gently tugging at them. A low groan escapes from him. My other hand undo the buttons on his vest, and he lets it fall off him, landing on the floor in a small, black heap. I tug his white button-up out of its hold, and let my hand run over his smooth skin.
Why? Why doesn't he stop me?
I lose myself in the kiss, letting myself melt into his arms. I could feel the warmth that radiated from his body through the thin cotton shirt. His hands cup both of my cheeks as he kisses me back.
I need. . . to stop. I need to. . . end this.
His lips are soft and gentle as he presses them against mine. I let him kiss me. I let him take off my jacket. I don't want to stop him.
Why don't I want to stop this?
Oooh! What will happen in the next chapter? Seriously, I wrote this in less than 30 minutes because I was bored and this story popped into my head and I just had to write this, so even I, have no idea what I'll write in the next chapter. Soooo... yeah. :P