Originally posted at the Drrr Kinkmeme on Livejournal.
The prompt: Shizaya- desperation, consensual master/slave
Izaya has always been in love with Shizuo but desperately maintains his hateful front to protect himself and his heart, figuring if he can be near Shizuo and do things to ensure his attention always comes back to Izaya, that will be enough. But then something happens (maybe someone innocent gets really hurt by him for the first time in years, in the course of a rage Izaya's inspired, and he decides he needs to live in seclusion - and away from Izaya - for everyone else's safety?), and Shizuo decides to leave Ikebukuro, for good. And for whatever reason (Tsukumoya Shinichi helped block or circumvent Izaya's information networks? Celty is going to fly him wherever he needs to go so he has no need for plane tickets?), Izaya can't find out where that is.
So Shizuo is going to leave and Izaya is not going to be able to follow, and suddenly protecting his heart becomes a lot less important than finding a way for Shizuo to stay near him. So Izaya breaks into Shizuo's apartment, dresses himself up in fetish gear (cock ring, butt plug, ties his arms and legs together in a kneeling position when he's done), and offers himself to Shizuo as a sex slave, if he'll just take him with him wherever he goes. Izaya will let Shizuo do anything he wants to him, as long as he doesn't leave him behind.
Shizuo balks at first, the entire idea is to get away from Izaya and the uncontrollable rages he inspires!, but when he angrily mutters something like "what I want is for you to slit your wrists in front of me" and Izaya crawls to where his switchblade is lying and proceeds to do exactly that, Shizuo realizes he's serious.
yeah what I want is just, Shizuo going someplace to be apart from society, to protect society, and taking a desperate Izaya with him. Being rough and cruel with Izaya at first, and Izaya accepting all of it because it's better than losing Shizuo completely. And then Shizuo eventually falling in love back when he realizes he's finally meeting the sincere, genuine Izaya, and liking him. Angst and angry D/s smut and a happy ending please. :c
The following story contains M/M - please don't read if that's not your thing. If it is, enjoy! ;)
Wherever You Will Go
Chapter One
[Are you sure you're doing the right thing?]
The only sound breaking the heavy silence in Shinra's apartment was the agitated tap-tap-tap of Celty's fingers on her PDA's keypad.
"Now now, Celty, I'm sure Shizuo's given his decision plenty of thought—"
[I wasn't talking to you!] The PDA almost smacked Shinra in the nose, before it whipped back around to face the blond sitting on the edge of the couch, body tense enough to snap. [Have you?]
"Yeah."
[But all your friends are here, your family… I know what happened was—]
Shizuo didn't see the rest of whatever she was typing, stilling her fingers with one hand over hers. Whatever she was going to say, it wouldn't be the half of it. There were no words, not this time.
"Please. I don't know anyone else who can do this."
Celty sighed, the smoke curling from her neck dancing restlessly. She took a long moment to type her next sentence.
[But it isn't fair. Everyone knows it wasn't your fault.]
Everyone except him, apparently. But unlike far too many of his friends, he really wasn't into deluding himself. It was his fault. Everything he'd spent his life trying to avoid had come to pass. On some level, he'd always expected he'd be prepared for it; he'd had a lifetime to learn to fear it, after all, years to rehearse how he might feel, how he might react.
He'd never expected to feel this empty. Maybe that's how it was supposed to feel when the last vestiges of being human, of being a good person, were ripped away.
The hands on his knees tightened into fists of their own volition, and out of peripheral vision he saw Celty and Shinra tense. Probably wondering how much of their apartment would escape unscathed.
When he first got here, Shinra, ever the gracious host to wounded creatures showing up on his doorstep unannounced, had shoved a steaming hot cup of coffee – extra cream and sugar – into his hands. At the first mention of the flea's name, the mug was reduced to splinters of china. He forced his hands to relax, and tugged absentmindedly at the coffee-stained cuffs of his shirt, trying not to think about how disappointed Kasuka would be with him now.
Because that's all I do. Break things. Ruin things. And that goddamn flea just makes me—
Even as he thought it, bitterness clawed at the back of his throat, making it hard to breathe. No… the flea might be the fuel, but it had been his own choice to strike the match. He was everything they said he was: dangerous; no self control; just a stupid beast. Surely if he wasn't, he'd have been able to find some scrap of restraint by now. But no. One look at those smug red eyes, that infuriating smirk and everything he thought he'd managed to ram through his thick head just vanished.
"This is the only thing I can do." He shook his head. "If things carry on like they are… He's not gonna stop, you know? And I can't…"
I can't let anyone else get hurt.
Maybe Celty was right; maybe it wasn't fair. In an ideal world, the flea would grow the fuck up, learn to leave well enough alone, and quit with his stupid, dangerous games. In an ideal world, Shizuo wouldn't have to live looking over his shoulder, just waiting, endlessly waiting for the next disaster.
"One of us has to walk away," he said eventually. "I don't give a shit that it's me, as long as it stops before it does any more damage."
"Hmm, there is a sense of taking the moral high ground to it…" Shinra pondered.
"Screw the goddamned moral high ground," Shizuo growled under his breath. Even if there was such a thing in this wreck of a situation, he sure as hell had no more right to it than the flea. Not anymore. So really, there wasn't much to stay for. At least, nothing that wouldn't be far better off without him. "I'm sick of seeing that fucking flea's face, anyway."
After a moment's silence, Celty began typing again.
[If this is really what you want, then yes, I can help you.]
For the first time in a long while, a little thread of tension began to loosen the deathgrip it had wound around Shizuo's spine. He felt his shoulders lower a fraction as he nodded, managing a small, genuine smile.
"Thank you."
Bakyura has just joined the chat.
Bakyura
Hey, did you guys hear? One of the people who were in that accident last week died today.
Saika
Oh no! That's terrible.
Tanaka Taro
Are you sure? It might just be gossip.
Bakyura
It's not gossip, it was just on the news.
Kanra
Wah, so scary~! (°д° ) You know, it's all the Beast of Ikebukuro's fault. Maybe now he'll be locked away for a lo~ong time.
Tanaka Taro
I don't think that's fair, Kanra-san. No one's really blaming him for this, are they?
Bakyura
Tanaka Taro
What, really?
Kanra
Of course! He's a scary monster! Ohhh, someone needs to come and protect meeee~!
Bakyura
No, it might be true. This isgossip, but there are rumours that he's gonna leave Ikebukuro for good because of this.
Saika
Really?
Tanaka Taro
That'll be strange. It won't be the same if he really does leave. Where will he go?
Bakyura
Who knows? At least we might be able to find a vending machine that works now.
Tanaka Taro
Well, maybe that's true…
Tanaka Taro
Did Kanra-san leave? And speaking of which, Setton-san isn't around tonight?
Saika
Ah, Setton-san was here earlier but had to leave. I think someone came to the door.
Tanaka Taro
Oh, I see.
Kanra
Ahh, did you miss me Taro-chan? (*´ε`*)I just have things to do, so I'll be leaving now.
Bakyura
Gonna go die?
Kanra
Bakyura-chan is so meeeean! (;´д` )Bye-bye-bee! ~
Kanra has just left the chat.
Turning away from his computer, Izaya flicked on the television. The news anchor was droning on about the horrendous economy – Izaya never saw the problem; his economy was doing just fine, thank you very much – but the scrolling newsfeed across the bottom of the screen backed up the chatroom gossip.
'Pedestrian injured in Ikebukuro traffic accident dies in hospital'
Turning the TV off with a muted click, Izaya leaned back in his chair, and tried to identify and catalogue the odd, cold creeping sensation in his chest. Rubbing a hand against it, he stared up at the ceiling and began to plan a counter measure.
So someone died, that much was true. Still, Shizu-chan wouldn't run away just because of something like this. Shizu-chan never ran away, that was about the only predictable thing about him. Even if the world screeched to a halt – oh, the irony of that! – Shizu-chan would still be there, hurling insults and vending machines. Of course he would, because that never changed. Regardless of what Izaya did, that never changed.
Ah, well. Confirming it one way or another was simple enough. Rolling his shoulders to try and ease the strange stiffness, he spun the chair back around to the computer. A few clicks brought up one of the most deeply encrypted files on his system, the one that ranked along with his handy list of corrupt politicians and yakuza informants.
One of the first items in the folder was a photo from a couple of weeks back. Before the accident. Before he could even think to stop himself, he clicked to open a larger version of the image. It looked like a grey, drizzly day in Ikebukuro, though those ubiquitous sunglasses were firmly in place. As usual, Shizuo trailed his boss by a few paces, but there was something in the relaxed way he held his fast-food-joint milkshake, and the almost-smile on his face that turned the man in the photo into a stranger.
I never see that Shizu-chan.
Not that he wanted to. He scowled at the screen as though it had become possessed and opened up the photo all by itself. No, that'd just render everything he'd done for the past too-many years utterly useless. He clicked the red 'x' in the corner of the photograph.
'Do you want to delete? Y/N.'
It was a form of self-torture, really. He should just delete it, delete the whole thing and forget.
Right. Last time he tried, he'd jolted awake at four in the morning, stumbled over to the desk, and retrieved the folder from the recycle bin before he could erase it all in some careless move.
Well, if he ever did careless, anyway…
'N'. Click.
It was all just a matter of risk assessment, and this was something he could keep with minimal risk. Out there, dodging projectiles and feeling the adrenaline make him reckless, that was too much risk. So, for the days his will felt shaky at best, the days when careless did threaten to ruin it all and no amount of talking himself down did the trick… for those days, there was a folder full of a complete stranger, and it was enough to remind him why. Why dodging vending machines was already plenty.
So that can never change. That can never stop. That's why he can't just leave.
Steering himself off that particular train of thought, he clicked open the data file, scrolling down to the information filed under 'current address'. A couple of cross references later and he was dialling the number for Shizuo's landlord.
"Can I help you?"
"Ah, I'm so sorry to bother you this late, I just heard that one of the apartments in your building was going to be available soon?"
"Oh, you mean 22?" The man sounded surprised. "I didn't know we'd started advertising, the lease was only cancelled yesterday. But yeah, the current tenant should be out by the end of the week. If you're interested I can show you around tomorrow?"
The end of the week? Didn't leases have proper termination clauses in Shizuo's low-brow little world? How could he even afford to break a lease right now? Who the hell was helping him?
I thought there'd be more time…
But then, trust a protozoan to be inconsiderate of others' well crafted plans. The smile that tugged at his lips as the thought didn't quite feel right, though. He glanced at his distorted reflection in the dark glass of the television screen, where his smile came back to him as more of a grimace.
Huh. It wasn't as though he was in pain or something…
"Hmm…" He flicked through a book – some boring novel, forgotten and discarded – on his desk, pretending to look through a schedule that had just turned non-existent. "I should be able to manage tomorrow. What time?"
"Ah, around three? Unless you'd rather wait and talk to the current tenant, he'll be working till—"
"No, three is perfect." Absolutely perfect. "I'll see you then."
