Hello all! :D This is Maggie with... WHAT. DRRR! fanfiction...? Yeah, total surprise, right? I'm totally a Hetalia whore. XD I took a break just to write this naughty little one shot that's totally crappy and probably really OOC 'cause I wrote it in like, a few hours. But I like seme!Masaomi, so yeah.
I also took a liking to calling Masaomi by his first name rather than last name. It's a personal preference. :/
Oh, and the title is from a Ludacris album. P: I don't even like hip-hop.
"Release Therapy"
Masaomi doesn't know what has overcome him as he pins Izaya to the closest brick wall in the alley, restraining his wrists above Izaya's head with his shaking hands.
Izaya isn't fazed; on the contrary, he's smirking, those damned lips curling into an emotion that is nothing short of mocking. "Look at you go," he remarks, chuckling. "Are you still mad at me for everything I've done to you and Saki? I'm sure she would tell you otherwise."
"Shut up," Masaomi growls, feeling his heart pound in his ears at an alarming rate. Something about Izaya brings him this rush, this feeling of adrenaline that courses through his veins and makes him want to kill someone.
But that feeling is fading fast, and he realizes just how close he is to the informant. His breathing is ragged and uneven, his amber eyes meeting the ruby of the man that has made his life so miserable. Why is he here? Why has he tracked down this man? He doesn't remember anymore, nor does he want to. It's nothing but blind rage, and it's driving him insane, yet it somehow brings him to clarity.
Izaya senses that the Yellow Scarves' leader has been brought down from this high. He does not struggle against his hold, just keeps calm as Masaomi stares at him with something similar to confusion. The boy clearly doesn't know what he's doing or why he's here, nor does he want to know. It's not about the past or the future; it's about what is happening now.
"You're angry," Izaya states, "yet you don't know why. Is this really about Saki, or is it something else?"
Masaomi sneers; he knows Izaya is just toying with him as usual. He doesn't answer, only tries to meet Izaya's gaze with the same vigor the informant gives him. His hands are tight and shaking around Izaya's thin wrists. He's gotten this far, but what's next? He's absolutely frozen, both in his mind and in his body.
He knows Izaya sees right through him, dissecting him like a bug under a microscope. Masaomi gulps; is he that easy to read? Perhaps he is without realizing it.
"You want release," Izaya observes knowingly, that smirk returning. "Release from the pain, from everything inside you. You want to know it will be all right, even if just for a moment. You're tense, Masaomi. You need to give in and just do." With each word Izaya speaks, he inches his face closer to Masaomi's until they're mere breaths away from touching. Masaomi's breath hitches; what the hell is Izazya getting at? He knows the answer, but it is wrong—it's a last resort.
Izaya leans in and presses his tongue to Masaomi's ear, toying with his earring with the slimy pink muscle. Masaomi can't breathe. Not with the informant doing such sinful things.
"I wonder, Masaomi… is this turning you on?" Izaya teases, already knowing the answer to his own question. Now it is a matter of what Masaomi does next that changes everything.
Masaomi knows this is a trap, just another way or Izaya to win like he always does. Still, he gives in, crashing his lips to Izaya's with such vigor that the back of Izaya's head hits the brick wall. Izaya growls into Masaomi's mouth, and takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. They are animalistic, bruising and crashing and fighting, not caring of the consequences to come. Masaomi feels the tension slowly beginning to drift away, and he hates and loves the fact that Izaya is right as usual—he needs to relieve this tension.
Without thinking, Masaomi snaps his hips up against Izaya's, the clothed bulges in their pants beginning to grind. He needs this, needs this vigorous contact, needs Izaya's moans on his neck, needs to know that this is the only way. His shaking hands move to grip Izaya's hips, and Izaya's arms move around Masaomi's neck, bringing them closer.
There is no true battle for dominance; they are both moving vigorously against each other as their lips crash and crash again, only coming up for the briefest of moments for air. Saliva connects their tongues; Izaya's lips are swollen, Masaomi notices, and his chin is covered in their spit exchange. However, it is the sexiest thing he's ever seen—Izaya has never looked so submissive and wanting.
Masaomi's hands have a mind of their own as they snake to Izaya's belt, deftly undoing it. Izaya buries his head in Masaomi's shoulder and moans as the gang leader cups his hardening length with rough hands. He shudders as his cock is released from the confines of his pants—the Ikebukuro air is cool and in contrast to Masaomi's warm hand, it is almost too much for the informant.
Masaomi kisses Izaya again, his tongue moving against the other's in time with his pumps. One would note that Izaya was turning into putty in Masaomi's hands, but Masaomi would argue that Izzaya's moans were making him lose his sanity as well. He isn't sure just how far this will go—no words are exchanged between them; they are only acting on what they feel.
The Yellow Scarves' leader is too far gone to notice how wrong it all is—he's giving the man responsible for fucking up his life a hand job, and having a blast doing it. His own length is straining to be free; how the hell is this making him so hard?
Pulling away, Masaomi takes a moment to catch his breath. Everything was just moving so fast.
Izaya, through his pants, smirks and meets Masaomi's confused gaze with a more direct one. Masaomi knows what he wants; he's just afraid.
"I-I… I don't—" the younger stammers, but Izaya silences him with a slender finger to his lips.
"Shhh…" he commands, then places three of his fingers in his kiss-swollen lips, sucking and licking the digits as if they were covered in candy.
Masaomi just stares and grips Izaya's hips again as his elder's finger's move in and out of his own mouth. Will the tables turn? Is Izaya trying to trick him somehow?
To Masaomi's surprise, Izaya does not try to assert his authority over the teen; he instead wraps his legs around Masaomi's waist and plunges one of his saliva-coated fingers into his own entrance, his face contorting in slight discomfort at the intrusion by his hand. Masaomi's eyes do not leave Izaya's face as one of his hands undoes his jeans and finally—finally—takes out his erection, stroking slowly to the sight before him.
As Izaya adds another finger to his first, Masaomi spits onto his defiled hand and uses it as a sort of lubricant on his hardened cock, biting his lip as Izaya moans softly.
When all of Izaya's fingers are stretching his entrance, he sighs and tries to relax. Masaomi knows he's looking for that special spot; after all, he isn't a virgin either.
"M-Masaomi…!" Izaya suddenly cries as his face twists in complete pleasure, his legs wrapping around Masaomi's waist, drawing the other closer.
This is enough for Masaomi to believe his elder is ready. He gently nudges Izaya's hand out and away and lines himself up to fuck the informant senseless. Somewhere deep inside him he knows just how wrong this is, especially after all Izaya has done to hurt him, but by how wanting his elder looks, Masaomi can't help himself.
"You want release. Release from the pain, from everything inside you."
Masaomi eases himself into the tight heat, moaning. Izaya holds in a breath and tries to relax; he isn't expecting the boy to be as big as he is. Their eyes meet, and they both know there is no turning back. They are simply too far gone to even remember what has happened prior. What matters is now, and how they act on this union.
Once Masaomi is fully sheathed inside Izaya, he looks to his elder for approval. Izaya's breathing is shaky as he tries to adjust to the foreign object penetrating his insides, but he smirks at Masaomi knowingly. There are no real feeling behind this; to Izaya, this is only a game, and to Masaomi, it is just a form of release from all the pain. By pulling Masaomi in for a deep, sensual kiss, he signals he is ready for the teen to move.
Keeping his mouth pressed to Izaya's, Masaomi begins to thrust slowly, each time making him lose a piece of his pain. Izaya's right, much as Masaomi hates to admit it—this is making him peaceful, even if just for a moment.
By the feel of it, Izaya is certainly not a virgin. He is stretched quite well, and Masaomi wonders if the rumors are true about Shizuo and Izaya being together. But he does not think more of it as he moans with Izaya as they move together against this brick wall. Masaomi does not hear the traffic in the background—all he can hear is Izaya's uneven breathing and occasional moans. There is the sound of skin slapping against skin—Izaya begins to meet Masaomi's thrusts with such want it begins to bring the teen close to the edge.
Their kisses are sloppy and heated; there is no need for tenderness, especially when they are so eager to finish. They moan into each other's mouths and leave branding marks over revealed skin, defiling each other in blind heat.
"Faster," Izaya growls, and Masaomi picks up his pace, his thrusts starting to become erratic. Izaya purrs and sighs; this is all working out so beautifully.
As one hand keeps Izaya's hips steady, Masaomi's other grips the base of Izaya's erection and pumps in time with his thrusts, helping bring Izaya closer to his release.
"Izaya…" Masaomi lets the name tumble from his lips in a labored sigh, lost in the tight heat of his elder.
Though Masaomi does not notice, Izaya is laughing, because this is precisely what he knew was going to happen, and he knew Masaomi would be even more confused and miserable afterward. The boy could be so easily manipulated; he was Izaya's ultimate pawn in all his elaborate schemes simply because of this.
Even so, Izaya clutches at Masaomi and brings him in for those heated kisses that only help bring his orgasm closer. Masaomi isn't smiling like Izaya is; he's so concentrated on how everything makes him feel—how Izaya's tight heat surrounds him, how Izaya's breath tickles his skin in a sensual manner, how Izaya's kisses are so hot he's lost, how hard Izaya's cock is when he strokes it and covers it in sticky pre-come. Yes, he's going to release soon. He can feel it in his stomach as he continues to thrust into Izaya quickly. Should he pull out? He isn't sure of anything anymore.
"I-Izaya…" he moans uncertainly, his tongue automatically finding his elder's.
The informant groans into Masaomi's mouth, relishing how the boy tastes on his tongue. With Masaomi's hand moving so perfectly, his climax is inevitable—he gives it a few more seconds.
"Come inside me, Masaomi," he begs in a sultry voice, almost taking on a mocking tone. "I dare you." He's certain the boy will comply.
And then Masaomi lets out the longest moan of their intimate union, releasing into Izaya as instructed. At the feel of Masaomi filling him further, Izaya releases something that sounds like a noise between a laugh and a moan as he comes in the boy's hand, sated.
Masaomi, spent, stays where he is, inside Izaya, resting his head on his elder's shoulder. He isn't sure what has just happened; he's still recovering from one of the best orgasms he's had thus far. Then again, this is Izaya Orihara. Masaomi hated Izaya.
Or… did he?
Could he really hate someone who made him forget everything—someone who made the pain go away for a few moments?
As Izaya strokes his hair and whispers sarcastic, sickly sweet nothings into his ear, Masaomi isn't sure what he wants anymore.
Ha ha ha... no. IDK, tell me what you think! I'm still trying to catch up with the DRRR! anime, so my characterization probably isn't the greatest. Most of it is headcanons. XD