Hey all! Here with another chapter, and sorry for the wait, is Taiga! Thanks everyone for your supportive reviews, they make me so so so happy! Anyway, I don't really write smut, so there's no smut in this story (for now) but there is sex. I don't know if that makes sense. Does it? Anyway, if you don't like buttsex, TURN BACK NAO!

Love, Taiga!

"IIIIZAAAAYAAA-KUUUN!"

Izaya let out a hiss of frustration and shock. That voice, he needed it lower, gravelly, husky in his ear… No!

Before he could think, plan, or otherwise maintain any type of dignity, Izaya lashed out against his hormones, spinning around and CRACK! Shizuo's nose spurted blood, the ex-bartender actually stumbling back a few steps, open-mouthed and dumbfounded. Izaya walked on, fist throbbing from his punch, keeping up a constant chant in his head. Nonononononononono! He felt the blonde's eyes on him. He was staring. But not chasing. He should turn back, taunt him, bring him out of his dumb shock and make him angry, make him give chase, let him get close, let him catch… NO!

Izaya hurried on. He was dangerous. He was a danger to himself like this. He had reacted to his archenemy's voice like an animal. Sex and aggression. He had decided long ago that the majority of human behavior was born out of one of those two categories. Being immune to both, Izaya had always considered himself superior, his decisions more intelligent and logical. Now, it seemed he was immersed in Freud's basest world.

If you can't change the wind, adjust your sails. Izaya snorted. How was one supposed to… adapt… to this kind of humiliation? As he walked, he sank into dark contemplation, each heavy footstep jolting up the length of his body and echoing around his skull. He didn't know where he was walking to. It didn't matter. As long as he paced the pavement, the rhythm of his strides provided him with the urge to think. And in the jolt of a footstep, like electricity up his spine, and answer came to the informant, as answers often did, in complete clarity.

Adjust your sails.

Izaya was trying to suppress his sexual desires, having never suppressed a single part of himself in his entire life. It occurred to him that the act of self-control was very un-Izaya. Perhaps the best course of action was to do the opposite. Treat his sexual appetite the same way he treated his intelligence or his sense of humor, as part of himself and therefore worth exercising. After all, if he got in a good fuck now and then, he probably wouldn't be half so horny. If he changed his viewpoint, he could be in control of his libido in the same way that he controlled the rest of his life: that is, with very little self-control, and a high degree of control over others.

But who to choose? Immediately, he heard the echo of the growl of the Monster of Ikebukuro resonate through his whole body. But no. Shizu-chan was still Shizu-chan. He may be, Izaya realized for the first time, extremely attractive, but Izaya was far too used to regarding the man with contempt and disgust to consider changing those opinions. Besides, he valued his status as the bane of Shizuo's existence too highly to rock the boat.

There was always Shiki. Or Kida, if he felt like being a little risqué. He could probably seduce Shinra if he was drunk and away from Celty. The challenge appealed to the informant, but at that particular moment, he needed an easy lay that he could get a hold of quickly, just to sate him for now (and possibly take his mind off of the blonde in the black and white suit that Izaya was definitely NOT still thinking about). And that, of course, meant Shiki.

The yakuza picked up in the middle of the first ring.

"I figured I'd hear from you, Orihara."

"Yes, something very pressing came up, I'm afraid. Entertainment to be had"

"No it didn't."

"You're right. You looked a bit too happy. Like you were winning."

"Tease."

"No longer. I need to see you, Shiki-san. Where are you?"

"Your apartment. How soon can you get here?"

"I'll be there in ten. If I'm late, start without me."

The dark-haired informant chuckled as he terminated the short, needy call. Shiki was even more desperate than he was. So ready to believe that Izaya was just a tease, that really he'd been aching for Shiki's touch this whole time. Izaya no longer pounded the pavement. The old spring in his step: it was back.

Bouncing through the door, brimming with self-satisfied arrogance once again, Izaya was fifteen minutes late. Despite being (formerly) asexual, Izaya had taken sex ed, watched porn, and fooled around a little like a normal adolescent. Enough that he knew the mechanics, and knew how to appear really, really sexy. Of course, the latter was more a product of his trollish lifestyle than anything. He got off on being a tease, leading someone on, and then BAM! They step into a trap. The informant was a beautiful, deadly butterfly.

Except not today. Today, the informant noted as he closed the door behind him, today Orihara Izaya would stop trolling for once and deliver. Of course, it was quite possible that Shiki would want to establish a romantic relationship with Izaya after coitus, and at that point, Izaya resolved, he would troll the yakuza for all he was worth. Orihara Izaya did not get to be the greatest informant in Japan by forming healthy relationships.

Shiki had indeed started without Izaya. He sat in the kitchen, a bottle of Jack Daniels keeping him company as he sipped it in a glass with ice.

"That was not ten minutes." Izaya shrugged off his black jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair.

"I warned you I might be late." He grabbed a glass of his own, pouring a shot of Jack on the rocks that he fully intended not to drink. Shiki's sleeves were still rolled up, and he still smelled vaguely of cigar smoke. Izaya turned his back to Shiki, sighing as he steeled himself for what would happen next. He heard the yakuza's chair scrape against the tile and felt Shiki warm against his back. The man's stubbled jaw scraped sensually against Izaya's smooth cheek as he leaned in for a rough, whiskey-flavored kiss.

"I don't like to be kept waiting," Shiki growled, "Especially," he punctuated every word with a kiss, trailing down Izaya's neck to his collarbone, "when I've been… waiting… solong…" Izaya smirked at Shiki's probably well thought-out words. He had predicted this moment perfectly. "Ori-" Shiki changed his mind, "Izaya," he let out a heavy breath, "I want you inside me."

WHAT? Well that was unexpected. Izaya supposed that he'd harbored certain… assumptions… about the way this encounter would proceed, and in all of his imaginings, while he always assumed that he would be on top, he'd expected Shiki to try to top, to try to dominate Izaya. Then Izaya would beat Shiki at his own game and end up victorious. Having the powerful man so submissive at the beginning was like denying Izaya a delightful game. But, Izaya reasoned, sex was sex, and the end result is the same. He didn't call Shiki for a battle of wills. Deciding he would need it, Izaya reached for the bottle of Jack.

"Mmm! Shi- Shi-!" Izaya caught himself. Sex with Shiki was pleasurable enough, he supposed, but while his body felt pleasure, he felt none of the rush that he'd experienced in his apartment last night… When he'd been thinking about… "Shi-" he cut himself off again. This was about the fifth time he'd almost called out that brute's name. Luckily his and Shiki's names started similarly. Izaya didn't know why, but the instant he'd begun to imagine that instead of pounding into Shiki's submissive tattooed form, he was bucking into the mouth of a certain blonde, he felt hotter, so much more turned on. Sure he'd had fun tracing Shiki's tattoos with his tongue, but it sort of spoiled the effect when Shiki started whimpering with pleasure, instead of, for example, taking hold of Izaya's head and forcing it to move faster. Not that he wanted to be controlled. (He didn't!) He just didn't want it to be all that easy. It seemed that all of Shiki's husky manliness and authority evaporated in the bedroom. Unless he imagined something hotter and consumed a great quantity of booze, Izaya could barely get it up for the man. Shiki, in short, Izaya thought as he pulled on pants and showed Shiki the door curtly, wasn't his type.

Izaya sighed resignedly as he accepted that he knew exactly what his type was. Damn it, Shizu-chan!