Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. Enjoy! :)

He's standing on the edge of a giant, floating chess board, staring down at the nothingness that makes up the rest of the world. The square beneath his feet is such a pure white that it's almost blinding to look at, made to look even whiter by his dirty black boots. Everything he's wearing is black, from the heavy fur-trimmed robe to the rough leather gloves on his hands; everything, that is, except for the crown resting on top of his dark hair. It's made of a dull, tarnished silver, and it weighs him down even more than the robes do... he reaches up to remove it, but it refuses to budge. Out of nowhere, he hears a laugh echo from the other side of the board - it's an unnatural laugh, one that somehow manages to sound both welcoming and threatening at the same time.

'Having second thoughts, are we?'

Slowly, he turns to face the source of the voice. A man clad in a robe as blindingly white as his square is standing there smiling at him, the crown on his head shining with the light of a thousand golden suns.'It's too late, you know... the match has already started.' The man says, spreading his arms out like an actor on a stage. Only then does he notice they're not alone, scores upon scores of other white-clad figures stepping out of the shadows to join their master - their king - at his side... there are so many of them that it feels like he's drowning in a sea of white, such a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness that he almost misses the single black shape lurking in the background.

Compared to the rest of the White King's pieces, the shape is more beast-like than humanoid. He can sense a savageness within it, a primal sort of hunger that causes the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The shape has no eyes, yet he somehow knows that it's watching him... that it's been watching him, studying him, stalking him like a wolf stalking a rabbit.

No. Not a wolf.

A jackal.

Something inside him is screaming at him to run, but his legs refuse to move... when he looks down, he finds golden shackles around his wrists and ankles that are connected to the checkered floor via gold chains that have sprouted up from a crack in-between his square and the black ones surrounding it. Panicked, he tries to break free - but the more he struggles, the tighter the shackles become, keeping him from being able to escape. 'You can't evade me forever.' The White King informs him matter-of-factly, sauntering towards him with that too-perfect smile still frozen on his too-handsome face. 'Sooner or later, I will capture you...' He reaches out and gently brushes his thumb over his bottom lip, the touch sending chills down his spine. 'And when that happens...' He leans in close so he can whisper into the other man's ear. 'Checkmate.'

Laughing the same strange, dual-natured laugh as before, the White King fades out of sight in a manner not unlike that of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Moving as one, the white-clad army turns and disappears into the void they had come from; only the shadow-jackal remains, its featureless face splitting into a wide, toothy, predatory grin. The chains keeping him bound had vanished when his opponent did, but he still feels trapped - there's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he knows it's only a matter of time before the beast gets bored and decides to make a move...

Izaya gasps, his eyes snapping open as he shoots up out of the now room-temperature bathwater. Pushing his wet hair back out of his face, he takes a deep, shaky breath; he hadn't intended to fall asleep in Shizuo's tiny tub, but he can't say he's surprised that he did - he's just lucky he hadn't ended up accidentally drowning himself.

He goes to climb out of the tub, realizing too late that he'd forgotten to ask for a towel. The monster's almost certainly passed out by now, which means he's going to have to either get dressed while he's still wet or use one of the dirty ones currently draped over the rack. It's obvious just by looking which towel belongs to who: Magnolia's is a bright, eye-catching pink that can't be more than a day or two old, and Shizuo's is a pale-blue, bleach-spotted, raggedy old thing that has clearly seen better days. Before Izaya can think about what he's doing, he pulls the other man's towel off the rack and brings it up to his face, inhaling deeply; it smells almost exactly like how he'd suspected it would, the scent a dizzying mix of soap, shampoo, and Shizuo.

God, I'm disgusting...

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Izaya dries himself off and pulls on the sweatpants and t-shirt Shizuo had given him. The shirt is a little loose, but otherwise fits fine... the sweatpants, however, he has to roll up at the waist just to keep from dragging on the floor (at least there's a drawstring to keep them from falling down every five seconds). He opens the door and peeks out - Shizuo is sprawled out on the futon, and (as far as he can tell) Magnolia is still asleep on the kitchen floor. Turning off the bathroom light, he waits for his eyes to adjust before silently making his way over to the futon and peering down curiously at the passed-out monster. He almost wishes he had one of his phones on him so he could take a picture; the blonde has one of the most ridiculous sleeping faces he's ever seen, his mouth hanging open and a bit of drool dribbling down his chin as he snores so loudly that Izaya's impressed Magnolia's actually been able to sleep through it.

Izaya knows he's on thin ice. The longer he's around Shizuo, the harder it's going to be for him to stay in control of his emotions - not that he's doing a great job at it now, considering the fact that it's all he can do not to just lean in and press their lips together for a second time. He settles instead for carefully crawling onto the futon, spending a few seconds trying to move the monster's arm out of the way before giving up and laying on top of it. He regrets it immediately - no sooner has his back hit the mattress than the snoring beast wraps his arms around him, holding him close much like a child might hold their favorite teddy bear. It would actually be kind of cute, was it not so terrifying; of all the ways Izaya's imagined himself dying, 'death by snuggles' was certainly not one of them.

Well... I suppose there are worse ways I could go...

Like dying from lack of sleep, for example - a possibility that becomes more and more viable with each night he spends tossing and turning. If he doesn't get some decent rest soon, he's going to start hallucinating... but with Shizuo's obnoxious snores in his ear and his hot breath tickling his neck, Izaya's fairly certain he's going to need a miracle.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Just when Izaya thinks that his situation is about as distressing as it can get, he feels something pressing against his lower back.

Please tell me that's not what I think it is...

Swallowing hard, Izaya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before trying to free himself from the other man's freakishly strong grasp - only to find it tightening around him, the sleeping man mumbling something incoherent before (to Izaya's mortification) starting to unconsciously grind against him.

Oh dear lord...

Izaya's not sure what's worse: that he can't stop it, or that he doesn't want to.

Damn it, Shizu-chan!

Despite how not ideal the current circumstances are, Izaya can't stop the blood from rushing to his groin. The beast is basically dry-humping him, the warmth of his bare chest against his back doing nothing to help Izaya's growing... problem... he can't even touch himself, his arms trapped in Shizuo's powerful embrace.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

He's about to scream at him to 'WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU MANGY MUTT!' when Shizuo suddenly grumbles something under his breath and rolls over onto his other side, Izaya wasting no time in jumping up off the futon and scrambling back over to the bathroom. There's no lid on the toilet, but that doesn't stop him from taking a seat on it; sucking almost desperately on his index finger until it's slick with his saliva, he reaches down the front of his borrowed sweatpants and feels around until his finger finds his virgin hole.

I can't believe I'm even thinking about doing this...

It isn't the first time Izaya's attempted to relieve his frustration like this, but it definitely is the first time he's done it in such close proximity to another person... let alone the source of the frustration himself. He wouldn't consider himself an exhibitionist, but he'd be lying if he said the thought of the other man waking up and realizing what he's doing isn't getting him even more excited; closing his eyes, Izaya teases the rim of his entrance before biting his lower lip and pushing the wet finger inside of himself.