Originally posted at the Drrr Kinkmeme on Livejournal.
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 Four
Of all the threats Shizuo had directed at him over the years, none of them shot through Izaya's blood like a high grade drug quite like that one.
He was a little disappointed when Shizuo released the hold on his hair, instead fisting his hands into the sheets at his side as though intent on not reacting at all.
Heh. That seems like a challenge, Shizu-chan…
For a moment, he contented himself with the simple act of touching, of feeling the warmth of Shizuo's thighs through the fabric of his pants. They were far more nicely tailored than he'd imagined, how he could see them close-up, the material rubbing smoothly against the skin beneath.
Curving his fingers around the outline of Shizuo's cock through his pants only yielded the slightest flinch. A slow squeeze made the thighs on which he rested his forearms tremble and tense. Still tracing the thickening shape with one hand, he unfastened Shizuo's pants, torturing himself by drawing the fabric down infinitely slowly, uncovering his prize inch by inch. And what a prize it was, only half hard and already promising to blow his mind.
I always knew you would.
He paused, just letting his breath ghost against the tip.
And the second Shizuo had himself braced and ready, Izaya shifted his attention away.
Too easy, Shizu-chan.
He lingered over the buttons of Shizuo's vest, like this was an exquisitely wrapped gift and he wanted to savour the anticipation. Truth was, every pretty package Izaya'd ever opened had disappointed him on some level. Shizuo infuriated him, frustrated him, drove the five year old buried – admittedly rather shallowly… – in Izaya's soul to temper tantrums of epic proportions, but disappointing?
No. Disappointment was just easily confused with the sheer displeasure of someone not doing what he wanted them to do.
One hand pushed the edge of Shizuo's shirt up, revealing an inverted 'v' of warm, golden skin and strong muscle. He could only marvel at the fact he had his hands on Shizu-chan with little to no threat of maiming involved. He traced his fingertips across the defined ridges of Shizuo's abs, experimentally. No, still breathing, even if it felt like Shizu-chan wasn't. And seeing as though the concept of 'holding back' seemed a little redundant at this point, he leaned forward, licking his way up from Shizuo's navel to the edge of the bunched-up shirt. Shizuo sucked in a breath, the muscles beneath Izaya's lips shivering.
He wanted to ask, wanted some sort of affirmation, but words would surely shatter whatever enchantment Shizuo was under. Instead, he retraced the same path back down, alternating between nuzzles and nips till he reached the base of Shizuo's cock. From peripheral vision, he saw the white-knuckle grip on the sheets tighten
Smiling to himself, he leant back slightly, letting his cheek scrape along the length of Shizuo's shaft before darting a playful lick against the tip.
"Shit…" Shizuo breathed, only a fraction louder than the sound of fabric tearing under his hands.
Fingers stroking down one side, he dragged a slow, savouring lick down the other, neither touch offering much friction or pressure. His free hand rubbed the pulled-taut material of Shizuo's pants against his balls, letting the seams and creases to do the work for him as he listened to Shizuo's measured breaths growing harsher, still fighting him. Always fighting him, even like this.
Ah, but if there's anything I'm good at, Shizu-chan, it's making you lose control…
And whatever its owner might claim, Shizuo's body agreed wholeheartedly with Izaya's assessment that this was a very pleasing turn of events. Every touch made him harder, and Izaya's body twitched in sympathy. It was all he could do to stay still, not to rub against Shizuo's leg. Bad enough that every time he shifted his weight, the plug he wore moved with him, its tapered end nudging his prostate.
As he licked the tip of Shizuo's cock again, lapping at the slit, sucking hard at the sensitive ridge of skin under the head, he let himself imagine what it'd be like for this hot, flushed arousal to replace the cool silicone of the plug. Tightening his lips, he imagined Shizuo breaching the tight ring of muscle, forcing his way inside. The cock ring constricted uncomfortably at that thought, ass clamping down instinctively around the plug.
Shizu-chan…
Even if he relaxed his throat, he couldn't take it all in; his fingers grasped the base, moving against the rhythm of his mouth, the saliva trickling down Shizuo's shaft making the grip slick. Hollowing his cheeks, he swept his tongue along the underside of Shizuo's cock, letting the tip rub along the roof of his mouth. He couldn't stifle the pleased sounds reverberating in his throat in a near-purr, but he didn't want to. Shizu-chan needed to hear what he was doing to him, whether he wanted to or not.
When he glanced up, curiosity getting the better of him, Shizuo's eyes were squeezed shut, his lips a thin taut line. Izaya had seen more relaxed expressions on those on the wrong side of Shizuo's fist.
Really, Shizu-chan had to be the only person alive who'd look this anguished while getting a blow job. Or, well, one from him, that might be the problem. Yet, that he was allowing it at all was unfamiliar territory, and Izaya had the uncanny feeling this was some kind of test. For which one of them, he couldn't tell yet, but if it was for him he intended to pass with flying colours.
But while he'd only factored in Shizuo's willingness in the best case scenarios, he'd anticipated his own reaction even less. The theory of wanting was one thing. He'd already chosen to skip past the 'why' of it – humans in general were obsessed with the 'why' of things, rather than simply accepting that some things just were. Once one got past that, everything that remained was logical, observable. Izaya wanted ootoro just because he was himself, and ootoro was ootoro. Every aspect of both just met in a perfectly balanced midpoint.
In the same way, he wanted Shizu-chan because he was Shizu-chan. That was just the way things were. He didn't necessarily even need to like it, but as long as you could accept the reality of those things, it made it easier to mould it to your preference. And so, he'd spent years operating under the conviction that hating Shizuo was safer, wiser, saner than loving him.
Which it still probably was, but as simple as it had been to shift those annoying feelings over that blurred, broken line that neatly compartmentalized his life, they'd slipped back over with alarming ease given the right circumstances. It was fascinating, really.
Ah, I never learn as much from observing humans as I do from observing you, Shizu-chan.
The hand winding in his hair again made his rhythm falter. Shizuo's fingers tightened, pushing him away but not letting go. Izaya kept his eyes down, but that didn't help much when Shizuo moved his leg, the toe of his shoe running along the underside of Izaya's achingly hard cock, before pushing it up roughly against his stomach.
"Ah…!"
His head snapped up, the need in his cry surprising even him. If he begged for more, for harder, what would Shizu-chan do? Certainly not go out of his way to give Izaya what he wanted. His hips started rocking of their own accord, fucking himself against the pressure of Shizuo's foot, too desperate, too lost now to stop, to be patient, to—
He almost pitched forward onto his face when Shizuo abruptly moved away. Suddenly bereft, the pleasure had nowhere to go, and it was all he could do to breathe through the encroaching dizziness. When his vision cleared enough to focus on Shizuo's face, the blond was watching him with the emptiest expression Izaya had ever seen him wear.
No. No, he'd seen that hollow look once before.
"Shizu-chan, I—"
He could pinpoint the moment something just broke in Shizuo's eyes. Something almost wounded flickered in that narrowed gaze, just before Shizuo yanked him up and deposited him face first on the bed, ass raised. He struggled for balance, forgetting briefly that the restraints he'd specifically chosen were meant to hold him like this, spread and open to Shizuo's gaze.
He'd felt it the first time Shizuo walked into the room, the way that caramel gaze raked over him, hot and liquid, as tangible as any caress. Shameful as it was, Shizuo probably didn't need to touch him at all; left under the scrutiny of that look long enough, Izaya would have come without needing any other stimulation.
Shizuo moved the leather strap that held the butt plug in place, and if he could have, Izaya would have come then and there. Instead the cock ring ruthlessly kept him in check and the restraints prevented him from rubbing against the sheets.
"You wanted it this bad?" Shizuo didn't sound very pleased at that revelation, even as he grasped the end of the plug and twisted it back and forth. "Fucking disgusting louse…"
"Ah," Izaya breathed a laugh, arching back into the clumsy touch. The mere grazing of Shizuo's fingertips made his cock pound. "I love you too, Shizu-chan."
The next thing he knew, a large hand on the back of his neck pinned him hard to the bed, and Shizuo's voice sounded awfully far away.
"Don't ever say that again. Do you understand?"
Perhaps he should have made a joke out of it, teased as best he could while inhaling Shizuo's bed-sheets and said 'Ah, did Shizu-chan think I was serious?' But the tightness in Shizuo's quiet voice, the way every word sounded like a knock-down drag-out fight… it sounded like it mattered so much.
"All right," he agreed, trying to sound amiable and placating. "I'm sorry."
Evidently that didn't go down any better, judging from the string of expletives growled against the back of his neck. Against his better judgement, Izaya let himself wonder how Shizuo would sound, the things he might say if he was with someone he actually liked.
With little warning, the plug was yanked out hard and fast enough to make stars dance before his eyes. It was fortunate he could muffle the cry in the sheets, because if Shizuo figured out how much it hurt, no doubt his infuriating conscience would kick in and he'd stop.
You can't stop, not now.
But it was still okay. He'd expected Shizuo's technique to be lacking, and even if it wasn't, Shizuo would hardly have treated him with tender care.
It was okay. He didn't want tender. Whatever Shizuo wanted to do to him was fine; pleasure, pain, anything, as long as it bound Shizuo to his side. The reason – the 'why' - mattered less than the outcome; as long as Shizuo couldn't let him go, the rest was irrelevant.
Thinking became all but irrelevant when Shizuo pushed his legs further apart, one hand gripping his hip hard enough to bruise, the other guiding himself into position. The blunt, hot head of his erection sliding against the lube left over from the plug made Izaya swell so hard against the cock ring he could barely breathe. He tried to push back but he had neither the leverage nor the strength to fight the hold Shizuo had on him.
"Please." He couldn't tell whether Shizuo was hesitating, but it was more likely than taking the time to tease. "Please."
Shizuo muttered something under a hoarse, shaky breath, and there was nothing hesitant about the way he drove his cock into Izaya's body on one fierce, relentless thrust. There was no time to adjust, no time to enjoy the slow stretching burn of penetration. He'd expected no less from a man whose general approach to life erred on the side of force rather than subtlety.
It occurred to him a little belatedly that the plug wasn't particularly adventurous; he should have gone up a size or three. His preparation might as well have been no preparation for the way it hurt, a blissful white-hot sting that made him feel more alive than any fight ever could even as it tore him apart.
But it was perfect. There was no other way, not with Shizu-chan.
"Well?" Shizuo's voice was a low, gruff vibration against the back of his neck, sending jolts of sensation down his spine. Every syllable punctuated another, rough thrust, each one going impossibly deep. "Is this what you wanted?"
Oh, God, couldn't he tell? Couldn't he feel it? Ah, but he never had, had he? Why should this be any different?
Closing his eyes against the sting of tears, he nodded. "Yes."
Shizuo made a sound as though he was the one in pain.
"Wrong fucking answer."
Gripping the thigh restraints, Shizuo jerked Izaya's hips higher, the new angle driving the relentless thrusts even deeper. Shizuo's cock slammed against his prostate with every stroke, and Izaya clung to the sheets, desperate to hang onto something when every nerve felt as though it was being blown apart.
His knees barely even touched the bed anymore; if it was anyone else he'd worry, but there was a strange sense of reassurance in being at the mercy of Shizuo's monstrous strength. Shizuo might hurt him in a million different ways, but he'd never let him fall.
A little late for that, Shizu-chan…
And despite it all, Shizuo obviously couldn't bring himself to touch him. Not that he needed to – enough sensation flooded every overwrought sense as it was: the rub of Shizuo's knuckles against the back of his thighs; the way his pants shifted against the inside of Izaya's knees as he moved; the heat of Shizuo's uneven breath against his spine.
It was already more than enough, he thought, blinking away the sweat that stung his eyes. It had been more than enough the moment Shizuo agreed.
Because there was no way he'd walk away now. Not after this. Even if he only felt a tenth of the things Izaya felt, surely he couldn't walk away.
Shizuo grunted, and the thigh restraints snapped on a bruising tug. Izaya revelled in the marks Shizuo was no doubt leaving on his body, marks he could admire tomorrow as proof this had happened at all. Marks of ownership, even if Shizu-chan didn't notice it yet. It didn't matter. He knew, that was enough.
"Shizu-chan…" Without thinking, he reached back, instincts needing to touch. His fingers got as far as grazing Shizuo's clothed hip before his wrist was caught and pinned back against the bed. "Shizu-chan—"
"Don't." Against his shoulder, he felt the tickle of sweat-damp hair as Shizuo shook his head. "Don't."
"But I—ah!"
Maybe he'd underestimated Shizuo's technique. At the first sharp snap of teeth at the juncture of his shoulder, the words just died on his lips. His body stilled, refusing to respond to anything he asked of it, as Shizuo's movements became more erratic, more frenzied, before freezing completely.
For someone who fought so passionately, holding so little back, Shizuo came with barely a sound. If not for the warm, slick sensation flooding deep inside, Izaya might not have known he had.
No… it's just that way for me. He hates that it's with me.
His own body, however, spared little empathy for whatever emotional turmoil Shizuo might be experiencing. It had waited long enough, and feeling Shizuo come, feeling him withdraw just as roughly as he'd entered, it refused to take any more. It was all he could do to pound a fist weakly against the bed, hips trembling, words failing him for the first time he could remember as he tried to make Shizuo see, tried to make him understand-
He heard the sound of expensive leather being torn as if it was little more than party ribbons. There was a split second where he thought the cock ring would never release its hold, that the sensation would just spiral higher and higher till it killed him, and then nothing but the thunder of his heartbeat in his head, and dazzling white stars exploding in his vision. One climax crashed into another, pulses of come spattering against Shizuo's sheets, and he'd lost the strength even to hold himself upright long before his body finally wrung the last drop free.
He couldn't move, could barely think, but it occurred to him that getting everything he wanted, up to and including having his brains fucked out, shouldn't leave him this… dissatisfied. Maybe if Shizu-chan had just said his name, even if he'd so much as growled out "Flea" in those last blissful seconds…
No, it was enough like this. It was plenty.
By the time he regained a tenuous grip on reality, Shizuo was sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, shoulders tense. A single drop of sweat tracked its way down the broad, muscled expanse of his back and if Izaya thought he was capable of movement he might've been tempted to lean up and lick it away.
Before he could make good on that, his own aches be damned, Shizuo got up and removed the temptation.
"Shizu-chan..?"
Framed in the doorway, Shizuo just shook his head, not even looking back. "I need a cigarette."
It wasn't 'I'm not going anywhere', but it wasn't 'get the fuck out' again either. All things considered, Izaya chalked that up to a success.
Still, as he toyed with the broken, jagged remains of thick leather restraints, he kept an eye on the closed door. It felt like a very long time before his eyes finally drifted shut.
Somewhere along the line, night had fallen. Shizuo hadn't noticed. Everything had gone a little bit dark in his head the moment he set foot in his bedroom.
The world outside the window was a completely different animal at night. Night turned bleak, dirty grey into a riot of light and colour. A blinking neon sign down the street lit his room with alternating splashes of blue and pink, and it was plenty of light by which to find the discarded pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
He perched on the windowsill again, trying to ignore the strangely sated tingles still skittering through his body, and watched the smoke catch the multi coloured lights as it curled up towards the ceiling.
How was it even possible to keep making this many mistakes in one lifetime?
I just fucked the flea.
The thought still felt far too unreal, and muttering the same thing aloud was just… no. It wasn't even fucking, even if his dumb-as-shit body had quite merrily got its rocks off oblivious to whatever Izaya's scheme really was. He couldn't imagine either of them enjoyed whatever the hell just happened, whatever the flea said. The flea lied. A hell of a lot. Probably to himself most of all.
And the moment Shizuo was about to tell himself it had nothing to do with him anyway, every goddamned ridiculous thing the flea said replayed itself in his head.
Maybe this is all my fault, too.
His bow tie lay on the floor, where it must have fallen earlier. He picked it up, letting it lay across his palm like a crumpled black butterfly. Sorry, Kasuka. I tried taking care of this stuff, but…
The man who could wear those clothes was gone. But maybe the thing left in his place could still do everyone a favour. Maybe he could still take responsibility for this mess before it caused any more damage.
He dug the box Celty gave him out of the bag, and removed the lid. The silver disk gleamed in the dim light as he lifted it out of the box, letting it dangle from its cord.
[You can take anything you choose with you, as long as it belongs to you.]
"It's yours to do with as you will."
Did that even count? Some stupid line of the louse's was hardly a binding contract. Still…
Ikebukuro would be better off without him, but happier still without either of them.
Izaya mumbled something when Shizuo returned to the bedroom and sat back down on the edge of the bed. In the rectangle of light from the open door, the marks on his pale skin stood out with even more prominence. Shizuo forced himself not to look away, to really look at the damage he'd done. The flea turned his way, still asleep, and smiled. Maybe, Shizuo thought wryly, he was dreaming about who's life he was gonna screw up next.
I won't let you. If you're gonna fuck someone up, then just finish the job you started with me. That should be enough for you, right?
Weird, though, the way Izaya's fingers almost linked with his when Shizuo wound one half of the cord around his wrist, twisting it, and looping the other half around his own.
Shizuo shook his head, shook off the stupid thoughts. Knowing his luck, he'd wake up in the same damn place tomorrow and the flea would think they were bound together for some fucked up and meaningful reason. If he'd still be here by then; sneaking out in the middle of the night seemed much more his style, especially if the joke was over.
Either way, it was his fault and he'd deal with it.
But he couldn't help hoping as he closed his eyes that whatever happened, this would be the last mistake he made.