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 Six
Town turned out to be a grocery store, a gift store, and a bar – "No, no, Shizu-chan, it's a pub!" – and a bunch of people who stared at him like he was the weirdest thing they'd ever seen. Like they'd never seen a tall, blond Japanese guy wearing sunglasses, a cigarette and a scowl before, fuck…
"Let's just get this over with before they call the cops or something."
"Well, Shizu-chan is…" Izaya paused, pondered, and Shizuo found himself dreading what might come out of his mouth. "Distinctive. And you need to stop glowering at everyone. You're scaring the natives."
Shizuo didn't think there was much point arguing, even if he thought it had less to do with the glowering and more to do with people's instinctive awareness of shit they should stay away from. Like rabid dogs and broken glass and poisonous plants that were just too pretty.
He glared at his reflection in a shop window, and at Izaya, skipping happily ahead of him like an overly enthusiastic tourist.
Yeah, he'd stick to the glowering.
Izaya on the other hand… Shizuo'd been watching the entire time and he still couldn't tell how Izaya did it. How he had the entire damn town eating out of his hand in ten seconds flat. From the lady at the grocery store where he bought too many tins of tuna – "I want to see if I can pretend it's ootoro" - to the girl at the gift shop – "Ne, wouldn't Shizu-chan like to see me in an apron with a leprechaun on the front?"- and even the old guy sitting outside the b- the pub, who looked at though he'd rather eat his glass than talk to strangers.
He couldn't tell what the ulterior motive was, either, just that there had to be one. Izaya wouldn't ingratiate himself with anyone for no reason.
Even if he give Izaya the benefit of the doubt, it only raised more questions; like why, when you could make someone laugh and smile and open up like that, would you actively choose to be a trolling asshole? He'd spent his life trying not to hurt people, and Izaya turned it into a sport for his own entertainment. Obviously he didn't need to; obviously there must have been something about Izaya's first impression that elicited reactions that didn't involve bodily harm, even if Shizuo had never seen it.
He fished a carton of milk out of the grocery bags, twisted off the cap and took a long swig while Izaya gave one last wave to his new friends.
"Oi, if you can stop flirting long enough d'you think you can remember I'm not here to bond with the neighbours?"
"Flirting?" Izaya tilted his head. "Is Shizu-chan jealous?"
Shizuo almost choked on his milk. "No."
"No…" Izaya laughed a little. "And here I was, trying to organize your various states of `pissed off` into some kind of system. But if you had been paying attention instead of moping around and drawing far more attention to us than I ever could, you'd know I haven't told anyone a thing. Not who we are, where we're from, where we're staying… well, I don't actually know where we're staying, so that'd be hard. Speaking of which, do you even know how to get back?"
Somehow the conversation had steered its way – again – from Izaya's faults to his own. Shit, the flea was good at this crap. If he could just be straightforward for one damn minute, maybe Shizuo'd stand a chance.
"I'll be anything you want me to be."
Fuck, no. Straightforward Izaya was even worse.
"We'll catch the bus back to where it picked us up," he said. "I'll figure it out from there."
"Ah, well Donal said it should be back in about twenty minutes. Which makes sense, because Anna said that's the bus her boyfriend usually takes when he comes by to see her."
For a second, Shizuo thought Izaya might've started speaking a foreign language again. "…What?"
"Donal." Izaya pointed at the old guy outside the pub. "Anna." He canted his head towards the gift shop. "Really, are you paying attention to anything?"
"Yeah, well, how the fuck was I supposed to know?" Shizuo stalked off for a few steps before stopping, reeling back around. "If you… however you're planning on playing these people, I won't let you."
"Oh? And you're going to protect them from me, is that it?"
"If I have to."
"Well you don't. I was just making conversation. It's something those of us with social skills do, though I can see how that might confuse you." Izaya sat down on the bench, grocery bags either side of him, and if anyone had asked Shizuo a week ago to describe the most outlandish scenario he could imagine, it might look something like this. "Ah, but I can understand your concern. Go and ask them if you don't believe me. I haven't blackmailed dear Donal into a life of crime, nor is Anna intending to throw herself from a building. Well, as far as I know, but working in that shop can't be good for her self-esteem…"
Still standing, Shizuo looked down at him. "So you're only trolling me right now, huh?"
Arms stretching along the back of the bench, Izaya leaned his head back and smiled. "Well… You're the only thing currently occupying my attention, if that's what you mean."
"Well, good."
"Ah, Shizu-chan's coming around, I'm so glad!" Only when Izaya's smile widened did Shizuo realize he'd been talked into another damn corner. He scowled again, and Izaya held his hands up in a mock-placating gesture. "I'm joking, I'm joking."
But what if he wasn't? What if he really wasn't?
Shizuo took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the first stirrings of a headache. Stupid. Of course he was.
Izaya started humming something off-key, but it seemed the conversation was done. Willing himself not to say something else that would break the blessed silence, Shizuo replaced the glasses, and leaned against the edge of the bench while he looked back on the village.
Would they have been the same people if they'd been born here instead? Was there, somewhere in this tranquil, tiny place, a boy who'd just discovered he had more power than he knew what to do with? Who'd just realized everything he'd ever wished for that was normal would never be for the likes of him? Was there a kid who'd just learnt that the only thing he could do was hurt?
I fucking hope not…
A delivery truck trundled its way towards the centre of the village – bread, or vegetables or something, he couldn't make out the writing on the side – but as it turned the corner towards the stores, a car backed up out of a side street, cutting right into its path. The truck driver braked hard, horn blaring.
And like that, Shizuo was back in Ikebukuro. Back on a grey street on a grey day, listening to the sound of breaking metal, breaking glass, breaking—
No…!
He was already halfway towards the scene when the picture shifted; it was a quiet road in another country again. The sun was slipping behind a puffy white cloud, the birds were singing. There was no metal, no glass. The truck and the car hadn't even been going fast enough to bump each other. Both drivers were leaning out of their windows; they obviously recognized each other. They shared some good-natured joke before getting back in their respective vehicles. The car drove away, and the truck rounded the corner and parked in front of the grocery store.
Life went on.
Shizuo still couldn't breathe. If he clenched his fists any tighter, he'd break his fingers, and the chill clawing at his spine wouldn't go away.
It's okay. It's fine. Everyone's okay. It's nothing like that day, nothing…
"Shizu-chan?" He didn't see Izaya get up; he just seemed to materialize at his side, one hand on his arm. "Hey… are you all right?"
Maybe it was the sunshine, the way the clouds cleared and the breeze died down. Maybe it was just the fact he'd started breathing again. Maybe it was a lot of things, but it sure as hell wasn't that touch that allowed the warmth of the day to seep back into his bones. It wasn't. It couldn't have been, because Izaya didn't do things like that. Shizuo broke things, and Izaya did his best to ensure they stayed that way, that was how it always worked. The idea of the flea offering something as human as comfort was just…
He shifted out of Izaya's reach, shrugging off the lingering memory, scrubbing his hands over his face.
It was okay. He was still here, this was still real.
"Yeah. It just… surprised me, that's all."
Izaya arched a brow. "It surprised you. Okay. Look, you don't have to—"
"Forget it. It's nothing."
He could see Izaya warring with the overpowering urge to just keep talking. There might have been a miraculous triumph for common sense over the flea's ego, but they'd never know; the wheezing rumble of the bus slowing down behind him had to be the sweetest sound Shizuo had ever heard.
By the time they got off the bus, the flea's mood seemed to have brightened again, as he skipped down the narrow country lane in a rustle of grocery bags and a flutter of fur. It was a little disconcerting seeing Izaya so… happy in an environment where he didn't have his information network plugged into his veins via a cell phone or a laptop.
Still… the first Izaya he'd ever met cut through his defences with nothing more than a flick blade and a smile. The other things were just accessories, shiny baubles that distracted from the fact the flea was damn dangerous all by himself.
Either way, it was something outside himself to focus on; his thoughts still felt a little jagged, a little disjointed, exhausted in ways he could never remember feeling until recently. He felt like he'd just been in a fight, but no one had bruises to show for it.
When they arrived back at the cottage, Izaya busied himself with unpacking the crazy amount of stuff he'd managed to buy in a place with just two stores – "But if Shizu-chan wants to keep trips to a minimum, this is only sensible." – while Shizuo couldn't summon the will to do more than sprawl on the couch.
So fucking tired…
He'd hoped he might sleep better here, but that had been before he needed to account for these sleeping arrangements; he had a feeling that sleeping next to Izaya wouldn't be restful, for any number of reasons. Ah, Izaya could have the bed; the couch was comfortable enough for him.
Comfortable enough that he let his eyes drift shut as he listened to Izaya taking it upon himself to rearrange the kitchen.
"I'll pay you back," he mumbled. "For the food and everything."
"Ah, don't worry about it. Besides, I can hardly let myself starve too, right?" There was a creak, and he imagined Izaya peering critically at the cupboards. "Let's see, what can I make…?"
"Just use whatever you want." Which was dumb, because Izaya paid for it all. He should let Shizuo starve, it would make more sense.
"But Shizu-chan needs to eat too. You're not hungry?"
Stop. Stop making me think you really give a shit.
"No. And I don't want a fricking maid, either. Stop fussing around like someone's goddamn wife."
He heard the slow, measured sound of Izaya closing the cupboard, footsteps moving across the kitchen tiles. "Then what do you want?"
Good question. He'd thought he just wanted away, but so far that wasn't turning out so well.
"I want you to quit pretending everything's okay."
Silence. When he opened his eyes, Izaya was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, gaze fixed on the floor.
"I don't have to pretend. When are you going to get it, this is okay for me."
"I don't see how it could be."
"Because I'm with you. Because you're…" Izaya's hands tightened on the edge of the table, as he shook his head. "Like you said, I could easily leave if I didn't want to be here. I know you don't believe me, and that's okay. Heh, I probably wouldn't believe me either, and I'm a hundred times smarter than a Neanderthal like Shizu-chan, so…"
"Yeah, sure you are."
"Well, whatever. It's… okay. Really, it is. I mean, Ikebukuro wouldn't be any fun without you."
"You really need someone to explain 'fun' to you properly."
Izaya's gaze flicked up, sly and teasing from under his lashes. "Are you offering?"
"Like hell I am."
"So uptight, Shizu-chan. It's not good for you. You know, you'd feel better if you just relaxed."
He should have expected the hand on his thigh, sliding slowly, inexorably upward. His body certainly attuned itself to the touch, clearly not caring who was responsible. He felt himself harden as Izaya's fingers dipped between his thighs, thumb tracing the growing bulge straining against the front of his jeans. The other hand joined the first, this one sliding under the hem of his shirt, working on the buttons of his fly.
"Hey…"
Izaya paused, hands stilling, and looked up. Wanting, waiting for something. Waiting for 'don't', or 'stop' or any of the other highly effective attempts Shizuo made to get him to quit. Right. Izaya didn't know the meaning of the word, and Shizuo was just… tired. Tired, and angry and longing just for one damn second where he could forget why he was either.
Draping an arm across his eyes, his bit back the frustrated growl. Maybe the damn flea was right, maybe if he could just relax…
"Make it good."
The flea damn near purred. "Always, Shizu-chan."
He felt Izaya lean forward, and Shizuo shivered at the hot, open mouthed kisses pressed to his stomach. Cool fingers hooked beneath the waist of his pants, and he lifted his hips to make it easier to Izaya to work the material down to his thighs.
Make it easier for him to fuck me over, somehow.
But that thought didn't linger. Neither did the one about how good his bare skin felt against the couch. There wasn't much space for thought when Izaya's mouth closed around him, all hot breath and wet tongue. Every sweep, every stroke drew sparked shards of pleasure through Shizuo's spine, made his body rock involuntarily against the hands and lips working him. It felt like Izaya was everywhere, enveloping him, not just touching him but under his skin, coaxing his nerves to just give up and enjoy themselves.
He didn't want to look, but he couldn't help it. His imagination was torturing him anyway, what difference would it make?
Izaya had his eyes closed, a tiny furrow of concentration between his brows. It deepened every time he bobbed his head, making a soft, pleased humming sound in the back of his throat. His lips shone with saliva, a tiny trickle sliding from the corner of his mouth as he sucked, dribbling down over his fingers.
The damn flea had no right looking that good.
He grabbed a handful of Izaya's hair, tugging his head back. Letting go of his arousal with one last, slow lick and the faintest scrape of teeth, Izaya looked up at him expectantly. Shizuo loosened his hold, horrified at the way his fingers wanted to curl against Izaya's cheek.
I don't know what the fuck you want from me.
But at least he knew Izaya could do this, that he could do this. Sitting up, he lowered a hand to stroke himself, and waited till Izaya got to his feet.
"Get undressed."
Izaya closed his eyes, and shivered. He opened his mouth to say something, a little breathless, before evidently thinking better of it.
Good. Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it.
That dark red gaze never left his as Izaya undressed, clothes tossed aside haphazardly. Yesterday's marks still stood out against his skin, but that didn't make it any less luminous. Maybe the light was just better here. There was a brief, terrifying second where he wondered whether Izaya's skin tasted as creamy as it looked, but he ruthlessly forced the thought down. What the fuck did he care how Izaya tasted?
Naked, shamelessly hard, Izaya watched him, waited.
Shizuo indicated the empty side of the couch with a tilt of the head. "On your knees."
He thought Izaya exhaled a soft, shaky breath, before doing as he was told. Forearms against the armrest, he spread his knees as far as the couch allowed, ass raised, and looked over his shoulder. "Is that what you wanted?"
Shizuo didn't reply. A dumbfuck question like that didn't deserve an answer, and anyway… hearing his own voice saying "yes" wasn't something he wanted to consider.
He parted Izaya's cheeks with his thumbs, raking nothing but his gaze down the crease between; Izaya reacted as though it was a physically touch, hips jerking, hole twitching. He was a responsive little bastard, that was for sure. Shizuo figured if anyone wasn't hard up for sex, it'd be the flea, but to look at him now it was easy to mistake him for someone who hadn't been touched for years.
"Please…" Izaya began, before his shoulders tensed, head lowering. "Sorry. I just want-"
Shizuo brushed a fingertip against that tight ring of muscle, pressing against it experimentally, feeling it flutter against his touch.
"You wanted that, flea?"
Izaya just nodded, sucking in uneven breaths. Still rubbing his finger back and forth, Shizuo pressed his free hand to Izaya's lips, a demand for entry that was immediately granted. Izaya's tongue snaked its way around the intrusion, as wet and hot as it had been around his cock.
Shit…
He had no idea whether his fingers were wet enough, but if Izaya kept sucking on them like that this'd be over much too soon. Izaya tried to nip at his fingers when he withdrew them, lining them up against that tight, twitching muscle instead, and pushed.
Izaya cried out, a carelessly desperate sound that went straight to Shizuo's cock. Fuck, it might as well be his cock buried in Izaya's ass for the way it gripped him, held him, wouldn't let go.
"Fuck, flea…" he growled, trying to twist his fingers. "Gonna need my hand tomorrow, you know…"
"Hnn…" Izaya breathed a laugh, rotating his hips as he pushed back. "You can smoke with the other hand, Shizu-chan."
"Smart fucking bastard…" But it wasn't working. Izaya wouldn't let him move, and Shizuo didn't know what the hell he was doing anyway. He couldn't thrust very deep past the friction, and this stupid fumbling couldn't be doing much for either of them.
"My bag…" Izaya mumbled against his forearm. "There's lube. Because Shizu-chan's big, and it's—ah!—easier."
It took a second or two for the words to filter through, but when they did Shizuo stilled.
"Then… last time, I…"
Hurt you.
Izaya wasn't even listening, too busy still grinding back against Shizuo's unmoving fingers. "Nn… Shizu-chan?"
He removed his fingers roughly, making Izaya gasp, and got to his feet.
"Doesn't matter." And it didn't, because this was the flea, and hurting was all Shizuo was good for anyway. There was an odd calm in that knowledge.
Izaya looked over his shoulder, frowned. "Wait, don't go, I didn't—"
Shizuo shook his head, trying not to notice how Izaya relaxed. "Lube, right?"
"Ah… okay."
It took far too long to open the bag, and dump its contents onto the bed. Whatever torture devices he'd expected to tumble out along with the lube never did; just another cell phone, a couple of pen drives and an mp3 player with pink headphones. Disarmingly ordinary things that, for reasons he couldn't begin to explain, made Shizuo's chest tighten.
Goddamn stupid flea… what were you thinking?
When he returned to the couch, Izaya was still where he'd left him, bent over against the armrest. His gaze followed Shizuo's approach, but otherwise he hadn't moved. He knelt back behind the other man, one knee on the couch, the other foot braced on the floor.
This time his fingers slid inside with little resistance, the slickness of the gel turning the heat of Izaya's body fever hot. When Izaya shifted his weight onto one arm, Shizuo expected him to reach down and stroke himself – a thought that made his own cock pound, thighs tensing – but instead Izaya was reaching back for him.
Why? Why the fuck do you want this so much?
He caught Izaya's hand before it could touch, remembering last time, remembering the current that had snapped through him at the sensation.
There was nothing else within reach – fuck if he was letting go again- so he tugged his shirt over his head, gripped the collar with slippery fingers, and ripped. The shirt tore like it was made of paper. He hauled Izaya up against him, trying to ignore the way the flea squirmed, back arching against Shizuo's chest, and wound one half of the torn shirt around his wrists. Izaya stopped squirming, instead leaning back against Shizuo's shoulder, turning his head, licking the side of his neck.
Without thinking, he leaned into it. Izaya licked again, and smiled against his skin.
"Mmm, Shizu-chan…"
That voice. That needed to go too, before it weaselled its way into his senses, dug in its claws and wouldn't let go.
Izaya didn't seem quite as pleased when Shizuo tied the other half of his shirt around his mouth, silencing the words if not the noises. He could deal with the noises, as long as he didn't have to listen to more of Izaya's lies and false platitudes.
"I don't have to pretend."
"Shut up…" He shoved Izaya's head down against the cushions. "Just… please, shut up."
Izaya muffled something against the makeshift gag, but the puzzled mumbles turned to a low, mind-numbing moan when Shizuo slicked himself up with the leftover lube, pressed the head of his cock against Izaya's ass, and edged his way inside.
A part of him had sort of hoped the memory his body held of being inside Izaya was some kind of aberration, a hallucination brought on by not getting laid nearly enough. No one's body should be that hot, that tight, flexing and rippling around him and drawing him in deep like it couldn't get enough of him.
No one should want him that much.
But it was fine, since Izaya didn't. Izaya wanted something, that was for sure, but it wasn't him. At least not like this, not really.
There were already finger-sized bruises on Izaya's pale, narrow hips, so it was easy to just hold on again, to set up a hard, punishing rhythm that made the couch squeak against the floor with every thrust. There was something almost pleading in Izaya's muffled cries, but he forced himself not to listen.
"You wanted to be useful, right?" He ground out, eyes squeezed shut as if he could somehow block out the way Izaya looked beneath him, the way his cock slid hilt-deep into the other man's ass. "Maybe you are good for something."
He felt the shudder run through Izaya a moment before the heat around him became even tighter, almost to the point of pain. Good. Exchange was no robbery or some such shit, right? Izaya's cries were almost sobs, deep and breathless as his body tensed.
And it occurred to Shizuo that he'd never even touched Izaya, not once. Hadn't needed to. A small sliver of his brain that was still rational thought that it might be a good time for another round of insults – because Izaya would, given this much ammunition – but his mouth wouldn't form the words. Something about the way Izaya's shoulders were trembling, the way his body tensed now at every one of Shizuo's thrusts, and insulting – hurting – was the last thing on Shizuo's mind.
Fucking idiot, this is what he wants you to think…!
He felt the sweat trickling down his back, felt his grip on Izaya's hips faltering, and then nothing but the shattering chain-reaction of sensation wrenching from deep in the base of his spine, molten and electric. Izaya still met him, thrust for erratic thrust, until he was empty. Empty and just… hollowed out.
Still, not empty enough, not when the guilt, the anger, the sheer hopelessness of not knowing what the fuck he was meant to do with this chased away the aftershocks of orgasm.
He pulled out, slumping back against the other end of the couch, just trying to catch his breath. Izaya murmured something behind the gag, turning onto his side, chest rising and falling in a fast, staccato rhythm.
Another mistake. And there was no way to justify it except—
No. No exceptions. No reasons. Just another mistake. He couldn't do this; it'd be better for them both if Izaya really did find someone to take him to an airport as quickly as possible, because if this went on…
Fuck.
By the time he looked up, Izaya's eyes were closed, dampness still clinging to his lashes. Shizuo ran a hand over his face, tried to gather his scattered thoughts. Even if he had no idea what he was doing, he couldn't just sit here forever.
He could unfasten the gag, but Izaya was already curled up and it would have been impossible to untie his hands without waking him up. Shizuo figured that the shirt was soft enough and he hadn't tied it that tight, probably… ah, it'd be fine.
Because he didn't want Izaya to wake up, didn't want him to look up with those lazy, sly eyes and smile, and say all the things Shizuo didn't want to hear.
I don't trust you. But more than that, I don't trust me when I'm around you.
He pulled one of the sheets off the bed, draping it over the ridiculously fragile looking body curled up on the couch. He almost reached out to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen into Izaya's eyes, but stopped himself. That was something lovers would do. People who liked each other. It wasn't something for them.
Back in the bedroom, he stared up at the darkening sky through the window above, and listened to Izaya shuffling in his sleep.
Maybe these sleeping arrangements were okay too.