Summary: In retrospect, he should have known that it would end up as more than just a new way of hating each other. Shizaya.
Disclaimer: If only DRRR were mine.
Warnings: Swearing, sexual content.
Author's Note: Homigawd, DRRR. I'm seriously surprised there isn't more love for this fandom... I found it the other day and fell completely in love with its characters, setting and epic WTFness. Dollars forever!
The sex is violent, often to the point of brutality.
Izaya usually lays low for a few days afterwards to lick his wounds – savage bites along his neck that turn an angry red in protest, patchwork bruises that bloom along his arms and back, a deep ache in his thighs and ass. The adrenaline high often takes hours to wear off, too, for there is an element of intense caution involved – Izaya knows that if he angers Shizuo beyond a certain point during their rough coupling, he will have to be faster than he's ever been in his life to escape death. He feels the faintest traces of restraint, readiness, in Shizuo's muscles as well, even when he's on the point of orgasm, because it will not have escaped the man that Izaya can hide his knives anywhere.
Sometimes it's in an alleyway, a mere twenty feet away from the bustling crowds. Shizuo will look up to see if the latest heavy object he's thrown has hit, and Izaya will smirk at him with deliberately lidded eyes, and then he'll be shoved up against the wall as Shizuo's hands and mouth explore him in new ways and the grimy buildings are painted with the sounds of their lust. Other times they'll make it to a bed somewhere, and as jagged white pleasure skitters up his spine and Shizuo's mouth opens to taste his neck, Izaya almost forgets that the reason he started this whole affair was to have something new to taunt the blond about.
Because it doesn't seem to be working out that way, Izaya reflects even as Shizuo thrusts deeper into him, mouth curved against the underside of his jaw. Izaya has always indulged himself when a new obsession grips him, but there is a safety mechanism in that, because he knows that his obsessions never last long. Except for this. Because his liking for this has not decreased at all, and it's broken all the record times of his fancies. At first he thought that perhaps it was merely sex that had gripped him so tightly – he is, after all, human in most respects – but that's not it, because the two whores he bought once out of curiosity (one male, one female) did not hold his interest for more than twenty minutes. This leads him to logically conclude that it must not be sex that he likes so much (though the spiraling release of orgasm is comparable to almost nothing else), but Shizou himself.
This is an increasingly difficult concept for Izaya warm to, especially considering that he's spent the better part of his life both fascinated and repulsed by normal human connections. Not, he supposes as he watches Shizuo pull his rumpled shirt back on, that this could be called normal by any stretch.
"I still hate you." Shizuo tells him as he lights up a cigarette, sitting on the side of the bed. He says that every time – it's a ritual by this point.
"It's mutual, I assure you." Izaya always smirks in return through swollen lips, and idly wonders how the blond explains the fierce red marks on his neck to Tom.
Of course, there are always stretches of time in between their activities. It's likely that the next few times they meet Izaya will just bait him and Shizuo will respond with murderous intent and a few well-thrown cars, but it won't be long before this addictive new way of hating each other draws them back in. He's not even sure if it's merely lust-driven hate or hate-fueled lust anymore... he can see their bond evolving in the way they cross paths far more often now, the way that Shizuo's lips sometimes caress his neck instead of savage it, the way his own blood seems to pulse with desire and danger and twisted affection every time he sees that tall figure walking down the street.
Yes, Izaya will miss this. It will probably have to end soon, he knows. Pieces are falling into place – the city is simmering around them, and it's only a matter of time until the tension boils over. His plan is progressing even faster than he expected... the head will awaken very soon. Shizuo is deeply involved with Ikebukuro's darker side, and he will certainly be drawn into the conflict, if for no other reason than he is Celty's friend. He's strong, and capable, but that does not ensure survival. His uncontrollable temper make him an easy target, and Izaya thinks that more likely than not some enemy will take advantage of it and stick a knife or a bullet in the right place. The thought makes him sad, if not desperate. He's a grown informant, used to bargaining and loss and disappointment. Not some hormonal teenager.
Still, it eats at him enough to reconsider certain aspects of his plan. Shizuo's death is certainly not vital to awakening the Valkyrie. In fact, it would probably be better if he was out of the picture entirely during the fight. Izaya has enough influence to send Tom to a different city while the conflict is going on. As his bodyguard, Shizuo will be obliged to accompany him. That would be better for everyone – the gangs will not be so reluctant to cross the Dollars, Celty will lose part of her support network, and the city won't be completely destroyed when he goes on a rampage. And, he admits, the knowledge that Shizuo is safe would allow him to focus better on orchestrating events.
"You look happy, flea." Shizuo flicks his cigarette out the window and shoves his feet into his shoes. "Is there some profitable gang war going on that I should know about or something?"
"Shizzy," Izaya purrs reproachfully. "You know you have to pay for that information." He gives his best Cheshire cat grin.
Shizuo snorts. "With all the fucking stuff you steal from me, I think I've paid for it enough already."
It's true. Izaya currently has his credit cards stashed under the mattress. He only wishes he could see the blond's face when he realizes that they're missing. "Finders keepers." He says, corners of his mouth twitching up. "You really should watch over your possessions more carefully."
A muscle clenches in Shizuo's jaw, and he rigidly stalks to the door. "I'm going to leave before I change my mind and kill you after all."
"Please do." Izaya keeps a mocking tone, eyes drinking in the back of his form as he leaves.
Shizuo hesitates right before he walks into the hallway, seeming vaguely embarrassed. "Oh. And... the Slasher's back."
"I'm the best informant in Ikebukuro. I know about it." Izaya looks out the window, growing quickly bored with the conversation.
This comment seems to anger Shizuo. "I fucking know you know, asshole! All I wanted to say was it was dangerous and be careful. Jesus. Why do I fucking bother? You're such a goddamn condescending prick..."
He slams the door behind him with a force that cracks the plaster up to the ceiling. The yelling isn't unusual, but it's the first time that Shizuo has ever expressed something resembling concern. Izaya stares after him for a moment, then gives a small smile as the meaning of the words hits him.
Perhaps human connections have merits to them after all.