Rated N for "Not as much yaoi as you were expecting, but still enough that it has to be labeled as 'mature'"
By the way, this story is dedicated to Uphill Both Ways, because she is AMAZING and writes so much delicious porn. Seriously, I love you.
(PS, I would have dedicated my best story so far to you but idk if you're into that sort of thing and that would be awkward if you weren't. So here ya go!)
Everything that happened that night happened because of Tom.
That sounds a little like a compliment, but trust me, it isn't.
Tom was under the impression that working too much was causing me to become stressed and therefore more likely to blow up at people. I told him this was bullshit. Working helps me relieve my stress because I occasionally get to throw people through walls, so the temptation is no longer there. It sounds perfectly logical to me. Tom, however, doesn't believe this.
So he ordered me to go to a bar.
Yes, I know it makes no sense, but that's Tom. The stupid bastard purposefully picked the most crowded place in town so it would be easy to lose me in the bustling crowd. Well, it had worked. The place he ditched me happened to be a bar.
I don't really know why I actually went in instead of just going home. Maybe I was just in a particularly obedient mood, or maybe I wanted to go there and have a miserable time just to prove him wrong. Either way, I was in the bar. It was a well lit, cheery, kind of social bar. The lights glowed orange and there were televisions in several corners of the room, showing one sports game or another. The smell of peanuts and beer filled my nose, as well as the familiar taste of smoke. People crowded the bar in groups, while others congregated around tables. One in particular caught my attention.
A group of men in the corner were hanging off of each other and singing random pub songs. All of them appeared to be fairly young, well dressed, with silk shirts and suit pants, expensive looking haircuts dripping from their foreheads. But none of these were the reason for my particular attention to this table. No, my eyes were drawn to a black coat with a light fur trim, its unsuspecting owner facing away from me.
Fingers twitching with rage, I stomped over to them and gripped the back of his chair, careful not to splinter it lest it slip from my grasp. I wrenched it around and it made a sickening screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard, which I found appropriate considering who it was associated with.
Then something happened that I hadn't been expecting.
"Shizu-hic-o—!" He hiccupped as he squealed my name and catapulted himself onto my neck, arms latching around like cat's claws. I blinked and looked to his companions for an answer.
"He's drunk as fuck," one of them answered, uttering something that sounded a lot like a giggle. If I hadn't been so surprised, I might have smacked him for it. Men shouldn't giggle.
And yet, there was an extremely giggly man adhered to my upper half. To make it even more confusing, he was my worst enemy. The last time I checked, the feeling had been mutual. So that left me with only one conclusion:
Izaya definitely could not hold his liquor.
Before I could fully process this information, his lips crashed messily onto mine. I jerked back instinctively and opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but in a flash he was on me again, tongue probing around my mouth haphazardly. Severely confused and unable to do anything about it due to his awkward positioning over me, I attempted to close my mouth and force him out, but he only took this as encouragement. He was somehow able to sneak the slippery muscle up and around mine without my permission. He tasted like something fruity mixed with large quantities of alcohol, leaving a strange aftertaste in my mouth that I wasn't sure how I felt about.
This time I grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, squeezing him a bit harder than necessary with the hope that a little pain might snap him out of his weirdness. I extended my arms to get him away from me. "Izaya," I said, a little more breathlessly than I had intended. "Cut this shit out now."
As a reply, he titled his head to the side and caressed my hand with his own. I quickly pulled away and took another step back, sparing a glance at his drinking buddies. They were watching us with extended interest and I couldn't help wondering if they had done something to him. One of them was looking especially coy, stabbing at an olive in the bottom of his martini glass and resting his head on his hand, eyes narrowed. His short black hair reminded me of Izaya himself, as did the plotting look he had in his eyes.
A whim took hold of me, directing my actions. I suddenly felt pity for Izaya. He was making a serious ass of himself. I grabbed him by the arm and attempted to lead him away from the bar, but he twisted around with some kind of ninja trick to get out of my grasp. I looked at him quizzically, confused at being rejected by someone who had been all over me a second ago. But he held out his hand to me, wiggling his fingers with determined purpose.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Immediately after I shut the door, the giggling fiend rounded on me again, pushing me up against it with surprising strength. Before I could react, he yanked my neck down by hooking a slim hand into my tie and pressed his lips to mine again. "Ishaya," I tried to mutter as he assaulted my mouth. "Ishaya, shtop." He ceased his ministrations and glared up at me with giant crimson eyes. I stared back, brow furrowed, unsure how to react. He slid his hands down my shoulders and chest, coming to rest at my hip bones. He brought them together above my belt buckle, apparently thinking himself sly. I was just trying not to deck him. He sunk his fingers between the fabric and the leather and towed me to the bedroom.
"What are you doing now, you insane flea?" I groaned, closing my eyes in frustration. He took this opportunity to spin me around and tip me onto the bed. As he crawled on top of me, the hungry look on his face gave me a bad feeling. Especially when he took off his jacket and flung it across the room to have it land on and knock over my lamp. I liked that lamp.
But in all seriousness, I did start getting nervous when he unhooked his hand started tugging my shirt up and slipping his fingers under the fabric to roam over my stomach. I stilled his movements with my own hands. "Izaya, what are you doing?" I said severely, calling his attention to my face.
He was swaying back and forth, like a cat's tail or a flag or something weird like that. "I was just gonna have some fun with you, Shizu-chan." Not exactly the answer I had been hoping for, but at least I had proved that he wasn't a walking catatonic.
"Let me go get you some water," I suggested as soon as slipped his hands under my shirt again. As I had unfortunately resolved not to pummel him until he was free from his current state of inebriation, I could only watch him and hope he didn't do anything too destructive.
Izaya leapt forward and pinned my arms to the mattress. He shook his head and kept singing, "No, no, no, naughty Shizu-chan, no, no…" When he seemed satisfied that I would not move, he moved back down to erect himself dangerously above my knees. I say dangerously because he started swaying more violently to the point where he fell over on his hands again. He was getting nowhere fast.
And then he ripped my belt from me, pant loops and all.
I don't know what exactly I had been expecting, as he had already tried to shove his tongue down my throat twice, but somehow it hadn't occurred to me that he wanted to have sex. But now that he was assaulting my lower body, the thought struck me. It was pretty freaky. I mean, I thought he was drunk, not absolutely batshit insa…ne…
Yes, I know you're laughing at me right now. I temporarily forgot Izaya was a crazy person. Sue me.
Anyway, Izaya tried to take off my pants. I, of course, was not willing to stand for this. I grabbed his hands, slid my legs out from under him, and gingerly returned the offending limbs to the attacker. "Whoa," I said simply.
He tossed his bangs to the side and smiled that smile I hate. The sadistic, twisted, plotting smile he nearly always wore. "Whatsa matter? I won't bite. Promise." He clicked his teeth together, to be ironic I suppose.
"I don't think so, Izaya," I replied, moving to get up.
I had also forgotten the little shit always carried that damn knife with him. And now it was pressed to the only place I would have liked to avoid taking damage. Drunk though he may be, I figured there were two ways this could go badly; One: he was drunk, but not drunk enough that he couldn't ably wield a knife; Two: he was drunk, and because he was drunk, he had absolutely no ability to wield a knife, and was thus likely to slip up.
So I had to take the therapist's way out. I had to talk him down from the crazy-ass ledge he was standing on. Meanwhile, he was using his free hand to unzip me and tug my pants a ways down my thighs, the other contradictorily ready to slice my manhood to bits. "Izaya, you obviously have no idea what you're doing," I said nervously.
"Yes I do. Girls have done it for me plenty of times."
I couldn't tell if he was faking stupid or if he was actually that out of it. "Izaya, you don't even like me. Why would you want to…to…do what you're trying to d—ahnngg…" He had put his hand directly over my crotch and was rubbing me through the fabric of my underwear.
"Trying to do what, Shizuo?" he asked sweetly, picking up the pace a bit.
I rolled my head back and bit my lip to keep from panting. My toes curled as I tried to resist the growing feeling of pleasure. Suddenly he hooked a finger under the elastic and jerked it down, exposing me completely. I gasped and fisted my hands into the bed cover. "Just get off of me before I beat you," I hissed with great effort. It was a feeble threat, but I've never been one to take advantage of drunk people. Even though I didn't really consider Izaya a person, I figured maybe his mother or someone did, and that was enough reason not to allow him tooooOOH—!
He nuzzled his head between my legs and licked all the way up my rapidly stiffening length. I half yelped, and then tried to slow my breathing, and tried not to let him see, as he had looked up immediately after with a sort of 'I told you so' expression on his face. But damn, it was tough. It had been a while, to say the least. The memory of his warm tongue replayed itself somewhere between my mind and my dick as the moisture dried cold and chilled me. Every bit of me was screaming for more, but a part of my brain, the sane part was about to commit some sort of drastic form of suicide if I let him do what he wanted to do. I squeezed the sheets harder, attempting to channel some of the blood away from my groin and prepared for another 'conversation'.
"Okay, I get it," I huffed, "this is a revenge thing, right? That's what the knife is for. But think about it: if you do this, you'll only be losing your dignity. I take back what I've always said. I like violence. Violence is great. Let's have some violence."
Izaya tilted his head to the side, obviously amused. "This part of you doesn't agree, Shizu-chan." He poked me gingerly and I gave a pained grunt. He was right there, at least. I fixed my eyes on the blade he held at a dangerous proximity to my heated flesh, and frantically re-willed my brain to come up with a solution.
But apparently, in addition to being a rapist and a lunatic drunk, Izaya is also an impatient one. He stretched his left hand out in front of him to rest on the bed next to my hip, lowering his face so that it, too, was at a dangerous proximity. With an evil glance up to my distressed face, he shot his tongue out and slid it up my length again. But this time he didn't stop there; reaching the top, he took my tip into his mouth and curled his tongue around it while I writhed. His mouth slid down even further, engulfing about half of me.
My vision blurred as lust clouded my eyes. I was no longer capable of any kind of comprehension, just visceral moaning and groaning as Izaya's head sunk down and rose up again with rising frequency between my legs. He paused after a couple rounds to look up at me again, eyes half-covered by lashes, keeping us joined by his reptilian tongue. It extended from his mouth as far as he would have it and edged around my cock, gathering pre-cum.
I'd like to say I managed to resist whatever remained of the temptation he was offering to me, but I didn't. I raised my head from the cushion of pillows with great effort and through gritted teeth hissed to him, "Just drop the damn knife, Izaya, you're making me fucking nervous."
He chuckled a little and flipped it closed, slipping it into his pocket. To my relief, he resumed his ministrations. I almost jumped out of my few remaining clothes though when his right hand snuck between my legs as well and started playing with my balls. Now at the point of no return, I completely lost it, ripping my hands from the sheets to lace my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to me. This seemed to encourage him, as he sucked harder, bobbed faster, and moved his fingers with greater dexterity.
"Ahhhhhh—Iza—yaahh. Ooh…" I was past the point of being embarrassed by my sounds. He really was good at this, the way he worked his tongue in between movements, the way that right hand was going. I rudely bucked against his warm, wet mouth, but he didn't protest. Even being as drunk as he was, he seemed to be more in control of the situation than I was, which might have bothered me if I hadn't been entangled in so much bliss.
"Izaya—ahh—I'm c-coming…Stop—!" I breathed. Maybe he hadn't heard me, as he was still going at it. I gently pulled at his hair, though I didn't want to directly jerk him off and risk hurting myself. "S-stop!" I said louder. I pushed my hand down to his shoulder, trying to nudge him away. He rotated himself away from my touch, clenched his jaw down slightly. I cried out, involuntary saline welling up from my eyes, further clouding my vision.
Fine, if he was going to be that way, I'd let him. I relaxed as much as I possibly could underneath the circumstances and painfully endured the last few seconds before the tight coil of heat in my abdomen burst. "Ahh—!" I whimpered, curling my hands more tightly into his dark hair. Izaya swallowed all of my orgasm before finally releasing me. He crawled the rest of the way up on the bed and collapsed next to me, breathing hard, but not as hard as me.
I lay there and my wits slowly sifted back into my mind. They gradually assembled the pieces of the thought 'Oh fuck' in my head. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. What in the HELL was I doing? I lay paralyzed as Izaya fidgeted with my collar, having already removed my tie.
Then I realized Izaya was fidgeting with my collar, having already removed my tie.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Adrenaline hit me and I leapt off the bed, pulling my pants up awkwardly. "I'll be right back," I stuttered unconvincingly. "I promise. I have to…do something." I scurried away to hide in the bathroom.
If he hadn't been drunk, I doubt that would have worked. As he'd already proven himself a cunning drunk, I was a bit surprised that it had. But whatever, now was not the time to attempt to penetrate the inner workings of Izaya's mind.
Wait, maybe it was.
Why was he doing this?
I thought back to the bar, when he'd first kissed me. What had he said? …Nothing. Nevermind, that wasn't helpful. I was getting uncomfortably hot from stress, so I took off my vest and rolled up my sleeves, staring into the bathroom mirror while gripping the sink so hard my knuckles turned white. My face was red and a bit damp, my blonde hair clinging to the moisture. I turned on the faucet, slapping cold water onto my face and pushing my hair back. I looked to my right and the thought briefly crossed my mind to take a cold shower. But then Izaya would get impatient with me and—
Wait. Why was I worrying about what Izaya would do? I hated Izaya. Always had. From the second we'd met up to now. Kind of.
'Kind of'? Why 'kind of'?
Well…he kind of did that thing just now and—
Izaya had tried to kill me on several different occasions! He had just held me at knifepoint! I had been forced to accept his…activities!
But I had enjoyed it.
I yelled out with rage and smashed my fist down on the closest thing, which happened to be the still-running faucet. It bent towards the marble of the cabinet and got a huge kink in it that halted the water flow. I gingerly turned the handle to off anyway. Then I froze, waiting to see if I heard anything from outside. Maybe Izaya hadn't heard my outburst.
So what if he had? This was my house. I could just kick him out, leave him to his own devices. The bastard probably wouldn't die; truly evil things so rarely do. I had no reason to feel guilty.
But I had made that promise back in the bar, and I don't like going back on my promises.
I emerged from the bathroom, resolving to crush the strange feelings that had arisen in me into a neglected corner of my mind until I was ready to deal with them (in other words, never). "Okay Izaya," I said in a loud voice, determined to reassert my authority. "You can stay here, but no more funny bus—"
Izaya was asleep on my bed. My number one enemy was snoozing like a baby or some kind of small furry animal, on my bed. And had apparently hurled all over my floor. I sighed. At least it wasn't carpet.
Dazed, I made my way to the kitchen to get some paper towels to clean up the mess. I sat down on the bed when I was done, mulling over the events of the evening. Izaya hiccupped in his sleep and his brow furrowed slightly. Before I could stop myself, I was thinking that it was a cute face he was making.
It seemed our relationship had deteriorated greatly over the course of one night's events. It was all his fault for kissing me in the goddamn bar. Or maybe it was Tom's fault for making me go to the goddamn bar. What kind of request was that anyway? I shook my head, and discovered to my displeasure that it hurt. I looked back at Izaya, who was now drooling on my pillow. What a weird night. Maybe after some sleep, everything would make more sense.
I was woken by the sound of Izaya tripping over his own shoes.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed loudly, then hissed and sunk to his knees, holding his head in his hands. "Fucking hangover, ow, ow," he whispered.
I propped myself up on one elbow and peered over the arm of the couch blearily. "Good morning?" I offered reluctantly. It felt strange to be saying that to Izaya.
He glared up at me. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he whispered awkwardly. I almost laughed, it sounded so weird to have him swearing quietly in my living room.
"I live here, flea," I responded.
Izaya stared at the ground for a moment, then his eyes roamed up the unfamiliar walls and over my furniture. He jumped up abruptly and fell back on his hands, yelling, "Shit!"
"Wow, you must have been really drunk last night." I was actually enjoying myself, watching his face contort as he realized the implications of my words.
He stuttered for a moment, picking one of his arms up off the floor and gesturing at himself, then me, then back to himself again without actually saying anything. "D-d-did we…?" He jumped up again, successfully this time and started patting his ass. I nearly howled with laughter. I settled for a sinister chuckle. "Motherfucker!" he swore again, earning another throb from his headache. "Why am I here?" he demanded. His eye caught sight of his sleeve, which was pooling down around his elbow. "And where the fuck are my clothes?"
"In response to the second question, because, I assure you, you don't want the first answered, your clothes are in the wash. They reeked of alcohol. Didn't want them stinking up the place."
Another light of understanding seemed to shine upon Izaya's head. He swore again and stomped on my floor. "Hanatarou you bastard, I'm going to fucking kill you!" he raged to himself. He looked back to me. "You," he said. I blinked lazily. "I don't know what the fuck you did to me, but trust me, I will find out." Clad only in my pajamas, Izaya Orihara marched out of my apartment.
I leaned back on my couch, a small smirk flitting across my face. "I hope for your sake that you don't."
Derp! Shizuo sounds like such a dude, the way he talks. Sorry, I'm from California. Like, whoa, man. Bro. Brosef. Broseph? If any of my readers are named Joe or know a Joe, I'd be interested to see which is more popular. I personally like the 'f'.
It's 12:41 and I am very tired and contradictorily hyper. Forgive me for being weird and random.
Remember, if you review, it eventually means more yaoi for you. Mmyes.