"Surrender," the man next to him growled, slamming his hand on the table.

Izaya grinned amidst the bubbling of table-side chatter and conversation-with all the elegance of plastic-that draped over soft classical notes of music in the background. The fingers of his left hand thrummed against the polished wooden edge of his table.

He took another sip of his Rosė, a few shades lighter than the maroon of his silk button-down shirt and his glinting wine-colored eyes. The man in the simple tux twisted the toothpick around, grinding it with his teeth while he waited impatiently for his half-bet to be returned.

Izaya didn't blame him for his decision. It had been a pitiful hand, after all.

The dealer gave the man a nod from behind the table, and pushed half of the other's bet back at him. Izaya chewed at his lower lip, watching the other players' hand signals, making quick decisions on what to do. There was most likely going to be an ace or two after the next drawn card, but everyone else seemed to be standing. Izaya gave the horizontal wave of his hand to signal his own stand. If he calculated right, the dealer should have a soft 17. That way he'd have to take a hit, and if he did, Izaya would follow and claim the ace to partner a King.

Izaya pushed another stack of chips next to his original bet, flashing his fingers to the dealer in a V to signal his split. He suspected that the woman in the slightly too-tight, emerald dress would hit soon, judging by the way she pursed her lips and the way her eyes flickered back and forth to the deck in the dealer's hand. There was body language, and the fact Izaya's counted her cards, meaning he was fully aware of the queen and nine in her possession. It meant he'd have to move quickly.

Another groan and the man in the pale tweed suit across from him busted, slamming his fist into the table before the dealer even revealed his hand. The dealer smiled, his foreign green eyes and dark chestnut locks causing the white of his teeth to stand out more. He asked the frustrated player politely to return soon, with a slight European lilt in his baritone, while slapping his own cards to the table. Izaya watched with amusement in his eyes as the other customer stormed off, cursing under his breath. The brunet quickly returned his attention back to the game at hand, keeping a private eye on the emerald lady.

Izaya's grin grew wider when the soft 17 was revealed, and the dealer was forced to hit. The dealer didn't bust, and before the other players could think of taking his chance, Izaya pushed yet another stack of chips next to his bet and pointed, and he was dealt another card.

He flashed the 21 at the dealer with an expectant smile. The other players sighed unanimously and leaned back in their chairs, or shifted on their feet, while Izaya took his claim.

"Nice hand, kid," the dealer spoke, evaluating Izaya's bet, before pulling out a stack of chips for him.

"Thanks. Though I do believe I have a 3:2 edge on the house. You'll need to double that," Izaya said, counting the chips he'd received with disappointment in the dealer's negligence.

The man gave Izaya a stern look, narrowing his attention, much to the chagrin of other impatient players.

"Don't think I don't know a counter when I see one, kid. I'll advise you to leave now and take what I've offered. "

Izaya's grin dropped.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I played fair and square. What, you can't take a guy's simple luck?" He hissed, fully intending to leave with his extra chips. The man couldn't be that hard to convince.

"You should know we don't like your filth around the tables." The young man motioned at the camera above them.

Izaya opened his mouth to retort but then his peripheral caught the black clad men towards the back of the casino walking steadily in his direction. A familiar mop of blond hair commanded his attention especially, and Izaya surprised the dealer by shoving the offered chips into his bag, and hurriedly snatching his suit jacket from the chair, hastily shouldering into the coarse black fabric.

"You're so right, I'll take it. Have a good night!"

Izaya offered a charismatic grin before hastily heading in the opposite direction of the advancing suits. He turned to calculate the distance between himself and his least favorite surveillance officer. The second he turned his head, his eye caught the officer's, and something ignited.

"IIIIIIIZAAAYAAAA," the man shouted, startling dozens of customers around him.

Izaya grimaced, "Shizu-chan."

His feet moved of their own accord, taking him safely out of harm's way as a large slot machine landed where he'd previously been standing. Izaya eyed the demolished machine warily before breaking into a full run and cursing the restriction his suit came with. He dodged people and slot machines alike. A blur of suits and dresses, alcohol and card tables, was all he processed while the irritated officer chased after him. His sparked nerves ran alit with the fire of adrenaline and thrill, and he couldn't stop the wild grin that plastered over his features.

Izaya ducked through the kitchen, the scent of warm food momentarily flooding his nostrils. Dodging and leaping over several metallic contraptions and shelves of fine delicacies, he earned several shouts from angered chefs and waiters. Shizuo stormed after Izaya, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake, lacking the practice grace Izaya had gained from being constantly on the run. The shattering of glass and clamor of metal crashing to the floor rang high with the shrill chaos of Izaya's breathless laughter as he ran.

When they rounded the corner that headed to Izaya's planned exit, he halted, surprised at the new installment to the kitchen that definitely hadn't been there the last time he'd visited the casino.

"Shit," Izaya mumbled, as a large hand collided with the metallic door in front of him, pinning him against the freezer. The officer behind him sniggered; chest heaving and breath uneven, and he leaned into the brunet's shoulder,

"Got ya'."

Izaya shivered at the warm breath hitting his ear. "Those blueprints you stole still show the hallway being there, don't they? That's what you get, fucking flea," Shizuo growled, grabbing Izaya's wrists harshly and ripping the bag of plastic chips from his vice grip. The blond took satisfaction in slamming Izaya's face against the cold metal door while securing handcuffs around his wrists.

"Congratulations. Now what?" Izaya drawled, feigning disinterest as he was guided rather harshly out of the kitchen by his smug escort. He could almost feel the grin radiating from Shizuo.

"Now I show you what we do with undesirable customers."

"Mmm, but I'm pretty sure you desire me, Shizu-chan," Izaya grinned despite the slight panic gnawing at his chest. "Why else would you continue to chase me down?" The counter knew full well what Shizuo intended to do. And Izaya wasn't too fond of pain. Or the possibility of death.

"As if. It's 'cause you're a flea and I hate you. And don't call me that, you filth." Shizuo gave Izaya's handcuffs a tug, pulling at his shoulders uncomfortably. Izaya grimaced, his eyes flickering around the windowless casino, a feeling of asphyxiation overcoming him in the crowded lobby.

"Aw, but Shizu-chan, we've been through so much together! Remember when you worked at the casino down in Shinjuku and you got fired after throwing the roulette table at—"

"Shut up, you're so damn annoying. The way you fucking leech from these places like a tick…makes me sick." Shizuo glared at Izaya while he spoke, venom hanging from every word.

Izaya frowned, about to respond when he was cut off by Shizuo slamming him face-first into the lobby wall.

"For Chrissake, Shizu-chan, do you have to be so rough?" Izaya opened his eyes from his wince, only to find them being covered with a velvety black material, realizing a bit late that Shizuo had blindfolded him with his own tie.

Shizuo grinned maliciously, "You know you wouldn't have it any other way."

"How kinky."

The officer pulled the makeshift blindfold tight, causing white to flash in Izaya's eyes. He took pleasure in the barely discernible dissatisfied expression adorning his captive's face.

"Shizu-chan, it hurts," Izaya whined, and Shizuo grimaced at the obnoxious tone of voice the other had adopted.

"Serves you right for all the shit you cause me. I tell you to stay the fuck away from my casino, and you come back just to piss me off. You'll get what's coming to you."

Izaya felt heat rising at the threat, and shifted uncomfortably. Shizuo pulled him away from the wall, and meandered somewhat aimlessly through the crowds in hopes of obscuring Izaya's mental blueprint of the building. Izaya, rather dizzied and frustrated from his captor's sharp turns, continued their verbal banter.

"Of course, Shizu-chan, because my entire life revolves around you and what I can do to make yours more difficult."

Izaya rolled his eyes into the blinding tie when Shizuo muttered a 'Damn straight' and made another sharp turn that sent Izaya stumbling over his own feet.

"Getting rough so soon? How impatient."

Shizuo scoffed but didn't say anything, guiding Izaya at a slower pace as to avoid any more comments. He hoped Izaya's mind wasn't caught up with where they were in the building, and just in case he made a few more unnecessary turns as they ventured away from guests. Most of the noise of chatter and music and voices had faded away by the time Shizuo pushed open a heavy, rusted door whose screeching raked unpleasantly against their eardrums. Shivers raked down Izaya's spine, though there wasn't any noticeable draft.

Must clung to the humid air, and Izaya noted the faint, warm breeze that barely caressed his skin when his captor shoved him forward into the space. Stumbling over his feet for a moment, Izaya straightened up and scanned over his mental blueprint of the building while Shizuo's scuffling behind him and the slam of the metal door reverberated in the otherwise empty space. The card-counter scraped his foot experimentally against the surface beneath him and the slightly uneven pattern of cement under his shoe confirmed his suspicions.

"The old parking garage? Classy. I'm somewhat surprised it hasn't been torn do—" Izaya's speech only faltered when a sharp pain in his temple silenced him, and stirred the heat fluttering in his stomach.

The revolver was hesitantly brought down to Shizuo's side, and he frowned, steaming from Izaya's infuriating knowledge of the building. He had been sure that from all those twists and unnecessary turns, not even the flea could place himself. Shizuo glanced around the garage, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light that filtered in through cracks in the ceiling. His nose crinkled slightly as he inhaled the distilled air, briefly wondering if the cement was still stable after such a long period of disuse, slight patters of tiny feet scampered along the eroded pavement on the level above the men's heads.

"Just stay silent and it'll be over faster."

Pain swelled in Izaya's mind and his grin momentarily faltered. Electricity sparked along his limbs, fingertips twitching in expectation from behind his back, waiting for any notion as to Shizuo's intentions. He couldn't deny the heat that spread through his veins with the blood that rushed towards the pit of his stomach. Nerves fluttered anxiously around his rib cage, rising to his head like vertigo. Shizuo's movements were muffled slightly by the useless tie that crudely dressed Izaya's eyes and fell over his ears. Senses on overdrive, the card-counter nearly forgot the panging echoing in his skull from the impact of Shizuo's gun, when he heard the clicking of a cylinder being loaded.

"Hey, Shizu-chan. What's the gun for? " Silence.

"Can't bring yourself to kill me with your own hands?" Izaya rather liked the way his voice ricocheted off of the barren walls.

"Is this 'so long' or a 'friendly reminder'?"

Unable to deny the anxiety seeping into his blooming arousal, Izaya shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Colorful images of just what Shizuo might be planning to do with his revolver shuffled in his thoughts, and heat raced alarmingly fast from Izaya's chest to his groin, the last bit flooding into his cheeks.

A large hand roughly grasped Izaya's handcuffs, and the man's heart raced.

The first time, finally caught, Izaya'd slipped up and was in the possession of a man who had the power to kill him, and the future felt like a thing of the past. For once, he didn't know, he wasn't sure, he could be in the final moments of his life and it was intoxicating.

"Where should I shoot you first?" The voice was nothing above a whisper, and the husky tone of morbid humor sent shivers along Izaya's spine.

Izaya felt the cool metal of the revolver's barrel from outside of his thin dress shirt, the indirect cold pressure against his flushed skin over exaggerated from the chill of fear enveloping his body. The metal trailed teasingly slowly down his chest and swept past his navel, sending shudders rippling throughout his body. Izaya could feel the vibrations of Shizuo's quiet laughter through the gun passing over the front of his belt. When the barrel hit his crotch and stopped there, Izaya froze.

"What's this?" Shizuo felt a wicked grin spread over his face, his glee beyond control. "You're more of a sick fuck than I thought," the blonde chuckled, pressing the tip of his revolver into the bulge of his captive's pants. A satisfying groan graced the officer's ears and he pressed harder, the metal shoved painfully against the coarse fabric of Izaya's trousers.

Izaya grimaced, the pain swelling in his semi-erect length only increasing his hardness. Lust shot through his mind and he couldn't stop himself from bucking weakly against the revolver. Shizuo frowned in disgust, unable to fathom how the other man could get a hard-on at such a time.

"Is there anything you'd like to d—" Izaya hissed when the revolver was abruptly jabbed against the bottom of his scrotum, "—o about that, Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo scoffed, letting his hungry eyes roam over Izaya's body, the quick rise and fall of his chest, the hitch in his breath as the revolver shifted a bit, and a chill ran through him as an exceptionally twisted idea came into his head. Shizuo pressed himself against Izaya's front, hooked a finger around the chain of the handcuffs before the brunet could back away, and leaned forward so that his lips brushed against his captive's heated ear, and whispered to him with a cruel smile.

A shiver ran through Izaya's spine as the warm breath caressed the side of his neck. "Why solve both our problems at once?" The revolver in Shizuo's now clammy hand slid from Izaya's crotch to his behind, and rubbed teasingly against him,

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The cool barrel prodded the trouser's fabric, edging into the crack of Izaya's bottom, and the man inhaled sharply, unintentionally pressing into Shizuo's embrace.

"How morbidly sadistic, Shizu-chan. Didn't take you for a dirty-talker ei—"

A fist embedded itself in Izaya's stomach and his handcuffs were released from Shizuo's grasp as he stumbled and fell to the dusty pavement. His mind was over stimulated for a moment from the searing pain in his abdomen, wrists and spine, and the coursing poison of libido. The metallic handcuffs bit into the raw flesh of his wrists, his back pressing them into the cold ground that contrasted starkly with his heated body.

"Fuck you, flea." Shizuo bent over Izaya's body, close enough for the other man's puffs of breath to ghost over his face, and glared, though the blindfolded man couldn't see him.

"Don't threaten me with a good time." The shaky smile fell from Izaya's face as another punch landed squarely in his stomach, his raspy voice reduced to coughing, asphyxiated by the blood bubbling in his throat. His own.


"Let's see you try and talk as much when you've got a gun up your ass," Shizuo growled, and flipped Izaya over onto his stomach before straddling his waist. Izaya's chin dug into the unfriendly cement, and the impact jolted his entire mind.

"Sure thing, officer," the captive choked out, crimson liquid dribbling from his crooked lips.

Shizuo grimaced, and without warning, fisted Izaya's belt and pulled—effectively ripping the obstructing leather from Izaya's thin waist, and tearing a good portion the man's suit pants off with it. The tearing of fabric accompanied the surprising cool air that hit Izaya's newly exposed flesh, and the counter held his breath to stifle the gasps that threatened to escape with every one of Shizuo's rough advances. The large hand that pressed down against the small of Izaya's back, forced Izaya's erection into the hard ground when Shizuo yanked his boxers from his lithe body. The mix of dirt and tiny rocks that ground into Izaya's damp skin overbalanced the pain to pleasure ratio, and as soon as Shizuo's weight was gone from his back, Izaya raised his hips into the air to avoid the cold pavement. A hand clasped his neck and kept his torso flush against the floor.

Shizuo studied the revolver in his palm, flipping it around casually before he glanced back at the bound man under his other hand. In all his time in surveillance, he'd only had to shoot the gun on rare occasions, usually aiming for non-vital areas when he did. Izaya was the only exception to his 'spare life' rule. The flea had better appreciate it. Shizuo moved behind Izaya on his knees, removing the hand from the other's throat and relocating it to his hip, while trailing the silvery revolver down Izaya's shivering back and between the two globes of flesh that tensed at the biting touch of metal.

It was in that moment, inches away from a humiliating demise, Izaya realized he'd really beencaught. If he changed his mind, there was no escape—Shizuo had him. Izaya couldn't suppress the tremor that ran through his body at the thought of Shizuo's plan, his autassassinophilia sent the ripples of fear straight to his engorged groin. His train of thought shattered when a warm hand grabbed his length without any intent of pleasing, and his captor's voice resonated eerily in the empty garage.

"Maybe I should just break this shit off. You're enough of a dick already." The threat was injected into the lust that swam through Izaya's blood stream, the tip of his erection becoming slick with pre-cum between the officer's pinching fingers. Shizuo grinned, drinking in his control over the man he so despised greedily. He removed his hand from the dripping arousal and swiped his wet fingers against the suave shirt plastered to Izaya's back , then gripped the captive's ass and spread the cheeks, giving him an unadulterated view of Izaya's puckered hole. An uncomfortable exposure flush spread over the brunette's face.

Feeling the tip of the revolver prod at his entrance, Izaya fumbled for his last opportunity at control.

"Hey, Shizu-chan, why not make this a bit more interes—" Izaya's breath hitched when a sliver of the icy metal slipped inside the heated ring of muscle.

Shizuo growled, "Don't think I'll take any of your slimy deals, filth," pressing a bit more of the tip into Izaya, causing the tense walls to stretch beyond comfort.

"All I want to do is bet an offer you can't lose. Don't tell me you don't like a good gamble." Izaya prided himself on the smooth flow of his voice, despite the waves of panic setting cold sweat over his body.

"Tch. Any gamble of yours is filthy. Ya don't know how to play a fair game."

Izaya chuckled nervously; how predictable.

"There's no way I can cheat in this proposition. Think of it as a Roulette sort of chancing."

Shizuo raised his brow at that, and glanced at his captive's face, pressed sideways into the cement ground, and in no way looking comfortable. And yet the man continued to nonchalantly cajole with death.

"I figure you'd still have something up your sleeve. But if it stops your bitching, go on and tell me."

Izaya internally grinned, knowing that he had Shizuo's attention whether the blond really wanted to give it to him or not. He'd have to show his hand to get out of this hot-seat.

"What's your revolver?"

Shizuo frowned, but failed to see the harm in answering the random question.

"Paterson Colt."

Izaya scoffed slightly, a crooked grin on his lips.

"Vintage. Figures. Don't they give you real guns at this place?"

Shizuo grew defensive, "The one I was issued is in repair an—"

"Full cylinder?"

"Why?" Shizuo started to gain suspicion; maybe the flea had some vast knowledge of guns and had an escape plan brewing.

Izaya's grin seemed to gain confidence, if at all possible.

"Well, say you were to leave one round in and spin the cylinder before you shoot."

Shizuo frowned, confused, before realization dawned on his expression and he became somewhat incredulous.

"…Are you suggesting we play Russian Roulette in your ass?"

Izaya would've shaken his head in disappointment if he were able.

"You were going to shoot me anyway. Don't pretend like that wasn't the plan. But if I'm going to martyr for gambling, then why not make my whole death a gamble? Almost poetic."

For a few moments, Shizuo was perfectly speechless. He wondered how insane Izaya really was.

"…And why should I give you the opportunity to live? What happens if the shot doesn't go off? I'm not taking a one-sixth chance for your escape." Shizuo stated concretely, ready to brush the whole offer off his shoulders.

"Because you know you've been trying to bag me for so long now, what fun would it be to end it like this? Keep another two in the cylinder, make it a fifty-fifty. Then if I'm shot; I'm dead anyway. If I live; all I ask for is a head start." Izaya's heart was racing, quite in contrast with his calm voice, his senses were on high alert, and every slight movement felt like electricity through his veins.

To say the least; Izaya loved a good gamble. To add more, Izaya loved engineering a good gamble. And he loved dangling that gamble over the edge of peril, just before he pulled back at the last second and revealed a winning hand.

"What makes you think you deserve a chance?" Shizuo scoffed. "What gives you the fucking right to try and gamble with me?"

"Because we both know this relationship runs like a Roulette table." Izaya's breath was catching in his throat as he spoke.

"And you've cheated one too many times. Vermin like you are meant to be exterminated."

"Shizu-chan. Even you know better than to quit when the table's hot. Don't surrender an ace hand before you risk a split. Take the 50-50 chance and let luck decide."

Shizuo considered the prospect. And faltered.

Izaya's chest flooded with a wave of relief, taking Shizuo's silence as a bite to the bait.

"You're completely fine with me shooting you up the ass—which you deserve, greedy little fuck—and all you ask for is a half-chance? You really are fucked up," Shizuo scoffed, wearing a grin on par with Izaya's. He'd show Izaya how sweet karma could be; Izaya's obsession would be his own demise. Shizuo felt sure of it.

Izaya grimaced when the revolver's tip was pulled from him, and he heard the clinking and clicking of the cylinder being set, and the rounds removed. He slowed his breathing for strict attention to the order of reloading.




The cylinder locked back in place, and his breath lodged in his throat when the hands gripped his behind again, and he could feel the unmerciful chill radiating from the gun.

"Was there ever any doubt?" he breathed.

The harsh, pained yell bounced off of the lofty ceiling and walls of the barren parking garage, filling every corner with an unsettling chill. Ragged breathing tore at Izaya's lungs, and his mind raced and he lost track of his heart beat, only focusing on the white flashing before his vision and the stabbing sensation in his rear. The frigid silver of the revolver seemed to scorch Izaya's soft, heated entrance. The pain from raw penetration was excruciating—not that he'd expected any less from his counterpart, suspecting the sadistic grin that decorated Shizuo's face like a pretty ribbon.

Izaya was almost thankful for the silky tie covering his eyes, the fabric feeling coarser over his increasingly raw skin, when his eyes watered and salty tears drained down his cheeks, getting absorbed by the fabric. Few coherent thoughts made their way to Izaya's brain, his mind numb from trying to block out the pain and figure out what had felt like it'd torn in his body. The uneven metal of the gun, he suspected, must've ripped his tender inside, because that's what it definitely felt like.

Shizuo froze despite the tiny voice in his mind that encouraged him to keep going, and rammed the gun as fast as hard as he possibly could inside that lithe body. Something about the scream Izaya'd inadvertently emitted triggered a sense of elation in his mind. There wasn't enough light to see the tears that trailed down Izaya's cheeks, but Shizuo suspected the penetration would hurt as much. Shizuo let go of his sympathy, deciding he rather liked the light-headed power trip, and drew the revolver out of Izaya's hole—just to plunge it in again.

The hand that gripped Izaya's waist felt the tremors ravish the man's body, and another tortured gasp ripped from Izaya's throat.

'And suddenly he doesn't want to share his voice,' Shizuo sneered in his mind.

The way the slender, trembling fingers ensnared in the handcuffs curled tightly inwards, and dug crescent-moon marks into the soft flesh of Izaya's hands cast the haze of an oncoming arousal over the officer's mind. All selective thought was efficiently cut off.

Shizuo swallowed before drawing the revolver out again and pushing it back in a more curt manner, noticing that the entry was a bit smoother. He built up a pace, watching hungrily as the gun disappeared and reappeared from Izaya's tight entrance, glancing every now and then to his prisoner's face, flushed with noticeable pain but underlying pleasure.

'Fucking flea, enjoying shit like this…' Shizuo felt his trousers growing hot and uncomfortable, his thoughts steering out of where he liked as his slick revolver pounded in and out of his prisoner's flushed behind. A mix of blood and perspiration greased the warming metal, and the squelching noises it produced with the fast pace of being rammed into the other's entrance made Shizuo's libido soar.

Ragged breathing and his own searing lust controlled most of Shizuo's mind, his hand automatically increasing the pace and intensity of the gun in his captive, barely registering the other's choked gasping and guttural groans as Izaya pushed back into the intruding metal. The brunette's muscles spasmed and clamped down around the now heated revolver, the hard tip inadvertently slamming against his prostate.

"Heh, so you really do like this, sick bastard," Shizuo whispered into the shell of Izaya's ear as he moaned.

Izaya arched, his chest pressing roughly into the ground beneath him and white swimming in his vision. The pain and pleasure shooting through his spine ripped a groan from his throat. Tremors shook his limbs and his wrists chaffed against their bindings. Unable to see, unable to hear apart from the blood pulsing in his ears and his own rugged breaths, the sensations were startlingly vibrant.

Only one thought kept him grounded, while his prostate was repeatedly assaulted by the man pressing up against him, and that was knowledge that he could be shot at any moment

Izaya's breath hitched, just brushing against orgasm, and—

Pain blossomed instead.

Izaya's world came to a crashing halt, the fog in his mind changed to crystal clear glass at the denial of his climax, the discomfort and pain causing him to squirm in anxiety. The fingers that pinched the base of his dripping erection tentatively removed themselves, then the captive felt the intrusion in his behind removed, and felt oddly empty. Arousal burned in the pit of his stomach, and frustration welled inside him in the form of water gathering in his eyes.

Hands gripped Izaya's waist again, and Shizuo spun the card-counter around so that the man was sprawled on his back, spine arching unnaturally over his cuffed fists. His slender legs were spread open, thighs slick with sweat and pre-cum, and Shizuo drank in the sight briefly before he reached for the makeshift blindfold.

Eyes clenched shut, Izaya was hesitant to reveal his irises when he felt his captor abruptly remove his blindfold, but blinked the dizzy crimson orbs anyway, quickly registering his surroundings. Before he had the chance to question Shizuo though, the officer sneered at him;

"Look me in the eyes when you come."

The intense control in Shizuo's mocha eyes held Izaya's attention as the blond drank in his captive's own blurry eyes and flushed expression. Another thought struck Shizuo, pulling Izaya into a sitting position, his bare skin against the dirty floor, then looping his arm around Izaya's back to snap the handcuffs. The brunet seemed a bit dazed and confused before Shizuo sent shivers down his spine while growling into his ear.

"Let me feel how much you really want this, fucking slut." Shizuo looped his captive's limp arms around his shoulders and Izaya didn't have the chance to utter his stubborn refusal before, without warning, Shizuo pinned him back against the ground and the revolver shoved up his unadjusted hole.

Izaya groaned, throwing his head back against the cement, sending a wave of dizzying nausea to his churning stomach. To spite Shizuo and his demands, Izaya raked his nails down the back of the officer's crisp white uniform, creating small tears and marks in the tanned skin beneath. Shizuo cursed at Izaya and gave a particularly hard slam of the revolver, only causing Izaya's fingers to dig in further to his shoulders.

"If you're so –nngah—into this, why don't you just—gahfuck me?" Izaya met the other's fierce gaze.

Shizuo scoffed, glaring down at him, "Like I'd put my dick in your dirty hole."

A nasty retort surfaced to Izaya mind, but he never had the opportunity to use it, as Shizuo changed the angle of the revolver's thrusting and repeatedly attacked his prostate. Izaya's back arched, pressing him flush against Shizuo, and bit down his moans, instead focusing on the dull aching in his lower back and painfully stiff erection.

When the fingers on the broad of his back hooked harder into him, Shizuo guessed that Izaya was approaching the edge again. The officer stopped his movements and was subjected to a heated glare from Izaya, before the man realized where Shizuo's free hand was going. The expression of annoyance flittered into slight panic, but before his captive could make any move to stop him, Shizuo shoved Izaya back down against the cement.

Izaya shut his eyes; he knew what was coming next. Fear dimmed only slightly the need from arousal. He listened, and caught the clicking of metal as the cylinder of Shizuo's revolver was spun. Fear and lust clouding his mind, blood pounding through his veins and his nerves on fire; Izaya did the only thing he could. He counted.

The whirring stopped, and if Izaya's counting paid off; there was a bullet in the cylinder. He tensed, staring blankly at the lofty ceiling when the gun was shoved inside him again, and Shizuo's voice trickled into his ears.

"Time to see if your gambling paid off."

Suspended in orgasm still, Izaya couldn't resist the cold and rough fingers that pulled at his erection, pumping his mind into white oblivion. The gun rested complacently inside him, and when he felt Shizuo's other fingers brush against his thigh and wrap around the trigger, Izaya lifted his back off the ground in a swift movement, and locked an arm around Shizuo's neck, pulling him into a quazi kiss.

Izaya's free hand traveled down to where the gun rested, and his fingers drifted over the barrel while he gazed with half-mass eyes into Shizuo shocked ones.

There was one soft click that only someone who was listening for it could hear, and Izaya retracted his hand from the gun.

Gaining control of his motor functions again, Shizuo glared balefully into Izaya's eyes, bristling with disgust and hatred, and bit down harshly on Izaya's lower lip. His hand squeezed Izaya's sore length, and with another solid pump, he watched with satisfaction as his captive's eyes rolled back into his head in ecstasy. Shizuo grinned. His sweaty hold on the revolver tightened.

He shot.

White flashed in front of Shizuo's eyes after he clenched them shut, and the gun's release rang out deafeningly in the amplifying garage. Images ran through his clearing mind; of blood, of the dead man beneath him, the sickening sight of rape and murder…the officer battled down nausea.

Suddenly aware of how Izaya's arm had unwound itself from around his shoulders, and how the warmth dissipated from in front of him, Shizuo's eyes shot open, and were met with empty space. Stunned, the officer looked around, and caught sight of Izaya, shrugging back into his pants, and when the man noticed Shizuo's gawking, he cast him an eerie smile.

"Hey, looks like my gambling paid off after all! Don't forget to honor our deal, Shizu-chan, I'll just take this—" Izaya swooped down and grabbed the bag of casino chips from off the cement floor, "—and be on my merry way. Later, Shizu-chan~ Let's have fun again soon, okay?"

An impish grin marred Izaya's handsome face, and before Shizuo could even think about becoming angry, the ghastly man was gone. No trace of what had occurred was visible, besides the slightly stained cement in front of Shizuo, and the man's heart suddenly sank, while adrenaline burned his nerves. Shizuo slammed his fist into the ground and roared. How the fuck had Izaya been able to get away that time?

Collecting himself from the pavement, Shizuo straightened up, a wave of vertigo blurring his vision for a moment. He stared down at his revolver in disgust.

He shuffled out of the abandoned parking garage the way he entered, with one less person and one less gun.

Out in the moon-lit streets of Ikebukuro, Izaya teetered happily over the edge of a fence, heading leisurely towards the train station that would take him back to Shinjuku. He inhaled the fresh-cut breeze that drifted by with much appreciation, his lungs abused and heavy from the dense and humid atmosphere of the dank parking garage. He hopped down from his perch, wincing slightly at the pain that raked up his spine, but didn't rid him of the smug grin adorning his face.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm," Izaya hummed, flicking out glinting metal from his slick palm and rolling his treasures along his fingertips. He glanced over to the train station, and back at the cool metal resting in his hand. He imagined his least favorite person sulking back at the casino, probably destroying something in his Neanderthalic rage, and swung the clinking bag merrily with his other arm.

With a self-satisfied smile, he pocketed the palmed rounds in his wrinkled suit jacket, and promised to return to Ikebukuro's casino soon.

Gambling with Shizuo was just too fun to give up.

A/N: FIJWERIGUREV. That is all.

P.S. Ummm I love AcornWarrior cuz she's a boss. I love her more than Swedish Fish c: Because without her, all of this would be one big jumble of incoherent text. Maybe it still is. Ilu my KFC nugget.