Summary: This, Shizuo thinks, is what one would call "Sexual Tension".
"you want it from me on both knees
but not until you beg me please"
This, Shizuo thinks, is what one would call "Sexual Tension".
It's been a game of cat and mouse, even more so than usual. Every time he's run into him, it's all secretive glances, lingering touches, leering mouths whispering things that are violating and profane enough to compel Shizuo to go red and throw the nearest heavy object in mortification.
It's driving him mad.
He's being played with, he knows that, but slowly, gradually, it's getting harder and harder to suppress the flush that rises to his cheeks every time he thinks about the soft, pale skin, the smooth expanse of his neck, his slim figure—Nononononono stop it!
He groans out loud and bangs his head against the nearest wall in sheer frustration.
"S-Shizuo? Are you okay?" Tom's concerned face is barely visible from the corner of his eye. "Your face is red... Are you sick?"
He decides he hates everything.
After apologizing profusely to Tom, lying about some illness or the other, he's left to spend his evening alone in his apartment, moping.
But honestly, what else could he do? Go outside, take a stroll, smell the flowers, watch the children play, maybe run into—
don't even go there
It's like his brain has been wired to think only about the flea and nothing but the flea. All he can see even now is the fullness of his lips, his seductive crimson eyes, his silky skin and raven hair—
He needs a distraction. He needs a distraction right now.
Somehow, despite his misgivings, Shizuo finds himself in the park, smelling the flowers, watching children play, and most definitely not running into any provocative, perverted, violating, yet irresistibly alluring—
"Ah, Shizu-chan, what a wonderful coincidence!"
He's hard fought not to crush the cigarette between his fingers. Slowly, he turns around, ignoring the imploring wails of his common sense, (NOOO, DON'T DO IT, JUST IGNORE HIM)—
—and does a double take.
It's probably the first time he's seen the flea in anything that isn't black and long-sleeved. He blinks, mouth hanging open slightly in the perfect image of shocked disbelief.
He's in a satiny, blood red button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the top few buttons left open to reveal the creamy pale skin of his chest, and dark pants that cling to the contours of his legs in a way that makes his mouth go dry.
You're staring, idiot.
Shizuo clears his throat and pretends that he can't feel the heat creeping up his neck; instead, he opts to shove the cigarette back in his mouth and continues to walk in the other direction, repeating the (slightly panicked) mental mantra of don't follow me, don't follow me, don't follow me, please don't follow—
But already he knows it's a vain hope; he can hear the flea's footsteps catching up to his own.
"Aw, why are you running away, Shizu-chan?"
If this was any other time, Shizuo thinks angrily, any other time he would just turn around and beat the living daylights out of him. Except today is different, and for some reason he can't even look at the smug bastard without feeling like his heart would tear itself out of his chest.
"Shizu-chaaannn—" A hand on his wrist, and he feels electricity shoot up his entire arm.
"WHAT?" he yells finally, whipping around. Izaya's face is more content that it should be, and finally, finally Shizuo can feel that burning anger that wipes out all other feeling beginning to surface. Good, he wants it, wants it so he won't have to feel whatever the hell it is that he's feeling—
"Your face is a little red, Shizu-chan," he drawls, a self-content smile playing at his lips. "It could be because of me, could it?"
Ah. So he's been doing it on purpose the whole time. He knew it.
It's nearly half an hour later, they've run all across Ikebukuro, neither one tiring of the chase.
And even as they run, Shizuo's noticing those little things, like the way Izaya's hair ripples in the wind, the way he's panting for breath, cheeks slightly flushed from exertion, the wild look in his eyes—
Of course, all of this only serves to make him angrier. No no, he's not getting away now. Shizuo's going to grab him by his skinny neck and pin him to the pavement and pound the living daylights out of him—
That came out terribly wrong.
Gritting his teeth against the now-familiar sensation of heat rising to his cheeks and perhaps somewhere else, he runs, runs, runs, and—
—stops dead, because is that his apartment?
The flea is running into his apartment, why is he doing that? What the fuck is he even—?
Shizuo finds himself speeding after him, because even though he doesn't have the keys to the apartment, the bastard can probably pick locks or something crazy like that.
Sure enough, by the time he reaches the top of the stairs, the door is wide open. Shizuo curses under his breath and storms in, hands poised to maim, hurt, kill.
He pauses, because the flea is reclined on his couch like he owns the fucking thing, and his shirt is unbuttoned all the way, and shit here comes the boner.
Izaya looks at him pointedly, smirking at his crotch, and that's when Shizuo knows he's lost.
The game is over—Izaya won with his fucking "come hither" looks and Shizuo doesn't even bother to debate it.
He moves in closer, like an animal stalking toward its prey, only the flea is anything but. The corner of his mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk and he spreads his legs a little, seductive, inviting.
Again, he snaps.
Before he can even realize what's happening, their mouths are clashing together, tongues twining and lips nipping and teeth scraping. And goddamn, he's wanted this for the longest time.
Shizuo's mouth shifts from his mouth to the smooth skin of his neck, tracing patterns with his tongue, biting, sucking. Izaya's squirming in his grasp, his hands clutching at the fabric of Shizuo's shirt, swollen lips parted slightly to allow the broken gasps to escape. Shizuo reaches the junction between his neck and his shoulder, biting down hard, and earning a groan that sends heat straight to his groin.
There's frenzied kissing and ripping of clothing, and oops, that looked like an expensive top—
Then, suddenly Izaya's hand is sliding down his bare stomach (when did he take off his shirt?) and into his pants, and shit fucking mother of—
Shizuo bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood and rests his head on Izaya's shoulder, breath coming in short as his hand strokes him fully, quickly, and god why hasn't he thought of doing this sooner?
He's getting too close too quickly, and he tries to articulate something that resembles human speech through the complete utter pleasure, "Izaya—s-stop—stop!" He grabs the hand that grips him, stilling it, and those crimson eyes narrow in something like annoyance.
"What could you possibly—"
He gets it, his mouth stretching again in that stupid smirk of his, and Shizuo doesn't waste any time in pinning him down, tearing off his pants.
He kisses down the smooth porcelain of his chest, stopping to shower attention on each nipple, grinning as unwilling moans spilled from the other's mouth. Slowly, he moves lower, dipping his tongue into his bellybutton, tracing down his navel, and purposefully skirting around the straining erection, down toward his trembling thighs.
"Please what?" He kisses up his leg, avoiding his cock.
Without warning, Shizuo takes his entire length into his mouth, bobbing his head, sucking, licking up the side, drawing out every gasp and moan he could.
"Shi—Shizu—ah, fuck, I'm going to—"
With a short cry, Izaya spills himself, and Shizuo chokes slightly as the warm fluid his the back of his throat. Coughing slightly, he lifts his head. Izaya's head is thrown back, face flushed and mouth open, panting slightly. Shizuo feels himself grow harder.
He thrusts three fingers into the raven's face with a command of, "Suck." Surprisingly, he complies, leer returning to his face as he swirls his tongue around the digits, coating them thoroughly with saliva, and Shizuo feels the heat growing stronger. He pulls his hand out with a small 'pop', and immediately shoves one up Izaya's ass.
He snorts at the flea's shout of pain, inserting another one and another one and probing, feeling for—
Victory. He rams against the spot repeatedly, watching Izaya writhe in pleasure. Before he can realize what he's about to do, Shizuo quickly replaces the fingers with his cock, sliding in all the way in one slick movement and—oh shit shit shit that feels amazing—
It's all wet, tight heat and goddamn he's in heaven—and Izaya's back arches in pain and maybe something else as he reaches up his arms to cling to Shizuo's back, nails digging into the skin hard enough to draw blood.
He waits for a second, lets the flea adjust, before pulling out and slamming in, hard, and stars erupt in his vision as he lets out a low groan.
"Harder!" Izaya gasps, and Shizuo takes it as consent—he drives in forcefully, mercilessly, and soon enough he can feel both of them nearing completion—
—and not a few minutes later he sees white-hot, everything is melting pleasure burning pure unadulterated pleasure—
He collapses, arms giving out. Izaya lies under him, spent, his breath coming in short pants as he tries to slow his racing heart.
"So…" Shizuo begins a few minutes later, after he's regained his ability to breathe. "What now?" Because honestly, this is fucking weird. Sure they had sex and he's gotten what he wanted and that's all great, but what happens next?
"I don't know," Izaya grins, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Shizuo's mouth goes dry. "You tell me."
An awkward silence.
And somehow, he thinks, he won't be getting any sleep tonight. Or maybe even the night after.
Things are going to be so fucking strange from now on.
Sexual Tension was the worst damn thing.
A/N: AAAAH WHAT DID I DO. /points upward and flails madly. Oh my god I actually wrote that. What the fuck. Elizabeth if you read this I'm sorry. I don't know what came over meeee. LOL YAY PWP. /sobs forever
Also using the dots as linebreaks, I got from Soul Under. Thought I'd just mention.