There are many methods with which one is able to capitalize on in receiving information in the world. Subsequently, there are many ways to pay for said information. There's a certain cycle between client and informant, a cycle that Kida has yet to break and Izaya has yet to tire of, and it's always, always, always the same.

He wonders where his innocence has gone, if he ever had any at all, as Izaya utters the words that beguile the reimbursement for today and he feels nothing:

"You know, I think it would be very interesting to see if I can bring you off just from having my fingers inside you...hm?"

He gives a terse, heavy nod, because the knowledge he's paying for is important and at least this recompensation isn't as bad as what Izaya had requested the last time, and honestly it can't get much worse. The other admittance that Izaya is the best there is offers no comfort-it just means Kida will have to do this, over and over again, like some cheap whore-since he values his gang too much to let them disappear.

It is all (another brunette he longs to see with blue, blue eyes) he has left.

Izaya smiles, cruel and mocking and everything a smile should not be, and says, "Good boy."

The routine is well known by now; the couch is as good at any bed and Izaya sprawls upon it as a self-satisfied feline might, licking his paws clean even before capturing his prey beneath curved claws. Kida's expression is void of emotion even as he settles over the elder's legs, a thigh hugging each side of Izaya's lower half, already bare because he knows by now that it is wise to leave his pants and boxers folded neatly on the information broker's desk. Izaya smiles again, that same smile that is so sanely insane that it feels wrong, but it isn't the glint of malice that strikes fear into Kida's system; rather, it's the egotistical approval, the way Izaya knows he has him wrapped around his finger as easily as the silver band he doesn't bother to remove as he holds his hand (and Kida observes habitually that it's three fingers that Izaya plans to use) to Kida's mouth in expectation. Mahogany eyes glitter with undisguised elation when Kida opens his mouth, and the acrid taste of metal and skin washes over his tongue, revolting him to an extreme he was unaware even existed and yet, yet, Izaya has to be repayed and he's set his price, his lowest starting bid.

The digits pull from Kida's mouth quickly, and the ring catches on Kida's teeth-it hurts but he's hoping that Izaya will leave it off now, because he doesn't want something that foreign to go where those fingers are headed and at least the fingers are familiar. Izaya retrieves the jewelry from the carress of Kida's lips and examines it thoughtfully, murmuring, "Perhaps not," and making certain the blonde in his lap knows that he's being merciful this time. This time.

The initial intrusion is far from gentle-it never is-and Kida bows his head as that first finger wriggles farther in and is joined by a second, but it stings far less than the shame and not a noise escapes Kida's smaller frame.

"How about a kiss," Izaya whispers, and Kida shakes his head 'no', because that's not part of their arrangement and the simple act of refusing this man is more gratifying than his benefactor can imagine. Making a clicking sound of dismay with his tongue, Izaya lets that subject fall and instead focuses his attentions on twisting his fingers all-too-deftly, and Kida's mouth drops open with a sharp gasp as his prostate is ruthlessly stimulated over and over and over again, and he feels his hips jerk with the unhindered pleasure as it tears through him like liquid flame, but he can still see dark brown through the haze and he won't let Izaya get the best of him, not like this.

He can't help but whimper, however, the longer and harsher Izaya goes because he's not happy with the lack of progress and the fact that Kida hasn't hit that climax of guilt and indulgence vexes him; it's a game he hasn't won yet but in his mind will, soon enough.

It coils in Kida's gut like some twisted form of temptation, but he won't give in, can't give in, since Izaya has to give up at some point and if he can just hold on for a moment longer, even if it feels so good he might die, crap-

"I wonder," Izaya breathes, watching Kida's eyes creak half open in anticipation of his words, "what your friend Mikado-kun would think of you now."

And suddenly Kida curls in on himself as he feels that wave crash to shore, feels it sweep away all rational thoughts with the sand (blue, blue eyes he hasn't seen in a while) and roar in his ears, and when he looks down Izaya's hand has risen to catch the stream of white and his face is marred by that chilling, knowing leer.

Kida feels horror-dry, muted horror, wonderment at how Izaya even knows about Mikado-grip him in its cold confines.

"Transaction complete, Masaomi-kun."

:::::

Prompt:

Izaya/Kida - fingering