Originally posted at the Drrr Kinkmeme on Livejournal.

The following story contains M/M - please don't read if that's not your thing. If it is, enjoy! ;)

Love And Ootoro

Ten.

"Godsfuckingdammit…"

His apartment door has borne the brunt of Shizuo's ire too many times to count. It still protests meekly, bouncing clean out of the latch the first two times he slams it, until he has to relent and shut it properly.

Nine.

He kicks off his shoes, glowering at them as they rattle against the wall.

The brand new packet of cigarettes burning a – figurative, otherwise that'd cap it all off – hole in his pockets tempts him with their nicotine-stained siren's call, but he wants to wash off the grime of the day first.

Well, the grime and the blood.

Eight.

He checks the cut on his cheek in the bathroom mirror, wiping off the steam that builds up from the running shower. Grimaces, watching the mark tug and pull. It doesn't hurt, it just pisses him off. Though he supposes most other people would've come off a hell of a lot worse after being on the wrong side of a baseball bat.

Seven.

He's still grumbling about it under the hot cascade of the shower. Tom needs to find better clients. Gotta be someone out there in debt who doesn't wanna pick a fight with him.

Pisses him off…

Six.

By the time he's done with the shower, towelling off his hair as he shuffles back into the living room, he supposes it was kinda funny. Mostly the look on the asshole's face when Shizuo broke his nose, broke his bat, and would have been happy enough helping the guy find out how hard it was picking splinters out of his ass if Tom hadn't stopped him.

He should tell Tom 'thanks' tomorrow.

It'd have been a pain if he'd wound up in jail tonight instead.

Five.

His phone beeps. His lips quirk in a half-smile as he scans the message, before he shuts it off, leaving it on the armrest as he slouches onto the couch.

And yeah, maybe he glances at the clock as he lights a cigarette and thinks "ten minutes" is too damn long.

Four

There's nothing on TV. He flicks through a dozen channels before he gets bored. Reality TV pisses him off, there's no sports on, and it's kinda pointless preaching about the economy to a guy who lives paycheck to paycheck.

Three

He smiles a little to himself as he turns off the TV, tossing the remote aside. He really needs to make sure he doesn't say shit like that aloud. Last time he'd mentioned it in innocent passing, he'd woken up the next day to find all his bills paid, and the ensuing two weeks of radio silence – and lack of sex – had been tough.

Maybe he knows now it wasn't some kind of slur on his pride, but even so…

Two.

They've promised to be careful. That this stays within these walls. It's not that he cares much what anyone thinks, just that it's no one else's business. He's never been good at justifying or explaining shit, anyway.

One.

He looks at the clock again. Smiles.

Zero.

A key scrapes in the lock, and a few seconds later the door swings open. There's off-key humming, the rustle of a coat, the scent of food, cologne and flea and just like that everything's okay in his world again.

"I brought dinner." He tilts his head back in time to see Izaya drop two bags onto the kitchen table. One's from a fast food restaurant, the other from Russia Sushi. The cardboard drinks tray holds one black coffee and one extra-large strawberry milkshake.

It's fucking heaven in a paper bag, delivered by the devil incarnate.

He ambles from the couch, making a beeline for the milkshake first because it's cute watching Izaya squirm and complain when his mouth is ice-cold and saccharine sweet for that first greeting kiss. Which he duly does, but only after they're both breathless. Pinned by the hips against the kitchen table, Izaya looks at him with an arched brow.

"One of these days, I'll put something else in there you know."

Shizuo takes another suck of his milkshake. "Tch," teeth still clamped around the straw, he shakes his head, "no you won't. Remember what happened when you put wasabi in my burger?"

Izaya narrows his eyes. Blushes, ever so faintly. "Why am I the only one who knows, first-hand, how dirty you can play when you put your mind to it?"

"Dunno." Shizuo shrugs. "Just special, I guess."

And he makes a careful, deliberate show of checking his burger for any unwelcome condiments before taking a bite. By now, Izaya's squirmed free of the hold Shizuo had on him, but that's okay. They've got all night. Munching on his burger, he watches the flea carry out his unfaithful tryst right under his nose, lovingly piling one of Shizuo's mismatched, chipped plates with glistening, marbled strips of tuna.

"Deal still stands, right?" He cocks a hip against the table's edge, licking some grease off his fingers just to get Izaya's attention. "The day I hear you start cooing at it, I get to punch you in the face? Y'know, for your own good."

Izaya clutches his plate possessively. Almost cuddles it. Brat. "Define 'cooing', Shizu-chan. If I just happen to tell the ootoro how juicy and delicious it is, that hardly counts, ne?"

"Yeah?" He's good at plastering on a scowl, especially when he half means it. "What else're you gonna 'happen' to tell it?"

"Well… I might tell it how I love the way it feels in my mouth…" Izaya moans as he does just that, a fragment of pink, fleshy tuna disappearing between his lips. "And maybe how I love it sliding down my throat, or the way it smells, or the way I can still taste it on my fingers afterwards."

Okay, that's enough. It's a good thing Izaya's so distracted by his screwed up fish fantasy to notice Shizuo making a move for the plate before it's too late.

"Hey…!" Izaya protests. "You'd better give that back."

"Oh yeah?" Holding the plate aloft, Shizuo snatches up a sliver of tuna, watching Izaya's eyes narrow as he takes a slow, savouring bite. "Make me."

That's when the little bastard changes tactics, going for his ribs with a vicious tickle. That makes the plate tip precariously, because Shizuo discovers he can't laugh, balance, and try to wriggle away at the same time. "Oi, quit it! That's cheating!"

"Really?" Izaya backs him up against the counter, fingertips dancing up his sides and under his arms. "All's fair in love and ootoro, ne?" Izaya sing-songs. "I lo~ove ootoro."

"Tch, I see how it is. If you think you're getting this back now-"

He's all but sprawled over the counter, straining to reach up to put the plate on top of the cupboards where Izaya'll need a damn stepladder to retrieve it, when slender arms snake around his waist.

"If I say I love you more than tuna…" He feels the curve of a catlike smile pressed into the back of his shirt, "will that get me my ootoro back?"

Still holding the plate over his head, he turns, until Izaya's chin is resting on his chest instead, black cherry eyes smiling deviously up at him.

"It'd be a start."

"Hmm." Izaya nods thoughtfully. "In that case…"

The tickling changes tack, shifting under the loose hem of the worn-soft t-shirt he's wearing. He laughs as devious fingers trace his abs, making their way to the place just above his hipbones that sends a jolt like electricity through his stomach. He tries to keep from bending down, instinctively curling in on himself, but Izaya doesn't seem interested in pressing that particular advantage. Izaya seems much more interested in dropping to one knee and doing the same thing with the tip of his tongue.

"What is this?" Shizuo laughs, even though the sound comes out like more of a rumble. "'Will suck dick for tuna'?"

"Only for the best tuna." Izaya shrugs, looking up at him with a wicked smile and sliding against him as he gets back to his feet. "And only the best dicks."

"Damn." Shizuo blinks. "That was about the most unromantic thing anyone's eversaid."

Izaya giggles, tilting his head. "Does Shizu-chan want to be romanced?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Does anyone else know how horrifically old-fashioned you are, too?"

"I fucking hope not." Holding the plate high above his head, he wraps the other arm around Izaya's waist, pulling him close. His laugh puffs across an indulgent smile before he closes the distance.

Even as they're kissing, he knows much of Izaya's attention is on the mission to get the tuna back. That's why it's so easy to throw him off balance, spin away from the counter and jog the few steps to the couch, his trophy still secure. Izaya's shaking his head when Shizuo drops onto the couch, grinning broadly.

"See what I mean, Shizu-chan? You play dirty."

"I had a good teacher."

Izaya snickers, licking his lips, slow and lascivious. "Well, I can't argue with that."

Honestly, Shizuo doesn't much want to argue at all. Sometimes, some of the shit they yell at each other out there in an attempt to keep up the pretence, keep people from asking too many questions, rams bitter little spikes into his soul. He hates being angry, but more than that he hates having to be angry when it's the last thing he wants to do. He doesn't think Izaya'd laugh at him if he said that was why this, why now was so important, but he's never said as much. He has a feeling he doesn't need to.

"C'mere."

Still maintaining his affront, Izaya saunters over even as he asks, "What for?"

"What else?" Shizuo takes another bite of tuna, before holding the rest out, waving it slightly like he was trying to entice a wary, finicky cat. "You want your tuna, right?"

He smiles when Izaya kneels astride his lap, ignoring the proffered tuna in favour of going for his mouth instead. His eyes flutter shut as a warm, wet tongue nudges between his lips, tasting and exploring. He knows he's neither as special nor expensive as ootoro, but when Izaya kisses him like that he can pretend he could be.

He grins lazily when Izaya draws back with one slow lap at his lower lip. "Skipping to dessert already?"

"No." Izaya reaches for his wrist, fingers circling it as he brings the rest of the tuna to his lips. "Just making sure I get my money's worth."

"Right…" And he thinks he'd better keep that finicky cat analogy to himself; if Izaya knows how goddamn cute he looks, nibbling at the tuna with that faraway look in his eyes, he'll start doing it on purpose. "Like you didn't just sweet-talk Simon into giving you a freebie."

"Not on half price day. That'd just be mean. I happen to support local businesses, you know. Where would I shop on the way here if they closed down?"

The makeshift shackles Izaya wraps around his wrist don't stop him from reaching for another piece, don't stop him from teasing, snatching it away at the last minute, just to see the look on Izaya's face when his teeth close on thin air. Izaya Orihara is not a man given to wanton pouting, but he comes damn close now. Amused, Shizuo decides he feels sorry for him, holding his hand still when Izaya leans in to bite. He's seen leopards on nature documentaries bear that same expression, looking up from their prey with 'Mine, damn it!' shining loud and clear in their eyes.

'Sides, Izaya's such a skinny bastard. Shizuo feels like an ass for stealing his food when it's obvious he either doesn't eat enough, or burns it off as soon as he swallows it. It sucks that Izaya still pretends he has no interest in cakes, even though Shizuo's caught him watching him shovel away slices of gateau, mouth opening and closing in sympathy with every bite. He has a feeling this'd be even more fun if there was frosting involved.

"Oi," he murmurs when Izaya nips at his fingers. "I'm not on the menu."

Izaya nips again, curling his tongue around Shizuo's fingertip. "Not yet."

"Oh, really?" He snorts softly, picking up another slippery chunk of fish. "It ain't half-price day here, you know."

Izaya smiles, eyes drifting shut, and Shizuo thinks no one has the right to look that blissfully happy eating tuna. "And you won't even give me a special discount? Shizu-chan's so mean…"

"Yeah, yeah… today I give you a discount, tomorrow you'll be wanting it for free…" And he can't resist, while Izaya isn't watching, leaning in and biting the other end of the piece of tuna, flicking his tongue playfully across Izaya's lips before pulling back. He licks his own lips as Izaya glared at him. "Mmm. Salty."

"As much as you're stealing my dinner, you owe me something for free."

He grins, content to leave Izaya to the rest of the plate if it means he can wind his hands around the other man's hips instead, holding him close. "Tch… you know I can't keep up when you get all fricking logical on me."

"Hmm?" Izaya chews on another piece of ootoro, sucking leftover flavour from each long finger in turn. "But you love me when I'm logical. It's like a turn-on for protozoans."

Nuzzling Izaya's throat, feeling every swallow, he latches onto the skin just under one ear, worrying at it until the flea shudders. "How many fucking protozoans are you trying to turn on, huh?"

"Just the one…" Izaya breathes a laugh. "Is it working?"

"Heh…" He kisses his way to Izaya's chin, smiles. "It's getting there."

"Che, and people think I'm demanding and hard to please."

Izaya sets the empty plate down on the couch cushion, where Shizuo will probably only find it in the morning when he blearily sits on it. Leaning up, he brushes his knuckles against Izaya's cheek, and his lips against his lover's. "Nah, you're not that hard to please. Not when you know what you're doing."

"And you do?" Izaya smiles, hands lacing into Shizuo's hair.

"Don't hear you complaining, flea."

Izaya makes a noncommittal sound against his mouth. Then he's making the sort of sounds that have Shizuo shifting in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position now that his pants are about three sizes too small. Of course, Izaya notices. Of course, Izaya purposefully grinds down onto him, moaning deep in his throat while Shizuo ravages his mouth, intent on replacing the taste of salt and expensive sushi with his own.

He barely notices when the kiss trails off. Izaya's still rocking gently against him, lips nibbling the side of his neck as he reaches for his hand.

"It's not fair."

"Huh?"

"You're taller than me." Izaya presses a palm to his. "You're bigger than me."

He'd laugh at that, but Izaya looks deadly serious as he scrutinizes their hands. Sure enough, his fingers are at least half an inch longer, thicker and blunter than Izaya's hands. Fragile, he thinks, though he'd never say so aloud. Not when Izaya's about as far from physically fragile as it's possible to get without being him.

"Doesn't have to be a bad thing, right?" He shifts his hand, lacing his fingers through Izaya's and just holding on. Leaning in, he brushes a lick across delicate knuckles, watching the flea from beneath his lashes. "If you ask me, you're a perfect fit."

Because he is. The way Izaya's knees tuck around his hips, the way he folds into Shizuo's arms so that his head's pillowed on his shoulder, breath hot against his neck. He knows that, whatever this is they're doing, he's always the one running to catch up, but like this… like this, he can pretend that a man who shouldn't really need him for anything needs him to keep him safe.

Or maybe it's the other way around.

Izaya wraps his legs around his waist as Shizuo stands, hands under the flea's ass as he carries him the few feet to his bed. Izaya can bitch about how small his apartment is till he turns purple, Shizuo doesn't care; at times like this, it's convenient. He tried to imagine having to navigate Izaya's hundred fricking acres of apartment, complete with a flight of stairs…

…yeah, it's no wonder they never usually get further than the couch. Or the desk. Or the window. Or the floor. Or…

Izaya tugs on his hair, looking down at him with a curious smile. "What's so funny?"

Shizuo shrugs. "Us."

"Ah…" Izaya snuggles closer, arms looped around Shizuo's shoulders. "Is it a good sort of funny, or the sort of funny that precedes you throwing things? Because if it's that kind, I'm going to have to ask you to put me down first."

"Idiot…" He kneels on the bed, depositing Izaya onto the rumpled sheets. "Not gonna throw you."

Izaya's eyes are dark as they regard him with a lazy smirk. "No more than you already have, anyway."

It's his turn to press closer, leaning his forehead against the flea's. "Is that the good kind of throwing, or the kind where you try and stab me?"

"It's this kind." Izaya's hands card through his hair as he tugs him down into a kiss.

It starts off slow, just a clinging of lips. He could do just this all day and be happy revelling in how soft, how warm Izaya's mouth is. How no one would believe him even if he told them. It's silly to be happy that he gets to see this when no one else does, but he can't help feeling that way anyway. And it's not like Izaya doesn't have even more ammunition stored away for his retaliation; no one would believe it took five weeks and a dozen cajoling attempts before the flea had enough of his hesitation, shoved him back against the bed and said, "How can you hurt me? You love me."

And he did, so he hadn't, but neither of them had been walking right the next day.

He sits back, pulling Izaya onto his lap, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug off their shirts. When it resumes, it's deeper, hungrier. That tiny furrow appears between Izaya's brows; Shizuo never knows whether it's concentration or desperation, but he found out pretty damn fast that it wasn't pain, wasn't irritation. Izaya's fingers don't feel all that delicate when they dig into his shoulders, kneading and testing the muscles when he skims his hands up the flea's back, over his shoulders, his chest, fingers following a map he knows by heart.

His fingers hook in the waist of Izaya's pants as he tips the flea back against the sheets. Those long, lithe legs are only together long enough for him to tug the material down and off, before they're parted around his shoulders, shivering at the kisses he trails down the inside of one thigh, then the other.

"Good?" He glances up, nuzzling the juncture of Izaya's legs, dragging his cheek against his lover's balls, the side of his shaft.

"Mmm…" Izaya props himself on his elbows to watch, his eyes taking on that hazy, pleasure-drunk gleam that drives him crazy. "It's good."

"How 'bout this?" He traces the underside of Izaya's cock. "Is that good, too?"

"Tease." Fingers spear into his hair in an attempt to control the angle of his mouth. "More, Shizu-chan…" He looks up, expectantly, until Izaya relents, and says, "More, Shizuo."

"Better…" he grins, flicking a – admittedly – teasing lick over the head of his lover's cock, "…Izaya."

"Hn…" The hands in his hair cling painfully hard when he opens his mouth, taking as much of Izaya in as he can. It's okay; the needles of hurt prickling his spine are countered by the way the flea's thighs tremble, trying to wrap around his head and keep him there. "Shizuo… Shizuo…!"

He gets a kick out of all the different ways he can make Izaya say his name. Payback, he figures, for all the damn years of enduring 'Shizu-chan'. It's ground out through gritted teeth when he sucks hard, rubbing the head of Izaya's cock against the roof of his mouth. It's gasped, whiny and breathless when his fingers knead velvet-smooth balls, rolling and squeezing.

And when he pulls away, hands under Izaya to spread him higher and wider as he leans down to prod that puckered entrance with the tip of his tongue, it's damn near screamed.

"Ah…. please…!" Slender hands fist in the sheets, pounding the mattress, hanging on for dear life. "Shizuo, please…"

"What do you want?" He breathes against wet skin, smiling as it elicits another broken cry. "Tell me."

"You…" Izaya arches under him, thrusting back onto his tongue. "Anything. Everything. Just… you."

He laughs. "Good answer."

He never felt Izaya reach for it, but the lube's right there on the bed next to him when he opens his eyes and, reluctantly, pulls back. Izaya's body clenches restlessly, almost too lost to distinguish his fingers from his tongue as they stroke his ass, circling and rubbing before edging inside.

For an impatient bastard, it always makes him happy that Izaya allows him his indulgence with this. He probably does go over the top. They could both probably withstand a lot more. Izaya probably only does it because he knows that without it, they don't fuck at all. Still, he keeps stretching, keeps adding lube until Izaya's gone from sighing against his mouth to biting his lips and murmuring, "Please…"

Only then does he withdraw his fingers, feeling Izaya spread his legs and tilt his hips up for him. Only then does he slick himself up, feathering kisses to any skin he can reach to soothe away any pain as he lines himself up with that slick hole and pushes. Izaya tightens around him, calves locking around the small of his back.

"You okay?"

Izaya always sighs when he asks, like it's a dumb question. But he thinks maybe the flea likes hearing it anyway, because the corners of his lips quirk in a ghost of a smile. "You know by now I'm not going to break."

"So…?" He draws his hips back until he's barely inside at all, before sliding back in, slow and steady. Izaya still bucks against him, trying to incite him to move faster, but they both know by now that they're as stubborn as each other. Just as well that this is one fight where losing feels better than winning. "Wanna enjoy you. Nothing wrong with that…"

Cheeks flushing, Izaya looks away. "How can you say things like that with a straight face?" He shakes his head. "Must be a protozoan thi—ah!"

It's hard to laugh and groan at the same time. The latter wins out at he angles one deep, driving thrust at Izaya's prostate, feeling the flea's body clamp down around him in retaliation before relaxing a fraction when Shizuo strokes him.

Sometimes, he wonders what people'd think they did in bed if they knew. Weird, kinky shit, probably. Rough, angry things that left them bloodied and bruised. Probably some fucked up things involving Izaya's knife played a part, too. And he can't say he'd never do those things if that was what Izaya wanted of him, but…

"You feel good, right?" He breathes against the flea's ear, smiling at the ensuing shiver. "'Cause I do. Feels so fucking good inside you…"

"Ah…" Izaya arches back, probably unaware of the way he bares his throat to Shizuo's teeth. Probably. He scrapes bites over the pale, vulnerable skin until it's marked and reddened. His. And he only realizes he's said that aloud when Izaya shudders beneath him. "Say that again…"

"Mine…" he growls, latching onto Izaya's shoulder. "Mine. Always mine."

"Yes…" The flea's smile is breathless, unguarded—

"—so beautiful." He brushes a kiss against one flushed, sweatdamp cheek. "How come you're so damn beautiful like this?"

"Dunno…" The smartass under him mimics. "Just special, I guess."

"Yeah…" he laughs, resting his forehead against Izaya's collarbone, smiling at the hands that tangle in his hair. "You are." The kiss he presses to the hollow of Izaya's throat, feeling the flea's pulse flutter and race, is almost shy. Which is fucked up, given the circumstances. "But I don't think you'll ever get how you're special to me."

"Shizuo…"

His arms hook under Izaya's thighs as he puts a little more power into the thrusts, content now that he's not causing any pain. Izaya's reached that point where he's not crying out every time Shizuo shoves in deep, he's just keening soft, whimpered noises like it's too much to take. Shizuo knows the feeling.

"…you." Fingers score his back, making him lean in to hear the words. "Love you…"

"More than ootoro?"

He kinda likes making Izaya laugh while they fuck. It makes the flea's body ripple around him, the sound going straight to his head just as the sensation goes straight to his cock. Then again, he just likes making Izaya laugh, instead of smirk, or snicker, or any of those fake, guarded things he does.

Izaya holds on tighter, nods against his shoulder, voice sounding shaky and breathless. "More than ootoro. More than anything…"

He lifts his head, his heart lurching in his chest at the shimmer in those mahogany eyes. Stilling his hips, just rocking deep inside his lover, he feels the slightest wobble in the lips that part under his, kissing him back, sweet and desperate.

No one else gets to see you like this. Ever. No one but me.

"Love you, too."

And he does, because however many other eyes look at him, none of them ever really see him. Not the way Izaya does. Not the way he's always done.

He holds Izaya crushingly close when he can't hold on anymore, when the heat and the kisses drive him to the edge, and the way the flea breathes his name as he holds on tight kicks him over. His hand works Izaya faster, using every trick he's learned to make his lover feel good, make him shudder and jerk under him. Make him come, hard and shattering and loud, because all he wants – all he needs – is to be wrapped up in this forever.

It takes a while just to catch his breath enough to shift his boneless weight off Izaya. They're gonna have to do it on hands and knees for the second round; this way, he has to pull out to make himself comfortable as he draws Izaya back into his arms, and he likes dozing off still feeling connected. The way Izaya burrows into his embrace is a close second, though. Very close.

"Think my milkshake's melted?"

"Probably." Izaya snuffles a laugh. His eyes are still damp. He leans into the touch when Shizuo curls a hand against his cheek, thumb dragging along spiky lashes. "Unless that's some creative protozoan euphemism, in which case…" A warm tongue laps a droplet of sweat from his chest. "It definitely has."

He smiles at the ceiling, enjoying the lazy, languid silence that settles over them. He can feel Izaya's heartbeat against his own, feel his breath on cooling skin, and that's pretty much enough for him.

"I don't get it…" Izaya murmurs against his chest after a while.

"Don't get what?"

"You. This. Why are you even here?"

"I… live here?" Shizuo breathes a laugh, watching damp, black hair ruffle. "I don't get what you're asking."

"Why are you here with me?"

"'Cause you're crazy as hell. Who knows what the fuck you'd get up to if I wasn't keeping you in line, and—ow!" He winces through his laugh at the sharp bite on his chest. "Okay, okay…" He tilts Izaya's face up, taking in the drowsy, sated glow in those devilish eyes, knowing Izaya only ever asks so that Shizuo can reply. "'Cause nothing's right without you. My world's not right without you."

Izaya smiles, curling up against his chest, satisfied. "Good answer."