As Izaya watched from where he lay, body twisted at an awkward angle, normally teasing red eyes dull, he wondered why he did this to himself. Over and over and over again. But his mind always gave him the same answer; you like to be used. You like to be broken, to be caused pain, to be told that you are worth nothing.
And he did.
He loved it so much that he could reach out and touch it. Touch it and hold it to his heart, cradle it against his chest like one would a small child. But not really a child, because Izaya loathed children; too much crying and needy wants and trivial things that did not concern his interest. Fact was, Izaya loved to trap himself in a bit of despair that grew and grew, a pit that constantly dragged him down and caused him pain. But he liked the pain, because he was Orihara Izaya, and Orihara Izaya liked it when blood seeped through his fingers.
Even if it wasn't his own.
But this time ... This time was different. Not in the injuries inflicted along his pale frame, but in the feeling of it all. There had been no hate this time, not a shred of anger nor rage. It was almost as if it happened because Shizuo wanted it. Wanted it, the act, rather than the outlet that he usually used Izaya for. When they had sex, there was anger. And in that anger, he was hurt, and torn, and punished, and with every fibre of his being, Izaya consented to bleeding, tearing, and aching in Shizuo's hands. Because when the both of them were forced upon each other, it provided a pathway for the feelings that neither of them wanted to explore.
The feelings of struggle and violence, the feelings of an emerging emotion that had no right to enter into their equation. It was a delicate process, and the annoying little emotion known as love had no right to destroy it. Because if Shizuo loved him, then it was all over. If he loved Shizuo, then it was all over.
Because two who were not meant to be were not meant to become one.
Izaya would lose the only one able to satisfy the need inside of him, the burning ache that demanded attention day in and day out. The wanting of pain and suffering, of the degrading that was forced upon him. He had been raped and beaten as a child, and from that time stemmed the being that he was now; ruthless, cold-hearted, and a player. And it had also brought with it the horrible wanting of being abused.
And even with the loathing that he felt towards it, the anger and hatred towards the feeling, Izaya couldn't stop. He was addicted to the feel of warm blood sliding between his fingers, to the feel of it easing Shizuo's throbbing need into him, the sensation as it ran from the claw marks in his shoulderblades. And he would allow himself to bleed for Shizuo, to let the man who had always been chasing him finally catch him, make him moan and quiver with desire as the words of the damned were whispered into his ears.
When everything was all over, he wrapped the bandages onto himself in silence, never once sparing a look in Shizuo's direction. Several moments of expectation and burning smoke in the back of his throat would pass, and then the door to his room would click shut, and he was left sagging against the mattress, waiting in anticipation for the next time that this bed would be used.
Even now, as his body lay bleeding and shattered on that same mattress, Izaya wondered when Shizuo would come back, come back to take away the pain in his heart and the wanting from his limbs. But somehow, he sensed that tonight had been the last time, the last time that he would bleed, and ache, and cry tears in the arms of the stongest man in Ikebukuro.
Tomorrow would be the start of something new. Something that he could not control.
With it would come love, and affection, and commitment, but not to himself. Izaya would allow himself to be led around on a chain, one that he had crafted on his own. Because he was not perfect, that he realized now, he was not perfect, for he bled and cried and whimpered, just like any other human out there. The realization was painful, and made a dry, crackled sound leave his throat, but Izaya could not force himself to move any further.
Warm arms wrapped around him, and tugged him against a firm chest, and the raven gave in to the things locked away from the world. And simple words were whispered into his ear, making him shiver with fear and temptation, for he wanted nothing more than what the words promised to him.
"No more, Izaya. No more."
So like, I haven't written anything for Durarara! in a long time, but I was reading this doujinshi where Izaya drugs Shizuo and then fucks himself while Shizuo is all loopy, and somehow this little idea popped into my head. Kinda short, but I may turn this into more chapters. Hope you enjoyed~! R&R, maybe~ ^o^