The bed in the hotel room looked inviting, all thick, fluffy duvets and soft, downy pillows, and it took all of thirty seconds before Shizuo was flopping down on it, legs wide, arms spread, sighing like a satisfied child.
The place was luxurious – apart from the bed (king-size, by the looks of it), he found himself staring up at an impossibly large flat screen TV. It was high up on the wall, perfect, Shizuo thought, because he didn't need to move, and it wouldn't give him a crick in his neck.
He glanced at Izaya, who was scanning the room thoroughly, dark eyes flitting over every detail. What was it that he said he was here for again? A flash drive?
Whatever. It wasn't as if he cared. The only reason he was there was to haul him back to his fancy-ass apartment after he was finished, because of the flea's goddam inability to walk.
Why was he doing this again?
Kanra lifts her face from his shirt, and blushes deeply when she sees him. There are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and some of her makeup has smudged down her cheek. Not that it makes her any less beautiful – no.
She looks tired. She needs rest. He wants to hold her close. He wants to take her home. But no – then she would get the wrong idea.
She opens her mouth to speak, and it looks hard for her to say the words.
Yes. Yes. Whatever it is she's asking. Yes.
"Help me get to the hotel?"
A blush of his own splashed across his face as he remembered why he agreed to this. Because he's stupid. Because he's weak. Because he's fallen under the spell of a girl who's turned out to be his worst enemy, and not a girl at all.
He pushed the mental image aside, and wondered if Izaya would mind if he watched some TV while he waited.
Izaya had been rummaging through the cupboards for a while now, and Shizuo had the unfortunate bad luck of glancing over when he had reached the bottom shelf. The sight he was presented with, was Izaya bending over with his ass on full display. Shizuo found himself wondering why it was so feminine, so prettily curved, or if it was just the dress. That dress- that sinful tulle which just refused to cover his thighs when he was standing like that… those milky, soft thighs, that he really shouldn't be looking at-
Because, oh god. He was checking out Izaya's ass.
He whipped his head away, blush deepening.
You've been checking out more than his ass all evening, stupid.
Hoping to crush his own skull, or at least stop thinking for a moment, he pushed the heel of his hand into his forehead. God he was so confused. Because as much as he abhorred Izaya, he couldn't stop looking at him.
He'd never known the little shit could look so freaking fuckable.
He physically facepalmed. No. He did not just think that.
The sound of his palm hitting his forehead pulled the interest of Izaya, who was now finished his search of the cupboards, and was (thankfully) standing up.
"You okay?" he questioned, more out of curiosity than concern.
"Fine," he grunted, using all of his brain power not to look at the smaller man. He failed, and slipped the tiniest of glances.
Now that Izaya was inside, and away from the public eye (and people who still thought he was a woman), he didn't seem to care what his dress was doing. The neckline was skew, slipping a bit too low over one of his breasts. And even though Shizuo knew they were fake, he had to fight the urge to peer over and get a good look.
Shizuo pressed a hand over his face, to hide his cheeks deepening further. He swallowed. He felt his stomach stir apprehensively for the second time that night. Immediately, memories of their earlier conversation flooded, unbidden and unwanted, into his mind.
Everything about her; her smile, her wandering hands, her muted perfume… those dark eyes, that smile… that familiar smile… it all made him want her even more. Made him want her hands to wander further, to touch him more, in places that she couldn't while he was still bound by the restraints of clothing. He wanted to feel her whispers, hot and breathless on his neck, at his ear, over his mouth. He wanted to see for himself if her skin would be as smooth as it looked and as delicious as it smelled.
Shizuo cursed his mind for reminding him of how tempting she was. He was. He felt himself hyper-aware of Izaya's presence in the room, his limped steps loud on the carpeted floor, as he went this way and that. He cursed his body for being too hot. Too excited.
And hell but if it wasn't all shifting, dripping, pooling lower…
He needed to get out of here. He needed too. But then - like a fool – he'd feel bad about leaving 'Kanra-chan' without anyone to take her home.
Maybe he should have watched some TV after all, to distract himself. But that would've meant looking around for the remote, and risking a glance or two at Izaya. Which was not a good idea.
He let his hand press hard into his face, covering his eyes, hoping to calm himself down. He felt trapped. Trapped in a hotel room – in fact locked in a hotel room (for Izaya didn't want anyone interrupting his little search, and he had kept the key) – with a sexy little shit who didn't know how much he was turning him on.
This was not going to end well.
Izaya was moving closer to him then, and Shizuo would've sold his soul to Satan for the raven not to notice what was going on under his pants. He swallowed harshly, wanting to withdraw the hand that dangled off the side of the bed so dangerously close to where Izaya was, but fearing it would draw attention-
A stumble. A fall. Izaya clasping onto his hand tightly to catch himself as his ankle gave way again. Shots of liquid fire going straight up his arm and straight down to his groin. Shizuo stifling a loud groan by stuffing his knuckles into his mouth and biting down hard.
"Sorry," came the mumbled reply and Izaya drew himself up and oh-so-mercifully let go of Shizuo's hand.
"S'ok," is all Shizuo could manage without his voice sounding extremely strange.
And then Izaya was searching through the draw of the nightstand and – holy fuck – Izaya's skirt brushed up against the blonde's hand, and he swears he felt skin, and Shizuo could hardly take it anymore because he's touched Izaya's freaking thigh and his fingers felt like they'd been fucking burnt-
Breathe, Shizuo. Just breathe.
The rest passed in a painful blur of clenched shut eyes, and gritted teeth, and the little noise of triumph Izaya made when he found what he was looking for – about goddam time, Shizuo thought darkly – did not help Shizuo with his… err, problem.
Then Izaya said it was time to go, so Shizuo stood with his back to him near the bed, waiting for Izaya to let them out, waiting to get outside into the cool night air-
And he gulped, because that meant that Izaya would be all pressed up against him for support because of his stupid ankle. And he wanted to slap himself for hurting it in the first place, because he was just so fucking stupid.
Izaya on the other hand, ankle sore again from his latest fall, was taking his time. He walked along the bed for support, but stopped just near Shizuo. He doesn't know how to say it, but he just can't. He cannot walk.
Shizuo may have to carry him.
Shizuo was so painfully aware of the other's laboured breath, and his lack of movement to the door, and finally, finally he snaps.
Izaya thought that Shizuo tripped, because that is the only reason Shizuo would be going down on top of him on the plush mattress of the bed – but Shizuo knew better. The raven found it uncomfortable – squashed up beneath the heavy body, and suddenly, it was all too hot – The room was too hot, and Shizuo was too hot, and he laughed, trying to break the moment, trying not to sound nervous.
"Don't you think you should buy me dinner first, Shizu-chan?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively for maximum effect. Maybe it wasn't the best of times to rile Shizuo up, not when he could so easily break his neck, but it'd become a bad habit after so many years. A flustered blush and some yelling, as Shizuo pulled himself up, is what Izaya expected.
What he didn't expect was a kiss. Especially not one that felt hotter than the sun. Especially not one that emptied his lungs and made him light-headed. Especially not one that crushed them so close together that he could feel how hard Shizuo was, and made him wonder when that had happened. Especially not one that left him paralyzed.
Well, almost paralyzed.
There was a click, metal against skin, that had Shizuo pulling back. He'd forgotten about that knife. Of course Izaya would have it with him.
He resisted the urge to growl and flick it from the smaller man's wrist. It wasn't as if he needed Izaya's consent anyhow. If he wanted to – nothing could've stopped him from ripping him bare and taking right there, right then.
But that was…
"We are not doing this," Izaya hissed, once his lungs were refilled. As much as he tried to hide it, Shizuo could see the panic in his eyes, as he struggled slightly – uselessly – under his deadweight.
Shizuo softened, pressing his lips back against Izaya's, who at first remained motionless, save for his knife that was pressing ever harder into Shizuo's neck. But then, one of Shizuo's hands wandered their way down to his thighs – those thighs - and had Izaya making a sound that Shizuo could not help but think would have sounded like a kittenish mewl had his lips not been in the way, and loosening his grip on the knife.
It was the thud, muted by the thick carpet, of Izaya's knife hitting the floor that brought them to.
"We are not doing this," Izaya closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. "Here."
A/N: Nearly finished guys. Some smut coming up soon :P