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Shizuo was panting but not because of the exhaustion. It was adrenaline coursing through his veins as he was climbing the stairs of the building. Each step was revibrating from the empty walls, but Shizuo couldn’t hear a thing, for the thumping of his heart was drowning any outer sound. One thought was pulsing in his mind – was it too late?
The door leading to the roof swung open, and Shizuo took a hasty step toward the dark figure leaning on the railings.
“Ah, Shizu-chan,” the man turned his head slightly to glance at him, and in the neon lights of the city, his side grin looked crooked and dangerous. “What brings you here?”
Instead of answering, Shizuo ran to him and, seizing his jacket, yanked the man away from the edge.
“What are you doing here, Izaya?” he growled, looking Izaya in the eye, deep worry masked by usual anger.
Izaya shrugged and stepped back, freeing himself from Shizuo’s grip.
“I was enjoying the view,” he lilted, but Shizuo could hear irritation seeping into his voice.
“What the hell keeps you from enjoying the view in your own fucking flat!?”
In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t talk to Izaya so harshly, but the chilling dread was taking the best of him. His hands balled into fists; his body a taut string.
Izaya’s eyes gleamed dangerously, but his tone remained cheerful and mocking.
“Why Shizu-chan? Is it the same old story all over again?” he chuckled. “Are you prohibiting me from coming to Ikebukuro?”
Shizuo’s lip twitched.
“Cut out this bullshit,” he said, feeling slightly relieved that the flea was his usual obnoxious self. It was unlikely that he wanted to do something stupid, right?
The sound of amused laughter pierced through the night silence.
“Give me a hand, will you?”
Confused, Shizuo hesitated for a moment but still stretched his arm out. The feeling of Izaya’s cold hand in his made him shiver, and then the man jumped onto the railing. Shizuo’s hand tensed, and when he wanted to yank Izaya back, he got stopped by the sudden pull.
“Don’t spoil the mood, Shizu-chan~” Izaya lilted, but there was a fire in his auburn eyes, and Shizuo decided to indulge him.
He was walking along the roof edge, Izaya putting one front in front of the other with steady grace. Shizuo knew the man didn’t need his support as his sense of balance was perfect. It wasn’t that Shizuo dreaded that Izaya might stumble and fall. It was a possibility of a conscious, well-calculated step that made his hair stand on end.
And suddenly, there was a light tug. Terrified that his thoughts might have come to life, he turned to look at Izaya, who jumped over the railing and was standing on the edge of the roof, chilling 60 meters beneath him.
“Izaya!” he gasped, his left hand clenching the metal of the barrier.
The man’s face was neutral and serious.
“Hold me, Shizu-chan,” he asked, and there was something to his voice that made Shizuo comply.
Realizing that Shizuo had decided to obey his wish, Izaya smiled sweetly and, grasping his hand, leaned back, barely touching the ground with his toes. Shizuo propped himself on the railings, his chest pressed to the metal barrier, as he was holding Izaya, whose face was eerily white against the darkness beneath him.
“Do you know how many people I saw jumping to the unknown?” he asked, and his soft voice was loud to Shizuo’s ear. “I used to be scared of what might be on the other side-”
Izaya chuckled, and Shizuo felt chill dread creeping up his spine.
“I’m not afraid anymore, you know.”
Shizuo’s grip got tighter.
“You’re pissing me off,” he growled and gave Izaya a careful tug, when the man grinned viciously, pulling one foot off the edge.
“Uh, uh, uh, Shizu-chan, not yet~”
Licking his dry lips, Shizuo muttered a curse. He tugged Izaya toward the roof, and the very minute he started pulling, Izaya’s fingers got lax, he was no longer holding onto Shizuo. The blade of his knife flickered in the dim artificial light of the city, sparkling with pink and blue reflections. A swift motion; and Shizuo’s wrist got burned. Shocked, Shizuo leaned back, his fingers reflexively opening on Izaya’s wrist. There was that toothy grin, that dangerous gleam in auburn eyes when Izaya started falling.
Overcame with sudden vertigo, Shizuo darted forward. His head was empty; he acted on his instinct only. Using the momentum his strong body could give, he managed to catch Izaya by his wrist and pull him back. With a thud, the man’s body collided with the rooftop.
His hands trembling slightly, he was glaring at the body sprawled on the floor.
Clutching at his arm, Izaya turned to his back and gave a pained laugh.
“What was that shit about, Izaya!?” accused Shizuo. “Are you nuts!?”
The man was rubbing his shoulder, his eyes watering.
“It was a joke, Shizu-chan, no need to be so serious.”
A wave of anger washed him over.
“A joke!? Is it all a joke to you, Izaya!?”
Izaya’s face darkened.
“You’ve pulled my arm out of the socket,” he said deadpan.
Getting nearer, Shizuo offered him a hand.
“Get up, Izaya,” he ordered, sounding tired.
Scoffing, Izaya braced himself on the offered arm and got to his feet.
“Do you want to come over?” asked Shizuo, his voice soft as if he were embarrassed to offer it.
They hadn’t really discussed where they were. Back then, at Shinra’s party, Shizuo had mentioned they were together. It didn’t skip his attention that Izaya neither denied nor confirmed it. And even after Shizuo had confessed his love, Izaya turned it into a joke. After that, Shizuo occasionally stayed the night at Izaya’s apartment in Shinjuku, and he knew they were together; still, he wanted to hear that from Izaya.
His hand laid on Izaya’s shoulder; very carefully, Shizuo felt the injured place for dislocation.
“It seems fine,” he murmured.
Covering his hand with his own, Izaya gave him a soft smile.
“Maybe you’ve got some ice.”
Putting his hand into Shizuo’s, Izaya took the lead.
Izaya chose the most secluded paths, apparently wary of being seen with his ex-nemesis. It was eerie to walk along empty, narrow streets led by the hand of his lover. A step behind, Shizuo’s eyes were trained on that straight back. A turn of the shoulders, his rigid posture. A tell-tale sign of ups and downs.
They entered the building to climb the stairs. The faulty lights were blinking, making Shizuo feel uneasy. He hurried to open the door and stepped aside for Izaya to walk in first. The man smirked as he passed Shizuo by, the fur of his jacket grazed his skin.
“Fetch the first aid kit, Shizu-chan.”
Shizuo frowned, looking at Izaya’s back as he went into the living room. Was he in pain? Was he hurt? Fighting the feeling of uneasiness, Shizuo hurried to get the kit from the bathroom and joined Izaya.
He was sitting elegantly on his couch, his legs crossed. As he heard Shizuo enter the room, the auburn eyes immediately darted to him.
“Give it to me,” he instructed, and there were intense undertones in his voice.
Shizuo sat beside Izaya and handed him the kit, his eyes glued to those fiery ones. The first aid kit on his lap, Izaya took Shizuo’s hand in his and turned it palm up. Tensing, Shizuo looked at him, puzzled.
“You’ve cut your wrist, Shizu-chan,” he teased as he put the hand on his lap. “You’d better be more cautious. What might people think?”
He could guess the double meaning hidden behind those mocking words, and he didn’t like it at all. What alarmed Shizuo even more was the seductive note in his voice. Izaya dampened the cloth with the disinfectant and pressed it to his skin. The cut had already closed, but still, it burnt slightly. An unpleasant feeling made Shizuo think of the pain Izaya must have been in as he had cut his forearms. Ache and sorrow painted his face, making him wince, and Izaya must have realized what he was thinking about. He was too perceptive, that damn flea! The smile falling off his lips, he leaned away, putting the disinfectant back into the kit.
“Good as new!” he lilted, throwing Shizuo’s hand back onto his lap.
Shizuo frowned and wanted to ask him what was wrong, but Izaya’s detached expression made him choose against it. With a visible tension in his muscles, Shizuo could guess an instant decision to take his leave. And he did the only thing he could think of.
Leaning forward, Shizuo kissed him, hard and demanding. Almost instantly, Izaya parted his lips, welcoming Shizuo’s tongue. His anxiety, his worry, his fear made the kiss hungry and fierce, and he knew Izaya must understand him, for his cold arm traveled up Shizuo’s arm and rested on the back of his neck.
They were breathing each other’s breath. Once in a while, Shizuo would dare open his eyes and look at Izaya’s fluttering lashes. His face slightly flushed; he looked like a porcelain doll coming to life.
And then, all of a sudden, Izaya leaned back, his lips slightly swollen, his cheeks pink. As he stood up, Shizuo caught his hand, puzzled and worried.
“Where are you going?” he asked, realizing that he wouldn’t let Izaya leave. Not in the state he was in. Izaya’s answer made his jaw drop.
“To the bedroom.”
He remembered Izaya telling him that he didn’t want to have sex.
Was he ready?
But Izaya never gave him any time for doubts. He was already at the door leading to the bedroom. His hand propped against the doorframe; he was glancing back at Shizuo, his eyes burning with lust.
“Hurry up, Shizu-chan~”
And he hurried to join him.
They didn’t need to switch on the lights as the neon of the breathing city was seeping through the window. Izaya’s jacket fell down to the floor. He gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, baring his milky skin.
“So, it’s your turn to enjoy the view, isn’t it, Shizu-chan?”
With a smug grin, he was standing naked, lean, and beautiful. Shizuo gulped and hastily undressed, the urge to feel his skin overpowering. He hugged Izaya, pressing himself into his body and kissing his neck hungrily. A path of soft pecks up to his jaw, a press of lips to the cheek, and Shizuo was ready to crush his mouth with a hungry kiss, but Izaya turned his head to the side. A cold spike pierced his heart the moment when Shizuo noticed that Izaya’s hand was balled into a fist. He might be nervous, thought Shizuo, and let Izaya take the lead.
His lover got onto the covered bed and looked expectantly at Shizuo. Hesitant, he got beside him, not sure what he was supposed to do. Izaya clearly didn’t want to kiss, and what made Shizuo even more anxious was that the man wasn’t hard. Shizuo kneeled on the bed, Izaya’s pale legs entrapped between his thighs, and leaned forward to kiss his chest. His hand traveled down his soft skin to cup him and rub into half arousal. The kisses were soft and feathery, as he wasn’t sure what was Izaya’s game. Was he still thinking he had to somehow repay Shizuo?
A silver gleam of metal was the answer he was looking for.
Acting on reflex, Shizuo caught his wrist and crushed it so that the man would drop the weapon.
“Izaya!” a low growl. “A knife, really? Did you pull it out of your ass!?”
From a corner of his eye, Shizuo could see a little movement of Izaya’s other hand and hurried to pin it to the mattress. His eyes were studying the flushed face, trying his best to solve the puzzle, and then Izaya moaned, bucking his hips.
Puzzled, Shizuo slightly unclasped his fingers, and the next moment, a burning auburn fire was set firmly on him.
“Shizu-chan, please,” gasped Izaya. “Grip them. I want to feel you.”
And then Shizuo got it. He remembered them having a bunch of angry sex before when Shizuo would lose control of his strength and overstep the sane boundaries. He would feel like shit back then, especially looking at Izaya’s bruised body. Finally, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Izaya must have provoked him on purpose because he-
What did he want?
Ever before Shizuo would think that Izaya wanted to prove he was a beast, as Izaya would always claim him to be. That night, however, Shizuo started to doubt it. Was it- Could it be that Izaya enjoyed the pain?
Still, when he was looking at him with such fever, such intensity, Shizuo couldn’t find it in himself to reject him. Very carefully, mindful of his strength, he gripped those slender wrists and pinned Izaya down. The man gave out a low moan. Shizuo was lucky that Izaya’s eyes were shut because it took him an eternity to get his expression under control. The image of those scarred forearms was enough to bring him to tears.
***
He was fucking Izaya with his lubed fingers even though the man had made a fuss about using it. It pained Shizuo to think that Izaya wanted it to hurt. It took him a great deal of willpower to master an angry growl that had made Izaya back off. So, he ended up stretching him with his fingers, making it deep and harsh. His other hand was pinning Izaya, pressing his back firmly to the mattress, and he could feel his lover’s heart racing.
When he felt that Izaya was ready, he shifted, propping his hand on the mattress right beside Izaya’s neck.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered and guided his lubed cock to Izaya’s pucker to thrust in him.
Izaya gasped, his head turned sideways.
“Move, Shizu-chan,” he whispered.
And Shizuo complied, going deep, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust.
“Harder,” moaned Izaya feverishly, “harder.”
He was slamming into the taut body, his eyes shifting from Izaya’s glistening face to the marred skin of his forearms. As Shizuo was watching a small frown on the flushed face, the auburn eyes opened slightly, and Shizuo got mesmerized by the way they were burning. Lips slightly parted, Izaya encircled Shizuo’s wrist with his warm fingers and prompted him to pin him down.
And Shizuo did just that. Catching Izaya’s wrists, he pressed him harder into the mattress, his cock pushing as far as it could go. Each slam might hurt Izaya, and Shizuo winced, unable to realize what pleasure he was able to find in all that pain.
He could see that Izaya was close. His breaths were rapid and shallow as he was struggling to get free from Shizuo’s grip. As he had done it for the first time, Shizuo had immediately let go only to be burnt by the intense glare. Now he knew better than to give way. He could see that Izaya found some sick joy in being restrained and hated that he had to take part in it. He swore to himself that if Izaya taunted him later for being a beast capable of bringing only pain and destruction, he would end those sick relationships once and for all.
But Izaya never said a thing. He wiggled his hand free only to take Shizuo’s palm and press it to his own shoulder with force.
His left shoulder.
The one that was hurt.
The one he claimed to be dislocated.
And Shizuo dug his fingers deep into the flesh, pressing his shoulder into the bed.
With a pained cry, Izaya tensed only to sag a second later.
He came without Shizuo touching his cock.
Only from pain.
It was scaring him to death.
Shizuo just couldn’t do it anymore.
Propping himself on the bed, he pulled himself from Izaya’s relaxed body and jerked his own cock off. It took him longer than he thought to come and cover Izaya’s lean stomach with his seed.
A physical release hadn’t brought him any satisfaction, though.
After wiping off the traces of their sex, they were lying together, Izaya’s back to him.
It took him all his inhumane strength to voice a question that had been tormenting him.
“Are you with me because I can hurt you?”
He could see Izaya’s back tense.
“Don’t be stupid, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, and the way his voice sounded harsh and defiant made Shizuo’s blood run cold. “You could never hurt me.”
He waited for something to come, not really knowing what he was looking forward to, but Izaya stayed silent. Soon, his breathing evened. He fell asleep, but Shizuo remained awake.
Shizuo was thinking of that disturbing addiction. Izaya was obsessed with heights, hungry for pain. It was unsettling how many times Shizuo saw him standing on the edge of the roof. He couldn’t but think what could happen if someday he came a moment later. Would Izaya still be enjoying the view or would he-
He swallowed heavily.
Shizuo couldn’t let himself think of it. Not when he had nothing to help Izaya with.
***
He managed to catch a wink only when the sky turned grey with the coming dawn.
In the morning, when he woke up to the smell of the brewed coffee, Izaya was his usual self. He was already wearing his coat, his grin smug, his expression intact.
Shizuo wanted to bring the therapy thing up, but he was scared. Each time he had done that before, it all led to an indivertible tragedy. Would Izaya bolt out of his flat never to come back? Would he embark on a vengeful spree against his family? Would he hurt himself just to spite Shizuo? Or could there be a chance that he would listen to common sense and give that doctor Shinra suggested a visit?
With a taunting smirk on his lips, with a twirl of his jacket, Izaya left the flat.
Shizuo never raised the issue.
He hid his face in his shaking hands.