kei_mai: (DRRR - Izaya)
[personal profile] kei_mai
Title: Classroom Rendezvous [part II]
Characters/Pairing: Shizuo/Izaya
Genre/Rating: PG15
Word Count: 12, 966
Warnings: foreplay, truckloads of UST
Notes: AU - alternate age, student/teacher; Shizuo is a high school student and Izaya is a teacher. Prompt from the kinkmeme.
Summary: High school was supposed to be the place where lasting relationships were forged.


part I

Normally, Shizuo didn’t pay attention to what Orihara did, but today a curious stack of envelopes caught his attention. “What’s that?” he asked flatly, some part of him really hoping that they weren’t what he thought they were.

“Hmm?” Orihara looked up, glasses slightly askew, and it took a moment before the red eyes focused on him. “Ah, those. Love letters, confessions, and badly written haiku, I would believe. No matter how many times I return them unopened, there’s always more.”

“The hell are they thinking?” he rumbled, glaring at the paper. Just how many people were out to woo the shitty flea? “Isn’t it against some school policy or shit?”

“Or shit, yes,” the brunet seemed amused, “It is tough being so popular~. But don’t worry, Shizu-chan, you’re still my favourite!”

Shizuo snorted and looked away, burying his nose in the book the bastard was making him read. “Don’t fricking want to be your anything.”

“Oya,” but Shizuo never heard whatever Orihara was going to say, because the door opened, and Kadota of gym class had stuck his head in.

“You busy, Izaya?” Kadota glanced between the two of them like he thought he was interrupting something.

“Dotachin!” The delighted tone made Shizuo frown at his book, and he tried futilely to focus on the printed words instead of the familiar voice, “Do you have something for me, or did you just want to visit me~?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to go have dinner together?” Kadota had stepped inside, circling around the small table over to Orihara’s side, “There’s a new sushi restaurant down the street, and I heard they have really good ootoro.”

“Aw, you’re the best! I’m guessing you have to lock up after the athletic clubs, ne?”

Usually, the laid-back man didn’t bother Shizuo; he was actually one of the few people who didn’t piss him off on a regular basis. There was something about now – about the situation – that irked him and made him clutch onto the book more tightly than he needed to.

“Yeah,” the gym teacher sounded distracted, and Shizuo didn’t know why until he heard the man call his name, “Shizuo-kun, you’ve been doing alright?”

Shizuo nodded with a scowl. Before he could wind himself up more, he stood and grabbed his bag. “I’m leaving now,” he mumbled as bowed, making his escape before either man could say anything.

It was fucking rude, yeah, but he figured it was better than sending some furniture flying into their face.

The other students scattered when they saw him stomping towards them, and their whispering wasn’t helping his already foul mood. It definitely didn’t improve when he noticed a girl cowering in the corner of the roof where he usually had his smoke breaks, and a group of them shrieking at and kicking her.

Shizuo felt a brow twitch. “Hey, are you girls going to stop that?”

Collectively, they pulled back, angry expressions changing instantly when they saw him. “Heiwajima Shizuo!” one of them squeaked, and two of them grabbed hold of each other’s hands in a fricking dramatic way.

“Yeah, that’s my name,” he growled irritably, “I said, are you done?”

That set them running, yelling for help, and Shizuo ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. When that didn’t work, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He eyed the girl who had straightened up, looking at him with wide eyes. “Uh, you mind?”

At the shake of her head, he lit it up, taking a soothing drag.

“Thank you for saving me, Heiwajima-kun,” she said softly, looking every bit as nervous as she sounded.

“It’s not like I did anything,” Shizuo shrugged, and then after a moment, “You should probably go home.” He wanted to offer to walk the girl home, because the harpies probably weren’t done with her, but hanging around him would probably be a horrible idea. Girls were one thing, gang fights were another.

“Oh, um, yes, I probably should,” the girl gave him a quick bow, and then hesitated, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Heiwajima-kun.”

For a moment, he just blinked owlishly at the girl. “Yeah, sure.”

The next day, Shizuo found out that the girl was actually in his class – had been since the beginning of the school year – and was the same one who sometimes asked him for help in English. She was infinitely patient with him, but it still made him a little guilty that he still couldn’t remember her name half the time.

This was one of those times. They were all waiting for Orihara to show up for class when the girl came over, stopping in front of his desk. Shit. “Hey, umm...”

“Aika, Heiwajima-kun,” Aika smiled awkwardly up at him, fidgeting nervously, “I was… wondering if you have time, today? I found out that you like cake, and I’ve always wanted to try the sweets in that store you always go to…”

For a moment Shizuo saw red eyes and a smug smirk in his mind, but he shook it off. “Sure; are you in any clubs?”

“No,” she said uncertainly, like she expected to be belittled – like hell Shizuo was in any position to judge anyone.

“We can go right afterschool, then,” he gave her as reassuring a smile as he could, and to his relief Aika looked more relaxed.

“Back to your seats, my dear students!” Orihara walked into the room with a happy smile that boded well for no one, and Shizuo knew why when the man pulled out a stack of papers from behind him. “It is quiz day, everyone~!”

There were groans all around the room, but Aika just stared at the teacher, an odd expression he couldn’t name on her face.

As usual, Orihara sat there on the table like the bastard that he is, watching them struggle through the test with a creepy-ass smile on his face. Shizuo chanced a glance over at the other end of the classroom where Aika was, happy that the girl didn’t seem too stressed out. She was such a nervous wreck already – she probably didn’t need any more on her plate.

Shizuo thought he was right to worry when the teacher pulled Aika out for a ‘chat’ after class, but the bastard left before he could pin the man down.

“If the flea’s bothering you, tell me,” he couldn’t keep the threatening rumble out of his voice – didn’t Orihara have better things to do than mess with his friends?

Aika just shook her head, startled. “Orihara-sensei wanted to know how my studies were going. He knows that I’ve been… busy.”

“Oh,” Shizuo rubbed at the back of his neck, “Club activities?” He was a bit out of touch with the schedules for clubs; getting collared by the teacher meant he wouldn’t have had time to join one, even if he had wanted to.

She gave him an odd look, but it was there and gone before he could ask about it. “Something… like that,” she offered uncertainly, and then smiled timidly, “Thank you for worrying about me, Heiwajima-kun.”

Later, he went to find Orihara, feeling that he should at least let the man know he wouldn’t be a sitting duck for teasing that day. When he opened the door, he was greeted with an annoying singsong call of his nickname.

“I’m not going to be around–”

“Ah, didn’t your little girlfriend tell you she can’t make it?” Orihara sounded as cheerful as ever, but there was something dark in his red eyes, “I think your date has been cancelled, Shizu-chan!”

“It’s not a date, and she’s not my girlfriend,” he said flatly, “How the hell do you know she’s busy?”

“Because Aika-chan is running a little errand for me right this moment,” the brunet smiled, “My condolences, Shizu-chan~. If you want some cake, I have managed to smuggle some up for you from the office, however.”

Deep breaths, one, two, three…

After a long moment of fighting with the urge to throttle the shitty flea, he regained enough control to stop seeing red.

Throwing down his bag, he settled into his usual chair with a scowl. “What, are you jealous that I have friends and you don’t?”

“Not at all,” Orihara replied breezily, “Why would I need anyone else when I have you, Shizu-chan?”

It was shit like that which made Shizuo believe it was safer just to treat anything the flea said as a lie. So he scoffed, pulling one of the plated cakes to cautiously poke at it. “You sure you didn’t poison it or anything?”

“Of course,” the teacher steepled his fingers and smirked, “After all, how could I have known which one you’d choose?”

That was bullshit if Shizuo had ever heard any, but what’s the worse he could get, with this body of his?

The flea ended up keeping him in until seven, forcing Shizuo to run down the stairs two at a time with his cell phone to his ear, hoping that his mom wouldn’t get angry at him for not calling earlier to tell her he’d be late. He nearly missed the step when he noticed the girl standing by the shoe lockers.

“You’re still here?” he asked in surprise, snapping his phone shut. His brain wouldn’t give him her name, no matter how hard he thought about it.

“Heiwajima-kun,” she looked up with an anxious smile, “I waited for you.”

Shizuo swore under his breath as he walked over to the girl, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to do that. How long have you been here?”

She looked down at her shoes. “Since afterschool.”

The words made Shizuo feel like the jerk of the universe; he was going to punch himself in the face for believing the shitty flea, after he killed the bastard.

“Sorry, I–”

“Heiwajima-kun,” she looked up, and her expression was odd, “What… are the twins from 1-B to you?”

“Huh?” Shizuo was confused at the sudden question, “they’re kinda like sisters that I never had.”

“What about Kishitani Shinra?”

“That guy?” he asked with a blink, “he’s an idiot who talks too much, but he means well.”

She nodded slowly. “And… what do you think about Orihara-sensei?”

At this, Shizuo frowned, feeling his anger rekindle, and he hissed through his teeth, “The goddamn flea is an asshole.”

There was a long silence between them, Shizuo fuming through it. Finally, the girl nodded again, and her awkward smile was back. “There could be... another time, ne?” she offered uncertainly, “Please take care, Heiwajima-kun.” She turned, starting towards the front doors, before stopping. “My name is Aika; please remember it.”

The girl had left him very confused, but there were two things Shizuo was sure about: the anger skittering in his veins, and the need for his fist to meet the bastard’s face. Turning on his heel, he started up the stairs again, stretching his legs as far as they’d go so that he could get to beating up the flea’s ass faster.

The door to the lounge rebounded off the wall, and with a growl Shizuo stalked over to the table, slamming his hand on the table.

“Yes, Shizu-chan?” the teacher didn’t seem fazed, straightening his stack of papers against the warping surface of the furniture.

“You lied to me,” he grounded out, and the wood groaned and splintered under his grip.

“I’m assuming you ran into Aika-chan downstairs, then?” Orihara had the balls to look him in the eye while saying that, and before the table could give under his fingers, Shizuo had lodged it in the wall.

“What do you fucking think?” He made a grab for the bastard’s shirt, but the brunet just slipped away from his fingers.

“Are you angry that I ruined your date?” the man laughed, and all Shizuo wanted was to make his fist meet that smug face.

“It wasn’t a date, you goddamn flea!”

Orihara clicked his tongue. “You should really do something about your language, Shizu-chan.”

“Do you think I fucking care, shitty bastard!?” Shizuo snarled, grabbing a chair with the full intent to throw it.

The man shifted on his feet, and suddenly Shizuo found himself against the wall, the feel of something cold against his throat – where the hell did the bastard get the knife from? Shizuo narrowed his eyes, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, the blood pounding in his ear in a way that had nothing to do with him throwing shit around. The pulse he could feel under the hand he had wrapped around Orihara’s wrist mirrored his own.

“I have a policy against using this on my students,” the pupils of those red eyes were blown wide – Shizuo didn’t think he was the only one running on adrenaline, “But I think I’ll make an exception for you, since you are so special, ne?”

“Special my ass,” he snapped back, “Why won’t you stop screwing with me when you have someone else to play with, Izaya? Go harass Kadota – he’s so fucking special too, right?”

That made an expression of confusion and something Shizuo couldn’t name pass over the flea’s face before the smirk was back. “Aw,” Orihara cooed, far too close for comfort, “were you jealous of Dotachin? I thought it was odd that you’d be so curt with him.”

“Who the hell would be jealous?!” His hand reflexively tightened on the man’s wrist, and suddenly Shizuo could remember the screams, the crunch of bone, the give, and he released it like he had been burned.

Of course Orihara noticed – the bastard saw every goddamn thing – and the brunet carded his free hand through Shizuo’s hair. “You’re too cute, Shizu-chan.”

He flinched away from the touch; the motion should have cut his neck open on the knife still lying against his skin. It sort of surprised him that it didn’t.

The flea sighed. “As much as I’d love to stay pressed against you all night, Shizu-chan, the patrol would be coming soon, and I would very much like to go back home.”

“Then get the hell off,” Shizuo hissed through gritted teeth, trying not to show how mortified he was at what the teacher was implying, “And fricking stay away from my friends! She doesn’t need shitty bastards like you messing up her life.”

“Oh, Shizu-chan,” the man looked amused, dropping the long-suffering look, “I don’t know if I should consider you wilfully blind or just adorably gullible. Do you even remember her name?”

Shizuo bristled. “If you’re calling me stupid, just fucking say it.”

“Don’t you find it odd that she gave you her first name when you two barely knew each other?” Orihara ignored him, “Aika’s been nurturing an unhealthy infatuation with you since the beginning of the year, but it wasn’t such a problem until you decided to play hero in her little damsel in distress moment. Did you know she even built you a little shrine in her room?”

“The fuck?” Shizuo just stared at the brunet as the man chuckled.

“Her camera work could do with some polishing, though – very amateurish. But don’t worry,” the teacher brushed Shizuo’s bangs aside with a too sweet smile and pressed a kiss mockingly to his forehead, “I’ll protect you, Shizu-chan~.”

Rubbing indignantly at the spot to try to get rid of the tingling feeling, he growled, “Stop treating me like a kid, goddamn flea – I don’t fucking need you protecting me.”

“Oh? Do you want me to treat you as an adult, then?” When the brunet’s fingers curled into the hair at the nape of Shizuo’s neck, he nearly jumped; since when had the knife been replaced by warm hands? “I can do that too.” Orihara’s tone was sultry, his warm breath mixing with Shizuo’s own. ‘Too close’ just didn’t cut it.

Even Shizuo could tell that asking what Orihara was doing was pointless. Anyway, he had a feeling that the bastard would only laugh and ask him why he was leaning forward if he hadn’t known.

The first thing Shizuo noticed was how soft the lips were, slanting almost lightly against his – flirting and teasing, like Orihara always was. A nagging feeling that this was just another way for the brunet to coddle him like some kid pissed him off, and he growled into the kiss, tilting his head for a better angle.

When that did nothing, he pulled the brunet closer by that trim waist, hands slipping under the thin shirt to slide over the smooth skin that he had only had the chance to stare at before. Orihara let out a puff of breath that might have been a laugh before winding his arms around Shizuo’s neck, fitting the slender body flush with his.

“You’re enjoying yourself, Shizu-chan,” the brunet pulled away to lick teasingly at the corner of Shizuo’s mouth, that smirk clinging to slightly reddened lips.

Shizuo didn’t bother saying anything – he had found a better way to shut the flea up anyway. Shifting his hands on the man’s back led him to a spot that made Orihara arch into him, the motion accompanied with a noise that almost sounded like a muffled mew.

The brunet’s hands were wondering down Shizuo’s own back, the fluttery touch of slender fingertips sending heat skittering down his spine. The fingers coyly paused at the waistband of his pants, nails dragging lightly along the top, before they slipped into his back pockets and pulled his hips forward. The choked off groan that left his mouth startled him, and Shizuo broke off the messy kiss.

Shoving Orihara back, he glared at the man, knowing that his own face must be bright red. “What the hell?!” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the huskiness in his voice that made the red eyes darken. Maybe if he knocked the man down, the bastard wouldn’t remember any of this.

“It’s hardly fair if only you get to touch, ne? If you want me to keep my hands to myself…” Shizuo helplessly followed the brunet’s tongue as the man slowly licked his lips, “Maybe you should wear a tie tomorrow, ne?”

“Like hell I would!” Shizuo shook his head, backing up towards the door when the man started forward with a hip swaying gait.

“But your leather belt would leave welts.” For someone in his twenties, the shitty flea had a horribly cute pout. “I would rather you mark me yourself, Shizu-chan.”

“No one’s tying you up…!” he nearly shouted the words; in a fit of paranoia, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was standing in the hall. His face was so hot, his skin felt too tight.

“Oh?” The brunet’s lazy smile strongly reminded him of a predator sensing a kill. “No one is tying me up, hmm?”

Deciding that running was better than giving the man more ammo on a silver platter, Shizuo darted out the door, too embarrassed to even be angry at hearing Orihara’s gleeful laughter drifting after him.

For the entire night, Shizuo tossed and turned restlessly on his bed, haunted by the phantom feel of the man’s feathery touch. It left him exhausted in the morning, and he would have taken the day off from school if only his mom wouldn’t be worried sick about him. Kasuka might even make a trip home if he caught wind that his little brother was skipping out.

It wasn’t like the shitty flea would let him get away with it either.

Feeling a little like a death row inmate, he watched the hands of the clock slowly tick down to the end of school. The bastard never did anything to him in class, but that didn’t stop the rumours that changed every week.

When the bell rang, he mechanically climbed the stairs up to the second floor, running a hand carelessly through his hair as his legs found their way through habit. Shizuo tilted his head, puzzled when he noticed the girl – and he could remember her name, damn it – standing outside the lounge, talking to Orihara.

“What’s going on?” Shizuo asked as he got closer, “You’re not harassing her, are you?”

The teacher just laughed, waving a hand. “I wouldn’t do that, Shizu-chan!”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he glanced down at the girl, concerned. She had her head bowed, and the height he had on her didn’t help in that department. “You okay? Really, if he’s giving you a hard time, I can set him straight.”

“You should think before you make promises like that, Shizu-chan,” Orihara lilted in a tone that was too chipper, “You couldn’t catch me last night, ne?”

Shizuo felt his face heat at the reminder, his mind happily supplying everything else that happened too. “Shut up; I can still kick your ass.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do to it?” The brunet was wearing that lazy smile, and Shizuo tore his eyes away.

A mumble Shizuo could barely hear made him look down at the girl again, startled, and then he felt guilty – how could he have just forgotten she was there? “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“You can’t remember my name, can you, Heiwaijima-kun?” She didn’t look up when she spoke, but at least she didn’t sound like she was crying, whatever the expression she was hiding. Shizuo rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing at the teacher, who only smiled and shrugged – of course the bastard was going to be useless.

The girl took his silence as an answer. “KIshitani Shinra, Orihara Mairu and Kururi, they are your friends… I understand that, Heiwajima-kun, I really do.” She began shaking, and worried, Shizuo reached out, only to have Orihara grab onto his hand. “And yet, this man, who you claim to hate, takes up all of your time.”

“The flea’s–”

“If only…” she looked up, her face twisted in rage, “if only you weren’t here!”

There was a glint of silver in her hand, and by the time Shizuo realized what it was, she was already lunging at Orihara. “If only you’d disappear!”

“Izaya!” he moved with only the thought of getting between the brunet and the knife; he barely felt the pain when the blade glanced off his side, barely realized he had caught the sharp metal in his hand and wrenched it out of the girl’s hand. He whipped around with a snarl, “The fuck are you doing?! You don’t play around with those goddamn things!”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, but all he could think of was how close she had gotten with the blade. His whole body was thrumming with the need to explode into violence – it was all he could do to grit his teeth and stay rooted to the spot.

“It’s alright,” his teacher’s voice was a smoothing murmur in Shizuo’s ear, “Just breathe with me, ne?” Shizuo made an effort to unlock his muscles enough to nod his head, the motion more like a quick, spasmodic jerk instead.

There were hands settling lightly on his shoulders, and then they were sliding down his arms. Orihara was a solid warmth pressed against his back, and Shizuo tried to focus on mirroring the brunet’s breathing, the way his teacher’s head was resting on his shoulder sending every breath fanning over the sensitive skin at his neck.

At some point, the brunet’s hands had wrapped around his clenched fists, slender fingers curling around his own. It was the man’s slow, unhurried touch, not the firm force behind it, that made Shizuo pry open his hand.

“Good job, Shizuo,” the sound of his name – his actual name, unadorned – came with lips ghosting over the skin behind his ear, and then Orihara pulled back, “If one of you could tell the authorities that I’d prefer that they don’t come into the room. I’ll take Shizuo-kun to the infirmary later, if necessary.”

His teacher circled around to his front, and with a smile Orihara planted his hands on Shizuo’s chest. “What the – hey,” Shizuo backed up as the brunet pushed at him only because he knew the guy wouldn’t stop shoving unless he did, “she’s still out there!”

“Aika-chan can wait, I assure you,” Orihara kicked the door closed behind them, “There’s other things that need to be tended to first, ne?”

“This is all your fucking fault, you shitty flea,” he growled as the brunet’s hands slipped under his coat, expertly slipping it off of him in a smooth motion.

His teacher nodded indulgently, coaxing him back until Shizuo’s calves hit the dusty couch in the corner and he sat down. “Mmhmm, and…?”

“You could have–” Shizuo cut himself off when the flea started lifting his shirt. Feeling heat crawl up his neck, he yanked down the hem. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Checking your wound, of course,” his teacher replied innocently, but the look in the red eyes were anything but that, “I can already tell that you’ll just need some bandaging on your hand, but I have no idea what state the injury on your side is in. Now be a good boy and sit still, ne?”

After a moment, Shizuo grudgingly lifted his shirt, grumbling under his breath all the while. Orihara just ignored him, making an intrigued hum as he examined the cut. The rings on the man’s finger s felt cool against his skin. “I suppose the least I could do is find a first aid kit and play nurse…”

Shizuo just grunted and continued staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about anything at all.

“But,” the brunet sounded amused, “would you like a moment to take care of that?”

“What?” he turned back to the flea with a bit of a growl in his voice, not liking the wicked curve to those lips one bit.

“You have a little problem,” Orihara looked like he was just a second away from bursting out laughing, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks from keeping in the laughter. Seeing that Shizuo still didn’t get it, the brunet pointedly looked down. “Well, ‘little’ being a… figure of speech, in this case.”

Following the gaze, he froze.

Goddamn it to hell!

“Perhaps you’d like me to lend you a hand,” the burnet giggled softly at the innuendo in that, obviously enjoying the shade of red Shizuo knew he was turning in embarrassment. He glared at the man and – shit, when had the flea gotten all settled between his legs?

“Fuck you,” Shizuo choked out, and the second the words left his mouth, he knew that was probably the worst thing he could have chosen to say.

“Or we could do that.” Orihara voice went all sultry, eyes at half-lidded as he slithered up Shizuo’s frame. “Ne, will I be your first, Shizu-chan?”

“Damn it, can’t you just shut up?” Pulling the shitty bastard by the front of his shirt, Shizuo crushed their lips together, trying to hide the way he shivered at the muffled moan. His pants were getting really uncomfortable, and the way the flea was squirming against him didn’t help. He tore away, wondering when his hand had moved to cup the man’s ass, “Izaya–”

The brunet didn’t let him finish the sentence, the tongue that had been tracing his lips slipping inside, and Shizuo forgot what he had been meaning to say.

“Iza-nii!” The voice and the thumping against the door made them jolt away from each other, leaving Shizuo staring into red eyes.

“I’ll be right there,” his teacher called, voice somehow managing to sound the same as usual, before Orihara turned back to him. “I guess you’ll have to take care of that problem yourself, Shizu-chan.” The man gave him a parting lick on the mouth, getting up with a cat-like stretch.

Shizuo had no doubt that the flea was walking that way because the bastard knew that he was looking, but he managed to stop staring when Orihara opened the door. The long haired girl was trying to peer past her brother, but some way or another, the man managed to block the narrow opening.

“What do you want?” Orihara asked tiredly.

“We heard that there was a fight, so we came. I guess it’s over now,” Mairu sounded disappointed.”Eh, are you hurt, Iza-nii? Who managed to get the drop on you?”

“It’s Shizu-chan’s blood,” the man answered absently, rolling a shoulder lazily. “Was there a reason you were trying to break down the door?”

Kururi voice just barely carried over to where Shizuo was. “Bandages.”

“Hmm,” there was a calculating edge to that simple sound, and the brunet’s tone became too innocent, “Mairu, Kururi, if you care so much about Shizu-chan, could you two spend the night at someone else’s house?”

“Whaaat?” the long haired girl dragged out the word, “Are you kicking us out?”

The flea nodded. “For tonight, yes.”

“But you’ve never kicked us out before!”

“There’s a first time for everything, and tonight’s the occasion.” The devious smirk that Orihara tipped over his shoulder didn’t help Shizuo’s problem at all. “It would be heartless of me to leave Shizu-chan to lick his own wounds after he saved me, ne?”

+++

Shizuo had just lit up his cigarette when it was snatched right out of his mouth. “That’s a silly thing to do,” the flea was leaning against his back, head tucked against his neck so that he couldn’t see the expression on the man’s face, “don’t smoke in my home, Shizu-chan. The whole house will smell like smoke.”

“You weren’t complaining about the smell last night,” he growled, and he felt more than heard the bastard laugh.

“You gave me some very good distractions, ne?” The brunet nuzzled against his neck, and Shizuo sighed, turning around to meet those lips. Only, Orihara slipped out of reach with a teasing smile, luring him forward so that he had to crawl back up the bed.

It was a giant ass bed, but at least all the space was good for something.

“Izaya,” Shizuo rumbled in warning, pinning the man against the headboard. He doubted that being on a first name basis in a relationship like this meant – or did – the same things to the brunet as it did to himself, but he could pretend, right?

“Yes~?” the flea was laughing at him, and so Shizuo did the only thing he knew would shut the bastard up without breaking something. When Orihara opened his mouth slightly, Shizuo didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in, going straight for the places that would make the man gasp and moan. It was funny how in two days, they had gotten kissing each other down to an art.

And when Izaya kissed him like that, he could almost believe the man cared.

“Shizu-chan’s thinking,” Orihara said thoughtfully when they broke apart, a finger from one of the hands that had been locked in Shizuo’s hair following the furrow between his brows.

Shizuo scowled harder. “That’s usually what people do, Izaya.”

“Ah, but not what Shizu-chan usually does!” The brunet ignored him, humming contemplatively as he stared at the ceiling. “It’s obvious that you’re worried about something…” A pause. “Is it because you had sex with another man?”

“No,” he scoffed – not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured it wasn’t such a big deal.

“That I’m your teacher, then?”

He smirked at that one. “You’re the one who’s going to get fired.”

“Now you’re just being mean, Shizu-chan,” Orihara gave him one of those kicked puppy looks, “Are you angry that you lost your vir–”

That one Shizuo had no intention of letting the flea finish, and the man made one attempt to break the kiss before sighing into it. When he could breathe again, he hissed, “No.”

“Then is it because I haven’t spoiled you senseless before I took you to bed, Shizu-chan?” The bastard was wearing that I-know-I’ve-got-you smile, and Shizuo glared back. “If you want to be a lovey-dovey couple, we can go window shopping at a mall, get a bouquet of roses, catch a romantic movie, have a candlelight dinner at an expensive restaurant… Say, do you like French food?”

Shizuo didn’t; he didn’t even know French food apart from the pastries at the bakery and the fries from the fast food chain. The list didn’t even fit them, and he knew that was Orihara’s point. “I’m not a fucking girl, Izaya.”

“Oh, I can see that very clearly,” the brunet laughed, but let him embarrassedly slip out of the arms the man had wrapped around his neck. The red eyes were warm with something other than amusement as Izaya watched him pull on his boxers and the rumpled pants of his uniform. “If you’re hungry, Shizu-chan, you could probably find something in the fridge that you could make breakfast with.”

He nodded, tearing his eyes away from the flea’s lithe frame as the man got out of bed, and padded downstairs. The sound of water running followed him down in the quiet morning, echoing in a muffled way, and the house really was big, wasn’t it?

The kitchen was just bright enough to walk around in without running into every piece of furniture in it, and with a yawn Shizuo opened up the fridge, taking more care than he usually did while rooting though the one at home.

“’Morning, Shizuo-kun!” The greeting almost made him ram his head on the fridge shelf – and possibly through it – and he spun around, staring at the two girls standing in the doorway.

“Mairu, Kururi,” he felt infinitely glad that he had bothered to put pants on. “I thought you were at a sleepover?”

“Yeah,” Mairu shrugged, settling into a chair at the kitchen table with a smirk. “They were kinda boring, so Kuru-nee and I decided to come back early. Iza-nii usually isn’t around on Sundays.”

Shizuo just nodded dumbly, backing up when Kururi walked past him to pull out a carton of milk. She lifted it and tilted her head. “Milk?”

“Uh, yeah, I want some.”

The short haired girl nodded with a small smile, moving over to the cabinet. Four cups got taken out, three of which had the same stylized bunny in different poses, the last one plain black. Kururi left one of the decorated ones alone, and filled the rest, passing him the plain cup before taking the other two to the table.

As Shizuo joined them, the coffeemaker whirled to life, and as though summoned by the sound, the flea appeared. “I’d have thought you two would be gone for longer,” his teacher picked up the last bunny mug, frowning at the carton left out on the counter before shrugging and dumping whatever was left in it into his cup. “By the way, I’ve dismantled the pinhole cameras and sound recorders you had in my room.”

“Eeh?!” Mairu made an indignant noise, “Why’d you do that?”

“Because I don’t want sex tapes with me in them floating around the internet,” the long-suffering tone that Izaya was using gave Shizuo a feeling that this wasn’t the first time the brunet had said it. Settling into the chair beside him, the flea gave him a smile. “And I doubt Shizu-chan would appreciate that either.”

Shizuo choked on a spit-take, and the man rubbed soothing circles on his back until he caught his breath. By then, the twins had completely lost interest in trying to grill them about whether or not Izaya had removed the devices before or after the sex.

“Iza-nii, are you leaving soon?” the long haired girl ran her finger along the rim of her mug, her other hand propping up her chin.

The bastard smiled, “I’m planning to spend the day lazing in bed with Shizu-chan.” Pulling his chair closer to Shizuo, Izaya leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. “Sorry, but you’ll have to find another day to bug my room, ne?”

“Who said I was going to stay here with you, flea,” he growled, not a hundred percent sure that he wouldn’t explode from embarrassment if he stayed in the house all day. The flea turned to him, that goddamn pout on his face.

“You don’t want to?” Izaya was too close, and Shizuo froze; just because he knew the shitty bastard was pretending didn’t make it any easier for him to crush the urge to kiss that expression off the man’s face. The red eyes went half-lidded, and the brunet added, “I’ll make it worth your while, Shizu-chan.”

Before Shizuo could close the distance between them, the flea had pulled away, unerringly snapping shut Mairu’s phone. “Aw, I was just trying to document the sexual tension! For prosperity!”

“Ah~, and the next thing I know, it will be up on your mixi journal, ne? Nice try, but you can’t get–”

Shizuo didn’t wait for the man to finish, pulling the flea back into the chair. With one hand cupping the brunet’s jaw, he took advantage of Izaya’s open mouth to deepen the kiss. There was the click of the phone camera, and the brunet broke away, fingers scrabbling for the cell.

Without checking to see if Izaya had managed to snag the device, Shizuo pulled the flea away from the table by the wrist and tugged the man up the stairs. He hadn’t meant to slam the bedroom door quite that hard, but he couldn’t care when he had Izaya pinned against it.

“You wanted to spend the day with me, Izaya?” he growled, “You’ve got it.”

The brunet laughed, slipping his arms around Shizuo’s neck. Mairu’s phone fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. “Oya, someone’s eager.”

Damn it, how was he supposed to not be eager if the bastard wouldn’t stop making those eyes at him? Shizuo slanted his lips against the man’s – close would never be close enough. “Izaya…” He stole a breath when the parted briefly, watching the red eyes flutter. When Izaya moaned his name into his mouth, he was pretty damn sure they won’t make it to the bed.

Shizuo found that he didn’t mind at all.
Page generated Jul. 22nd, 2017 06:57 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios