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Looking Over The Crowd	By : LordYouko Category: > Durarara!! (?????!! Dyurarara!!) Views: 3060 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara!! and make no money from the writing of this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Looking Over The Crowd
- 1
Story: Looking Over The Crowd

I don’t believe in the afterlife, I live a life such that I’ll never get into Heaven, yet I meet a fallen angel because of it…

-Izaya Orihara

Shizuo Heiwajima is not a virgin.

Shizuo Heiwajima has not been a virgin for a long time. He never understands why, but girls – and boys - fall for the whole I’m-strong-as-an-ox-and-I-can-break-you-in-half thing he has going. Shizuo thinks he will never understand humans; despite knowing the fact that he could – accidentally – break their bones while having sex, people still want to have sex with him.

Humans are attracted to monsters. Shizuo wonders why.

He didn’t mean to be promiscuous; When Shizuo had entered puberty and realized what his carnal urges combined with his monstrous strength would do, he had fully intended to be a good little virgin till…well, till he wasn’t a monster anymore. But there were only so many blatantly suggestive offers he could reject before his teenage hormonal body had rebelled against his self-imposed celibacy and insisted he satisfy his base urges, no matter the risks.

It didn’t go well.

The worst part is the bruises. No matter how gentle he is while holding on to his partner, the next morning, they are always black and blue. Then it doesn’t matter that they liked the pain or that they don’t hold it against him. Shizuo does not like to wake up in the morning and see his marks on his– on the human unfortunate enough to bed him.

And it is not as though he hasn’t tried all the positions, all the ways, all the techniques he can think of. He has tried letting the person ride him, he has tried having his partner tie him up and handcuff him, but there aren’t any ties strong enough to bind monsters and after the red red haze takes over his eyes, he does not know what happens but when he’s himself again, his partner is under him…fucked silly and bruised.

Shizuo is tired of not remembering what he did, not having control of this body of a monster that he is in. He doesn’t think anyone else knows quite what it feels like to know that there’s a whole slice of their life that they weren’t allowed to experience. To do something that they can’t remember, can’t make the choice not to do.

And all of this, all the holding back in the world isn’t enough to soothe his conscience when his partner winces with each movement the next day. All the holding back isn’t conducive to good sex either.

Shizuo wishes people would just stop propositioning him so that his traitorous body can’t make him do something he will regret.

Shizuo wishes humans would stop wanting to get close to a monster.

This is until he meets Orihara Izaya, the irritating pest that’s made his life hell. Izaya cheerfully entered his life and his bed without his permission and threw all his carefully built walls, all his control and iron will, out of the window.

Fucking Izaya is unlike anything else he has ever experienced. The thrill, the pleasure, the release compares to nothing, except maybe chasing Izaya Orihara throughout Ikebukuro.

“How many times have I told you to stay the fuck out of Ikebukuro?”

How many times has he told the flea to stay out of his fucking life? But when has Izaya ever listened to him? When has he ever seen him as important enough to warrant any kind of consideration? Monsters don’t have to be listened to.

And when he thrusts deep inside that snowy white, tight little ass, Shizuo can throw his head back and just let go because Izaya won’t let himself get hurt. Izaya can leash a monster like no one else can.

He never blacks out with him, never forgets a single moment of fucking Izaya. No matter how hard and fast and rough they go, Shizuo can always see clearly through the red haze. He can see Izaya’s eyes closed in pleasure, face twisted obscenely. He can hear all the depraved things the flea whispers to him as he takes Shizuo’s cock inside his body and then the Beast of Ikebukuro is nothing more than a whimpering puppy and Shizuo has never been happier.

It was Izaya who made him realise what he was. Izaya told him it was ok to be what he was – out of control, raging, dumb – because monsters don’t have to be intelligent, ne? Monsters are just what they are - dumb brutes that wreak destruction.

Funny how Izaya is the only one who never seems to mind that.

And Izaya never bruises. You would think the pale, fragile looking body would bruise as easily as a peach but it doesn’t. When Shizuo slams him on the bed, on the floor, against a couch, Izaya laughs and twines around him like a snake, that freaky body of his absorbing the impact like it was nothing.

Shizuo is all rock hard strength and uncontrolled force but Izaya is water and whatever Shizuo can through at him seems to be absorbed by that water-like body with no effort. And there is a lot Shizuo has thrown at it over the years – punches and kicks and kisses and caresses. Shizuo is starting to wonder if Izaya is as indestructible as he is.

“You like that, ne Shizu-chan? You like sucking another man’s cock, monster?”

Shizuo shuts his eyes and shudders as that sweet voice, husky and quiet with pleasure, plays back in his mind and the pen he’s signing the delivery slip with, slips from his fingers and clatters to the floor. The delivery boy looks at him strangely but Shizuo can’t very well explain he just had a flashback of blowing his worst enemy.

Shizuo has been holding back for so long, for so many years that it’s second nature to him, and he hates the flea because he is hell bent upon unravelling all that he has worked so hard for. Izaya stokes his fire, his rage. Izaya makes him lose control and revels in the consequences. Doesn’t he know he shouldn’t be getting a monster used to something like that? Doesn’t Izaya know that monsters are meant to be caged?

Izaya pushes him to his limits and beyond. He enrages Shizuo till he sees red and tackles the little bastard with an intent to either kill or fuck and then Izaya laughs like it’s all a big joke, like it’s never been anything more than that, like Shizuo couldn’t kill him with his bare hands -accidentally – if he wasn’t careful.

And that’s just it. Izaya is not careful. Izaya is anything but careful. The way-too-smart-for-Shizuo’s-good flea is smart as all hell, fucking beautiful, a manipulative bastard and soft and sadistic and insane but he’s not careful. He pokes his nose in things that are not his business and he does ridiculously dangerous things for no good reason – like shaving badass gangsters’ heads without permission –and Shizuo wonders how the stupid flea has managed to survive for this long if he keeps provoking monsters.

All his life, he’s tried to rein in his rage, to gain control over himself so he doesn’t hurt innocent people and but Izaya makes him angry when he’s calm, makes him irritable and annoyed and fucking lose it so that he has no other choice but to fuck the little pest into the mattress and Izaya never cares that his cock is as hard and resilient as the rest of him and maybe someday he’ll cause irreparable damage if he’s not careful. Izaya doesn’t seem to understand the concept of irreparable and damage and it’s so ironic that the tiny flea has a monster like him so well trained that when Izaya goads him with that sly, sexy manipulative smirk, instead of closing his eyes and taking deep, calming breaths like he should, Shizuo looks down at his tormentor and laughs back, with rage in his eyes. Really, Shizuo has never been afraid of hurting this particular uke of his.

Uke; the word makes him laugh, because it’s as far from Izaya Orihara as it’s possible to be. He’s not a receiver, this man. Izaya doesn’t passively receive. Izaya invites and challenges and commands and takes whether Shizuo wants to give or not. With others, Shizuo would be afraid to use the dark, monstrous words that spill from his lips when Izaya has taken him to that place where monsters live, because humans are breakable and words can break them more than anything else sometimes.

But he doesn’t need to worry about that with Izaya, because if he’s not human then fuck Izaya isn’t either and he can say whatever, whatever he feels like, no matter how dark and how bad and how monstrous and Izaya will just smile like he knows and Shizuo will never tell him how pathetically grateful he is for that stupid knowing smile, for having another person who knows him - all of him - and doesn’t care.

When the flea gets too impudent, Shizuo threatens him - in the streets in the middle of their fights and in the bedroom in the middle of fucking - and Izaya pays just as little heed to it there and all his bravado and everything dangerous about him is falling, falling into the depthless void that is Izaya Orihara and Shizuo thinks that if he’s lucky, if he can stay in this man’s arms for ever, he will never get those things back.

Once, Izaya brought home a leash and collar for Shizuo to wear and Shizuo roared and raged and stormed at the insult and when the storm was over and the dust settled, he wore it anyway and it was the best sex he’s ever had, not just because he has a kink for being led around like a dog but because it is the first time Izaya told him he is his –

Mine, Shizu-chan, no one else’s. You are my dumb little monster and if you let anyone else have you-

And how stupid is it that Shizuo is not afraid of yakuza with guns but the tiny little knives Izaya carries give him pause.

And with anyone else, Shizuo can unerringly look forward to betrayed, disappointed eyes and a torrent of tears if he did something wrong but with Izaya, he comes back to impossibly sharp knives that the flea manages to conjure from god knows where even when they’re in the middle of sex and naked. And the smile that accompanies the knives is maybe even scarier than the prospect of being cut to ribbons and it makes Shizuo shiver, even when it’s unaccompanied by the knives.

That is the thing about Izaya; there is nothing at all soft or ordinary or human about him. Izaya takes up space, does whatever the hell he wants as if he has every right to. Izaya is the most selfish, self-centered person Shizuo has ever met, the exact opposite of everything Shizuo has ever tried to be. Izaya plays god, plays with people’s live just for his own entertainment. He looks down on people like he’s some kind of god and the frightening thing is, he almost makes Shizuo believe it too. Izaya makes people happier or more miserable as per his wishes just because he can. He is all sharp edges and freedom and Shizuo wonders how that happened. Shizuo wonders how he landed up with perhaps the one person in the world more dangerous than him.

Even Izaya’s kisses taste sharp and addictive, like something you know is bad for you but that tastes so. good.

And when he has Izaya’s cock deep inside his ass, he can almost forget for a minute that he is a monster, that he has brought nothing but destruction in his world, that he is bad and there is no time to think anymore because despite appearances, Izaya is very well endowed and the pain of the cock pounding his ass wars with the pain of precise, razor-sharp slices on his skin.

He can use those knives with so much control that sometimes, Shizuo wonders if they aren’t part of his body, like a demon’s claws. He still has a thin scar frighteningly close to his balls from that one time he flirted with the take-out delivery girl to make his boyfriend jealous.

Izaya likes to make him bleed, likes to have their sheets and their bodies stained in red and he always holds Shizuo’s eyes when he makes the small, shallow cuts that spill a surprising amount of blood. Shizuo is not allowed to look away when Izaya licks off all the blood from Shizuo and his knife too.

Sometimes, Shizuo wonders why that knife never slices up Izaya’s tongue when he licks it almost obscenely, caressing it, as if it were a tasty treat or Shizuo’s dick. Maybe sharp weapons don’t cut up others that are equally sharp.

And now it’s gotten to the point where Shizuo no longer has to think about, wonder about what Izaya’s reaction would be about this or that. He knows, as instinctively as he knows rain equals wet and ice equals cold. He doesn’t have to wonder whether Izaya will like this or that present he has got him; he knows that no matter what he gets, a dumb monster’s taste will never satisfy the great Izaya Orihara and he also knows that he will get a night of mindblowing sex as his reward for trying. He doesn’t have to wonder if Izaya will be hurt by this or that that he has done; he knows hurt Izaya equals gleaming knives.

Izaya is the one person he doesn’t have to protect. If anyone threatens Izaya or tries to hurt Izaya, Shizuo can step aside and smirk his poor-fucker-god-rest-his-soul-for-messing-with-this-guy smirk and he knows Izaya doesn’t need him to step and be the hero.

He knows doesn’t means he understands, though. The single, handcrafted scented candle he gave Izaya for his last birthday is still lying unlit on his nightstand, though Izaya lost no time in telling him how inane and unsophisticated it was.

And after all of it, after the fights and the sex and everything else that is them, Izaya still runs, still ignites that blind, wild rage in him and laughs at the fireworks that result. And Shizuo chases him, through the streets of Ikebukuro that no longer belong only to him, that Izaya actually knows better than he does.

And everyone warns him that Izaya is bad news, that Izaya could be up to no good really, that Izaya is bad but he never listens because he knows Izaya is bad and maybe, for once in his life, he wants bad. Who are they kidding anyway? Good is only good for humans. Good was never going to be enough for a monster.

And he wonders if anyone warns Izaya against him, if his friends (Shizuo doubts he has any, but still) warn him against Shizuo, against the Beast of Ikebukuro, warns him not to tangle with monsters.

He is not worried if they do, though. Izaya Orihara never listened to him about anything and if he doesn’t listen to Shizuo, Shizuo knows he does not listen to anybody.

A/N: So, what do you think?
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Looking Over The Crowd