A/N: Iiiiii wanted to write Shizaya so bad for a while now, but when i had idea i had no mood and when i had mood i had no idea, but finally i could vomit something out~

Actually this isn't how I exactly imagine their relationship, bc biitch please, Izaya is Izaya, the evil little shit, but! This felt so nice to write right now, ahaha~
Maybe next time i'll do better, but that's all the shit i can offer now.
Reviews would be so nice, so pleeeeeeeeeeeease throw something in my way~
Luv chu, delish humans! ENJOY~

Shizuo doesn't really know when this kind of sick game started.

The tall, blonde man groans, thrusting forward into the hotness of his absolutely worst enemy, while the small, thin, pale frame underneath his own is trembling - pressed to the mattress of his bed, the devil himself, who runs under the name Orihara Izaya, whose greedy little hands are grabbing onto strong shoulders, begging for more.

"S-Shizu-chan," he sighs when the man enters him, his head rolls to the side, with a low chuckle, that disturbing, wide, shit-eating smirk like he is in control even though he's under his enemy, never leaves those rosy lips. His grip on the blond's broad shoulders tightening, his nails, which is way too long and sharp for any man, digging into the tanned skin, like Shizuo is his prey, who the raven wants to keep as close as he can so he can eat him up soon.

Maybe because he is; a big one, but a prey either way.

He looks so breakable - Shizuo thinks, as he keeps looking at the other, getting intoxicated by the bastard's smell with every terribly second, with every detail of Izaya's body, disturbingly sweet, delicious noises as he starts to move and pick up his usual rough pace, but he knows that's not true at all; the raven isn't as breakable as his skin may makes him look.

Exactly the opposite, actually.

The flea is getting fucked, hard, rough, but the smirk is still there, toxic and maddening, as always.

Annoying.

"Louse," the ex-bartender growls when he can feel himself getting irritated as time goes, because damn, he's here to wipe that goddamned smirk off, he's here to be in full control for once, but of course, that smartass little shit has to ruin that wonderful idea of his.

As if the panting informant could read his thoughts - and being the creep he is, he probably does - the hysterical, bittersweet laughter, what is so mocking and annoying as hell comes, Shizuo thinks about his life choices, and about that why the fuck they keep doing this when he should just kill the flea-scented pest, when grabbing that white neck already and breaking it to half in one swift motion would be so easy right now.

That's when he grabs the scrawny asshole's pale legs, rougher than neccessarily, while the raven let's out a warning hiss, probably considering the idea of pulling his loyal switchblade out of the headboard and stabbing the monster in the head for leaving a deep bruise on his body - even though he has marks all over his body already. Shizuo brings the limbs closer ignoring the hiss and the playful glare, getting his cock in him deeper fast, when it finally happens.

Those mischiveous burgundy orbs widened, rosy lips opened in a silent scream and that disturbing smirk is finally, finally gone.

Maybe this is the reason why he let this happen everytime, Shizuo tells to himself, while he keeps abusing the very same place what keeps making the raven haired devil see stars, letting out all those lewd sounds out of his dirty mouth, what for once voices out the truth, not some horrible lie. The ex-bartender's chest swelled with pride at the thought that he succesfully wiped that bastard's smug expression off of his face, and won't see it for a while; when the louse drops his sly mask completely, he actually becames a person the blonde can tolerate and maybe something else.

"S-Shizu-chaaahn!" he screams out that stupid, awful nickname, what suddenly sounds like some stupid, cute petname lovers gives each other instead, and not even annoying anymore, while his pale arms reaches out and pulls the man closer to himself, practically hugging him, as his slender hands comes up to his face, cupping it, with sudden affection. "Kiss- ah- me!" Even though this sounds so out of character, so out of the devil, he despises, now it just feels so... right.

The kiss they share now isn't full with anger, isn't rough and bruising like those ones they have before they get to this point, or those ones they have in shady alleyways. It's full with a whole new emotion, what they both crave, but can't receive it from anyone, only from each other.

The man who Shizuo holds after their previous activities, the both of them coming off of their high as the smaller snuggles right to his chest, where his heart beats like it would explode any second, isn't the one who's out on the streets, being an annoying, smartass devil little informant, who keeps making his already miserable life even more worse; this is Orihara Izaya.

This is the person he could even fall in love with.