Izaya and Shizuo
Title: Touch Me
Canon: Durarara!!
Genre: Gen/Humour?
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Izaya, Shizuo
Summary: Izaya liked being punched by Shizuo above everything else.
Orihara Izaya had been the target of vending machines thrown at his body, stop signs aimed at his stomach, trash bins pitched at his chest, and mailboxes flung at his face.
It was rare, rare indeed, that Shizu-chan would use his own hands and his own body instead of grabbing another bizarre, everyday object that absolutely no one but him would even consider to use as a weapon and hurling it in his general direction.
"Shizu-chan," he said, grinning large and wide. "Shizu-chan. Let's talk this over, hmm?"
"Don't call me that!" Shizuo roared and, ah, there it was, there was the sight of his hands curling into fists which mean that this time, Izaya might feel something else besides cold steel. It was always a delicate process to provoke the violent man like that, usually done in a clearing where there weren't vending machines surrounding them (they were vending machines and Izaya still remembered a time when he enjoyed having them around), and copious amounts of Shizu-chan sang out in his best cutesy voice.
The aim was always the same - Izaya wanted to be punched instead of had something thrown at him for once. While it may sound strange, there was a very good reason for it.
He could, of course, wax-poetic about the brevity of contact as Shizu-chan's skin touched his before pain blossomed across his face or that because it was Shizu-chan and Shizu-chan alone, the pain was not so much pain but pleasure, and the blood that trickled down his forehead only made him hungry for more. That really wasn't why, though.
Shizuo was a monster with monstrous strength, but in the end, his punches still hurt a lot fucking less than a mailbox did.
Canon: Durarara!!
Genre: Gen/Humour?
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Izaya, Shizuo
Summary: Izaya liked being punched by Shizuo above everything else.
Orihara Izaya had been the target of vending machines thrown at his body, stop signs aimed at his stomach, trash bins pitched at his chest, and mailboxes flung at his face.
It was rare, rare indeed, that Shizu-chan would use his own hands and his own body instead of grabbing another bizarre, everyday object that absolutely no one but him would even consider to use as a weapon and hurling it in his general direction.
"Shizu-chan," he said, grinning large and wide. "Shizu-chan. Let's talk this over, hmm?"
"Don't call me that!" Shizuo roared and, ah, there it was, there was the sight of his hands curling into fists which mean that this time, Izaya might feel something else besides cold steel. It was always a delicate process to provoke the violent man like that, usually done in a clearing where there weren't vending machines surrounding them (they were vending machines and Izaya still remembered a time when he enjoyed having them around), and copious amounts of Shizu-chan sang out in his best cutesy voice.
The aim was always the same - Izaya wanted to be punched instead of had something thrown at him for once. While it may sound strange, there was a very good reason for it.
He could, of course, wax-poetic about the brevity of contact as Shizu-chan's skin touched his before pain blossomed across his face or that because it was Shizu-chan and Shizu-chan alone, the pain was not so much pain but pleasure, and the blood that trickled down his forehead only made him hungry for more. That really wasn't why, though.
Shizuo was a monster with monstrous strength, but in the end, his punches still hurt a lot fucking less than a mailbox did.