Kurosaki Ichigo || 黒崎 一護 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
[ He wakes up when Byakuya gets up. His instinctual reaction is to reach out and grab his hand, where it rests briefly against Ichigo's hip, but he manages to hold back, reminding himself blearily that Byakuya is here on a mission from Renji, specifically, and honestly he's budged enough into his working hours at this point, hasn't he? So, he lets the other man go, listening for his footfalls, extremely quiet, but Ichigo has ears attuned to listening for two little rascal sisters, and follows him all the way to the bathroom. Door closing. Shower turned on. He imagines Byakuya naked under the spray, his hair...
With a sigh, he rolls over onto his back, wiping at his face with a flat hand to get the remnants of drool off his skin and to just feel himself for a moment. Yeah, he's beginning to regret -- not that they did it, that they had sex, but that time isn't so that they can just do it all day today, get to know each other like that. One time and then being away from each other who knows how long... seems kinda a poor start.
Or maybe he's just being selfish. He wants Byakuya to do his job, too. Or else Ichigo would have to do it for him. Come on, he has studies to keep up with.
Still, when Byakuya is done showering and comes out into the main suite again, Ichigo sits up slowly, keeping one sheet pooling over his lap in a weirdly self-conscious display - and he follows him with his eyes this time as he starts getting dressed, admiring his wet hair for a long moment, realizing how long it really is. Inky black. Must be heavy. He's pulling on pants and Ichigo regrets, again, that he can't just walk over and stop him, sink to his knees in front of him and suck his cock. Just, not stop here. Not leave. Not be apart again. The thought, very vivid in his mind, immediately makes Ichigo blush crimson and he looks down at his own sheet-covered lap where his cock's reacting in response, waking up quickly. Geez.
He takes a long, deep, supposedly calming breath, not that it's working. Not that that ever really works for him, right? Then, he says, quietly, not watching Byakuya put on the rest of his clothes. He still looks slightly strange, unfamiliar, in modern clothing. ]
We'll figure something out, huh.
With a sigh, he rolls over onto his back, wiping at his face with a flat hand to get the remnants of drool off his skin and to just feel himself for a moment. Yeah, he's beginning to regret -- not that they did it, that they had sex, but that time isn't so that they can just do it all day today, get to know each other like that. One time and then being away from each other who knows how long... seems kinda a poor start.
Or maybe he's just being selfish. He wants Byakuya to do his job, too. Or else Ichigo would have to do it for him. Come on, he has studies to keep up with.
Still, when Byakuya is done showering and comes out into the main suite again, Ichigo sits up slowly, keeping one sheet pooling over his lap in a weirdly self-conscious display - and he follows him with his eyes this time as he starts getting dressed, admiring his wet hair for a long moment, realizing how long it really is. Inky black. Must be heavy. He's pulling on pants and Ichigo regrets, again, that he can't just walk over and stop him, sink to his knees in front of him and suck his cock. Just, not stop here. Not leave. Not be apart again. The thought, very vivid in his mind, immediately makes Ichigo blush crimson and he looks down at his own sheet-covered lap where his cock's reacting in response, waking up quickly. Geez.
He takes a long, deep, supposedly calming breath, not that it's working. Not that that ever really works for him, right? Then, he says, quietly, not watching Byakuya put on the rest of his clothes. He still looks slightly strange, unfamiliar, in modern clothing. ]
We'll figure something out, huh.
[ Though he isn't looking back as obviously, he can feel Ichigo's gaze following him through the room, throughout his motions of putting on clothes - all of it too tight for his liking. A part of him can't wait to shed this gigai and get back to his regular shape, his uniform. Most of him, though, is also acutely aware that once he steps out of his current body, he takes another step away from what it has become over the night and the thought alone makes him ache in many different places. He pushes his wet hair back, out of his face, before searching through his pockets for the thin, black hairband that he keeps as a poor substitute for his kenseikan.
Once he finds it, he straightens up. Stares out of the window for a long moment at the traffic hurtling along on the streets below. We'll figure something out, says Ichigo, seated by the headboard, his naked upperbody bared whilst he's hidden away the rest of himself. Like that, he looks his age - young but harshly experienced in all the most painful aspects of life. Last night was something better, was it not? It broke the monotony of Byakuya's life, certainly, and as he'd expected, as he'd known, the thought of stepping back into it is nearly enough to make him dig his heels in, ignore the fact of his duty, his arrangements, the man who's waiting for him loyally in the outskirts of Kyoto.
It's nearly enough to make him senseless.
Jaw setting, he raises his chin and forces the feelings down, away, unbecoming as they are, selfish and irresponsible. Instead, he ties his hair back in a sloppy ponytail, his bangs hanging down the sides of his face, and looks Ichigo over for another long moment. ]
Yes.
[ They will get past this point and from then, Byakuya will take the next step and remember that survival in face of loss or disappointment is not a possibility, it's something you owe the ones you want to protect. Happiness, he thinks, comes later, if at all. He was happy yesterday. Tonight. That can be enough.
Yes, such decisiveness is easy enough when you think about it. The ache in his chest, however, is a different story and though he probably should, he refuses to ignore it - instead, he crosses the distance between them, leans down and folds his hand against the back of Ichigo's head, fingers slipping into his hair slowly. His grip isn't rough but there's strength behind it all the same, strength that he couldn't deny even if he wanted to. Like that, he kisses him, pressing past his lips, filling him up, knowing very well that time is passing, that he's already late. ]
Once he finds it, he straightens up. Stares out of the window for a long moment at the traffic hurtling along on the streets below. We'll figure something out, says Ichigo, seated by the headboard, his naked upperbody bared whilst he's hidden away the rest of himself. Like that, he looks his age - young but harshly experienced in all the most painful aspects of life. Last night was something better, was it not? It broke the monotony of Byakuya's life, certainly, and as he'd expected, as he'd known, the thought of stepping back into it is nearly enough to make him dig his heels in, ignore the fact of his duty, his arrangements, the man who's waiting for him loyally in the outskirts of Kyoto.
It's nearly enough to make him senseless.
Jaw setting, he raises his chin and forces the feelings down, away, unbecoming as they are, selfish and irresponsible. Instead, he ties his hair back in a sloppy ponytail, his bangs hanging down the sides of his face, and looks Ichigo over for another long moment. ]
Yes.
[ They will get past this point and from then, Byakuya will take the next step and remember that survival in face of loss or disappointment is not a possibility, it's something you owe the ones you want to protect. Happiness, he thinks, comes later, if at all. He was happy yesterday. Tonight. That can be enough.
Yes, such decisiveness is easy enough when you think about it. The ache in his chest, however, is a different story and though he probably should, he refuses to ignore it - instead, he crosses the distance between them, leans down and folds his hand against the back of Ichigo's head, fingers slipping into his hair slowly. His grip isn't rough but there's strength behind it all the same, strength that he couldn't deny even if he wanted to. Like that, he kisses him, pressing past his lips, filling him up, knowing very well that time is passing, that he's already late. ]
[ It's been seven days since his visit to Kyoto. This time, he's not here on official business in any capacity, unless you count semi-mandatory time off as business. It was proposed by newer members of the 12th and somehow managed to make it all the way up through the ranks until it landed on Rukia's desk where, for some obscure reason, it wasn't discarded as it ought to have been. Instead, it is now in its trial period, this... arrangement, pertaining only to those who fought in the last war of a certain rank. It seems like such a waste of time and personnel and under normal circumstances, Byakuya doesn't participate at all. During this time of intense rebuilding, both of the Sereitei and the ranks within the Gotei 13, finding sufficient excuse to remain at work is no trouble.
However, then there was Kyoto.
Suddenly, there are... other priorities.
He's spent the past seven days steeling himself. Mentally, he's as prepared as he'll ever be for... second thoughts or whatever else might come up. Granted, he'd rather be eviscerated a few more times than suffer the indignity of rejection but that's neither here not there. Cowardice is for lesser people.
So he's sat himself down on a bench outside the Sodai Private University, a cup of green tea sitting beside him. It's cool enough to wear both a jacket and a scarf, all his clothing expensive but subdued, in colours of black and dark-blue. He's taken a bit more care with his clothes this time around because why wouldn't he, even if it doesn't...
Well.
He sips his tea and crosses his legs, very pointedly not looking towards the main entrance of the building. Midday lessons should have concluded now. ]
However, then there was Kyoto.
Suddenly, there are... other priorities.
He's spent the past seven days steeling himself. Mentally, he's as prepared as he'll ever be for... second thoughts or whatever else might come up. Granted, he'd rather be eviscerated a few more times than suffer the indignity of rejection but that's neither here not there. Cowardice is for lesser people.
So he's sat himself down on a bench outside the Sodai Private University, a cup of green tea sitting beside him. It's cool enough to wear both a jacket and a scarf, all his clothing expensive but subdued, in colours of black and dark-blue. He's taken a bit more care with his clothes this time around because why wouldn't he, even if it doesn't...
Well.
He sips his tea and crosses his legs, very pointedly not looking towards the main entrance of the building. Midday lessons should have concluded now. ]
[ Ichigo would've been okay with a public university, really, he's not snobbish enough to put a lot of stock in public versus private, he would've done fine at both, both would have taught him english adequately, he's the one who's gotta learn it, after all. Still, his dad had insisted he sat down for the entrance exams of a handful of smaller, richer private universities in Karakura Town and neighbouring cities, some of them, at least, Ichigo feels pretty sure came at the recommendation of colleages. He had been accepted into all five places, and ended up choosing Sodai because it was closest to home. He didn't like the idea of having to move away from the twins, still, although they're getting obnoxiously big and teen-ish now, so maybe he should have reconsidered that.
Sodai's a nice place. The tiniest of the five campuses, humanities-focused and known for its large female student body. Ichigo's part of a 35 percentage male attendance and he kinda digs that, girls respect boundaries and don't get in his face most of the time. He can stick to himself. Focus on work. Getting good within his field of study, being serious about learning the language. They're serious, too. It just fits him well.
As such, because of this gender bias, Byakuya sticks out like a sore thumb, even if his spiritual pressure hadn't given him away already, when Ichigo makes it to the main entrance after midday classes, sitting on one of the benches lining the road, the maple leaf trees in orange-red colours above his head. He looks like he's out of a manga or something. Ichigo stops dead, a couple of girls behind him almost face-planting into his back, apologising profusely as they move around him, glancing sideways at him on the way.
Ichigo's chest feels light. The past week, because it's been a freakin' week, he's found himself - at random times - thinking he could still recall Byakuya's taste, his scent, when all he could for sure remember was how he'd looked, padding naked across the hotel room floor. Bending down to kiss Ichigo, then... Things like that.
The rest, he knows, he's imagining, but shit, he's been... imagining hard, non-stop. It's crazy.
Licking his lips, he looks in both directions before crossing the road and making his way over, stopping in front of Byakuya, looking down at him and feeling his own hands, hanging limply by his sides, suddenly tighten into fists, almost convulsively. Release. Tighten. He forces himself to breathe in deeply. ]
You could give a guy a warning, Byakuya. What if I'd walked right past you?
[ I'm glad I didn't, is what he really wants to tell him. I would never, is what he means, but it's been a week and he doesn't recall the other man's taste or scent anymore. ]
Sodai's a nice place. The tiniest of the five campuses, humanities-focused and known for its large female student body. Ichigo's part of a 35 percentage male attendance and he kinda digs that, girls respect boundaries and don't get in his face most of the time. He can stick to himself. Focus on work. Getting good within his field of study, being serious about learning the language. They're serious, too. It just fits him well.
As such, because of this gender bias, Byakuya sticks out like a sore thumb, even if his spiritual pressure hadn't given him away already, when Ichigo makes it to the main entrance after midday classes, sitting on one of the benches lining the road, the maple leaf trees in orange-red colours above his head. He looks like he's out of a manga or something. Ichigo stops dead, a couple of girls behind him almost face-planting into his back, apologising profusely as they move around him, glancing sideways at him on the way.
Ichigo's chest feels light. The past week, because it's been a freakin' week, he's found himself - at random times - thinking he could still recall Byakuya's taste, his scent, when all he could for sure remember was how he'd looked, padding naked across the hotel room floor. Bending down to kiss Ichigo, then... Things like that.
The rest, he knows, he's imagining, but shit, he's been... imagining hard, non-stop. It's crazy.
Licking his lips, he looks in both directions before crossing the road and making his way over, stopping in front of Byakuya, looking down at him and feeling his own hands, hanging limply by his sides, suddenly tighten into fists, almost convulsively. Release. Tighten. He forces himself to breathe in deeply. ]
You could give a guy a warning, Byakuya. What if I'd walked right past you?
[ I'm glad I didn't, is what he really wants to tell him. I would never, is what he means, but it's been a week and he doesn't recall the other man's taste or scent anymore. ]
[ He senses Ichigo coming out of the building just as Ichigo must have certainly sensed his presence as well. Regardless, he keeps his gaze down and his focus on his tea (it's not quite as good as the matcha he drank in that small tea shop back in Kyoto but on the spectrum from proper tea to preboiled and served in a plastic cup, it's not doing too badly). He feels him, though. Every step towards him, every moment that passes.
There's some small commotion when Ichigo stops dead in the middle of the crowd. Byakuya cares little about the girls that nearly collided with him - no, what matters is the fact that he's clearly been noticed and not, as one might have feared, ignored. Then, moments later, Ichigo makes his way over, the long, sharp lines of his body instantly recognisable to him in a way that they weren't before. He's tried (and sometimes, failed) not to think back on what they did together too much but clearly, his mind has saved the imprints of Ichigo all the same, of the way his body fills out the space around him.
Treacherous.
He sips his tea as Ichigo comes to a halt in front of him. Though he doesn't actively look up at him, he's taking him in from beneath his lashes; the way his hands tighten into fists, his forced inhalations. His own shoulders lower a fraction in response.
It's good to know that he isn't the only one not taking things for granted. ]
Then, you would have told me your honest opinion.
[ He doesn't shift to the side. There's plenty of room on the bench regardless, he'd never be rude enough to sit squarely in the middle by himself anyway. His next words are spoken as drily as the rest, though he does look up very slightly over the rim of his cup, his gaze a lot heavier than his voice: ]
You'll have to let me know in other ways.
There's some small commotion when Ichigo stops dead in the middle of the crowd. Byakuya cares little about the girls that nearly collided with him - no, what matters is the fact that he's clearly been noticed and not, as one might have feared, ignored. Then, moments later, Ichigo makes his way over, the long, sharp lines of his body instantly recognisable to him in a way that they weren't before. He's tried (and sometimes, failed) not to think back on what they did together too much but clearly, his mind has saved the imprints of Ichigo all the same, of the way his body fills out the space around him.
Treacherous.
He sips his tea as Ichigo comes to a halt in front of him. Though he doesn't actively look up at him, he's taking him in from beneath his lashes; the way his hands tighten into fists, his forced inhalations. His own shoulders lower a fraction in response.
It's good to know that he isn't the only one not taking things for granted. ]
Then, you would have told me your honest opinion.
[ He doesn't shift to the side. There's plenty of room on the bench regardless, he'd never be rude enough to sit squarely in the middle by himself anyway. His next words are spoken as drily as the rest, though he does look up very slightly over the rim of his cup, his gaze a lot heavier than his voice: ]
You'll have to let me know in other ways.
Edited 2025-03-29 15:08 (UTC)
[ Ichigo frowns, staring down at Byakuya, nursing his tea like he hadn't left it completely up to dumb luck for Ichigo not to signal that he was still interested. Honest opinion, come on!
With a scoff, he eyes the bench, quickly calculates whether there's enough room for him to sit and be close enough for it to feel satisfying, but far enough away that half Sodai's female student body doesn't go into a fit about boy's love or whatever. There's no really easy solution to that headache yet, and feeling a bit daunted by the realization, Ichigo concludes there won't be in any foreseeable future either. They either have the privacy that they can make for themselves, meaning never at Ichigo's house, or he learns to tolerate being different in just some other way. Shouldn't be new to him, honestly. His shoulders remain up high around his ears and he looks around slowly, as if surveying a battlefield, making those kinds of calls.
When it shouldn't be anything like that anymore.
Turning his head back towards Byakuya, he takes him in, in his slim-fit jeans and long scarf that fits the maple trees and the season. His hair's tied up, but his bangs are still everywhere and frame in his face, his grey eyes. Ichigo's fingers itch to reach up and push it out of there, out of the way. He didn't wait around for a week not to do any of this crap.
Yet, his hands don't move from his sides. His voice, when he speaks again, is quiet, very controlled. He's looking down. ]
Let's not do this here, okay? [ A brief pause, then he signals very lightly around them, shoulders dropping gradually, until he feels less on the fence about everything. He just... ] Don't want to share it with everyone.
[ Recalling that night, last time, he feels himself flushing slightly and bends his neck lower, more or less trying to hide in his hair. It's not a perfect plan, especially since Byakuya is sitting down and can look right up into his face, but it's gonna have to do. ]
With a scoff, he eyes the bench, quickly calculates whether there's enough room for him to sit and be close enough for it to feel satisfying, but far enough away that half Sodai's female student body doesn't go into a fit about boy's love or whatever. There's no really easy solution to that headache yet, and feeling a bit daunted by the realization, Ichigo concludes there won't be in any foreseeable future either. They either have the privacy that they can make for themselves, meaning never at Ichigo's house, or he learns to tolerate being different in just some other way. Shouldn't be new to him, honestly. His shoulders remain up high around his ears and he looks around slowly, as if surveying a battlefield, making those kinds of calls.
When it shouldn't be anything like that anymore.
Turning his head back towards Byakuya, he takes him in, in his slim-fit jeans and long scarf that fits the maple trees and the season. His hair's tied up, but his bangs are still everywhere and frame in his face, his grey eyes. Ichigo's fingers itch to reach up and push it out of there, out of the way. He didn't wait around for a week not to do any of this crap.
Yet, his hands don't move from his sides. His voice, when he speaks again, is quiet, very controlled. He's looking down. ]
Let's not do this here, okay? [ A brief pause, then he signals very lightly around them, shoulders dropping gradually, until he feels less on the fence about everything. He just... ] Don't want to share it with everyone.
[ Recalling that night, last time, he feels himself flushing slightly and bends his neck lower, more or less trying to hide in his hair. It's not a perfect plan, especially since Byakuya is sitting down and can look right up into his face, but it's gonna have to do. ]
[ Ichigo looks at the spot on the bench next to Byakuya, scoffing and looking decidedly tenser than the situation truly calls for - it's a bench, not a fight - but watching the other man now, you wouldn't necessarily know it. His gaze goes back to Byakuya after a moment, looking him over before he tells him that he'd rather not do this here, his stance hard. Then, he drops his gaze. For a second, just a second, Byakuya's mind flashes back to Hisana asking him in that soft, bird-like voice of hers for his forgiveness, I am such an embarrassment for you, not for anything she'd done but for the glares she'd draw from his family just for drawing breath in their vicinity.
She fought a different battle, certainly, but a battle all the same. His chest tightens. Looking Ichigo over for a short moment, he gets to his feet in front of him. ]
Of course not.
[ He looks around briefly. Though people aren't actively gawking, he can see groups of girls in particular, eying Ichigo from the walkway he's just left, whispering and giggling amongst each other. He doesn't know much about human culture - for instance, it took him a while (meaning several dinners at Rukia's and Renji's, listening to their idle conversations) to understand that Ichigo's hair is, apparently, an issue in the world of the living. As if he doesn't stand out enough already, with everything he's been burdened with throughout the years. Humans have such peculiar priorities.
And even in Sereitei, being intimate in public in any capacity would be frowned upon.
He steps close enough for their shoulders to brush, lingering for just a second too long to make it seem accidental and starts down the road slowly, leisurely. ]
I have a booked a room. I didn't think your home would be appropriate.
She fought a different battle, certainly, but a battle all the same. His chest tightens. Looking Ichigo over for a short moment, he gets to his feet in front of him. ]
Of course not.
[ He looks around briefly. Though people aren't actively gawking, he can see groups of girls in particular, eying Ichigo from the walkway he's just left, whispering and giggling amongst each other. He doesn't know much about human culture - for instance, it took him a while (meaning several dinners at Rukia's and Renji's, listening to their idle conversations) to understand that Ichigo's hair is, apparently, an issue in the world of the living. As if he doesn't stand out enough already, with everything he's been burdened with throughout the years. Humans have such peculiar priorities.
And even in Sereitei, being intimate in public in any capacity would be frowned upon.
He steps close enough for their shoulders to brush, lingering for just a second too long to make it seem accidental and starts down the road slowly, leisurely. ]
I have a booked a room. I didn't think your home would be appropriate.
Not unless you wanna get your face beaten in.
[ It's said flatly, but without any malice. Ichigo knows and respects his dad, his dad's methods and besides, his sisters have grown up right, usual teen behaviour or not. Sure, his dad's way of doing things isn't perfect but it's kept things running for more than a decade now.
They've all done the best they could, without her. Once more, Ichigo thinks of the flowers that Byakuya has continuously had exchanged with new ones in the vase on the bench in his garden. Like a shrine away from home.
Who knows, maybe Ichigo will be going to Soul Society more often now as well, what with... He looks at Byakuya who has gotten to his feet, starting down the road, moving so close by Ichigo that their shoulder's brushed. Ichigo follows, adding, softer: ]
Would be a shame. I like it.
[ All respect aside, Isshin is still gonna beat Ichigo up for sleeping around with a guy, first, and then he's gonna beat Byakuya up for being that guy. Going somewhere else than home seems a good call.
Byakuya has gotten good at those. Better.
Ichigo catches up to him in five steps, falling into line next to him wordlessly. Close enough that every other step, their shoulders brush. ]
[ It's said flatly, but without any malice. Ichigo knows and respects his dad, his dad's methods and besides, his sisters have grown up right, usual teen behaviour or not. Sure, his dad's way of doing things isn't perfect but it's kept things running for more than a decade now.
They've all done the best they could, without her. Once more, Ichigo thinks of the flowers that Byakuya has continuously had exchanged with new ones in the vase on the bench in his garden. Like a shrine away from home.
Who knows, maybe Ichigo will be going to Soul Society more often now as well, what with... He looks at Byakuya who has gotten to his feet, starting down the road, moving so close by Ichigo that their shoulder's brushed. Ichigo follows, adding, softer: ]
Would be a shame. I like it.
[ All respect aside, Isshin is still gonna beat Ichigo up for sleeping around with a guy, first, and then he's gonna beat Byakuya up for being that guy. Going somewhere else than home seems a good call.
Byakuya has gotten good at those. Better.
Ichigo catches up to him in five steps, falling into line next to him wordlessly. Close enough that every other step, their shoulders brush. ]
[ They make the walk back to the hotel in half an hour. Byakuya divests himself of his empty cup somewhere along the way and Ichigo walks besides him, tense, still, his posture just a little bit too rigid. On his part, Byakuya simply keeps his own pace next to him, gaze tracking to the side now and then to follow a car on its route down the street. The noise in Karakura Town is not as bad as in Kyoto but it still makes his mind feel crowded - the people, the traffic.
It's fascinating, in a way, how once they enter the hotel - a small, discreet building tucked away along a sidestreet - the noise disappears like fog, dispersing.
Once he'd figured out how to transfer money from his (new) accounts in Kyoto to Karakura Town, it was no pain at all to book a decent place. The Sigil has five stars, is privately owned and sports both spa facilities and its own luxury restaurant on the uppermost level. It's four stories tall and their room - a suite - is on the third floor with a view over the hotel's private gardens. Byakuya checked himself in before meeting with Ichigo and consequently, all he needs do to is take them both through the small lobby, up the elevator and down a short hallway where, at the far end, he lets them in with his keycard.
The heavy hotel door opens and closes behind him with a soft snick of the locks.
Acutely, just like that, he can sense how thoroughly they've locked out the world. He can hear the sound of Ichigo's breathing now, the rustling of his clothes and turns towards him slowly, his gaze downcast. He thinks about that tenseness in the other man's body again, his fingers itching to touch, to take all that edginess and release it. ]
It's fascinating, in a way, how once they enter the hotel - a small, discreet building tucked away along a sidestreet - the noise disappears like fog, dispersing.
Once he'd figured out how to transfer money from his (new) accounts in Kyoto to Karakura Town, it was no pain at all to book a decent place. The Sigil has five stars, is privately owned and sports both spa facilities and its own luxury restaurant on the uppermost level. It's four stories tall and their room - a suite - is on the third floor with a view over the hotel's private gardens. Byakuya checked himself in before meeting with Ichigo and consequently, all he needs do to is take them both through the small lobby, up the elevator and down a short hallway where, at the far end, he lets them in with his keycard.
The heavy hotel door opens and closes behind him with a soft snick of the locks.
Acutely, just like that, he can sense how thoroughly they've locked out the world. He can hear the sound of Ichigo's breathing now, the rustling of his clothes and turns towards him slowly, his gaze downcast. He thinks about that tenseness in the other man's body again, his fingers itching to touch, to take all that edginess and release it. ]
[ The hotel is nice. As in really nice, price range insane. Ichigo realises, as he walks down the hallway towards the room next to the other man, that he probably shouldn't be surprised this is the kind of hotel that Byakuya would choose for himself when it isn't Renji putting in the reservations or Ichigo's admittedly mostly empty student pockets paying for it. This is like the Kuchiki Mansion, but in style with the World of the Living. Same picture.
The walk here has been undergone in tense silence, Ichigo waking close to him, but not too close, non-disclosure kinda distance, right? It's felt weird somehow, wanting so much to reach out and touch him, while thinking about his cock, about ways to make him feel good, and not doing it. Remembering how he'd felt against Ichigo's skin and not trying to rekindle that feeling.
So, once they've stepped inside and the elegant, discreet door has opened behind them with a click of the locking mechanism, Ichigo turns towards Byakuya, too, looks him up and down once, twice, slowly, figuring that he probably knows how to open a pair of jeans that aren't his own. Figuring that otherwise, he'll learn it fast, yeah?
He backs him up against the shut door in two steps, crowding him against the hard surface with an arm on either side of his head. Like that, they're standing so close, his breath feels moist and hot against Byakuya's chin, lips, Ichigo kisses him lightly on the lips, sends him a crooked smile and then, unceremoniously, drops to his knees in front of him.
While he reaches for his belt, buttons, zipper, Ichigo's breath stutters out of him, faint and uneven. He has definitely been thinking about this. All seven days since last time, and he unzips Byakuya fast and efficiently, fingers freeing his cock from his boxerbriefs, angling him upwards slightly. He's not completely hard, but that's okay. It's gonna come. Ichigo's sure.
Same smile, slightly lifted eyebrow, he says: ]
Been thinking about sucking your cock since I saw you come out of the shower like that back in Kyoto. [ He licks his lips in an attempt to feel for how wet he can make himself, how much he can slick up. ] Should've done it then, but it's fine. We have time now.
The walk here has been undergone in tense silence, Ichigo waking close to him, but not too close, non-disclosure kinda distance, right? It's felt weird somehow, wanting so much to reach out and touch him, while thinking about his cock, about ways to make him feel good, and not doing it. Remembering how he'd felt against Ichigo's skin and not trying to rekindle that feeling.
So, once they've stepped inside and the elegant, discreet door has opened behind them with a click of the locking mechanism, Ichigo turns towards Byakuya, too, looks him up and down once, twice, slowly, figuring that he probably knows how to open a pair of jeans that aren't his own. Figuring that otherwise, he'll learn it fast, yeah?
He backs him up against the shut door in two steps, crowding him against the hard surface with an arm on either side of his head. Like that, they're standing so close, his breath feels moist and hot against Byakuya's chin, lips, Ichigo kisses him lightly on the lips, sends him a crooked smile and then, unceremoniously, drops to his knees in front of him.
While he reaches for his belt, buttons, zipper, Ichigo's breath stutters out of him, faint and uneven. He has definitely been thinking about this. All seven days since last time, and he unzips Byakuya fast and efficiently, fingers freeing his cock from his boxerbriefs, angling him upwards slightly. He's not completely hard, but that's okay. It's gonna come. Ichigo's sure.
Same smile, slightly lifted eyebrow, he says: ]
Been thinking about sucking your cock since I saw you come out of the shower like that back in Kyoto. [ He licks his lips in an attempt to feel for how wet he can make himself, how much he can slick up. ] Should've done it then, but it's fine. We have time now.
[ True to Ichigo's temper, the mood shifts with an apparent abruptness that doesn't shock him, not with what he knows now - all that tension, after all, must go somewhere and Ichigo, he realises, is the type to hold himself back with his willpower until the coast is clear and he deems it safe enough to let things go. Even when he's trembling with it, he'll keep himself contained - perhaps that's the only way to be so powerful and not destroy the world with your own potential. Byakuya wouldn't know. Though he's powerful, more than most captains now, with their ranks decimated in the wake of the war, he has never had what Ichigo has.
He thinks about that as he lets the other man back him up against the door, kissing him back though the kiss is much too light for his liking - before he can deepen it, however, Ichigo drops to his knees and Byakuya blinks into the now-empty air, his mind busy saving the image of that smile, warm and mischievous. That was a precious gift, for sure.
Between his legs, Ichigo has started undoing his trousers and this time around, as opposed to the first, Byakuya simply lets himself catch up in his own time, reaching for the other man's hair and running his fingers through it slowly. He digs his fingertips in, feeling his scalp underneath, hot to the touch. Been thinking about sucking your cock says Ichigo, like that's a perfectly normal thing to say and Byakuya's toes curl in response, his cock apparently taking Ichigo's words as a spoken directive - it goes from half-way there to fully hard whilst Ichigo's holding it.
Groaning, voice low and breathy, he looks at Ichigo's wet lips and licks his own without even thinking about it. ]
As you can see - [ He forces himself not to thrust forward into Ichigo's grip as he's fairly certain he'd end up hitting him on the nose with the tip of his cock - he'll save that for a day when he's in the mood to make a point. ] - I'm not opposed.
He thinks about that as he lets the other man back him up against the door, kissing him back though the kiss is much too light for his liking - before he can deepen it, however, Ichigo drops to his knees and Byakuya blinks into the now-empty air, his mind busy saving the image of that smile, warm and mischievous. That was a precious gift, for sure.
Between his legs, Ichigo has started undoing his trousers and this time around, as opposed to the first, Byakuya simply lets himself catch up in his own time, reaching for the other man's hair and running his fingers through it slowly. He digs his fingertips in, feeling his scalp underneath, hot to the touch. Been thinking about sucking your cock says Ichigo, like that's a perfectly normal thing to say and Byakuya's toes curl in response, his cock apparently taking Ichigo's words as a spoken directive - it goes from half-way there to fully hard whilst Ichigo's holding it.
Groaning, voice low and breathy, he looks at Ichigo's wet lips and licks his own without even thinking about it. ]
As you can see - [ He forces himself not to thrust forward into Ichigo's grip as he's fairly certain he'd end up hitting him on the nose with the tip of his cock - he'll save that for a day when he's in the mood to make a point. ] - I'm not opposed.
You know... [ Ichigo's voice sounds breathy, with how he isn't really filling his lungs right at this point, his chest rises and falls rapidly as he looks over Byakuya's cock, the long, slim lines of it, veins, the colour, the roundness of the head. His own cock is so hard already it hurts. ] I haven't done this before.
[ Unlike last time, he kinda wants Byakuya to know he's going into this completely blind. Untrained. It seems a bit more relevant when he's putting his genitals in his mouth, opposed to jerking him off which he does have some experience on on himself, because his mouth has teeth and... yeah. He frowns, feels the other man's fingers thread slowly, deliberately through his hair. There's something calming about it.
He takes a long, deep breath, thinks here goes and opens as wide as he can with his teeth still somewhat safely tucked away behind his lips. Although part of him really wants to just go for the head, he remembers how Byakuya had needed the gradual, slow introduction last time and maybe it'd be overpowering. He doesn't wanna do that to him. Not when he smells so nice of musk and skin and sweat and Ichigo is all but drooling for him.
So, he tilts his head to one side and mouths his way up the underside of the other man's cock, the taste of him hitting the back of his tongue starkly, making him groan, as Ichigo licks and applies pressure with his tongue over the veins and the transition betweem shaft and head, sucking there wetly. There's a string there that he usually likes getting on himself.
Does it work the same on everyone? Damn if he knows. He'll find out, supposedly. Head askew, he glances sideways up at Byakuya, his drool pooling everywhere at the base of his cock now. ]
[ Unlike last time, he kinda wants Byakuya to know he's going into this completely blind. Untrained. It seems a bit more relevant when he's putting his genitals in his mouth, opposed to jerking him off which he does have some experience on on himself, because his mouth has teeth and... yeah. He frowns, feels the other man's fingers thread slowly, deliberately through his hair. There's something calming about it.
He takes a long, deep breath, thinks here goes and opens as wide as he can with his teeth still somewhat safely tucked away behind his lips. Although part of him really wants to just go for the head, he remembers how Byakuya had needed the gradual, slow introduction last time and maybe it'd be overpowering. He doesn't wanna do that to him. Not when he smells so nice of musk and skin and sweat and Ichigo is all but drooling for him.
So, he tilts his head to one side and mouths his way up the underside of the other man's cock, the taste of him hitting the back of his tongue starkly, making him groan, as Ichigo licks and applies pressure with his tongue over the veins and the transition betweem shaft and head, sucking there wetly. There's a string there that he usually likes getting on himself.
Does it work the same on everyone? Damn if he knows. He'll find out, supposedly. Head askew, he glances sideways up at Byakuya, his drool pooling everywhere at the base of his cock now. ]
[ Byakuya gives him a blank stare at that admittance, on the verge of pointing out that Ichigo tends to do things for the first time with more success than those who've done it a million times over. But that kind of dryness isn't right for this situation. The magnitude of those words...
Another first, though this time they aren't entirely aligned.
He flattens his hand against the back of Ichigo's head, giving him something to balance against. ]
I - ah.
[ His words are cut off, the sentence disintegrating into a harsh moan as Ichigo leans in and licks the underside of his cock, all the way to the sensitive spot right beneath the head. For a moment, Byakuya is struck completely speechless by the combination of the sight - Ichigo, on his knees in front of him, gazing up from where he's licking his cock, oh, Gods - and the sensation of wet pressure, the heat of his breath. He shifts on his heels, spreading his legs more, mostly to balance himself better against the door. He swallows harshly and tries again: ]
I'm honoured.
[ When Ichigo spoke those words to him years (and years, so it feels) back upon being presented with Senbonzakura's true form, Byakuya had been entirely intent on killing him, a stubborn, foolish part of him still wholly believing that he had to, that there was no other viable alternative. At that time, there'd been a natural edge to Ichigo's words that's entirely lacking in Byakuya's now, his voice airy, earnest. He cups Ichigo's chin with his other hand, running his fingers down the side of his chin, stroking the soft skin beneath his ear. ]
Another first, though this time they aren't entirely aligned.
He flattens his hand against the back of Ichigo's head, giving him something to balance against. ]
I - ah.
[ His words are cut off, the sentence disintegrating into a harsh moan as Ichigo leans in and licks the underside of his cock, all the way to the sensitive spot right beneath the head. For a moment, Byakuya is struck completely speechless by the combination of the sight - Ichigo, on his knees in front of him, gazing up from where he's licking his cock, oh, Gods - and the sensation of wet pressure, the heat of his breath. He shifts on his heels, spreading his legs more, mostly to balance himself better against the door. He swallows harshly and tries again: ]
I'm honoured.
[ When Ichigo spoke those words to him years (and years, so it feels) back upon being presented with Senbonzakura's true form, Byakuya had been entirely intent on killing him, a stubborn, foolish part of him still wholly believing that he had to, that there was no other viable alternative. At that time, there'd been a natural edge to Ichigo's words that's entirely lacking in Byakuya's now, his voice airy, earnest. He cups Ichigo's chin with his other hand, running his fingers down the side of his chin, stroking the soft skin beneath his ear. ]
[ I'm honoured, says the man who showed him the true form of his Zanpakuto, expecting to kill him, although Ichigo had told him those exact words, different edge to them back then, right, and survived. If not won, if not winning multiple times over. Byakuya sure gave him enough chances. His heart hadn't really been in it.
Now, Ichigo feels Byakuya's fingers stroke the side of his face, from his chin to his ear and leans into the touch slightly, still mouthing at his cock eagerly. They're both older. Lots of things have changed in the meantime, including the feeling. It's different now, plenty of heart, huh. Plenty of conviction. This isn't the part that Ichigo's unsure about, let's be real, this is the easy part, drawing back to lick his lips again before dipping his head and catching the head of Byakuya's cock in his mouth, sucking it down along his tongue noisily, the difficult part is all the rest. His classes, proceeding without him right now, as he sits here on this hotel floor and gives Byakuya a blowjob rather than being in attendance, his family, his dad, shit, his friends... Those are the difficult aspects of sucking Byakuya's cock like this.
Not pushing his tongue up along the underside or feeling for the freakin' girth of him, as he fills up his mouth, making his lips feel swollen and taut. Wrapped tight around his shaft. Ichigo moans, drawing back before the head hits further back, knowing that's gonna trigger his gag reflex and not really feeling up for retching all over Byakuya as it's getting good.
With one hand, he supports himself against the wall on the right of Byakuya's hip. With the other, he's angling up his cock for better access, taking him in at least an inch or two deeper the second time, though still shallow enough not to set himself off. Not particularly big on that idea, yeah.
He wants it to feel constant, like a build-up, like a current. It can grow stronger, but it can't stop. Some things are like that, too. ]
Now, Ichigo feels Byakuya's fingers stroke the side of his face, from his chin to his ear and leans into the touch slightly, still mouthing at his cock eagerly. They're both older. Lots of things have changed in the meantime, including the feeling. It's different now, plenty of heart, huh. Plenty of conviction. This isn't the part that Ichigo's unsure about, let's be real, this is the easy part, drawing back to lick his lips again before dipping his head and catching the head of Byakuya's cock in his mouth, sucking it down along his tongue noisily, the difficult part is all the rest. His classes, proceeding without him right now, as he sits here on this hotel floor and gives Byakuya a blowjob rather than being in attendance, his family, his dad, shit, his friends... Those are the difficult aspects of sucking Byakuya's cock like this.
Not pushing his tongue up along the underside or feeling for the freakin' girth of him, as he fills up his mouth, making his lips feel swollen and taut. Wrapped tight around his shaft. Ichigo moans, drawing back before the head hits further back, knowing that's gonna trigger his gag reflex and not really feeling up for retching all over Byakuya as it's getting good.
With one hand, he supports himself against the wall on the right of Byakuya's hip. With the other, he's angling up his cock for better access, taking him in at least an inch or two deeper the second time, though still shallow enough not to set himself off. Not particularly big on that idea, yeah.
He wants it to feel constant, like a build-up, like a current. It can grow stronger, but it can't stop. Some things are like that, too. ]
[ Ichigo proceeds to... he doesn't actually know what word to use. He's seen the crude terminology whilst doing a small bit of... research, back in his own world but so far, he's come across mostly various semi-creative ways of going back and forth for a while until completion. This is not like that at all. He swallows heavily, watching, feeling completely captivated by the sight and sounds of him - Ichigo, loud as he is, moaning as he sucks on the head of his cock (oh), filling up his own mouth and drawing back, giving him a sense of friction though it doesn't feel at all like fucking. He doesn't know...
It feels like carefulness.
Breath coming out steadfastly more like a pant, not as loud as Ichigo but nowhere near silent, either, Byakuya shifts against the wall, lets the pleasure shooting into his groin spread until his muscles feel weak and his knees are on the verge of buckling pitifully. He keeps one hand curled in Ichigo's hair, his fingers clenching now and then when something feels particularly good. His cock is so hard, it's almost uncomfortable. ]
Don't - don't stop.
[ Ridiculous. He doesn't stutter. But certainly, that's exactly what he just heard himself do and he'd be mortified if he weren't busy feeling the tightness in his balls growing progressively more acute. He breathes harshly, running his other hand down Ichigo's face, grasping onto the hood of his shirt, the neck.
A thought occurs to him and he adds, swallowing down another moan before it can embarrass him properly: ]
Just - a moment more, if you -
[ He doesn't know how to finish the sentence and thus, he gives up immediately. At this very moment, his cock and Ichigo's mouth definitely takes up such a large percentage of his awareness that he's fairly certain trying to string any further words together would only make him less intelligible. His head thuds back hard against the door. Eyes falling shut, he can feel himself pushing forward very, very slightly, trying to follow the movement of Ichigo's mouth - and oh, yes, there's the in and out, isn't it. It's been a while. He's managed to forget how these things work (which is, admittedly, easier than simply pretending not to want it for decades). ]
It feels like carefulness.
Breath coming out steadfastly more like a pant, not as loud as Ichigo but nowhere near silent, either, Byakuya shifts against the wall, lets the pleasure shooting into his groin spread until his muscles feel weak and his knees are on the verge of buckling pitifully. He keeps one hand curled in Ichigo's hair, his fingers clenching now and then when something feels particularly good. His cock is so hard, it's almost uncomfortable. ]
Don't - don't stop.
[ Ridiculous. He doesn't stutter. But certainly, that's exactly what he just heard himself do and he'd be mortified if he weren't busy feeling the tightness in his balls growing progressively more acute. He breathes harshly, running his other hand down Ichigo's face, grasping onto the hood of his shirt, the neck.
A thought occurs to him and he adds, swallowing down another moan before it can embarrass him properly: ]
Just - a moment more, if you -
[ He doesn't know how to finish the sentence and thus, he gives up immediately. At this very moment, his cock and Ichigo's mouth definitely takes up such a large percentage of his awareness that he's fairly certain trying to string any further words together would only make him less intelligible. His head thuds back hard against the door. Eyes falling shut, he can feel himself pushing forward very, very slightly, trying to follow the movement of Ichigo's mouth - and oh, yes, there's the in and out, isn't it. It's been a while. He's managed to forget how these things work (which is, admittedly, easier than simply pretending not to want it for decades). ]
[ He sounds good this way, Ichigo decides. Not any less inarticulate, but panting and breathing so harshly, it sounds like his intakes of air are hardly even connected, it's somehow understandable.
Shifting on his knees, his jeans feeling uncomfortably tight where the denim is stretching out across his hard cock, Ichigo has no intentions of stopping. He can feel Byakuya running for the edge, right, the way he tightens his grip in his hair, the hood of his shirt, the way he actually stutters when saying, just a moment more - and groaning deep in his throat, Ichigo feels the way the other man pushes back against him, forcing himself just a bit further into his mouth, though he isn't being a jerk about it, at least.
He pushes his tongue up against the underside of Byakuya's cock, gets the spot beneath the head on the other man's small instroke, following the rhythm he's seeking, bobbing his head a few times, faster, harder, hollowing his cheeks and sucking around the head, just as the whole thing is about to pop out of his mouth. It sounds wet and sloppy. Ichigo likes that. So he does it again.
If Byakuya is gonna cum in his mouth, that's fine, he wants him to. He wants him to leave some part of himself behind, before he pulls out. Ichigo knows this hotel room is for the night, probably, it's not gonna last forever. But the memory of Byakuya's cum, on his tongue, the feel of it, the taste - those things are gonna stay with him.
That's why he just sucks harder, continuing to move his head in time with Byakuya's careful thrusts, following the motion with his hand around the base of his cock as well. ]
Shifting on his knees, his jeans feeling uncomfortably tight where the denim is stretching out across his hard cock, Ichigo has no intentions of stopping. He can feel Byakuya running for the edge, right, the way he tightens his grip in his hair, the hood of his shirt, the way he actually stutters when saying, just a moment more - and groaning deep in his throat, Ichigo feels the way the other man pushes back against him, forcing himself just a bit further into his mouth, though he isn't being a jerk about it, at least.
He pushes his tongue up against the underside of Byakuya's cock, gets the spot beneath the head on the other man's small instroke, following the rhythm he's seeking, bobbing his head a few times, faster, harder, hollowing his cheeks and sucking around the head, just as the whole thing is about to pop out of his mouth. It sounds wet and sloppy. Ichigo likes that. So he does it again.
If Byakuya is gonna cum in his mouth, that's fine, he wants him to. He wants him to leave some part of himself behind, before he pulls out. Ichigo knows this hotel room is for the night, probably, it's not gonna last forever. But the memory of Byakuya's cum, on his tongue, the feel of it, the taste - those things are gonna stay with him.
That's why he just sucks harder, continuing to move his head in time with Byakuya's careful thrusts, following the motion with his hand around the base of his cock as well. ]
[ Oh. Oh. Ichigo doesn't draw back at all - and he must have understood, surely, even with Byakuya's currently less-than-impressive coherency. Does that mean he intends to - eyes shut, he feels himself sinking rapidly into the sensations around his cock, the tightness of Ichigo's mouth as he pushes in, draws back out. His thoughts refuse to be gathered, to make any sort of sense. He makes a last, somewhat desperate attempt to do the proper thing and draw back but then, Ichigo makes a particularly lewd, wet sound and sucks him even harder and honestly, though it might be crude of him, he can't help it. Gasping loudly, he feels his balls tightening up in that tell-tale way of no return and then, grasping onto the back of Ichigo's head and forcing himself with untold will-power not to hold him still, he pushes in the slightest amount and comes on his tongue.
His orgasm washes over him and his knees do buckle now as he spends himself in a few, harsh spurts, a wave of relaxation following immediately after. Eyelids fluttering, he grabs onto Ichigo's shoulders with both hands and tries not to sink to the floor, his mind refusing the indignity of collapsing whilst his body doesn't understand what pride is in any capacity at this very moment. He takes a few, ragged breaths and rolls back onto his heels sloppily, his cock slipping from Ichigo's mouth and leaving strings of cum across his lips.
For a long, long moment he can't speak at all. He just stares down at the other man, vision feeling almost foggy, the flood of pleasure growing only slowly less overwhelming. He realises that Ichigo in front of him by his feet is a sight that feels complicated - on one hand, just the thought of him doing this, giving himself like this is almost impossibly enticing, he probably won't be thinking about much else for the next several days which will be an amusing novelty at work.
But on the other...
His gaze glides lazily from Ichigo to the bed by the window. Then, back to Ichigo on the floor, crouched, his lips swollen and his pupils blown wide. ]
Please get up now.
[ He drops his own trousers and underwear on the floor, toeing out of his shoes and socks with an elegance that doesn't go with how uncoordinated he feels, his limbs so light that they feel nearly empty. It doesn't matter to him where his clothes go - on the floor, in a pile, in several piles, either way. As he shrugs out of his shirt, he keeps his gaze on Ichigo the entire time. He thinks about the bed again.
About playing fields and how to level them. ]
His orgasm washes over him and his knees do buckle now as he spends himself in a few, harsh spurts, a wave of relaxation following immediately after. Eyelids fluttering, he grabs onto Ichigo's shoulders with both hands and tries not to sink to the floor, his mind refusing the indignity of collapsing whilst his body doesn't understand what pride is in any capacity at this very moment. He takes a few, ragged breaths and rolls back onto his heels sloppily, his cock slipping from Ichigo's mouth and leaving strings of cum across his lips.
For a long, long moment he can't speak at all. He just stares down at the other man, vision feeling almost foggy, the flood of pleasure growing only slowly less overwhelming. He realises that Ichigo in front of him by his feet is a sight that feels complicated - on one hand, just the thought of him doing this, giving himself like this is almost impossibly enticing, he probably won't be thinking about much else for the next several days which will be an amusing novelty at work.
But on the other...
His gaze glides lazily from Ichigo to the bed by the window. Then, back to Ichigo on the floor, crouched, his lips swollen and his pupils blown wide. ]
Please get up now.
[ He drops his own trousers and underwear on the floor, toeing out of his shoes and socks with an elegance that doesn't go with how uncoordinated he feels, his limbs so light that they feel nearly empty. It doesn't matter to him where his clothes go - on the floor, in a pile, in several piles, either way. As he shrugs out of his shirt, he keeps his gaze on Ichigo the entire time. He thinks about the bed again.
About playing fields and how to level them. ]
[ When he finally comes, Byakuya grasps the back of Ichigo's head, though not in any way that forces him still, but rather out of desperation and Ichigo feels that feeling reverberating deep within his own body, right, that urge to swallow up, become one with, his own cock in his pants jerking as much as it can when his clothes are in the way.
The way the other man at the same time not only slips in a little bit more, doesn't take or claim, he'd be freakin' rude, too, if he did, but he doesn't, and Ichigo appreciates that. About as much as he appreciates the way he fills his mouth with his cum, hot, long strings of it across his tongue. It takes some effort to swallow right and his lips get sticky from the residual drops, escaping him in the process, but no one can probably tell anyway, since Byakuya, when he pulls out, leaves traces of himself on his lips as well.
Ichigo, looking up at him, feels warm and sticky, smacking his lips a few times before reaching up to wipe at his face, get the worst of it off. He'll remember. He'll remember now.
Beginning to get out of his clothes, Byakuya tells him to please get up now and only a tiny bit hesitantly, Ichigo gets to his feet, waiting a long moment to just watch Byakuya get undressed, feel himself being watched like that. His heart's pounding in his ears and his limbs feel heavy from want, anticipation. Nervousness. Yeah, now that he isn't actively doing anymore, the nervousness can set in. He feels himself blush, just the bridge of his nose and he looks down to begin shrugging out of his open, hooded shirt, even the t-shirt underneath feeling too tight for his chest. He shifts from one foot to the other. ]
You taste nice.
[ He hears himself say and immediately blushes crimson, keeping his gaze firmly locked on his hands, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt now, beginning to pull it over his head.
Blindly, he toes out of his sneakers, socks, simultaneously - and at least his coordination skills aren't suffering from blabbermouth syndrome. Shit. ]
The way the other man at the same time not only slips in a little bit more, doesn't take or claim, he'd be freakin' rude, too, if he did, but he doesn't, and Ichigo appreciates that. About as much as he appreciates the way he fills his mouth with his cum, hot, long strings of it across his tongue. It takes some effort to swallow right and his lips get sticky from the residual drops, escaping him in the process, but no one can probably tell anyway, since Byakuya, when he pulls out, leaves traces of himself on his lips as well.
Ichigo, looking up at him, feels warm and sticky, smacking his lips a few times before reaching up to wipe at his face, get the worst of it off. He'll remember. He'll remember now.
Beginning to get out of his clothes, Byakuya tells him to please get up now and only a tiny bit hesitantly, Ichigo gets to his feet, waiting a long moment to just watch Byakuya get undressed, feel himself being watched like that. His heart's pounding in his ears and his limbs feel heavy from want, anticipation. Nervousness. Yeah, now that he isn't actively doing anymore, the nervousness can set in. He feels himself blush, just the bridge of his nose and he looks down to begin shrugging out of his open, hooded shirt, even the t-shirt underneath feeling too tight for his chest. He shifts from one foot to the other. ]
You taste nice.
[ He hears himself say and immediately blushes crimson, keeping his gaze firmly locked on his hands, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt now, beginning to pull it over his head.
Blindly, he toes out of his sneakers, socks, simultaneously - and at least his coordination skills aren't suffering from blabbermouth syndrome. Shit. ]
[ As he begins to undress, Byakuya watches all throughout. From the hooded shirt to the t-shirt underneath and then, a slight pause, just to tell him he tastes nice. About to raise one eyebrow in silent acknowledgment - after all, he's planning on finding that out for himself in a moment - he pauses at the sight of Ichigo blushing furiously, gaze on his own hands, not on him. His body language changes then, as it often does - he's a man who speaks very loudly in several ways. Now, as he keeps his gaze down and toes out of his shoes and socks, Ichigo seems... not uncertain, exactly.
Afraid of failure, perhaps.
He is that, too, which is ironic, considering how much he's won on behalf of other people throughout the years. ]
Thank you.
[ He says it quietly, voice straightforward. Keeping things simple. Gaze firmly set on Ichigo's face, he steps forward across the distance between them and folds his hands against his waist, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his trousers. This close, he can smell himself on Ichigo's breath, on his skin. Beneath that, there's Ichigo's own scent, warm and sharp, strong from arousal. His next inhalation trembles a little as he undoes Ichigo's trousers, pushing them down slightly before slipping both hands inside his boxers, down the sides of his legs. He spreads out his fingers, feeling the hardness of him, of his buttocks and thighs, before reaching inside his boxers and pulling out his cock. He's careful about it. The head is a blushing pink, not unlike his face and neck. It looks quite enticing.
He gives it a light stroke and leans in to mouth along the side of his neck, up to his ear. His voice is low but the heat in his blood has started to creep into it, darkening his tone: ]
Drop these and come join me on the bed.
[ He kisses just the side of his mouth, flicking his tongue out and licking a string of cum off his lower lip. Then, he pulls back, squeezing his hips with both hands and heading for the bed, pulling the covers back and climbing in to wait. He lies down on his side and goes back to watching him. ]
Afraid of failure, perhaps.
He is that, too, which is ironic, considering how much he's won on behalf of other people throughout the years. ]
Thank you.
[ He says it quietly, voice straightforward. Keeping things simple. Gaze firmly set on Ichigo's face, he steps forward across the distance between them and folds his hands against his waist, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his trousers. This close, he can smell himself on Ichigo's breath, on his skin. Beneath that, there's Ichigo's own scent, warm and sharp, strong from arousal. His next inhalation trembles a little as he undoes Ichigo's trousers, pushing them down slightly before slipping both hands inside his boxers, down the sides of his legs. He spreads out his fingers, feeling the hardness of him, of his buttocks and thighs, before reaching inside his boxers and pulling out his cock. He's careful about it. The head is a blushing pink, not unlike his face and neck. It looks quite enticing.
He gives it a light stroke and leans in to mouth along the side of his neck, up to his ear. His voice is low but the heat in his blood has started to creep into it, darkening his tone: ]
Drop these and come join me on the bed.
[ He kisses just the side of his mouth, flicking his tongue out and licking a string of cum off his lower lip. Then, he pulls back, squeezing his hips with both hands and heading for the bed, pulling the covers back and climbing in to wait. He lies down on his side and goes back to watching him. ]
[ Is that all he's got to say? Drop these and... Ichigo scoffs and follows him with his gaze, as Byakuya walks back to the bed and proceeds to lie down, to watch, to wait for Ichigo to get naked, currently standing with his pants half off and his cock out, the shadow of Byakuya's touch clinging to his skin, his hips, waist, thighs, buttocks. He's touched him everywhere important. He's touched him...
Holding the other man's gaze, still tasting him starkly on his lips and tongue, not helping that Byakuya just freakin' licked his lower lip free of cum, Ichigo takes a deep breath and does as he's told, maybe for the first time ever. Most people can't get him to do so, even when his grades or a scuffle with his dad is at stake, but then again - most people don't get close enough either, to kiss the side of his mouth.
So, he pries off his jeans and leaves them to crumble on the floor. After that, his boxers, already half-off. Freed, like that, he stands for a moment before Byakuya's attentive eyes and shit, isn't his worse than wielding your bankai, isn't this showing more of yourself.
At least with his bankai, at least he knows there's a fair chance he's gonna win.
This isn't about winning, though.
Maybe that's the problem.
Squaring his shoulders, Ichigo walks over to the bed and crawls onto it, sitting down cross-legged and terribly hard next to Byakuya's reclining figure, looking down at him, hands loosely resting on his thighs. ]
I dropped them. What're you gonna do about it?
Holding the other man's gaze, still tasting him starkly on his lips and tongue, not helping that Byakuya just freakin' licked his lower lip free of cum, Ichigo takes a deep breath and does as he's told, maybe for the first time ever. Most people can't get him to do so, even when his grades or a scuffle with his dad is at stake, but then again - most people don't get close enough either, to kiss the side of his mouth.
So, he pries off his jeans and leaves them to crumble on the floor. After that, his boxers, already half-off. Freed, like that, he stands for a moment before Byakuya's attentive eyes and shit, isn't his worse than wielding your bankai, isn't this showing more of yourself.
At least with his bankai, at least he knows there's a fair chance he's gonna win.
This isn't about winning, though.
Maybe that's the problem.
Squaring his shoulders, Ichigo walks over to the bed and crawls onto it, sitting down cross-legged and terribly hard next to Byakuya's reclining figure, looking down at him, hands loosely resting on his thighs. ]
I dropped them. What're you gonna do about it?
[ Ichigo drops the rest of his clothes and joins him, squaring his shoulders on the way. This, naturally, makes his shoulders and upperarms tense and so, Byakuya takes the opportunity to properly take in the shape of the other man's body when he isn't actively running at him or someone else with his sword drawn.
Well. Not that sword, in any case.
It's difficult not to notice, of course, that Ichigo is built like a man who fights hand to hand before anything else; undoubtedly, before he became a Substitute Shinigami, he must have had decent fighting experience or he wouldn't have handled himself against Renji as he did, back in the day. Thus, he's not necessarily... surprised at his own reaction now, the hunger building rapidly in his body as Ichigo takes his place on the bed, next to him, cross-legged and hard enough to make the movements just a little less fluent than usual.
Certainly, surprise would be the wrong word.
What are you gonna do about it asks Ichigo whose default mode seems to be confrontation, always confrontation, a challenge, perhaps because conflicts and battles have become a type of normal to him and normalcy, of course, brings comfort. Confidence of success, well-earned in his case and consequently, easily channelled. Byakuya's gaze slips up to his eyes, then, and he craws onto his knees, sitting close enough that their legs are touching. He puts both hands on Ichigo's shoulders and nudges him backwards, down. He's not pushing him. They aren't doing that, not here, and they both know it, no matter how easy it is to slip into habit. ]
Such a strange, superfluous question. [ He leans in, kissing his shoulder, then the side of his face. He slips one hand into his hair. ] What do you think I'm going to do?
[ For the sake of emphasis - because Byakuya does surround himself with people who treat subtlety like it's a curse best avoided - he runs his other hand down his side, palm spreading across the hot skin over his ribs.
Like that, he can feel him breathing. ]
Well. Not that sword, in any case.
It's difficult not to notice, of course, that Ichigo is built like a man who fights hand to hand before anything else; undoubtedly, before he became a Substitute Shinigami, he must have had decent fighting experience or he wouldn't have handled himself against Renji as he did, back in the day. Thus, he's not necessarily... surprised at his own reaction now, the hunger building rapidly in his body as Ichigo takes his place on the bed, next to him, cross-legged and hard enough to make the movements just a little less fluent than usual.
Certainly, surprise would be the wrong word.
What are you gonna do about it asks Ichigo whose default mode seems to be confrontation, always confrontation, a challenge, perhaps because conflicts and battles have become a type of normal to him and normalcy, of course, brings comfort. Confidence of success, well-earned in his case and consequently, easily channelled. Byakuya's gaze slips up to his eyes, then, and he craws onto his knees, sitting close enough that their legs are touching. He puts both hands on Ichigo's shoulders and nudges him backwards, down. He's not pushing him. They aren't doing that, not here, and they both know it, no matter how easy it is to slip into habit. ]
Such a strange, superfluous question. [ He leans in, kissing his shoulder, then the side of his face. He slips one hand into his hair. ] What do you think I'm going to do?
[ For the sake of emphasis - because Byakuya does surround himself with people who treat subtlety like it's a curse best avoided - he runs his other hand down his side, palm spreading across the hot skin over his ribs.
Like that, he can feel him breathing. ]
[ Byakuya gets up from his reclining position which is a shame, it looked good, but moving over to Ichigo on his knees, he looks even better, so Ichigo isn't about to complain. Instead, he stares up into the other man's face, feeling suddenly very exposed, like he's chosen a bad vantage point in a fight, vulnerable... except this isn't a fight, it's not that at all, even as Byakuya places both his hands on Ichigo's shoulders and starts pushing, not really pushing, but it's the only word that comes to mind, as he urges him backwards. Onto his back. Ichigo could resist. He's definitely strong enough, but he doesn't, instead following Byakuya's lead, lying down, extending out his legs until it's him reclining.
Byakuya kisses his shoulder on the way. His face, the side of it. Ichigo breathes shakily, hardly even blinking as he stares up at him. Byakuya's hand in his hair feels really nice, too. His chest rises and falls beneath his palm.
What do you think I'm going to do? Which is probably the more strange and superfluous question between the two, if you ask Ichigo. At least be articulate about it, say it! He scoffs and turns his head in against the other man's mouth, pointing out: ]
You mean, what do I want you to do, right?
[ It wasn't very clear, really, but Ichigo can read it anyway. He gets it. Byakuya can't just come out and say, say you want me to suck your cock or something. Not his style, though.
He's above that.
Well, Ichigo is on the bottom right now, so supposedly that's his job. Smiling slightly, sharply, he starts out, ]
I... [ Then, he actually hears those words in his own voice in his head and immediately falters, not stuttering, just stopping for a moment, finding the courage. Come on! He's fought wars! He can say it. He can. A deep breath, and he closes his eyes, feeling his chest heave, deep and hard. ] I want you to suck me off. Byakuya.
[ Please, it means. ]
Byakuya kisses his shoulder on the way. His face, the side of it. Ichigo breathes shakily, hardly even blinking as he stares up at him. Byakuya's hand in his hair feels really nice, too. His chest rises and falls beneath his palm.
What do you think I'm going to do? Which is probably the more strange and superfluous question between the two, if you ask Ichigo. At least be articulate about it, say it! He scoffs and turns his head in against the other man's mouth, pointing out: ]
You mean, what do I want you to do, right?
[ It wasn't very clear, really, but Ichigo can read it anyway. He gets it. Byakuya can't just come out and say, say you want me to suck your cock or something. Not his style, though.
He's above that.
Well, Ichigo is on the bottom right now, so supposedly that's his job. Smiling slightly, sharply, he starts out, ]
I... [ Then, he actually hears those words in his own voice in his head and immediately falters, not stuttering, just stopping for a moment, finding the courage. Come on! He's fought wars! He can say it. He can. A deep breath, and he closes his eyes, feeling his chest heave, deep and hard. ] I want you to suck me off. Byakuya.
[ Please, it means. ]
[ Down he goes, Ichigo, which must feel a bit like jumping into unknown waters. It's easy to read his expression and if it weren't, the lines in his body, the shakiness of his breath and the hesitation in his voice all speak their own language. Please, he doesn't say, except in a way he does and naturally, just that semblance of actual manners must be rewarded. Byakuya nods against the side of his face, leaning in and kissing a heavy, wet trail down his neck and shoulder, shifting in between his legs to get their bodies properly aligned. He runs his hand up Ichigo's body once more, folding his palm against his shoulder, both for the sake of balancing and for that slight emphasis of weight.
On his knees, it's easy to lean in over him, the top of his head grazing Ichigo's chin on the way. He closes his lips around his left nipple and licks at it slowly, circling it with the tip of his tongue. His gaze slips sideways, following the lines of Ichigo's midriff and abdomen down to his cock where it rests against his belly. In a short moment, he'll step into unknown waters as well. His own body still feels heavy and sated from Ichigo's efforts and though a part of him is certainly preoccupied with questions such as how and what is it going to be like?, most of him is just aching to return the favour.
Sex, happily, is more about enthusiasm than skills.
That doesn't mean bad sex isn't disappointing, however.
Frowning slightly, he shifts his focus to Ichigo's other nipple, folding his other hand against his midriff as he leans down and licks at it, using the full width of his tongue this time, the strokes wet enough to leave his skin gleaming. Gently, he eases his thigh further up between Ichigo's legs and presses against his cock, just giving him a hint of friction, something to off-set the slow pace. He's certainly not going to rush himself in this matter, Ichigo will simply have to count slowly to ten or whatever he does to control his impatience. ]
On his knees, it's easy to lean in over him, the top of his head grazing Ichigo's chin on the way. He closes his lips around his left nipple and licks at it slowly, circling it with the tip of his tongue. His gaze slips sideways, following the lines of Ichigo's midriff and abdomen down to his cock where it rests against his belly. In a short moment, he'll step into unknown waters as well. His own body still feels heavy and sated from Ichigo's efforts and though a part of him is certainly preoccupied with questions such as how and what is it going to be like?, most of him is just aching to return the favour.
Sex, happily, is more about enthusiasm than skills.
That doesn't mean bad sex isn't disappointing, however.
Frowning slightly, he shifts his focus to Ichigo's other nipple, folding his other hand against his midriff as he leans down and licks at it, using the full width of his tongue this time, the strokes wet enough to leave his skin gleaming. Gently, he eases his thigh further up between Ichigo's legs and presses against his cock, just giving him a hint of friction, something to off-set the slow pace. He's certainly not going to rush himself in this matter, Ichigo will simply have to count slowly to ten or whatever he does to control his impatience. ]
[ It's really... slow.
Ichigo feels his chest rise and fall beneath the weight of the other man, the way he leans in and down, giving him his whole front, the impact of body against body. His heart pounding, Ichigo twists slightly beneath him, to be able to twist his own neck and look, staring down just in time to see Byakuya lick at one nipple with just the tip of his tongue. The whole feeling of it is wet and tight, muscle, licks, heavy, oh. Shit. Ichigo gasps and struggles some more against the feeling of his hold, his cock jerking slightly in response. ]
If --
[ Then, Byakuya shifts his attention to Ichigo's other nipple, getting that with the whole breadth of his tongue now, Ichigo staring mesmerized at the difference in colour, his pale skin and his pink tongue, contrasting. Along with the tight pulsing in his whole chest now, his fingers gripping the sheets convulsively. He actually struggles to finish that trail of thought, not to say, the sentence. ]
-- you wanted to tease me, you're... [ A louder gasp this time and he bucks up against Byakuya's thigh, pressing up against Ichigo's cock, the underside feeling hot and sensitive. He grunts and shifts more, almost violently. Impatience riding his whole system, he mostly just wants to push Byakuya's head down, but can't really make himself. It feels wrong, some part of it. To rush it. When he's dreamt about this so much, right? Wouldn't that be to ruin it? ] ... you're doing a good job.
[ It feels nice, he could say, but his mouth feels like it's got a foot in it and it wouldn't cover it all anyway. Wouldn't say nearly enough. Instead, Ichigo reaches down slowly, runs his fingers up along Byakuya's shoulder blades and up the back of his neck, turning his palm up to let his ponytail spill over his fingers. That feels nice, too.
Taking a deep breath, remembering briefly, very briefly, helping out Yuzu when she was a little kid to tie up her hair like this, he loosens Byakuya's long, soft strands from the hold of the hairtie, lets it all fall down around his face. No idea if he even likes that, but Ichigo likes it. Ichigo likes to gather all that hair between his hands, push it out of his way for him.
It's something to do. While he's just lying around here, doing nothing. ]
Ichigo feels his chest rise and fall beneath the weight of the other man, the way he leans in and down, giving him his whole front, the impact of body against body. His heart pounding, Ichigo twists slightly beneath him, to be able to twist his own neck and look, staring down just in time to see Byakuya lick at one nipple with just the tip of his tongue. The whole feeling of it is wet and tight, muscle, licks, heavy, oh. Shit. Ichigo gasps and struggles some more against the feeling of his hold, his cock jerking slightly in response. ]
If --
[ Then, Byakuya shifts his attention to Ichigo's other nipple, getting that with the whole breadth of his tongue now, Ichigo staring mesmerized at the difference in colour, his pale skin and his pink tongue, contrasting. Along with the tight pulsing in his whole chest now, his fingers gripping the sheets convulsively. He actually struggles to finish that trail of thought, not to say, the sentence. ]
-- you wanted to tease me, you're... [ A louder gasp this time and he bucks up against Byakuya's thigh, pressing up against Ichigo's cock, the underside feeling hot and sensitive. He grunts and shifts more, almost violently. Impatience riding his whole system, he mostly just wants to push Byakuya's head down, but can't really make himself. It feels wrong, some part of it. To rush it. When he's dreamt about this so much, right? Wouldn't that be to ruin it? ] ... you're doing a good job.
[ It feels nice, he could say, but his mouth feels like it's got a foot in it and it wouldn't cover it all anyway. Wouldn't say nearly enough. Instead, Ichigo reaches down slowly, runs his fingers up along Byakuya's shoulder blades and up the back of his neck, turning his palm up to let his ponytail spill over his fingers. That feels nice, too.
Taking a deep breath, remembering briefly, very briefly, helping out Yuzu when she was a little kid to tie up her hair like this, he loosens Byakuya's long, soft strands from the hold of the hairtie, lets it all fall down around his face. No idea if he even likes that, but Ichigo likes it. Ichigo likes to gather all that hair between his hands, push it out of his way for him.
It's something to do. While he's just lying around here, doing nothing. ]
[ He doesn't smile against Ichigo's skin, though his chest warms in amusement at his words. He isn't truly teasing him, at least not on purpose but just to acknowledge the hypothesis for what it is - understandable and logical, even - he leaves Ichigo's nipple alone and shifts downwards, nibbling his way down his midriff and leaving pink marks in his wake. Ichigo, in turn, has loosened his hair and now, it truly goes everywhere - his shoulders, his chin, his face - in a way that always reminds him of the times he's accidentally kept it too long, leaving it skirting past the safe zone of Senbonzakura and consequently, five inches shorter in the aftermath.
These days, it hardly matters. He could grow it waist-length, basically, with how little he uses Bankai. Glancing up at Ichigo, his chest softening another fraction at how he's clearly trying to keep still beneath him, to let himself receive, he decides that he just might. Grow it out.
Give him something to hold onto. ]
You are doing fine, as well.
[ He speaks against Ichigo's skin, lips sliding over the space between his midriff and his navel, his chin close enough to his cock that he might just touch it if he dips his head. Instead, he shifts down between his legs until he's got his cock more or less in his face, big and hard and beautifully pink at the tip. Swallowing down a moan at the sight alone, he gets comfortable on his elbows, caging Ichigo's hips in along the way and folding his fingers around the base carefully.
Like that, he angles it outwards, tilts his head a little to the side and leans down to lick a wet trail beneath the head, lapping at the shaft afterwards. He tastes like musk and sweat - like sex, basically, but distilled - and the feeling actually makes him hard again. This time, he doesn't hide the moan from the depths of his throat. Instead, he folds his other hand across Ichigo's belly as another weight, not to keep him still but to anchor him. He folds his hand more firmly around his shaft, parts his lips and takes the head into his mouth, letting him take up all the space he needs and breathing slowly out. ]
These days, it hardly matters. He could grow it waist-length, basically, with how little he uses Bankai. Glancing up at Ichigo, his chest softening another fraction at how he's clearly trying to keep still beneath him, to let himself receive, he decides that he just might. Grow it out.
Give him something to hold onto. ]
You are doing fine, as well.
[ He speaks against Ichigo's skin, lips sliding over the space between his midriff and his navel, his chin close enough to his cock that he might just touch it if he dips his head. Instead, he shifts down between his legs until he's got his cock more or less in his face, big and hard and beautifully pink at the tip. Swallowing down a moan at the sight alone, he gets comfortable on his elbows, caging Ichigo's hips in along the way and folding his fingers around the base carefully.
Like that, he angles it outwards, tilts his head a little to the side and leans down to lick a wet trail beneath the head, lapping at the shaft afterwards. He tastes like musk and sweat - like sex, basically, but distilled - and the feeling actually makes him hard again. This time, he doesn't hide the moan from the depths of his throat. Instead, he folds his other hand across Ichigo's belly as another weight, not to keep him still but to anchor him. He folds his hand more firmly around his shaft, parts his lips and takes the head into his mouth, letting him take up all the space he needs and breathing slowly out. ]
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