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
[ Oh.
Ichigo turns off the desk light and Byakuya's gaze is automatically drawn to the papers strewn across it, covered in rows of kanji that he couldn't read at this distance even if he tried. Though it doesn't truly concern him unless Ichigo wants him to take an interest - and so far, it doesn't seem that way - a small part of him is curious. It's a novel, he'd said. A big project for a student. Perhaps when it is done, Byakuya will ask him more about it, just for the sake of his own curiosity. As is true for most things you read, it becomes a part of your inner world, doesn't it, for however long it manages to linger.
It's a part of Ichigo, this thing, and consequently, he wouldn't mind knowing about it.
For now, though, he feels his breathing evening out as Ichigo makes his way back to the bed, the room now shrouded in darkness. As the mattress shifts beneath them, his eyes close for a moment, the tension in his shoulders and back evaporating. Ichigo lies down against him, close, so close, one arm slung around his waist and when he speaks, his breath whispers against his ear. His nakedness feels very pronounced like this. Very imminent.
Shifting just a little closer, enough that his thigh pushes up between Ichigo's legs, rubbing against the outline of his cock in a quiet suggestion, he foregoes an actual answer to Ichigo's question in favour of slipping his hand into his hair and tipping his face towards himself. Having him so close makes it evident how long it's been, the past many weeks. He'd acquired that phone only to challenge that feeling, the distance, the not knowing...
Forgetting all about his own exhaustion, Byakuya kisses him. It's a slow kiss, though, unhurried. ]
Ichigo turns off the desk light and Byakuya's gaze is automatically drawn to the papers strewn across it, covered in rows of kanji that he couldn't read at this distance even if he tried. Though it doesn't truly concern him unless Ichigo wants him to take an interest - and so far, it doesn't seem that way - a small part of him is curious. It's a novel, he'd said. A big project for a student. Perhaps when it is done, Byakuya will ask him more about it, just for the sake of his own curiosity. As is true for most things you read, it becomes a part of your inner world, doesn't it, for however long it manages to linger.
It's a part of Ichigo, this thing, and consequently, he wouldn't mind knowing about it.
For now, though, he feels his breathing evening out as Ichigo makes his way back to the bed, the room now shrouded in darkness. As the mattress shifts beneath them, his eyes close for a moment, the tension in his shoulders and back evaporating. Ichigo lies down against him, close, so close, one arm slung around his waist and when he speaks, his breath whispers against his ear. His nakedness feels very pronounced like this. Very imminent.
Shifting just a little closer, enough that his thigh pushes up between Ichigo's legs, rubbing against the outline of his cock in a quiet suggestion, he foregoes an actual answer to Ichigo's question in favour of slipping his hand into his hair and tipping his face towards himself. Having him so close makes it evident how long it's been, the past many weeks. He'd acquired that phone only to challenge that feeling, the distance, the not knowing...
Forgetting all about his own exhaustion, Byakuya kisses him. It's a slow kiss, though, unhurried. ]
[ Byakuya moves into him, more or less. That's what he's doing, right, slipping so close that his thigh pushes up between Ichigo's legs, rubbing over his cock where it's flaccid still, but appreciative of the other man's efforts. When Byakuya threads his fingers through Ichigo's hair and angles his head up, Ichigo is prepared for his proximity and, more importantly, he's ready to be kissed. He's ready for anything, really.
Running his own hand slowly and soothingly up Byakuya's side, over hip and ribs and the whole half of him that was missing that time in the rain, Ichigo feels for him, the way he breathes and the way he's moving and alive now. In response, Ichigo huffs out a breath against Byakuya's lips, parting them when he's being so nicely asked by the usually so inarticulate man - though, honestly, how articulate are you, when you go in tongue-first? - the taste of Byakuya dark and night-like like that, not enough sleep, too many thoughts. Ichigo's got that taste plastered all over the roof of his own mouth, too. They can share that, if not the novel. Not yet.
Tilting his head to the side, he presses back against Byakuya eagerly, his tiredness still heavy in his body, but some things just... you know, that go first. When someone wants to be close to you this way, you make room and time for it, unless you don't want them.
He wants Byakuya. He's wanted him for the past four weeks. He wants him so much, he's running himself into the ground to make him happy, right? That ought to count for something.
Pushing all five fingers of his right hand into Byakuya's hair, hanging loose around his head with the kenseikan out of the way, brushing it away from his forehead, eyes, collecting it in a loose fist behind the other man's head, Ichigo kisses him hungrily, not holding back, not feeling like he has to. Not with Byakuya.
Against the other man's thigh, his cock starts taking a real interest. ]
Running his own hand slowly and soothingly up Byakuya's side, over hip and ribs and the whole half of him that was missing that time in the rain, Ichigo feels for him, the way he breathes and the way he's moving and alive now. In response, Ichigo huffs out a breath against Byakuya's lips, parting them when he's being so nicely asked by the usually so inarticulate man - though, honestly, how articulate are you, when you go in tongue-first? - the taste of Byakuya dark and night-like like that, not enough sleep, too many thoughts. Ichigo's got that taste plastered all over the roof of his own mouth, too. They can share that, if not the novel. Not yet.
Tilting his head to the side, he presses back against Byakuya eagerly, his tiredness still heavy in his body, but some things just... you know, that go first. When someone wants to be close to you this way, you make room and time for it, unless you don't want them.
He wants Byakuya. He's wanted him for the past four weeks. He wants him so much, he's running himself into the ground to make him happy, right? That ought to count for something.
Pushing all five fingers of his right hand into Byakuya's hair, hanging loose around his head with the kenseikan out of the way, brushing it away from his forehead, eyes, collecting it in a loose fist behind the other man's head, Ichigo kisses him hungrily, not holding back, not feeling like he has to. Not with Byakuya.
Against the other man's thigh, his cock starts taking a real interest. ]
[ It occurs to him now, as Ichigo pushes back against him, as he pushes into Ichigo in turn and tastes the aftermath of his work hours along with the distinctive shades that belong only to him, that for the past weeks he's been... perhaps, slightly... concerned. Perhaps. He's not conceited enough with regards to his relationships that he can't push such pathetic ideas away and he has, repeatedly; the notion that perhaps, ever since they met in Kyoto, he's had expectations which in itself is problematic when no one has promised you anything at all. As for being concerned, that is also something he shouldn't entertain but there's only so much he can do with his mind back at the mansion with Seike hovering in the background and the silence looming even more persistently in every room.
It's better at work. Marginally.
In any case, he's here now and so is Ichigo and Ichigo's work is on the desk, unacknowledged for the moment. He ought to feel at least regretful that his presence will simply be doubling Ichigo's workload in the morning but instead, he runs his other hand down his back, over his hip, fingers digging into his buttock just a tad persistently. He tilts his head, feeling the grip of Ichigo's fingers on his hair, the slight sting against his scalp.
Then, he breaks the kiss and holds his gaze. ]
Do not wake the house.
[ With that, he leans away slightly, bringing up his hand and licking it a couple of times, getting it as slick as his patience will allow before he reaches down between them. Ichigo's cock is half-hard against his thigh and though his own can't quite muster up an appropriate response as he is, tonight, the thought makes him ache to feel the other man soften and fall against him. After too many weeks and too much pondering the paradox of not pondering at all, it's really all he wants.
He folds his hand around Ichigo's cock and gives it a slow, even stroke, curving his thumb beneath the head and rubbing in along the prominent vein there. ]
It's better at work. Marginally.
In any case, he's here now and so is Ichigo and Ichigo's work is on the desk, unacknowledged for the moment. He ought to feel at least regretful that his presence will simply be doubling Ichigo's workload in the morning but instead, he runs his other hand down his back, over his hip, fingers digging into his buttock just a tad persistently. He tilts his head, feeling the grip of Ichigo's fingers on his hair, the slight sting against his scalp.
Then, he breaks the kiss and holds his gaze. ]
Do not wake the house.
[ With that, he leans away slightly, bringing up his hand and licking it a couple of times, getting it as slick as his patience will allow before he reaches down between them. Ichigo's cock is half-hard against his thigh and though his own can't quite muster up an appropriate response as he is, tonight, the thought makes him ache to feel the other man soften and fall against him. After too many weeks and too much pondering the paradox of not pondering at all, it's really all he wants.
He folds his hand around Ichigo's cock and gives it a slow, even stroke, curving his thumb beneath the head and rubbing in along the prominent vein there. ]
[ In the time that has passed, Ichigo has kept busy, but not really too busy to think. Since the novel, besides being a work assignment that eventually has to be turned in to Nakamura-san, is a gift for Byakuya, it's only been natural to think about Byakuya a lot, right? Anything else would be stupid. The proof is right there anyway.
When they left that hotel a month ago, Ichigo had had no doubts that they'd meet up again. Honestly, with how much his body kept hungering for the other man, Ichigo had even expected it to be sooner than this, but then the book had come in from the side and besides, this is fine... It's fine, kissing like this, touching like this, although his family is right downstairs, it's okay. They're not gonna disturb them.
Then, Byakuya pulls out of the kiss, tells him not to wake the house and... licks his palm, the spit glinting in the sparse light coming in through the window. Ichigo can hear himself breathe heavily, swallowing once, hard, before Byakuya has uncermoniously wrapped his fingers around his half-hard cock, giving it a long stroke, rubbing over the spot beneath the head with his thumb.
Ichigo moans, only belatedly remembering himself and trying to quench the sound before it's out, stiffling himself halfway. Hips quivering in against Byakuya's touch and his cock rock-hard in seconds from the touch, he pushes his free hand against Byakuya's chest, kinda keeping himself at a distance, though there isn't much room between them like this, huh. They're breathing each other in, practically.
His voice, when he speaks, is hushed, desperate: ]
My sisters are gonna hear... they pick up on freakin' everything, Byakuya...
[ Still, his grip in Byakuya's hair doesn't say stop, it says the opposite and the way his eyes are frantically scanning Byakuya's face, taking in every of his features in the dark, only supports the general consensus that he cares about his sisters but he cares about coming, too.
As well as about the closeness. ]
When they left that hotel a month ago, Ichigo had had no doubts that they'd meet up again. Honestly, with how much his body kept hungering for the other man, Ichigo had even expected it to be sooner than this, but then the book had come in from the side and besides, this is fine... It's fine, kissing like this, touching like this, although his family is right downstairs, it's okay. They're not gonna disturb them.
Then, Byakuya pulls out of the kiss, tells him not to wake the house and... licks his palm, the spit glinting in the sparse light coming in through the window. Ichigo can hear himself breathe heavily, swallowing once, hard, before Byakuya has uncermoniously wrapped his fingers around his half-hard cock, giving it a long stroke, rubbing over the spot beneath the head with his thumb.
Ichigo moans, only belatedly remembering himself and trying to quench the sound before it's out, stiffling himself halfway. Hips quivering in against Byakuya's touch and his cock rock-hard in seconds from the touch, he pushes his free hand against Byakuya's chest, kinda keeping himself at a distance, though there isn't much room between them like this, huh. They're breathing each other in, practically.
His voice, when he speaks, is hushed, desperate: ]
My sisters are gonna hear... they pick up on freakin' everything, Byakuya...
[ Still, his grip in Byakuya's hair doesn't say stop, it says the opposite and the way his eyes are frantically scanning Byakuya's face, taking in every of his features in the dark, only supports the general consensus that he cares about his sisters but he cares about coming, too.
As well as about the closeness. ]
[ Ah yes, this is a... small home. The walls are not as thin as the ones he's used to from the mansion but naturally, the distances are shorter. Ichigo pushes against his chest slightly, though he doesn't lean out of his space, not as such. Byakuya takes another moment to appreciate the feeling of fingers in his hair after a long day of having it stuck in his hairpieces before he meets Ichigo's gaze, desperate and flickering. His cock is hot and warm between his fingers. Those are quite a handful (figuratively, literally...) of contradictions, aren't they, quite a complicated mess of things, of soft things and hard things and none too many shades of inbetween.
This man.
Closing his eyes in concentration, he shifts enough to point his free hand outwards towards the darkness of the room. He focuses on what he wants, on channeling just the right amount of power and controlling his unruly reiatsu - it's not a spell that he'd often use in battle, too defensive to his tastes, but it's locked in his memory very solidly, regardless. Anything else would be negligence. One second, two, and then, the Kido barrier rises on all sides of the bed, its walls enclosing them within a faintly shimmering box of light.
Once satisfied with his handiwork, he opens his eyes and looks at Ichigo once more, one eyebrow quirked very slightly. He doesn't tell him what the barrier does - he can figure that out himself, he must have seen them before (in actuality, why has no one bothered to teach this man even just the most basic Kido? Rukia?). Instead, he nudges his face a little closer to his shoulder and neck, just to feel him more fully against his side, before he strokes his cock again, this time from base to head, rubbing his thumb gently over the head and slit before gliding back down. ]
This man.
Closing his eyes in concentration, he shifts enough to point his free hand outwards towards the darkness of the room. He focuses on what he wants, on channeling just the right amount of power and controlling his unruly reiatsu - it's not a spell that he'd often use in battle, too defensive to his tastes, but it's locked in his memory very solidly, regardless. Anything else would be negligence. One second, two, and then, the Kido barrier rises on all sides of the bed, its walls enclosing them within a faintly shimmering box of light.
Once satisfied with his handiwork, he opens his eyes and looks at Ichigo once more, one eyebrow quirked very slightly. He doesn't tell him what the barrier does - he can figure that out himself, he must have seen them before (in actuality, why has no one bothered to teach this man even just the most basic Kido? Rukia?). Instead, he nudges his face a little closer to his shoulder and neck, just to feel him more fully against his side, before he strokes his cock again, this time from base to head, rubbing his thumb gently over the head and slit before gliding back down. ]
[ When Byakuya moves, Ichigo moves with him easily, following his movements and the direction he points his hand, when he lifts it and reaches towards the surrounding room, with his eyes. The other man doesn't say anything, but the energy is unmistakable as the Kido barrier appears, shimmering faintly in the darkness and you gotta keep in mind, of course, that Byakuya is a Kido master, no words are needed at that level. Ichigo stares up at the barrier, about to ask what it does, what that was for to begin with, but Byakuya's quirked eyebrow, smug bastard, and the way he tugs Ichigo's head in against his shoulder right afterwards kinda drowns the wonder. Byakuya is making sure no one hears, that's what he's doing.
He's doing that because Ichigo was fretting.
Ichigo's breathing stumbles out of him and not just because the other man is letting his thumb run over the head of his cock, rubbing against the slit, it's because... when did anyone last do something to ease Ichigo's worries, huh? He always has to do these things himself, with more or less success, because although he wins all his fights, the worries - they don't go away, do they? That he's doing enough. That he isn't.
Closing his eyes, he pushes his forehead in against Byakuya's shoulder, the hand that he pressed to his chest going from preventively keeping him at bay to closing, fingertips digging into skin and muscle, grabbing at him, pulling him closer. The handd in his hair slides up along the back of his head, digging into scalp and hair there as well.
He makes a thing moaning sound. Shut up, it's not a whimper, but it's exactly that weak. He's weak for Byakuya. He can be weak for him.
Hungrily, his hips push up against the other man's hand, into the slick heat of his palm. His muscles are tight and working, his chest rising shallowly, falling again. ]
He's doing that because Ichigo was fretting.
Ichigo's breathing stumbles out of him and not just because the other man is letting his thumb run over the head of his cock, rubbing against the slit, it's because... when did anyone last do something to ease Ichigo's worries, huh? He always has to do these things himself, with more or less success, because although he wins all his fights, the worries - they don't go away, do they? That he's doing enough. That he isn't.
Closing his eyes, he pushes his forehead in against Byakuya's shoulder, the hand that he pressed to his chest going from preventively keeping him at bay to closing, fingertips digging into skin and muscle, grabbing at him, pulling him closer. The handd in his hair slides up along the back of his head, digging into scalp and hair there as well.
He makes a thing moaning sound. Shut up, it's not a whimper, but it's exactly that weak. He's weak for Byakuya. He can be weak for him.
Hungrily, his hips push up against the other man's hand, into the slick heat of his palm. His muscles are tight and working, his chest rising shallowly, falling again. ]
[ Ichigo takes a moment to understand the barrier and its purpose and then, there is a transformation. It's difficult to describe what happens by any other term. Byakuya doesn't pause, keeps his wrist going slowly but evenly up and down as Ichigo melts against him, pushing his forehead against his shoulder and grasping at him with both hands. The sound he makes is thin and breathless. Vulnerable. That is indeed a hard state of mind - he thinks, perhaps, they both know in different ways. How difficult it can be.
When Ichigo pushes into his hand, he quickens the pace slightly in response. Folding his free hand against his back, he keeps him there, feeling the heat of his breath against his neck and the weight of his body. All of those things still feel foreign to him, foreign but innately sensible - like stepping outside in the breeze after spending a lifetime indoors, breathing the same, unchanging air. The fact that it's Ichigo and not anyone else feels equally sensible, if not more, though he can't begin to unravel the logic behind it. It has to do, he thinks, with a long journey, with criss-crossing paths and something that falls just the right amount of short of similarity.
More importantly, along the way, he has... Ichigo has taken a certain... shape within his mind. In the depths of his chest. Whether they did this or not, whether Ichigo decides tomorrow that he won't do it anymore, the shape remains edged as it is, as it has become. Of that, he's very certain, the constant nature of it.
When you consider the lifetime prospects of a Shinigami, such a constancy speaks volumes.
He works his cock faster and twists his other arm upwards, enough to grasp Ichigo by the back of his neck. It's not a strong grip, not just due to the awkwardness of the angle - rather, it's a hold and a suggestion. Lean against me, it says because really, like this, it's all he truly craves from him. The weight of him and the way it feels against his shoulders. ]
When Ichigo pushes into his hand, he quickens the pace slightly in response. Folding his free hand against his back, he keeps him there, feeling the heat of his breath against his neck and the weight of his body. All of those things still feel foreign to him, foreign but innately sensible - like stepping outside in the breeze after spending a lifetime indoors, breathing the same, unchanging air. The fact that it's Ichigo and not anyone else feels equally sensible, if not more, though he can't begin to unravel the logic behind it. It has to do, he thinks, with a long journey, with criss-crossing paths and something that falls just the right amount of short of similarity.
More importantly, along the way, he has... Ichigo has taken a certain... shape within his mind. In the depths of his chest. Whether they did this or not, whether Ichigo decides tomorrow that he won't do it anymore, the shape remains edged as it is, as it has become. Of that, he's very certain, the constant nature of it.
When you consider the lifetime prospects of a Shinigami, such a constancy speaks volumes.
He works his cock faster and twists his other arm upwards, enough to grasp Ichigo by the back of his neck. It's not a strong grip, not just due to the awkwardness of the angle - rather, it's a hold and a suggestion. Lean against me, it says because really, like this, it's all he truly craves from him. The weight of him and the way it feels against his shoulders. ]
[ He's done thinking about his work, all thoughts of the novel melting into the background as Byakuya strokes him through the intial stages of build-up, his balls feeling increasingly tight and burning. Ichigo is panting against him, both hands moving to the other man's neck as he's being urged forward, more into him by his own neck in turn. Ichigo more or less smashes his whole face into his shoulder, open-mouthed and breathing hard, dragging his teeth harshly across Byakuya's skin, leaving saliva and redness in his wake. His eyes continue to be closed. It's a strange form of non-darkness, dancing spots and white glimpses as he moves against the other man. His hips push forward repeatedly, taking the friction with desperate need.
Although he's been working towards the moment when they'd naturally see each other again, Byakuya's birthday, he's still missed him now. He's missed him in this moment and being with him like this, when he thought he'd have to stand the wait again, Ichigo almost can't take it.
Groaning loudly, thinking that he doesn't have to help himself anymore, he cups Byakuya's face from both sides, fingers following the elegant line of his jaw to his ears to where his hair's falling across his forehead in tendrils of black. He holds him blindly, feels the shape of him like an anchor. Here, he thinks, his climax building up fast now, he's here although he shouldn't be, and it means a lot of things in so many ways, he almost can't hold it all inside at once, in his head.
In the same blind way, he runs the fingers of his left hand over Byakuya's lips, just trailing their shape, then... gently, not forcing it, he nudges in between them slightly with his index and middle fingers, just to feel the heat of his body, how he accommodates.
It's that thought, as well as the physical feeling of his mouth, that makes it too much, suddenly. Moaning, pressing in against Byakuya in every place they touch, his fingers slipping into his mouth an inch more, his cock thrusts angrily into the other man's grip until, on the third push, he stiffens slightly, pulses, comes, sounding desperate and overwhelmed.
Clinging to him. ]
Although he's been working towards the moment when they'd naturally see each other again, Byakuya's birthday, he's still missed him now. He's missed him in this moment and being with him like this, when he thought he'd have to stand the wait again, Ichigo almost can't take it.
Groaning loudly, thinking that he doesn't have to help himself anymore, he cups Byakuya's face from both sides, fingers following the elegant line of his jaw to his ears to where his hair's falling across his forehead in tendrils of black. He holds him blindly, feels the shape of him like an anchor. Here, he thinks, his climax building up fast now, he's here although he shouldn't be, and it means a lot of things in so many ways, he almost can't hold it all inside at once, in his head.
In the same blind way, he runs the fingers of his left hand over Byakuya's lips, just trailing their shape, then... gently, not forcing it, he nudges in between them slightly with his index and middle fingers, just to feel the heat of his body, how he accommodates.
It's that thought, as well as the physical feeling of his mouth, that makes it too much, suddenly. Moaning, pressing in against Byakuya in every place they touch, his fingers slipping into his mouth an inch more, his cock thrusts angrily into the other man's grip until, on the third push, he stiffens slightly, pulses, comes, sounding desperate and overwhelmed.
Clinging to him. ]
[ The pace picks up. Ichigo's teeth scrape across his skin as he clings to him, breathing open-mouthed against his neck. With every push of his hips, Byakuya can sense the tension in his body rising, his own trying to respond in turn but slower, still. He leaves it as it is, perfectly content to simply fall asleep with Ichigo when he's done. He meets his thrusts, taking care not to break the rhythm. Ichigo groans loudly, having clearly put his trust in Byakuya's kido skills (anything else would, of course, have been deeply offensive).
When he frames Byakuya's face with both hands, Byakuya blinks and searches out his gaze through the darkness. The other man has his eyes closed, however, clearly focused inwards and there's something incredible about that idea - that now, as he falls inside himself, chasing his climax, he's pulling Byakuya along with him, turning inside and outside into meaningless concepts. It's as expected of him, of course. To change the world in every little way. Watching him, eyes just a little wide, feeling breathless all the way to his core, he keeps going, keeps pushing him onwards. When Ichigo runs his fingers across his lips, then nudges in, he parts his lips with a readiness that he doesn't quite recognise, letting him take up what space he wants.
When he comes, he pulses harshly between Byakuya's fingers, coating his knuckles and his own stomach. He's clinging to Byakuya all throughout, his fingertips pressing in just past his lips and as he reaches his peak, falls and tumbles over the edge, Byakuya keeps his hold on him. Only when he senses his climax abating does he release his grip on the back of his neck, reaching for Ichigo's wrist instead. His hand on his cock stills, falls away.
Gaze lowered, focused on Ichigo's hand and fingers, he sucks his middle and index fingers into his mouth further, all the way to the second knuckles, curling his tongue slightly around them. Somewhere between Ichigo grasping his face and his climax, his own cock has actually managed to awaken properly and it jerks a little between their bodies now as he tastes salt and skin. ]
When he frames Byakuya's face with both hands, Byakuya blinks and searches out his gaze through the darkness. The other man has his eyes closed, however, clearly focused inwards and there's something incredible about that idea - that now, as he falls inside himself, chasing his climax, he's pulling Byakuya along with him, turning inside and outside into meaningless concepts. It's as expected of him, of course. To change the world in every little way. Watching him, eyes just a little wide, feeling breathless all the way to his core, he keeps going, keeps pushing him onwards. When Ichigo runs his fingers across his lips, then nudges in, he parts his lips with a readiness that he doesn't quite recognise, letting him take up what space he wants.
When he comes, he pulses harshly between Byakuya's fingers, coating his knuckles and his own stomach. He's clinging to Byakuya all throughout, his fingertips pressing in just past his lips and as he reaches his peak, falls and tumbles over the edge, Byakuya keeps his hold on him. Only when he senses his climax abating does he release his grip on the back of his neck, reaching for Ichigo's wrist instead. His hand on his cock stills, falls away.
Gaze lowered, focused on Ichigo's hand and fingers, he sucks his middle and index fingers into his mouth further, all the way to the second knuckles, curling his tongue slightly around them. Somewhere between Ichigo grasping his face and his climax, his own cock has actually managed to awaken properly and it jerks a little between their bodies now as he tastes salt and skin. ]
[ Coming down from that orgasm feels like it takes forever, like he's floating and has to land properly, but Byakuya doesn't rush him, so Ichigo just lets himself take his time. When he finally regains a little awareness of himself again, his own body, Byakuya has released his slowly softening cock and refocused his attention on Ichigo's hand, sucking on his two fingers, really taking them in and licking at them with his tongue. Ichigo groans and pulls his fingers out of that hot, wet feel of suction with a wet pop, since he can feel Byakuya's cock jerking between them now, interested. In need.
Ichigo pushes himself up into a half-seated position, looking down at Byakuya in the dimness, his breathing still a bit rattling. ]
Just let me...
[ His bed might be narrow and Byakuya might take up more than his half of it right now, but Ichigo is agile and he manages to move around without kicking anyone in the head or, you know, worse, the nuts or something, crawling down until his head is on level with Byakuya's crotch. Ichigo nudges in against his groin with his nose, taking in the heavy scent of sweat and musk and arousal, his own body reacting almost immediately. Lying down like that, his butt more or less on eyelevel with the other man, he'll live, right, Ichigo can feel his mouth watering, making a wet, smacking sound of his lips before quite simply licking up the side of Byakuya's shaft, finding the most promient veins with his tongue, pressing against them. He could tell Byakuya, I'm gonna eat you now, but honestly... Should be obvious, shouldn't it?
Groaning loudly, feeling his own cum drying slowly on his stomach, he parts his lips wide, tucking away his teeth and sucking Byakuya's cock into his mouth, head-first. ]
Ichigo pushes himself up into a half-seated position, looking down at Byakuya in the dimness, his breathing still a bit rattling. ]
Just let me...
[ His bed might be narrow and Byakuya might take up more than his half of it right now, but Ichigo is agile and he manages to move around without kicking anyone in the head or, you know, worse, the nuts or something, crawling down until his head is on level with Byakuya's crotch. Ichigo nudges in against his groin with his nose, taking in the heavy scent of sweat and musk and arousal, his own body reacting almost immediately. Lying down like that, his butt more or less on eyelevel with the other man, he'll live, right, Ichigo can feel his mouth watering, making a wet, smacking sound of his lips before quite simply licking up the side of Byakuya's shaft, finding the most promient veins with his tongue, pressing against them. He could tell Byakuya, I'm gonna eat you now, but honestly... Should be obvious, shouldn't it?
Groaning loudly, feeling his own cum drying slowly on his stomach, he parts his lips wide, tucking away his teeth and sucking Byakuya's cock into his mouth, head-first. ]
[ Ichigo takes his fingers back and moves, as he does, always moving. Byakuya blinks at the sudden shifting about, moving a little as Ichigo does, legs and lower bodies, until the man's facing downwards. Like this, the other man more or less has his face in Byakuya's crotch which in itself - oh - but then, there's the additional fact(s) staring Byakuya in the face from the side; when he glances askance, he sees cock and balls and the sharp lines of muscle running along Ichigo's lower back and hips. His arse, just a bit further up.
Before he can even begin to appreciate the view properly, Ichigo leans down close and licks his cock, pushing against the sensitive veins along the shaft. Gasping loudly, fighting to regain his footing, Byakuya reaches down with one, slightly trembling hand to grasp Ichigo's hair, fingers pulling harshly for maybe half a second before he gathers himself somewhat and turns his grip into a hold. He shifts a little, the sudden heat and pressure around the head of his cock making him feel almost dizzy from a mix of genuine, bone-deep exhaustion and a very persistent state of sexual arousal. Gods, what an odd combination.
He's not here to complain about it, however.
Swallowing, he lies there for a moment, feeling Ichigo's mouth around his cock, so wet and tight. Trying to be gentle, he pushes inwards just a little, slowly, getting that sense of slide. It's good, he thinks, still lightheaded, to feel something besides tiredness. Something this nice, too.
On a whim, feeling incapable of planning ahead right now, he pops his fingers - thumb, index finger, forefinger - into his own mouth and wets them thoroughly, breath catching in this throat at the feel of it. Combined with Ichigo's mouth on him, it's almost too much stimulation at once and so, he finishes quickly, slipping his fingers in between Ichigo's legs instead. He presses his thumb flatly against the soft area behind his balls, avoiding his cock for now so as not to make him uncomfortable. Instead, he draws his thumb upwards, up between his buttocks and presses the whole pad of his finger against his arsehole, feeling the tip slip inside very slightly. He groans. Spreads out his hand across Ichigo's arse, gripping with his fingertips, and pushing his thumb slowly but firmly inside of him all the way to the last knuckle. ]
Before he can even begin to appreciate the view properly, Ichigo leans down close and licks his cock, pushing against the sensitive veins along the shaft. Gasping loudly, fighting to regain his footing, Byakuya reaches down with one, slightly trembling hand to grasp Ichigo's hair, fingers pulling harshly for maybe half a second before he gathers himself somewhat and turns his grip into a hold. He shifts a little, the sudden heat and pressure around the head of his cock making him feel almost dizzy from a mix of genuine, bone-deep exhaustion and a very persistent state of sexual arousal. Gods, what an odd combination.
He's not here to complain about it, however.
Swallowing, he lies there for a moment, feeling Ichigo's mouth around his cock, so wet and tight. Trying to be gentle, he pushes inwards just a little, slowly, getting that sense of slide. It's good, he thinks, still lightheaded, to feel something besides tiredness. Something this nice, too.
On a whim, feeling incapable of planning ahead right now, he pops his fingers - thumb, index finger, forefinger - into his own mouth and wets them thoroughly, breath catching in this throat at the feel of it. Combined with Ichigo's mouth on him, it's almost too much stimulation at once and so, he finishes quickly, slipping his fingers in between Ichigo's legs instead. He presses his thumb flatly against the soft area behind his balls, avoiding his cock for now so as not to make him uncomfortable. Instead, he draws his thumb upwards, up between his buttocks and presses the whole pad of his finger against his arsehole, feeling the tip slip inside very slightly. He groans. Spreads out his hand across Ichigo's arse, gripping with his fingertips, and pushing his thumb slowly but firmly inside of him all the way to the last knuckle. ]
[ Byakuya tastes, pretty simply, of cock and precum and salt and sweat, smells like those same things, too, but underneath the basic stuff, there's a deeper scent and taste, something uniquely him that you'd think, over the course of a month, Ichigo would forget, but apparently close to 12 hours in a hotel room and nowhere to be does something to chisel certain details into your memory. He revels in it now. He has honestly missed it. He doesn't even want to think about what that means, it's just good... to have Byakuya here with him, so close that Ichigo's mouth is full of him, the head of his cock huge between his lips, on his tongue, as he laps at it again and again, keeping Byakuya's cock angled outwards towards himself with one hand, covering all the length he isn't taking into his mouth.
His hand slides easily up and down it, though. His spit's doing the work. Ichigo moans around his mouthful as Byakuya yanks on his hair, then quickly smoothens it into a hold which is fine, it feels good, but he liked the show of impatience, too, right? Knowing Byakuya can be like that as well.
So, when the other man begins pushing inward slightly, getting the slide of his tongue and lips, Ichigo meets him eagerly, copying his rhythm and bobbing his head at the same time to let him feel like he's sliding in far, although Ichigo still keeps it shallow, because he's not too sure about how freakin' long Byakuya's cock is and how much mouth he himself has got. Shit. He sucks on him loudly, wet noises, his hand keeping up the jerking simultaneously.
The sensation of Byakuya's wet fingers skirting behind his balls, heading for his ass, makes Ichigo's breath catch in his throat and he shifts about a bit for a moment, trying to find the easiest angle, but Byakuya covers that part without any trouble, just flattening his hand over his buttocks and pressing his slicked-up thumb into Ichigo's ass, his asshole giving without resistance. It still feels tight and presses in all the best places - Byakuya has long fingers, a thick thumb, big, Ichigo's thigh muscles tighten convulsively.
He makes a choked sound, his asshole contracting slightly and his balls drawing up. It's been, what, two minutes, and Ichigo's cock is fighting to get half-hard.
Like always, with fights, all fights, Ichigo's gonna win it. ]
His hand slides easily up and down it, though. His spit's doing the work. Ichigo moans around his mouthful as Byakuya yanks on his hair, then quickly smoothens it into a hold which is fine, it feels good, but he liked the show of impatience, too, right? Knowing Byakuya can be like that as well.
So, when the other man begins pushing inward slightly, getting the slide of his tongue and lips, Ichigo meets him eagerly, copying his rhythm and bobbing his head at the same time to let him feel like he's sliding in far, although Ichigo still keeps it shallow, because he's not too sure about how freakin' long Byakuya's cock is and how much mouth he himself has got. Shit. He sucks on him loudly, wet noises, his hand keeping up the jerking simultaneously.
The sensation of Byakuya's wet fingers skirting behind his balls, heading for his ass, makes Ichigo's breath catch in his throat and he shifts about a bit for a moment, trying to find the easiest angle, but Byakuya covers that part without any trouble, just flattening his hand over his buttocks and pressing his slicked-up thumb into Ichigo's ass, his asshole giving without resistance. It still feels tight and presses in all the best places - Byakuya has long fingers, a thick thumb, big, Ichigo's thigh muscles tighten convulsively.
He makes a choked sound, his asshole contracting slightly and his balls drawing up. It's been, what, two minutes, and Ichigo's cock is fighting to get half-hard.
Like always, with fights, all fights, Ichigo's gonna win it. ]
[ His climax builds gradually tonight, like all the matter in his body has become determined to take everything slowly, up to and including the muscles and chemicals required for an orgasm. It would be infuriating if he wasn't so close to coming - as it is, he just lets himself flow with the stream of pleasure, eyes falling shut as he pushes up into Ichigo's mouth, into his slick palm. It feels - it feels - his hand stilling momentarily against Ichigo's arse, thumb hooked inside of him, he gasps and grasps Ichigo's hair hard enough that he's definitely pulling, most definitely. It washes over him then, drowns out the tiredness for what feels like many seconds, his eyes closed and his breathing stumbling from his lips.
He spends himself in Ichigo's mouth. At this point, he thinks the other man ought to simply pull away in time if he doesn't want to swallow - it doesn't seem to bother either of them and when he's busy climaxing, Byakuya certainly isn't going to invent a new problem to get stuck on. Instead, he twists a little against the mattress, hips thrusting upwards as his cock pulses harshly, thrusting in far enough that he can feel himself hitting the roof of Ichigo's mouth.
Gasping, he slumps down on his back again. He forces his eyes open, forces himself to think past the pleasure currently settling in his body. It feels like weight, blooming from inside his very bones. He doesn't want to move but when he glances sideways, he can see that Ichigo's cock is half-hard, his arsehole still clenched around his finger, and no matter how tired he is, he certainly isn't going to leave him wanting when he's already taken his time, his presence and his body.
Blinking harshly, he sits up partially unto his elbow (careful not to push his cock upwards into Ichigo's face - nose, mouth, either way, it sounds unpleasant). From there, all he needs to do is turn his head, ignore his hair getting everywhere and coax Ichigo's cock into his mouth with his tongue. He tilts his chin, angling himself, and slides the head of his cock between his lips, allows it to fill his mouth. It takes up all the space in there or so it seems. He closes his eyes and pulls out his thumb, adding his middle finger instead and pushing it inwards, seeking out his prostate blindly and finding it with ease.
He knows him inside and out, to an extent. The thought makes him want to smile.
Instead, he sucks on Ichigo's cock sloppily, saliva dripping onto the mattress. He frees his hand from Ichigo's hair and folds it around the shaft, angling him down to take him in just a bit further and presses his fingertip against his prostate, repeatedly, moving his finger back and forth. ]
He spends himself in Ichigo's mouth. At this point, he thinks the other man ought to simply pull away in time if he doesn't want to swallow - it doesn't seem to bother either of them and when he's busy climaxing, Byakuya certainly isn't going to invent a new problem to get stuck on. Instead, he twists a little against the mattress, hips thrusting upwards as his cock pulses harshly, thrusting in far enough that he can feel himself hitting the roof of Ichigo's mouth.
Gasping, he slumps down on his back again. He forces his eyes open, forces himself to think past the pleasure currently settling in his body. It feels like weight, blooming from inside his very bones. He doesn't want to move but when he glances sideways, he can see that Ichigo's cock is half-hard, his arsehole still clenched around his finger, and no matter how tired he is, he certainly isn't going to leave him wanting when he's already taken his time, his presence and his body.
Blinking harshly, he sits up partially unto his elbow (careful not to push his cock upwards into Ichigo's face - nose, mouth, either way, it sounds unpleasant). From there, all he needs to do is turn his head, ignore his hair getting everywhere and coax Ichigo's cock into his mouth with his tongue. He tilts his chin, angling himself, and slides the head of his cock between his lips, allows it to fill his mouth. It takes up all the space in there or so it seems. He closes his eyes and pulls out his thumb, adding his middle finger instead and pushing it inwards, seeking out his prostate blindly and finding it with ease.
He knows him inside and out, to an extent. The thought makes him want to smile.
Instead, he sucks on Ichigo's cock sloppily, saliva dripping onto the mattress. He frees his hand from Ichigo's hair and folds it around the shaft, angling him down to take him in just a bit further and presses his fingertip against his prostate, repeatedly, moving his finger back and forth. ]
[ Fucking almost non-stop for half a day in a hotel room downtown has kinda convinced Ichigo that he actually really likes the feeling of a cock coming in his mouth, he's not gonna dismiss the fat chance that it's because that cock is Byakuya's, but under any circumstances, he likes it. He likes it now as well, as Byakuya thrusts in far enough that the head of his cock pushes up against the roof of his mouth, although he normally prefers to keep it more shallow. When a guy is coming, you gotta give him liberties, right? So he sucks and sucks until the first spurts hits his tongue, then he swallows and swallows, slobbering loudly and groaning all the while, because Byakuya has a freakin' finger in his ass and he's getting hard again within the span of five minutes. Give him a break!
Pulling off Byakuya's cock less than elegantly, lots of spit and residual cum everywhere, when the man stops thrusting and his cock starts losing hardness, Ichigo is about to sit up and look down at what Byakuya is doing, but Byakuya manages to move first, sucking Ichigo's hardening cock into his mouth, the sensitivity through the roof and he audibly gasps, collapsing back on his side. Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.
Hands slick from spit and cum, Ichigo reaches down and buries his fingers in Byakuya's hair, caring exactly zero about how he's getting all that junk in his black strands. He yanks, really yanks, twisting and moaning loudly as the other man starts working his cock with his mouth, sucking on it for real - while he adds another finger to the first, hitting him directly in the prostate, not just once, or twice, or three times.
He keeps doing it.
Ichigo's body feels suddenly very weak and all his muscles are angrily tightening, relaxing, tightening again... Shit. It comes out as more of a shout, his hips bucking forward, pushing without any of his usual restraint into Byakuya's mouth. He will have to deal or stop doing... that... thing... Ichigo pants harshly, twisting his fingers in his hair and trying to control himself better on his second try. He was hard in two seconds. Now, he's about ten seconds from coming again, already. ]
Byakuya. [ He sounds desperate. And hoarse. And out of breath. ] I'm gonna... you gotta... please...
[ The sounds are lewd. Good thing the barrier holds or he'd be ashamed of doing this in the same house his sisters sleep. Screwing his eyes shut, Ichigo pushes simultaneously forward, gentler, into Byakuya's mouth and pushes back against his fingers, freakin' milking him for the rest.
His whole body is trembling. Tangibly. He's shaking. ]
Pulling off Byakuya's cock less than elegantly, lots of spit and residual cum everywhere, when the man stops thrusting and his cock starts losing hardness, Ichigo is about to sit up and look down at what Byakuya is doing, but Byakuya manages to move first, sucking Ichigo's hardening cock into his mouth, the sensitivity through the roof and he audibly gasps, collapsing back on his side. Oh. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.
Hands slick from spit and cum, Ichigo reaches down and buries his fingers in Byakuya's hair, caring exactly zero about how he's getting all that junk in his black strands. He yanks, really yanks, twisting and moaning loudly as the other man starts working his cock with his mouth, sucking on it for real - while he adds another finger to the first, hitting him directly in the prostate, not just once, or twice, or three times.
He keeps doing it.
Ichigo's body feels suddenly very weak and all his muscles are angrily tightening, relaxing, tightening again... Shit. It comes out as more of a shout, his hips bucking forward, pushing without any of his usual restraint into Byakuya's mouth. He will have to deal or stop doing... that... thing... Ichigo pants harshly, twisting his fingers in his hair and trying to control himself better on his second try. He was hard in two seconds. Now, he's about ten seconds from coming again, already. ]
Byakuya. [ He sounds desperate. And hoarse. And out of breath. ] I'm gonna... you gotta... please...
[ The sounds are lewd. Good thing the barrier holds or he'd be ashamed of doing this in the same house his sisters sleep. Screwing his eyes shut, Ichigo pushes simultaneously forward, gentler, into Byakuya's mouth and pushes back against his fingers, freakin' milking him for the rest.
His whole body is trembling. Tangibly. He's shaking. ]
[ He feels more than sees how Ichigo collapses onto his side. Seconds later, there are hands grasping his hair, pulling it roughly, a desperate hold, like the other man's on the verge of falling. He thrusts into Byakuya's mouth, his cock suddenly filling him up to a much greater degree and he has to breathe though his nose to avoid gagging in response, mostly from the suddenness of it. Once his body catches up, it's fine. He closes his eyes and lets Ichigo push into him, pushing into him in turn, fingers pumping into his arse faster now, meeting Ichigo whenever he pushes back against them. It feels like wildness, this, like a storm raging between their bodies. With Ichigo, things are intense, always. It's the kind of person that he is, even when he's quiet, even when he stays away for weeks on end to work, even then.
With Ichigo, even the stillness is loud.
Byakuya doesn't want to think about how much he... appreciates that aspect of him. Not now and preferably not later, either. All feelings are one's own to handle, to deal with and to subjugate. It's nobody's problem but his own and he won't give in to them. It's enough, surely, that he's here when Ichigo wanted to be working, that he gets to feel him fall apart against him, inside him. It's more than enough. On the next thrust into his mouth, Byakuya flattens his hand against Ichigo's arse, keeping his middle finger lodged inside him. Then, deploying what strength he can with his pitiful body, he pushes Ichigo inwards, keeps him firmly buried in his mouth.
Like that, he sucks him, again and again. He's trembling against him, shaking. Seconds earlier, he was pleading, speaking his name in that particular way of his, one that Byakuya has memorized. He wants him to come like this, to give himself over again. Byakuya can be greedy when it suits him.
When the time is right. ]
With Ichigo, even the stillness is loud.
Byakuya doesn't want to think about how much he... appreciates that aspect of him. Not now and preferably not later, either. All feelings are one's own to handle, to deal with and to subjugate. It's nobody's problem but his own and he won't give in to them. It's enough, surely, that he's here when Ichigo wanted to be working, that he gets to feel him fall apart against him, inside him. It's more than enough. On the next thrust into his mouth, Byakuya flattens his hand against Ichigo's arse, keeping his middle finger lodged inside him. Then, deploying what strength he can with his pitiful body, he pushes Ichigo inwards, keeps him firmly buried in his mouth.
Like that, he sucks him, again and again. He's trembling against him, shaking. Seconds earlier, he was pleading, speaking his name in that particular way of his, one that Byakuya has memorized. He wants him to come like this, to give himself over again. Byakuya can be greedy when it suits him.
When the time is right. ]
[ If he had any brain left for work after the first time, and that was pretty doubtful on its own, really, the second time is definitely eating up the rest. Ichigo's grunting and moaning, little stupid sounds, as Byakuya pumps into his ass with his finger, fucking into him rhythmically, while sucking on his cock, too, for every time Ichigo thrusts into the tight, wet heat of his mouth. He's coming apart a little at it. His hands in the other man's hair are shaking and his hold is a grip so tight, he feels the strands tighten and yank on Byakuya's scalp. Sorry about that... Sorry... Oh...
Then, Byakuya flattens his hand against Ichigo's ass, lodging him against his face with his finger buried and hooked inside of him while he sucks-sucks-sucks-sucks on Ichigo's cock, holding him in his mouth and just working it. Ichigo's cock is so sensitive, come on, his last orgasm was five minutes ago!, that every surge of pleasure feels burning and overwhelming and he buries his face in against his own upper arm, his sounds loud and insistent. It's building fast, his hips working desperately, little shaky, shivering thrusts, until the next one breaks on him like a freakin' wave.
Stiffening slightly, his breathing comes out in loud gasps, then - suddenly, when it peaks, when it's so good that he can't actually see for it - Ichigo actually, at the edge of his awareness, hears himself shout, his cock pulsing and his asshole contracting harshly around Byakuya's finger, again and again. He doesn't spurt a lot of cum, it was like he was dry to begin with, but the feeling sits in his body long after even so.
He collapses, boneless, both hands in Byakuya's bangs, pushing them mindlessly out of his face while he finds his way back into himself. It takes a couple of seconds. Byakuya's got them covered until then, literally and figuratively. Ichigo trusts him. After this, he'd trust him with anything, to be honest.
What to do with that thought, he's got no idea. It just feels right. ]
Then, Byakuya flattens his hand against Ichigo's ass, lodging him against his face with his finger buried and hooked inside of him while he sucks-sucks-sucks-sucks on Ichigo's cock, holding him in his mouth and just working it. Ichigo's cock is so sensitive, come on, his last orgasm was five minutes ago!, that every surge of pleasure feels burning and overwhelming and he buries his face in against his own upper arm, his sounds loud and insistent. It's building fast, his hips working desperately, little shaky, shivering thrusts, until the next one breaks on him like a freakin' wave.
Stiffening slightly, his breathing comes out in loud gasps, then - suddenly, when it peaks, when it's so good that he can't actually see for it - Ichigo actually, at the edge of his awareness, hears himself shout, his cock pulsing and his asshole contracting harshly around Byakuya's finger, again and again. He doesn't spurt a lot of cum, it was like he was dry to begin with, but the feeling sits in his body long after even so.
He collapses, boneless, both hands in Byakuya's bangs, pushing them mindlessly out of his face while he finds his way back into himself. It takes a couple of seconds. Byakuya's got them covered until then, literally and figuratively. Ichigo trusts him. After this, he'd trust him with anything, to be honest.
What to do with that thought, he's got no idea. It just feels right. ]
[ Ichigo comes with a shout, thrusting desperately into his mouth, his arsehole clenching rhythmically around his finger as he spends himself on Byakuya's tongue. He swallows a couple of times, the taste of salt heavy in the back of his mouth. When he finally pulls off the other man, slipping his finger out gently and feeling his body contract in response, he stays as he is for a moment. Ichigo's grip on his hair has gentled some; he's fairly certain the man must have strands stuck to his fingers, though, with how hard he pulled. He's left a pleasant tingling sensation along his scalp, just on the right side of burning - Byakuya closes his eyes and leans his head against Ichigo's thigh, breathing in his scent; sweat and musk and cum in the shades of him. Right now, it feels exactly as familiar as he'd like it. He could probably go to sleep with the other man's cock close to bumping his nose which speaks volumes as to how tired he is.
Yes, they can do better than that, surely, even as spent as they are.
Shifting sideways, his limbs very nearly refusing to cooperate, Byakuya turns on his side slowly. Around them, the barrier flickers as he moves. His control feels a bit like hanging onto a cliffside with your fingertips - it's stubbornness keeping that barrier in place more so than anything else at this point. Sighing deeply, he pokes Ichigo none-too-gently in the hip a few times and closes his eyes. ]
Come.
[ Don't make me move, it means because Ichigo might've come twice but Byakuya's been on the verge of falling asleep for the past twelve hours straight and his body is, admittedly, done with him. With a decent rest, the tiredness will pass as it always does - these... fits, whatever they are, they are barely an inconvenience at the worst of times. It's just how things are.
Ichigo will have to deal with it.
If nothing else, it should be a minor physical feat for a man such as him - to make the arduous journey from lying with his head in the wrong direction and back to normal. There's a half-smile tugging at his lips now at the thought, at the knowledge that the other man will no doubt get all huffy about his request and then, join him all the same - and Byakuya doesn't have (can't find) the energy to repress it. ]
Yes, they can do better than that, surely, even as spent as they are.
Shifting sideways, his limbs very nearly refusing to cooperate, Byakuya turns on his side slowly. Around them, the barrier flickers as he moves. His control feels a bit like hanging onto a cliffside with your fingertips - it's stubbornness keeping that barrier in place more so than anything else at this point. Sighing deeply, he pokes Ichigo none-too-gently in the hip a few times and closes his eyes. ]
Come.
[ Don't make me move, it means because Ichigo might've come twice but Byakuya's been on the verge of falling asleep for the past twelve hours straight and his body is, admittedly, done with him. With a decent rest, the tiredness will pass as it always does - these... fits, whatever they are, they are barely an inconvenience at the worst of times. It's just how things are.
Ichigo will have to deal with it.
If nothing else, it should be a minor physical feat for a man such as him - to make the arduous journey from lying with his head in the wrong direction and back to normal. There's a half-smile tugging at his lips now at the thought, at the knowledge that the other man will no doubt get all huffy about his request and then, join him all the same - and Byakuya doesn't have (can't find) the energy to repress it. ]
[ It's more than just being collapsed or wiped or anything like that, the way his body feels drained to the innermost of him reminds him more of certain times during battle when close to defeat, carrying on just from sheer need, from pure power of will. Ichigo feels his chest heaving slowly, rising up, falling down, as he stares out into the dim shadows of Byakuya's body, where he dips and rises. The shape of him. Groaning low in his throat, he can't even really imagine moving, right? That would be asking too much.
Byakuya asks anyway, nudging him in his hip and saying, come.
Cracking one eye open slowly, Ichigo raises his head and looks down towards the direction of his own feet where Byakuya disappears into the shadows. His grunt clearly betrays his irritation at being disturbed in what would definitely be the greatest sleep of all time, more of a discontent huff than anything else. Isn't it typical that man, in one word asking others to move around him? Rather than asking nicely and getting everyone else on board with the idea?
At first, Ichigo doesn't sit up at all, he remains stubbornly where he is, too tired to do anything more, really, and saying in a low mutter: ]
Shouldn't you come here, huh? I just -- [ Came twice for you, he wants to continue, but the words die out and he remembers the tiredness in Byakuya's gaze earlier, that bone-deep exhaustion visible in his eyes.
Ichigo breathes in. Out. Then, he grunts again and gets up on one arm, unceremoniously shifting about on his hip until he's turning the other way around, only narrowly missing giving Byakuya a knee in the groin, which he would've deserved, that bastard, and not misssing bumping his side with his elbow. He doesn't apologise. Lying down halfway on top of the man must be apology enough. ] -- you better be happy now.
[ He doesn't sound discontent himself, to be honest, slinging his arm across Byakuya's midriff and poking his nose into his neck. everything stinks like sex.
His dad better now come wake them up tomorrow. Ichigo's gonna murder him. Byakuya needs to rest. ]
Byakuya asks anyway, nudging him in his hip and saying, come.
Cracking one eye open slowly, Ichigo raises his head and looks down towards the direction of his own feet where Byakuya disappears into the shadows. His grunt clearly betrays his irritation at being disturbed in what would definitely be the greatest sleep of all time, more of a discontent huff than anything else. Isn't it typical that man, in one word asking others to move around him? Rather than asking nicely and getting everyone else on board with the idea?
At first, Ichigo doesn't sit up at all, he remains stubbornly where he is, too tired to do anything more, really, and saying in a low mutter: ]
Shouldn't you come here, huh? I just -- [ Came twice for you, he wants to continue, but the words die out and he remembers the tiredness in Byakuya's gaze earlier, that bone-deep exhaustion visible in his eyes.
Ichigo breathes in. Out. Then, he grunts again and gets up on one arm, unceremoniously shifting about on his hip until he's turning the other way around, only narrowly missing giving Byakuya a knee in the groin, which he would've deserved, that bastard, and not misssing bumping his side with his elbow. He doesn't apologise. Lying down halfway on top of the man must be apology enough. ] -- you better be happy now.
[ He doesn't sound discontent himself, to be honest, slinging his arm across Byakuya's midriff and poking his nose into his neck. everything stinks like sex.
His dad better now come wake them up tomorrow. Ichigo's gonna murder him. Byakuya needs to rest. ]
[ A blank message with an attached photo (!) of the koi pond in Byakuya's private garden, taken at an angle. Immediately to his left, one can make out the stone bench carrying Masaki's flowers, the small vase sprouting three, purple tree peonies. It's early evening and the soft light comes from the lantern currently sitting by his feet. It's a very advanced photo, all things considered - he's actually been crouching down somewhat to take it and everything. ]
Thanks again. For the flowers.
[ And to thank the other man properly, have a photo, taken from somewhere above his head, his arm completely extended to get as much of him into the frame as possible. Ichigo is in a changing room at his local gym, hair still wet from his shower and his chest bare, some droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His jeans are hugging his hips and waist, framing him in from beneath. His legs are out of frame.
He's smiling, sharply. It's only a little bit of a challenge. He misses Byakuya, these days. Thinking about him all the time, as he works on the translation which is coming along okay. He wants the other man to miss as well. ]
[ And to thank the other man properly, have a photo, taken from somewhere above his head, his arm completely extended to get as much of him into the frame as possible. Ichigo is in a changing room at his local gym, hair still wet from his shower and his chest bare, some droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His jeans are hugging his hips and waist, framing him in from beneath. His legs are out of frame.
He's smiling, sharply. It's only a little bit of a challenge. He misses Byakuya, these days. Thinking about him all the time, as he works on the translation which is coming along okay. He wants the other man to miss as well. ]
[ If he had expected a reply to his shirtless selfie, Ichigo doesn't get one. Not that he's gonna take it personally or anything, but still he's slow to get dressed and pack up his stuff, checking his phone regularly all throughout. It's still pretty early on in the evening, when he gets home, he'll have at least a handful of hours to finish the chapter he's proof-reading right now. He's actually got a rough draft of the whole translation finished, but it needs editing and the works now, of course, before he starts looking for a place to have the thing printed. Yuu has said he'll illustrate the cover. It's gonna look nice.
For Byakuya.
Byakuya, the bastard, who receives a shirtless picture and proceeds to do nothing. If he hasn't gone off to wank or something, Ichigo is gonna beat up his ass. Ichigo huffs as he moves through the gym, quietly and withdrawn, no one greets him, although they all know who he is, the guy with the orange hair, about to head out into the streets again. It was a brief workout tonight. Shirtless selfie was the best thing to come of it, too.
Ichigo frowns.
Then, he comes to a complete halt, turning his head slowly and looking towards the spot where the vending machines are kept along with the small collection of chairs and tables, to catch a break at, though they're only sparingly used. It's in use now, however. Byakuya is sitting there, dressed nicely in his gigai and ignoring the cup of tea he seems to have pulled from the machine. Yeah, he must really hate that. Ichigo remains rooted to the spot for another couple of seconds, then he walks over and places himself right up in the other man's personal space, frown deepening. ]
Hey, you can't not reply to that kind of picture. What was I gonna think, that you didn't like it, that -- [ His voice drops in volume into a hoarse mutter, and he really hopes the blush creeping across the bridge of his nose isn't too evident. ] -- you really, really liked it or?? Byakuya.
[ He's irritated, sure, but most of all he's extremely happy to see him. Beats a text back anyway. ]
For Byakuya.
Byakuya, the bastard, who receives a shirtless picture and proceeds to do nothing. If he hasn't gone off to wank or something, Ichigo is gonna beat up his ass. Ichigo huffs as he moves through the gym, quietly and withdrawn, no one greets him, although they all know who he is, the guy with the orange hair, about to head out into the streets again. It was a brief workout tonight. Shirtless selfie was the best thing to come of it, too.
Ichigo frowns.
Then, he comes to a complete halt, turning his head slowly and looking towards the spot where the vending machines are kept along with the small collection of chairs and tables, to catch a break at, though they're only sparingly used. It's in use now, however. Byakuya is sitting there, dressed nicely in his gigai and ignoring the cup of tea he seems to have pulled from the machine. Yeah, he must really hate that. Ichigo remains rooted to the spot for another couple of seconds, then he walks over and places himself right up in the other man's personal space, frown deepening. ]
Hey, you can't not reply to that kind of picture. What was I gonna think, that you didn't like it, that -- [ His voice drops in volume into a hoarse mutter, and he really hopes the blush creeping across the bridge of his nose isn't too evident. ] -- you really, really liked it or?? Byakuya.
[ He's irritated, sure, but most of all he's extremely happy to see him. Beats a text back anyway. ]
[ When he'd sent off that picture on his phone - on a whim, mostly, once he'd discovered the function and made just a few trial attempts - he had most definitely not expected to get a picture back of Ichigo without most of his clothes on, his hair clinging to his face, water gleaming on his skin. He'd been training, clearly; his muscles stood out in that particular way that happens when you've given your body a proper work-through. Either way, Byakuya had spent less than ten minutes on freeing himself from his few remaining responsibilities for the evening (by finishing everything faster than lightning) and then, obviously, he'd... well.
He'd come straight here.
It's been a month. To have him suddenly so thoroughly in front of him, yet so far away and out of reach - that had been intolerable. He hadn't even considered taking the time to return his text; though he's certainly improving, as would be expected, he still takes too long to write on that tiny screen, his fingertips stumbling half of the time. It never fails to annoy him and at that moment, with the thought and sight of Ichigo's half-naked body seemingly fused to his mind, he'd had no patience for such inadequacy whatsoever.
Now, though, with Ichigo standing in front of him and looking equal parts irritated and abashed, he wonders whether it wasn't perhaps a bit... inconsiderate on his part. To effectively leave him hanging like this. He'd thought it was obvious, really, that he'd like it. That he'd like it too much to stay away, even.
Getting to his feet and ignoring the tea - abysmal, he could tell without even trying a single sip; someone else will have to clean it away, he's not touching it any further - he pauses like that, the distance between their bodies very short, nearly but not quite annulled. He could touch him now, if he wanted to. If Ichigo wanted him to. His hand actually twitches forward visibly before he aborts the motion. ]
I will remember in the future. To tell you exactly what I think about such pictures.
[ He meets Ichigo's eyes directly. His voice remains even, though there might be a small, near-invisible flush crawling up the sides of his nose. He'd looked very enticing, yes. Very. ]
So please keep sending them.
He'd come straight here.
It's been a month. To have him suddenly so thoroughly in front of him, yet so far away and out of reach - that had been intolerable. He hadn't even considered taking the time to return his text; though he's certainly improving, as would be expected, he still takes too long to write on that tiny screen, his fingertips stumbling half of the time. It never fails to annoy him and at that moment, with the thought and sight of Ichigo's half-naked body seemingly fused to his mind, he'd had no patience for such inadequacy whatsoever.
Now, though, with Ichigo standing in front of him and looking equal parts irritated and abashed, he wonders whether it wasn't perhaps a bit... inconsiderate on his part. To effectively leave him hanging like this. He'd thought it was obvious, really, that he'd like it. That he'd like it too much to stay away, even.
Getting to his feet and ignoring the tea - abysmal, he could tell without even trying a single sip; someone else will have to clean it away, he's not touching it any further - he pauses like that, the distance between their bodies very short, nearly but not quite annulled. He could touch him now, if he wanted to. If Ichigo wanted him to. His hand actually twitches forward visibly before he aborts the motion. ]
I will remember in the future. To tell you exactly what I think about such pictures.
[ He meets Ichigo's eyes directly. His voice remains even, though there might be a small, near-invisible flush crawling up the sides of his nose. He'd looked very enticing, yes. Very. ]
So please keep sending them.
[ So please keep sending them, Byakuya says, blushing, actually visible spots on his cheeks. Ichigo shuffles his feet a bit, suddenly extremely aware of how close they're standing, the way they're both breathing at the same time, Byakuya's hand jerking forward towards him. He doesn't care that they're probably being watched, there's no one here he couldn't beat the living crap out of anyway, but he cares that they're in a place Ichigo can't really imagine them fucking in, right?
They need to get out of here.
He wants to jump him, pretty much.
So, he reaches out and grabs Byakuya around the wrist and, in an impressive show of multi-tasking, turns around, swinging his bag over his other shoulder without getting the other man in the face with it, dragging him along unceremoniously. ]
Later. Right now, it shouldn't be necessary, right?
[ Glancing at Byakuya over one shoulder, he quirks an eyebrow slightly, it's not mocking, just mildly teasing. His skin is warm to the touch, his gigai's fine, too, huh. ]
Just get my shirt off and you've got the real thing.
[ All the while, he doesn't let go of the other man's wrist, fingers locked around the thinnest place, where he can sense bone and flesh and skin and all the stuff that wasn't there, back then. He tightens his grip slightly, looks ahead again and quite simply proceeds to drag Byakuya towards the exit.
Still, it's a light hold. If Byakuya wants to break out of it, he can, Ichigo is only forcing him along because he's so freakin' eager to get them alone, whatever degree of it he can get that isn't his whole local gym staring their way while they try to keep just a tiny bit of themselves private. Reserved to each other.
They can't even go home to Ichigo's house. Yuzu has her friends staying over. His dad's already sweating, just at those prospects. He'd get an aneurism or something, if Byakuya showed up, too. ]
They need to get out of here.
He wants to jump him, pretty much.
So, he reaches out and grabs Byakuya around the wrist and, in an impressive show of multi-tasking, turns around, swinging his bag over his other shoulder without getting the other man in the face with it, dragging him along unceremoniously. ]
Later. Right now, it shouldn't be necessary, right?
[ Glancing at Byakuya over one shoulder, he quirks an eyebrow slightly, it's not mocking, just mildly teasing. His skin is warm to the touch, his gigai's fine, too, huh. ]
Just get my shirt off and you've got the real thing.
[ All the while, he doesn't let go of the other man's wrist, fingers locked around the thinnest place, where he can sense bone and flesh and skin and all the stuff that wasn't there, back then. He tightens his grip slightly, looks ahead again and quite simply proceeds to drag Byakuya towards the exit.
Still, it's a light hold. If Byakuya wants to break out of it, he can, Ichigo is only forcing him along because he's so freakin' eager to get them alone, whatever degree of it he can get that isn't his whole local gym staring their way while they try to keep just a tiny bit of themselves private. Reserved to each other.
They can't even go home to Ichigo's house. Yuzu has her friends staying over. His dad's already sweating, just at those prospects. He'd get an aneurism or something, if Byakuya showed up, too. ]
[ They go from standing still to action with a fluency that characterises Ichigo, seemingly to his core - from one moment to the next, they're on the move. Byakuya, of course, is no stranger to speed but Ichigo's decisiveness is an explosive thing, something that mirrors whatever's in his heart, whatever takes up the most room in there, large as the space must be. Before they began this, whatever one might call it (Byakuya knows what he calls it in his own mind, privately, when no one can know or object), he found it off-putting because it seems so unpredictable - those motivations are not, after all, derived from objective criteria, rules you may look for in a scroll or in a book.
Now, he feels himself getting pulled along by the wrist, Ichigo's fingers closed around him the entire way (he rarely thinks about his own body in terms of fragilities or vulnerabilities but right now, like this, his wrist feels strangely thin). He allows it for a good few metres, following along, his mind and chest suddenly, seemingly ablaze at the sensations - the sudden change from distance to proximity, from no physical contact for a month to being, well, man-handled towards the building's exit.
He looks at Ichigo as they walk on, ignoring what guests might or might not be watching. He's like the wind in a way, is Ichigo. Not just the breeze as it travels past on the engawa, nor the storm when it beats against the windows or makes the roof of the Kuchiki mansion rattle. There are middle grounds as well, as is true with all natural power. There are moments when you think the breeze is gentle, then it turns colder or harsher or it dissipates, leaving you hoping for its return, knowing for certain that it'll come because there's no world and no life without it. This is normalcy, this temperamental aspect of it.
You always trust in the constancy, though. You always know.
People are not the same but there are lessons to be learned from the comparison all the same, he thinks. Always, there are things to be learned.
Gently, as they reach the front door, he slips his wrist from between Ichigo's fingers and says, voice quiet and unruffled, as if he hasn't just allowed himself to be pulled across the room: ]
Before we take off anything anywhere - [ He steps closer briefly, close enough that their shoulders brush. Then, he draws away. ] - we should eat.
[ He sticks his hands in the pockets of his long coat and looks away, gaze downcast, as he leaves is to Ichigo to choose what he's in the mood for. Byakuya isn't particularly picky tonight - like Ichigo, he's quite eager to get to the no-clothes stage of the operations. ]
Now, he feels himself getting pulled along by the wrist, Ichigo's fingers closed around him the entire way (he rarely thinks about his own body in terms of fragilities or vulnerabilities but right now, like this, his wrist feels strangely thin). He allows it for a good few metres, following along, his mind and chest suddenly, seemingly ablaze at the sensations - the sudden change from distance to proximity, from no physical contact for a month to being, well, man-handled towards the building's exit.
He looks at Ichigo as they walk on, ignoring what guests might or might not be watching. He's like the wind in a way, is Ichigo. Not just the breeze as it travels past on the engawa, nor the storm when it beats against the windows or makes the roof of the Kuchiki mansion rattle. There are middle grounds as well, as is true with all natural power. There are moments when you think the breeze is gentle, then it turns colder or harsher or it dissipates, leaving you hoping for its return, knowing for certain that it'll come because there's no world and no life without it. This is normalcy, this temperamental aspect of it.
You always trust in the constancy, though. You always know.
People are not the same but there are lessons to be learned from the comparison all the same, he thinks. Always, there are things to be learned.
Gently, as they reach the front door, he slips his wrist from between Ichigo's fingers and says, voice quiet and unruffled, as if he hasn't just allowed himself to be pulled across the room: ]
Before we take off anything anywhere - [ He steps closer briefly, close enough that their shoulders brush. Then, he draws away. ] - we should eat.
[ He sticks his hands in the pockets of his long coat and looks away, gaze downcast, as he leaves is to Ichigo to choose what he's in the mood for. Byakuya isn't particularly picky tonight - like Ichigo, he's quite eager to get to the no-clothes stage of the operations. ]
[ The Thai restaurant is Byakuya's fault through and through. Well, sure, Ichigo picked the place and guided them there (it was a couple of blocks over), but if Byakuya hadn't insisted they had something to eat in the first place, Ichigo's pretty sure they'd be in a hotel somewhere now, banging like rabbits.
Instead, they're sitting opposite each other at the small table by the window, a nice-looking guy having served them a bottle of medium-priced sake, chilled, because it's exactly expensive enough for that, right? Ichigo wraps his fingers around the small cup, tipping it a bit restlessly back and forth, glimpsing the liquid within at every tilt towards himself. His hands feel restless, eager to touch... other things. He looks over at Byakuya. They've had red curry for dinner, it was good, but honestly - neither of them is here for the curry, even if they at least agree on tastes, huh.
Some years back, he'd never have thought he'd even think something like that.
Shifting in his seat, he extends his legs beneath the table, the nose of his shoe brushing against Byakuya's ankle and he pauses, lips pursed, before pushing against him more insistently. Feeling how he doesn't give.
That's both really freakin' aggravating and really enticing at the same time. So, he comments, kinda off-handedly, kinda not off-handedly at all, ]
You didn't say how you liked the picture. [ There's a slight blush to his cheeks, though it fades quickly, almost forcibly, when he quickly adds, like making a deal or an offer: ] I'll go first, for the sake of fairness.
[ With a lick of his lips, he takes a sip of his sake and watches Byakuya over the rim of it. It's the best sake he'd had in a long time, but hell - he's a university student, he would ration his food, if he didn't still live at home. ]
The only thing I thought about, when you sent that picture of the koi, was how I'm glad you gotta look at that vase every day. [ Silence for a while. ] Even if it's for my mom, it feels a bit like it represents me, too.
Instead, they're sitting opposite each other at the small table by the window, a nice-looking guy having served them a bottle of medium-priced sake, chilled, because it's exactly expensive enough for that, right? Ichigo wraps his fingers around the small cup, tipping it a bit restlessly back and forth, glimpsing the liquid within at every tilt towards himself. His hands feel restless, eager to touch... other things. He looks over at Byakuya. They've had red curry for dinner, it was good, but honestly - neither of them is here for the curry, even if they at least agree on tastes, huh.
Some years back, he'd never have thought he'd even think something like that.
Shifting in his seat, he extends his legs beneath the table, the nose of his shoe brushing against Byakuya's ankle and he pauses, lips pursed, before pushing against him more insistently. Feeling how he doesn't give.
That's both really freakin' aggravating and really enticing at the same time. So, he comments, kinda off-handedly, kinda not off-handedly at all, ]
You didn't say how you liked the picture. [ There's a slight blush to his cheeks, though it fades quickly, almost forcibly, when he quickly adds, like making a deal or an offer: ] I'll go first, for the sake of fairness.
[ With a lick of his lips, he takes a sip of his sake and watches Byakuya over the rim of it. It's the best sake he'd had in a long time, but hell - he's a university student, he would ration his food, if he didn't still live at home. ]
The only thing I thought about, when you sent that picture of the koi, was how I'm glad you gotta look at that vase every day. [ Silence for a while. ] Even if it's for my mom, it feels a bit like it represents me, too.
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