[ 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. ]
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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. ]