[ Oh. If his body wasn't already up for it, the way Ichigo seemingly steps into him definitely does the rest of the warm-up. He goes from alone beneath the spray to completely engulfed, not just the length of Ichigo's body pressed up against his but his hands, running up his chest, one coming up further to tilt his head sideways. He follows each motion seamlessly, parting his lips, feeling him taking up space within his mouth, too. He thinks it ought to be at least a little bit overwhelming but instead, he just feels... close, along with a strange, impossible urge to step even closer.
Though he doesn't think on it with any actual coherency, a part of him knows about the stillness that returns when he travels back to Soul Society, to the emptiness of his captain's quarters or his rooms back in the mansion. It follows him everywhere, as it has for so many decades - broken up, perhaps, for a little while by Rukia and re-established twice-over in her absence.
So he pushes back into Ichigo's mouth, filling him up in turn and tasting a mix of him and the remnants of spices from their dinner, the heat of chili and daikon. Ichigo, meanwhile, goes not for his cock (though he'd implied it, hadn't he, with that motion - his cock certainly thought so too, with how hard it became in expectation) but for his nipple, rubbing it into hardness, the water making the motion slick. He groans into the kiss, turning slightly sideways to run his hand up Ichigo's thigh, over his hip. Reaching back, he grasps what he can reach of his buttock and pulls him in against him, feeling the hard shape of his cock as it presses in between his own.
Breaking the kiss, breathing harshly against Ichigo's lips, he reaches up to run his other hand through the wet strands of his hair. Then, just because Ichigo isn't the only one who can give one hint and twist in another direction, he turns in his arms, bringing them front to front instead. Like this, the water beats down upon both of them, catching mostly the top of their heads and faces. He leans in for another kiss, pressing past Ichigo's lips immediately, matching his speed at his own pace.
no subject
Though he doesn't think on it with any actual coherency, a part of him knows about the stillness that returns when he travels back to Soul Society, to the emptiness of his captain's quarters or his rooms back in the mansion. It follows him everywhere, as it has for so many decades - broken up, perhaps, for a little while by Rukia and re-established twice-over in her absence.
So he pushes back into Ichigo's mouth, filling him up in turn and tasting a mix of him and the remnants of spices from their dinner, the heat of chili and daikon. Ichigo, meanwhile, goes not for his cock (though he'd implied it, hadn't he, with that motion - his cock certainly thought so too, with how hard it became in expectation) but for his nipple, rubbing it into hardness, the water making the motion slick. He groans into the kiss, turning slightly sideways to run his hand up Ichigo's thigh, over his hip. Reaching back, he grasps what he can reach of his buttock and pulls him in against him, feeling the hard shape of his cock as it presses in between his own.
Breaking the kiss, breathing harshly against Ichigo's lips, he reaches up to run his other hand through the wet strands of his hair. Then, just because Ichigo isn't the only one who can give one hint and twist in another direction, he turns in his arms, bringing them front to front instead. Like this, the water beats down upon both of them, catching mostly the top of their heads and faces. He leans in for another kiss, pressing past Ichigo's lips immediately, matching his speed at his own pace.
As they do things, of course. ]