[ It settles somewhere deep within his chest, the way Ichigo draws his fingers across his eyes, stealing some of the wetness there for himself. It ought to make him feel disgusted with himself, first, and Ichigo second or so, he would have thought. Before. There's a before and an after somewhere along the timeline of Ichigo's arrival in his life and right now, he's content to simply accept it as it is. When Ichigo runs his fingers across his lips next, tracing the round shape of his mouth where it stretches around his cock, he shudders in response. Byakuya's so warm like this. He's so...
I'll be careful with you says Ichigo and all he can think in response is safe, yes, that's what he is. They both are, right now, if not in the world then within the space they've created together and that's... more than enough, truly, he hadn't thought he'd ever...
Ichigo takes hold of his chin and he stops himself from looking up only because he can't possibly know what he looks like right now, how much honesty he'd be burdening the other man with - instead, he focuses on relaxing himself as Ichigo shifts against him, finding the right angle and pushing in. In. All the way. He'd gasp if he could because the feeling really is very overwhelming - not just the way Ichigo's cock slides down his throat, taking up space, all the space there is, but also the slight - so slight, but even so, undeniable - sense of power and the way that it shifts.
Ichigo has all of it now, like this.
Byakuya's given it to him willingly.
From the way Ichigo's holding him by the back of his head, the way he whimpers as he fucks into him and allows himself the pleasure of it, the other man understands the magnitude of it. He always has, since they began this... relationship, yes, surely that's the proper word now, there's the flowers and the book and the carefulness, always the carefulness. Byakuya wouldn't know what else to call it. It's not a wedding or a betrothal, it's barely even a promise - yet somehow, it's all of those things in a way he's never contemplated or known before.
Isn't it grandly typical of Ichigo, then, to be so novel about everything?
Slowly, his grip on Ichigo's hips ease into a hold, his thumbs stroking Ichigo's hipbones soothingly as the man pushes himself into his throat, out, in, fighting towards his climax. He's burning hot on his tongue and his scent is everywhere - whenever he draws breath, there's more of it, clinging to his tongue, to the insides of him. ]
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I'll be careful with you says Ichigo and all he can think in response is safe, yes, that's what he is. They both are, right now, if not in the world then within the space they've created together and that's... more than enough, truly, he hadn't thought he'd ever...
Ichigo takes hold of his chin and he stops himself from looking up only because he can't possibly know what he looks like right now, how much honesty he'd be burdening the other man with - instead, he focuses on relaxing himself as Ichigo shifts against him, finding the right angle and pushing in. In. All the way. He'd gasp if he could because the feeling really is very overwhelming - not just the way Ichigo's cock slides down his throat, taking up space, all the space there is, but also the slight - so slight, but even so, undeniable - sense of power and the way that it shifts.
Ichigo has all of it now, like this.
Byakuya's given it to him willingly.
From the way Ichigo's holding him by the back of his head, the way he whimpers as he fucks into him and allows himself the pleasure of it, the other man understands the magnitude of it. He always has, since they began this... relationship, yes, surely that's the proper word now, there's the flowers and the book and the carefulness, always the carefulness. Byakuya wouldn't know what else to call it. It's not a wedding or a betrothal, it's barely even a promise - yet somehow, it's all of those things in a way he's never contemplated or known before.
Isn't it grandly typical of Ichigo, then, to be so novel about everything?
Slowly, his grip on Ichigo's hips ease into a hold, his thumbs stroking Ichigo's hipbones soothingly as the man pushes himself into his throat, out, in, fighting towards his climax. He's burning hot on his tongue and his scent is everywhere - whenever he draws breath, there's more of it, clinging to his tongue, to the insides of him. ]