[ Probably, he hasn't expected to get a fist to the face, but moving away... Byakuya could easily do that, right? Just push Ichigo away and put distance between them and say, not here, not ever. That's not what happens, however. Although he remains still and unresponsive against Ichigo's mouth - for long enough, too, that Ichigo thinks he should stop, pull away, apologise, eventually his hand comes up, running along the defined muscle in Ichigo's back to his neck, into his hair, holding him there. That's not stopping. That's not a no, is it?
When the other man presses back, Ichigo actively groans against his lips and only goes for it harder, until Byakuya steers them both to the halt that Ichigo really needed two minutes ago - but that was two minutes ago and now, he wants something entirely different! He shifts restlessly, hands still spread out wide over his chest and looks up at Byakuya's face, his surprised expression. And something else. Apprehension, maybe. Ichigo frowns.
Why, exactly? So inarticulate, Byakuya.
Ichigo licks his lips and decides he owes Byakuya an answer under any circumstances, after what he did with his mom's flowers, yeah? After that, he owes him more than that fearful glint in his eyes. He sighs, looking down slowly, reaching down with one hand to pull at the hem of his t-shirt that only barely covers his half-tenting boxer shorts. ]
Can't believe I'm still telling you this after all these years, but... [ He looks up. ] ... we're supposed to be there for each other. I'm not on my own with this. And neither are you.
[ Neither do I want to be, it means. I want this.
With the hand still pressed, palm flat, against Byakuya's chest, Ichigo smoothens out some invisible wrinkles in his night clothing, the cheap fabric dry and warm to his touch. A part of him wonders what Byakuya's chest is gonna feel like, underneath. Could be his gigai or himself, Ichigo honestly doesn't particularly care anymore.
Finally, he curls his hand back into a fist, grabbing his shirt harshly. ]
no subject
When the other man presses back, Ichigo actively groans against his lips and only goes for it harder, until Byakuya steers them both to the halt that Ichigo really needed two minutes ago - but that was two minutes ago and now, he wants something entirely different! He shifts restlessly, hands still spread out wide over his chest and looks up at Byakuya's face, his surprised expression. And something else. Apprehension, maybe. Ichigo frowns.
Why, exactly? So inarticulate, Byakuya.
Ichigo licks his lips and decides he owes Byakuya an answer under any circumstances, after what he did with his mom's flowers, yeah? After that, he owes him more than that fearful glint in his eyes. He sighs, looking down slowly, reaching down with one hand to pull at the hem of his t-shirt that only barely covers his half-tenting boxer shorts. ]
Can't believe I'm still telling you this after all these years, but... [ He looks up. ] ... we're supposed to be there for each other. I'm not on my own with this. And neither are you.
[ Neither do I want to be, it means. I want this.
With the hand still pressed, palm flat, against Byakuya's chest, Ichigo smoothens out some invisible wrinkles in his night clothing, the cheap fabric dry and warm to his touch. A part of him wonders what Byakuya's chest is gonna feel like, underneath. Could be his gigai or himself, Ichigo honestly doesn't particularly care anymore.
Finally, he curls his hand back into a fist, grabbing his shirt harshly. ]
Isn't that good enough? Byakuya.