[ Oh. He stays as he is, quiet for a long moment, whilst Ichigo's hand on his cock slows, not entirely but enough. It should be mortifying, this entire situation - clinging to him like sex is somehow new when it isn't (except like this, it is, he's been with one person in his life before and then, for such a long time, there was silence). Thanks to his enemy, however, Byakuya came out of the war with a lot less habitual pride. It's hard to feel anything like that, anything so grand as pride, when you've seen your own innards strewn before your feet and felt your entire world collapse like a curtain, falling. Instead, what he feels now is more along the lines of resignation. Ichigo, of course, slows down to accommodate him and he, in turn, must bear the implications of that. That sometimes, despite all privilege, somehow you are simply less than you want to be.
Ichigo, of course, knows. He's been brought low many, many times yet somehow, he's emerged stronger from it and that's what Byakuya takes now, too. That thought. He shifts, listening to the other man's words as they fall across his ears in hot puffs of air and then, when he's finished talking, he frees one hand in turn and leans back down against the bed, enough to look Ichigo squarely in the eyes. He focuses on keeping his voice even, every stroke of Ichigo's hand making his body feel tight and overheated. ]
I have thought about you in other ways.
[ He frees his hand and pointedly spits in his palm, twice for good measure. The sound is loud between them against the backdrop of quiet in the hotel room. Shifting just enough to make room for himself, he reaches down between their bodies and folds his slick fingers around Ichigo's cock, hard and hot against his palm. He gives it a slow stroke, mirroring what Ichigo's doing to him. He's barely even touched himself for decades, he will have to relearn what it takes. ]
I could see you, through the rain. Your spiritual pressure. [ His breath does catch on his next inhalation and his next words are full of air, his voice thinner than usual: ] I'm sorry you can't see what I saw - I hadn't thought there was much hope left but I was wrong.
[ Ichigo isn't used to having the time to waste on this kind of softness, despite having made way for it before, forcibly, even though you'd think having to clear a road by violence annuls softness on its own, right? Nothing is annulled here. As if grateful for the time Ichigo is affording him, Byakuya eventually kicks back into action, leaning back againt the mattress and staring straight up into Ichigo's face at his admittance.
I have thought about you in other ways, he says and it occurs to Ichigo, then, that maybe, between them, Byakuya is even newer to the whole sleeping with another man thing. He was married to Hisana-san before. Then, he was grieving.
And Ichigo knows how grief can work, sometimes.
His expression softens and he keeps up the steady movement of his hand in response, because he likes the way it adds taughtness and a hitch to Byakuya's voice. Never heard him sound that way before, did he? Never heard him say anything like what he's telling him now. Not even when he was dying. He said he was ashamed.
Now, he says he was hopeful.
Ichigo's stomach clenches and he watches, wide-eyed, as the other man reaches up his hand and spits in his palm, twice, the sound each time making his cock feel wet at the tip and throbbing. Then, he reaches back down and folds his fingers around Ichigo's cock, the slickness and heat of his fingers actually making Ichigo's toes curl. He grunts, feels his hips push into it, desperately. Hungrily.
Something inside him softened beyond words, Ichigo licks his lips and lifts his chin, staring into Byakuya's calm eyes and he almost can't take it, it's almost too much and with everything Ichigo has survived at this point? Byakuya should get a freakin' medal.
With a groan, he pushes in against the other man and takes his mouth again, kissing him wetly, open-mouthed, tongue, wanting. On Byakuya's cock, his hand speeds up slightly again, though there's none of the almost harsh forward motion that characterised his initial approach.
[ Though he doesn't reply in words, Ichigo's face - his eyes - say much by themselves and Byakuya wonders fleeting what he would have seen back then, if he'd been able to see enough to make out his features. As it is, he looks at him now instead, at the way his eyes soften, his expression wide-eyed, a newness to it that doesn't have anything to do with youth. He's beautiful, he realises, and although that's a very new realisation, it doesn't come as any grand surprise. Perhaps a part of him has always known, deep down and buried beneath layers of grief and all the lonely rituals associated with it, that he didn't mind. Looking at him.
So he looks now, too, though his eyes fall shut when Ichigo closes the distance between them once more and kisses him, roughly, his tongue filling his mouth with that same, undeniable insistence that Ichigo seems to have in most aspects of life. Iron will, determination. He sighs into the kiss and reaches for Ichigo's hair, fingers curling within it, gently at first, then a little harsher as the heat in his balls and abdomen grow stronger. He groans into Ichigo's mouth and tightens his grip, holding his head still and angling it slightly to the side. Like that, he slips his tongue into his mouth, taking up space and tasting him in turn.
When Ichigo speeds up his strokes, he mirrors him again, following suit. On his next upstroke, he pushes his palm over the head of his cock, rubbing the slit and feeling the wetness there, his own cock leaking in response. Gasping, he pushes into Ichigo's grip and keeps his own hand going steadfastly, barely even thinking about it now, pleasure building in his body and overriding most other impressions.
He realises he's heading towards his climax with an almost distant sense of wonder. If this is a dream, he thinks, he'll gladly exchange it for the dreams he tends to have now, by himself when Senbonzakura is restless; even if it means he'll wake up to nothing. Even then, he would still... He breaks the kiss and pushes his face back against Ichigo's shoulder, brow furrowed, as he pushes himself towards the edge, pulling Ichigo along with him. ]
[ While they kiss, Ichigo follows the veins along the underside of Byakuya's cock with his slickened thumb, the wetness making the glide easy and smooth. Just feeling him this way, knowing that... this is Byakuya's cock. This is a part of him Ichigo is allowed to touch... He breathes out raggedly in against his lips, opening up and taking Byakuya's tongue in turn when it's offered him, pushing past his lips and filling his mouth. He feels overwhelmed by all that proximity. Not too much, just... a lot, right? It's a lot.
Then, Byakuya slicks up the head of his cock by running his palm over it on the next upstroke, and Ichigo pulls out of the kiss to moan, his voice hoarse, broken, his hips urging forward into the feeling of his hand. The slit... Shit... Ichigo feels more than sees Byakuya leaning his head against his shoulder, burying his face into him and shakily, with his non-working hand, keeping up with his other, mirroring Byakuya now, too, rubbing at the head with the same smooth, easy glide, Ichigo folds his arm around his neck, holding him close.
It's good. Being touched like this... is good, but the implications are better, that he isn't alone, that this is something he can do with someone, and not just anyone either. Byakuya.
His balls are drawing up and for a moment, he feels like he's floating mid-step, then Ichigo feels his orgasm wash over him, like a wave, big, tsunami-like, and he bends his neck to press his face into the side of Byakuya's head, groaning loudly as he spends himself in his grip, hips working against his hand, his touch. His hair is so stupidly soft. It smells like him, his scent with sweat and everything hanging in Ichigo's nostrils. His cock is pulsing, spewing cum everywhere, leaving him to feel wrought inside and out.
Give him a break. This is the first time with someone else... His body is shaking from the outlet. There's a moment when he doesn't think there'll be anything left afterwards.
Though, he knows, of course there will. He'll make sure there is. There has to be. ]
[ Ichigo's reaction gives him away moments before his climax does - the sound of his moan, hoarse and ragged, pushes Byakuya right past the edge as well and he comes perhaps half a breath after Ichigo. The intensity of it takes him by surprise - Ichigo's cradling him against his shoulder and though he ought to be ashamed of that too, of what it might mean that he likes it, that he wants it this way, all he can really think is that it's a relief. Ichigo's strength is quite incomparable. Not simply his powers, no, it's just the way he is. And right now, Byakuya leans into him, he allows himself that weakness. He lets his orgasm wash over him, his breath a stuttering, pitiful thing against Ichigo's skin.
Ichigo, meanwhile, is loud when he comes. Of course he is. He's loud everywhere, perhaps except in the intermissions, those particular movements between times and places that make you vulnerable in a very different way. Byakuya is staring to understand that about him. He's noisy and overbearing, yes, but he is also painfully, achingly silent. Right now, he's groaning loudly next to Byakuya's ear, in his hair, spending himself all over his knuckles. Byakuya, in turn, comes in spurts against Ichigo's abdomen. They can mess each other up just fine, of course, hasn't it always been like that?
As he lies there, his body feeling feather-light and untouchable, he pulls Ichigo down against him and runs his hand soothingly down his back, over his hip and waist. He's shaking, enough that it's noticeable. Very belatedly, Byakuya wonders whether this might have been Ichigo's first time - it seems implausible but then again, this man does firsts in peculiar ways. In heartstopping, impossible ways.
So Byakuya holds him close and keeps his mind open. ]
[ It doesn't help - or maybe it does - that Byakuya comes in the next moment, spurting all over Ichigo's stomach, the whole sensation of it so intense, kinda lewd too and yet not, Ichigo honestly can't think straight for it, not for a while. He only grudgingly releases the other man's cock, once he stops moving against him, reaching behind himself blindly to wipe his hand on the sheets before inching in against Byakuya's front again, forcing them chest to chest once more, face to face. He stares into Byakuya's open, post-orgasmic features, mouth opening, then closing again and he's about to tell him, this was the first time and then decides not to. It doesn't matter.
Instead he pulls Byakuya closer by his neck, arm wrapped around the back of it, good hold, difficult to wrestle free off, except he'd let Byakuya go if he wanted to, he isn't like the bullies and psychos that Ichigo fights still, even now, when the opportunity shows itself. He's nothing like that. Breath still tumbling out of him, he pushes his forehead against Byakuya's forehead, getting his bangs in his face and really not minding much, and lies like that for a moment, quietly.
Then, he says: ]
Don't say anything. Just go to sleep. [ He closes his own eyes. His voice is hoarse and sounds weirdly abused. Besides, he's not sure who he's talking to, Byakuya or himself. ] We can talk later.
[ And so, he holds him, just like that.
It doesn't even have to be tomorrow. It's more of a general reassurance, a promise. Ichigo only makes those when he knows he can keep them, when not making them would be a greater crime than struggling to live up to your word, but this feels like one of those times. Like in front of his mom's grave, back then. Or in front of her flowers in the Kuchiki garden. It means, we'll talk when you're ready, because I'll be ready when you are. ]
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saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
no subject
Ichigo, of course, knows. He's been brought low many, many times yet somehow, he's emerged stronger from it and that's what Byakuya takes now, too. That thought. He shifts, listening to the other man's words as they fall across his ears in hot puffs of air and then, when he's finished talking, he frees one hand in turn and leans back down against the bed, enough to look Ichigo squarely in the eyes. He focuses on keeping his voice even, every stroke of Ichigo's hand making his body feel tight and overheated. ]
I have thought about you in other ways.
[ He frees his hand and pointedly spits in his palm, twice for good measure. The sound is loud between them against the backdrop of quiet in the hotel room. Shifting just enough to make room for himself, he reaches down between their bodies and folds his slick fingers around Ichigo's cock, hard and hot against his palm. He gives it a slow stroke, mirroring what Ichigo's doing to him. He's barely even touched himself for decades, he will have to relearn what it takes. ]
I could see you, through the rain. Your spiritual pressure. [ His breath does catch on his next inhalation and his next words are full of air, his voice thinner than usual: ] I'm sorry you can't see what I saw - I hadn't thought there was much hope left but I was wrong.
no subject
I have thought about you in other ways, he says and it occurs to Ichigo, then, that maybe, between them, Byakuya is even newer to the whole sleeping with another man thing. He was married to Hisana-san before. Then, he was grieving.
And Ichigo knows how grief can work, sometimes.
His expression softens and he keeps up the steady movement of his hand in response, because he likes the way it adds taughtness and a hitch to Byakuya's voice. Never heard him sound that way before, did he? Never heard him say anything like what he's telling him now. Not even when he was dying. He said he was ashamed.
Now, he says he was hopeful.
Ichigo's stomach clenches and he watches, wide-eyed, as the other man reaches up his hand and spits in his palm, twice, the sound each time making his cock feel wet at the tip and throbbing. Then, he reaches back down and folds his fingers around Ichigo's cock, the slickness and heat of his fingers actually making Ichigo's toes curl. He grunts, feels his hips push into it, desperately. Hungrily.
Something inside him softened beyond words, Ichigo licks his lips and lifts his chin, staring into Byakuya's calm eyes and he almost can't take it, it's almost too much and with everything Ichigo has survived at this point? Byakuya should get a freakin' medal.
With a groan, he pushes in against the other man and takes his mouth again, kissing him wetly, open-mouthed, tongue, wanting. On Byakuya's cock, his hand speeds up slightly again, though there's none of the almost harsh forward motion that characterised his initial approach.
Ichigo is a fast learner. ]
no subject
So he looks now, too, though his eyes fall shut when Ichigo closes the distance between them once more and kisses him, roughly, his tongue filling his mouth with that same, undeniable insistence that Ichigo seems to have in most aspects of life. Iron will, determination. He sighs into the kiss and reaches for Ichigo's hair, fingers curling within it, gently at first, then a little harsher as the heat in his balls and abdomen grow stronger. He groans into Ichigo's mouth and tightens his grip, holding his head still and angling it slightly to the side. Like that, he slips his tongue into his mouth, taking up space and tasting him in turn.
When Ichigo speeds up his strokes, he mirrors him again, following suit. On his next upstroke, he pushes his palm over the head of his cock, rubbing the slit and feeling the wetness there, his own cock leaking in response. Gasping, he pushes into Ichigo's grip and keeps his own hand going steadfastly, barely even thinking about it now, pleasure building in his body and overriding most other impressions.
He realises he's heading towards his climax with an almost distant sense of wonder. If this is a dream, he thinks, he'll gladly exchange it for the dreams he tends to have now, by himself when Senbonzakura is restless; even if it means he'll wake up to nothing. Even then, he would still... He breaks the kiss and pushes his face back against Ichigo's shoulder, brow furrowed, as he pushes himself towards the edge, pulling Ichigo along with him. ]
no subject
Then, Byakuya slicks up the head of his cock by running his palm over it on the next upstroke, and Ichigo pulls out of the kiss to moan, his voice hoarse, broken, his hips urging forward into the feeling of his hand. The slit... Shit... Ichigo feels more than sees Byakuya leaning his head against his shoulder, burying his face into him and shakily, with his non-working hand, keeping up with his other, mirroring Byakuya now, too, rubbing at the head with the same smooth, easy glide, Ichigo folds his arm around his neck, holding him close.
It's good. Being touched like this... is good, but the implications are better, that he isn't alone, that this is something he can do with someone, and not just anyone either. Byakuya.
His balls are drawing up and for a moment, he feels like he's floating mid-step, then Ichigo feels his orgasm wash over him, like a wave, big, tsunami-like, and he bends his neck to press his face into the side of Byakuya's head, groaning loudly as he spends himself in his grip, hips working against his hand, his touch. His hair is so stupidly soft. It smells like him, his scent with sweat and everything hanging in Ichigo's nostrils. His cock is pulsing, spewing cum everywhere, leaving him to feel wrought inside and out.
Give him a break. This is the first time with someone else... His body is shaking from the outlet. There's a moment when he doesn't think there'll be anything left afterwards.
Though, he knows, of course there will. He'll make sure there is. There has to be. ]
no subject
Ichigo, meanwhile, is loud when he comes. Of course he is. He's loud everywhere, perhaps except in the intermissions, those particular movements between times and places that make you vulnerable in a very different way. Byakuya is staring to understand that about him. He's noisy and overbearing, yes, but he is also painfully, achingly silent. Right now, he's groaning loudly next to Byakuya's ear, in his hair, spending himself all over his knuckles. Byakuya, in turn, comes in spurts against Ichigo's abdomen. They can mess each other up just fine, of course, hasn't it always been like that?
As he lies there, his body feeling feather-light and untouchable, he pulls Ichigo down against him and runs his hand soothingly down his back, over his hip and waist. He's shaking, enough that it's noticeable. Very belatedly, Byakuya wonders whether this might have been Ichigo's first time - it seems implausible but then again, this man does firsts in peculiar ways. In heartstopping, impossible ways.
So Byakuya holds him close and keeps his mind open. ]
no subject
Instead he pulls Byakuya closer by his neck, arm wrapped around the back of it, good hold, difficult to wrestle free off, except he'd let Byakuya go if he wanted to, he isn't like the bullies and psychos that Ichigo fights still, even now, when the opportunity shows itself. He's nothing like that. Breath still tumbling out of him, he pushes his forehead against Byakuya's forehead, getting his bangs in his face and really not minding much, and lies like that for a moment, quietly.
Then, he says: ]
Don't say anything. Just go to sleep. [ He closes his own eyes. His voice is hoarse and sounds weirdly abused. Besides, he's not sure who he's talking to, Byakuya or himself. ] We can talk later.
[ And so, he holds him, just like that.
It doesn't even have to be tomorrow. It's more of a general reassurance, a promise. Ichigo only makes those when he knows he can keep them, when not making them would be a greater crime than struggling to live up to your word, but this feels like one of those times. Like in front of his mom's grave, back then. Or in front of her flowers in the Kuchiki garden. It means, we'll talk when you're ready, because I'll be ready when you are. ]