[ Two pleasant surprises in one - the fact that he likes to bite Ichigo (his cock definitely likes it) and that Ichigo likes it, too. That groan goes straight to his aching balls. Eyes shut, he leans back against the other man, sensing the way they're holding each other up and registering the novelty of it, of the concept. Such a thing - Byakuya is not supposed to expect it from anyone. Not as a clan head, not as a captain. But... as a partner, whatever one might call them, surely equality has a different value. It's not a sign of weakness, is it, to want someone, just one person in your life, close enough that sharing doesn't jeopardize either of you?
He's had one attempt already at that kind of completion. He'd long since decided not to seek it out again.
Ichigo tells him his line against his ear, his breath hot and damp. His hair, too, is sticking to his brow and when Byakuya turns his face towards him, he buries his nose within it, next to Ichigo's temple. He thinks the words over in his mind, feels them resonate within him like a circle, closing. Please, he told him, back when he'd thought he had nothing else to offer anyone, no way to repent for his mistakes and his humiliation.
He will say it again now that he has been proven wrong. ]
Please.
[ He forces himself not to jerk upwards into Ichigo's grip. That light touch against his balls makes the muscles in his thighs tense and release, his breathing stumbling from between his lips. He kisses the bite mark on Ichigo's neck and steadies himself, then says the next words evenly: ]
Let me come. Ichigo.
[ If he hadn't been so breathless, it probably would have sounded not unlike a command. Instead, to his own ears it sounds like something he can't quite qualify, something new and different. Exciting and dangerous with pitfalls so deep that they might as well be endless. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for Ichigo to follow through. ]
[ One thing is how it actually makes him hard again, so quickly after, too, but another is the feeling it stirs in his chest.
Ichigo frowns, staring sideways into Byakuya's face, as he does as he told him to, this man who follows his own principles and convictions to the edge, licking his lips, the spray in his hair, dripping everywhere. Then, expression softening, he nods once, saying nothing, just turning his head slightly to the side and pressing his lips to Byakuya's temple where the other man's hair sticks to him, long tendrils of ink and shadow. Something like that. If you gotta be Shakesperean about it, right? Ichigo can be Shakesperean just fine. He doesn't mind.
Kissing him, he starts jerking him off, steady, even rhythm, but fast-ish, promising him that they're hurdling towards the edge for real now. He hears his own breathing in his ears, like drumming, fast and ragged as well and Ichigo catches the head of Byakuya's cock with his thumb, brushing over it wetly again and again for every downstroke. At the same time, he presses his palm up against his balls, massaging them gently, the pace slower but insistent still. Like both those things, fast and slow, insistent and gentle can actually exist simultaneously between them.
The thought of that... He likes it. Ichigo leans in against him, breathing with him, at the same time, same rhythm, and follows every signal his body gives with the greatest intuition. Care. Lots of care.
After just two... whatever they're gonna call this, dates? He shouldn't care this much, probably, but you can't say that to the guy who fights Hollows off to save people he's known for ten minutes or less. Who'd give his life for anyone he laid eyes on who needed his help.
Byakuya matters even more than that.
So, he just wants to hear him come for him. Inhaling deeply, he speaks in a low, rough voice, but it's not harsh, it's the opposite: ]
Fine. Let me feel you, then.
[ Ichigo asking, this time. Ichigo all but begging. ]
[ He groans, leaning in against Ichigo's body, his face, his neck. He feels overheated and sweaty, even with the shower still on - it's as if the heat comes from inside, somehow, locked beneath his skin and blooming faster, more insistently, with every second that passes like this. Ichigo touches him steadily, brushing over the sensitive head of his cock on every stroke down the shaft and he's gasping from it, fingers digging into Ichigo's waist and shoulder where he's currently clinging on with no dignity whatsoever. He needs to - oh, he needs - his balls tighten up harshly, abruptly, against Ichigo's fingers and suddenly, he can't breathe. Pleasure erupting throughout his body, he pushes his forehead almost desperately against Ichigo's shoulder, feeling himself pulse between his fingers. He comes in hot spurts, a long, overwhelming orgasm - he's never felt anything like it before.
The water, of course, does away with the evidence rather quickly but the feeling of it rages through his body for seconds even after he's stopped coming, the darkness behind his eyelids exploding in light. He doesn't even realise he's buried his teeth in the meat of Ichigo's shoulder again, not before some innate, unthinking part of him thinks stop and he pulls off before he can actually break the skin.
Blinking blearily down at his handiwork - this time around, the teeth marks are blatant, a bruise more so than anything else - he kisses the skin there softly. Thinks about Ichigo, walking around for the next couple of days with his markings on his body underneath all those ghastly human clothes and feels a deep, somewhat odd satisfaction at the thought.
Though this gigai isn't his real body, he'll feel the echoes of Ichigo's touch for days as well.
It's another way to even out the field between them, perhaps.
Muscles trembling, he leans back against the tiles, letting the water spray hit him as it falls and opening his arms towards Ichigo in invitation. He looks at him through strands of hair sticking to his face, through a fog of pleasure and with the memories of rain at the back of his mind. ]
no subject
He's had one attempt already at that kind of completion. He'd long since decided not to seek it out again.
Ichigo tells him his line against his ear, his breath hot and damp. His hair, too, is sticking to his brow and when Byakuya turns his face towards him, he buries his nose within it, next to Ichigo's temple. He thinks the words over in his mind, feels them resonate within him like a circle, closing. Please, he told him, back when he'd thought he had nothing else to offer anyone, no way to repent for his mistakes and his humiliation.
He will say it again now that he has been proven wrong. ]
Please.
[ He forces himself not to jerk upwards into Ichigo's grip. That light touch against his balls makes the muscles in his thighs tense and release, his breathing stumbling from between his lips. He kisses the bite mark on Ichigo's neck and steadies himself, then says the next words evenly: ]
Let me come. Ichigo.
[ If he hadn't been so breathless, it probably would have sounded not unlike a command. Instead, to his own ears it sounds like something he can't quite qualify, something new and different. Exciting and dangerous with pitfalls so deep that they might as well be endless. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for Ichigo to follow through. ]
no subject
Ichigo frowns, staring sideways into Byakuya's face, as he does as he told him to, this man who follows his own principles and convictions to the edge, licking his lips, the spray in his hair, dripping everywhere. Then, expression softening, he nods once, saying nothing, just turning his head slightly to the side and pressing his lips to Byakuya's temple where the other man's hair sticks to him, long tendrils of ink and shadow. Something like that. If you gotta be Shakesperean about it, right? Ichigo can be Shakesperean just fine. He doesn't mind.
Kissing him, he starts jerking him off, steady, even rhythm, but fast-ish, promising him that they're hurdling towards the edge for real now. He hears his own breathing in his ears, like drumming, fast and ragged as well and Ichigo catches the head of Byakuya's cock with his thumb, brushing over it wetly again and again for every downstroke. At the same time, he presses his palm up against his balls, massaging them gently, the pace slower but insistent still. Like both those things, fast and slow, insistent and gentle can actually exist simultaneously between them.
The thought of that... He likes it. Ichigo leans in against him, breathing with him, at the same time, same rhythm, and follows every signal his body gives with the greatest intuition. Care. Lots of care.
After just two... whatever they're gonna call this, dates? He shouldn't care this much, probably, but you can't say that to the guy who fights Hollows off to save people he's known for ten minutes or less. Who'd give his life for anyone he laid eyes on who needed his help.
Byakuya matters even more than that.
So, he just wants to hear him come for him. Inhaling deeply, he speaks in a low, rough voice, but it's not harsh, it's the opposite: ]
Fine. Let me feel you, then.
[ Ichigo asking, this time. Ichigo all but begging. ]
no subject
The water, of course, does away with the evidence rather quickly but the feeling of it rages through his body for seconds even after he's stopped coming, the darkness behind his eyelids exploding in light. He doesn't even realise he's buried his teeth in the meat of Ichigo's shoulder again, not before some innate, unthinking part of him thinks stop and he pulls off before he can actually break the skin.
Blinking blearily down at his handiwork - this time around, the teeth marks are blatant, a bruise more so than anything else - he kisses the skin there softly. Thinks about Ichigo, walking around for the next couple of days with his markings on his body underneath all those ghastly human clothes and feels a deep, somewhat odd satisfaction at the thought.
Though this gigai isn't his real body, he'll feel the echoes of Ichigo's touch for days as well.
It's another way to even out the field between them, perhaps.
Muscles trembling, he leans back against the tiles, letting the water spray hit him as it falls and opening his arms towards Ichigo in invitation. He looks at him through strands of hair sticking to his face, through a fog of pleasure and with the memories of rain at the back of his mind. ]