[ With his gaze fixed on his calligraphy, he doesn't see as much as sense the way Ichigo slowly but surely inches closer, leaning in over the table and balancing against the top, somehow managing not to knock over anything in the process. He feels him slip into his personal space, too, and though his hand doesn't waver as he finishes the last stroke of Ichigo's name, his careful attentiveness to the details is definitely being eroded. Instead, he feels progressively warmer. His skin is tingling from it.
When Ichigo leans in all the way, still somehow evading all dishes and plates and cups which is really a testament to his superior motor skills, Byakuya has already lifted the pen from the paper and aimed the tip at the well, a safe distance from the book itself. He tips his chin slightly upwards and kisses Ichigo back, eyes closed, shoulders loosing the last remnants of tension.
The pen, unfortunately, tips out of the well as his wrist dips, clattering against the table. Though he can't see it nor truly care in any capacity right now, he can imagine how the ink splatters across the table top, seeping into the wooden surface. It will stay there, he thinks, reaching for Ichigo with his other hand, not to grab his head but to press his hand against his ribcage, supporting him where he sits.
Yes, the ink will stay and it'll be a different table than before. For once, he'll take notice of it every time he sits here, just another small detail with a name and an intention behind it.
Sighing into the kiss, he leaves the pen where it lies and folds his other hand against the side of Ichigo's face. Then, he pulls out of the kiss, looks at him for a brief moment and leans in again, this time to give him a kiss on the cheek, just the barest whisper of lips against skin. Reluctantly, he draws away, only to pick up the book gently and slide to his feet. ]
I will be able to see it better by the windows.
[ I'm not going anywhere, he doesn't say, but the implication should be clear enough. He goes to sit by the window close to his bed, sliding the door away slightly to let in the light from the torches outside on the engawa. He pulls his hanten closer around his shoulders. ]
[ Byakuya's stubborn enough not to miss a single stroke, although Ichigo's looming over him like this, breathing him in. Instead he manages to multitask in an honestly impressive fashion, putting the pen away, off to the side, while at the same time kissing Ichigo back. Ichigo huffs out a long breath at the realization, smiling sharply against Byakuya's mouth as first, the pen falls down with a clank, getting ink everywhere on the tabletop, then as Byakuya proceeds to just not care, folding his hand against Ichigo's face in response and kissing him deeper. That's nice, huh - that man and his tunnel vision convictions. Ichigo's just glad to be the one he's focused his attention on this time. Makes everything easier, right?
No fighting, for one. No almost killing each other.
He groans into the kiss, feeling Byakuya pulling away and not really in the mood to let go, although his positon on the table is awkward at best, borderline uncomfortable maybe more like it, but come on - he's had worse and what he definitely hasn't had is something better than Byakuya's mouth this way. Nothing beats that. He can stay uncomfortable for a long time, for that. Would, too.
Still, Byakuya pulls away and takes the book with the same awe he looked at it before, which makes Ichigo's insides warm up notably, saying he can see it better by the window, meaning he isn't leaving just to leave, he isn't disappearing (or dying) or anything like that, he's just moving, right over there and Ichigo sits back on his haunches, watching him as he seats himself, looking like one of those traditional ukiyo-e paintings. That delicate.
It takes Ichigo exactly two seconds to decide to follow, getting up and moving around the table to the bed, close enough by to be near but not in Byakuya's way or anything, where he sits down, legs folded sloppily up under himself and his hands on his thighs. And it takes five seconds of looking on in silence before he blurts out, ]
I wouldn't have thought I'd ever be able to give you a gift you could use for anything.
[ It's not apologetic, he isn't fishing for reassurance. Byakuya is being plenty clear about liking the book and that makes him so satisfied, he could probably combust, but it's an observation. They were there at one point, now they're here, right? ]
[ Though he keeps his gaze on the book, primarily, flicking through the pages slowly, allowing the light from outside to illuminate what it can at this time of the day, he's aware of Ichigo by the table, surrounded by dishes still, Ichigo who hasn't eaten or slept properly for several months, in part at least for Byakuya's sake. Though he likes his gift very much, he doesn't like that aspect of it. Much in the same vein, he doesn't hate the way Ichigo gets up after too little time, leaving the remaining dishes behind to join him and bridging the distance between them once again, the way he does.
He doesn't hate it, no, but he would have strongly preferred it if he were to eat all that he could before leaving the table. Of course, Ichigo rarely does anything as he ought. He sits still, letting the other man close the distance as far as he likes for now, noting that he seats himself on his bed like that's a perfectly average thing to do. In the world of the living, it seems to be normal enough - the bed, just another piece of furniture despite the intimate nature of its purpose. In Byakuya's world, there's been no one in his bed except himself for decades.
Slowly, he turns his head a fraction, just enough that he can watch Ichigo back out of the corner of one eye, through the strands of his hair that haven't been pulled back by his hairpiece. Having foregone the kenseikan for now and possibly for the rest of the year (as with other things, it's not that he can't decide, it's just that the options seem numerous when before, he didn't care enough to notice), he's opted for the thin, metallic alternative that he chose in the year following the Karakura Winter War. On the plus side, it doesn't leave his hair floating perpetually within his eyesight.
The downside of that, of course, is how naked everything feels as a consequence.
At Ichigo's words, he makes a low hmm sound and puts the book down carefully, folding the cloth underneath to provide a barrier between the floor and the cover. I wouldn't have thought, says Ichigo, like he hasn't, in fact, gifted him the life of his sister, the continued existence of his entire world and then, for the past many months, himself as well. He takes in Ichigo's form as he sits there on his bed, the too-sharp lines of his limbs, the subtle shadows tracing across his face. Everything comes at a cost, too. It's the cost, he thinks, for which Ichigo has much too little regard. ]
What a ridiculous idea.
[ He says it without any harshness. Getting to his feet briefly, he turns and sits on the bed opposite Ichigo, folding his knees up beneath himself. He shifts close, curving one hand against the side of Ichigo's face. He looks up, catching his eyes, his own gaze softer. A private mood in all aspects. ]
I hope one day you'll realise why.
[ Leaning in, he tilts his head slightly and catches hips lips in a gentle kiss. It's not particularly timid, though, nor is the way he shifts in closer yet and runs his other hand blindly down Ichigo's chest, towards his obi. ]
[ even if he's being his usual inarticulate self, saying a lot of words that don't really explain much at all, what does that even mean, I hope..., what, Byakuya still isn't being in any way subtle about it as he, having put down the book, carefully, cloth spread out underneath the cover, sits down opposite Ichigo on the bed and moves in closer. He isn't being at all unclear as he leans in and kisses him, Ichigo tilting his head in against the support of the other man's hand, palm, warm, and he makes a humming noise of enjoyment at the feeling of it.
At this point, not just counting the months they've been mostly apart, but the months that came before, when they weren't, kissing Byakuya back is more like basic second nature, it comes so easily, parting his lips to him and with a slight sigh, opening up for him. His tongue, the wet, insistent presence of his mouth. Ichigo really likes that.
It dawns on him that besides that book, they've given each other a lot of this, this not being alone, ever since Kyoto, that night in the first hotel and onwards from there, right? The book is just the culmination of that. And it's not even where it ends, that's what Byakuya is saying, letting his hand slip down Ichigo's chest towards where his obi is keeping everything neatly in place.
Ichigo shifts on his knees, reaching out with both hands and letting his left land somewhere along the side of Byakuya's face, temple, slipping into his hair where it's pushed back tightly with some kind of hairpiece. He follows the strands where they cascade down the back of his neck. With his right hand, he reaches down and catches Byakuya's wrist before he can start in on his obi, pulling back from the kiss a bit regretfully, but Ichigo talks, right. Ichigo is noisy and loud and when he's got something to say, he'll say it, no matter what.
Byakuya knows that, of course. If he's got a point, telling him it's a ridiculous idea, what he just said, it's because he at least couldn't avoid hearing him.
He hasn't pulled away far, their breaths are still ghosting over the other's face, Ichigo smiling slightly, sharply and looking into Byakuya's face, gaze direct and unapologetic. ]
You think I don't understand already?
[ That book was a gift in exchange, you know, it means. That's the whole point, right? They're running with something, together, because there already was something, they're expanding, they're growing, both of them. Like Ichigo doesn't freakin' know that! He feels it every time Byakuya touches him. No swords right now, for one. At this point, they'd probably be too busy defending the other to point their blades at each other again. Shit.
Groaning, he leans in for another kiss, releasing Byakuya's hand, his own fingers, as they come away, slip over the palm of it where, if you really feel for it, you can feel a fine web of scar tissue, probably from Senbonzakura. He leaves the other man to take care of his obi, since that's apparently what they're gonna do, huh, folding his free hand against the side of Byakuya's face as he kisses him, hard.
The book - it was because he got something first. Something important. ]
[ The kiss, regretfully, ends. Byakuya frowns, looking up at him. His mind is preoccupied with the conflicting contrasts of the aborted kiss, the absence it generates - and Ichigo's hands, both of them on him in different ways. Already, he senses how Ichigo's scent mixes with his own, with the well-known stables of his bed and its fabrics. Of course, if Ichigo doesn't want - even if he'd really like to...
At the other man's question, he arches an eyebrow perhaps a bit sharply. It's that smile on his face, he realises distantly, still predominantly concerned with the feel of him, with how close he is and how his obi is right there, very much within reach. The smile. It reminds him of... Eyes widening for a split second, just as Ichigo leans in to kiss him again, Byakuya takes a second to respond, to step back onto the bridge he's been offered. His mind flashes back years to the beginning, to Ichigo who'd been so nearly beaten in battle until suddenly, he just wasn't and that had been an awful day all around for everyone, hadn't it. For Byakuya, though, it had also spelled salvation.
Even then, Ichigo didn't budge. Not for him, not for anyone.
The kiss is harder now, more insistent. Byakuya closes his eyes. Leaves the question hanging between them unanswered - it was clearly rhetorical and in any case, he's not going to change that man's approach to himself just by stating the obvious - and presses into him, slipping his tongue past his lips. He tastes heavily of food, still, of rice and spices. If he wanted to take the time, though, he could kiss that taste out of him easily enough. He knows how to get to what's underneath.
For now, however, Byakuya has other plans with his mouth. He draws back, gaze lingering on Ichigo's lips for a long, outdrawn moment.
With deft movements, he makes short work of every knot currently holding the fabric together around Ichigo's hips. It leaves him reaching around Ichigo's body with both hands as he unties the knot at the small of his back, bringing him in close enough that his lips slide along the side of his neck as he works. His own breath is measured, very purposefully controlled. There's something about the situation - the house, Ichigo, his bed, the present near the window - that makes him slower, calmer.
This serenity, he thinks, is hard-won.
He pulls Ichigo's hakama open along with his upper clothes, grasping the hem of his undershirt and pulling it up to bare him. If Ichigo wants it off - the uniform, his underclothes - entirely, he'll have to do so himself. It's fine for him either way. To slip inside and navigate within the spaces of Ichigo's own fabrics, of the shadows and depths they represent. On a deep exhalation, he leans down and kisses his way down the middle of his chest, tasting salt and skin. He's warm, like stepping barefoot onto the engawa after a long day of sunshine. Sighing, shoulders lowering, he leaves a trail of kisses down Ichigo's midriff, one hand slipping to his hip to undo the rest of his underwear. ]
[ As they kiss, Ichigo eases back on his palms, balancing against the mattress, finding his own balancepoint as their mouths work against each other. He's short of breath within a minute, his heart racing along, pounding wildly in his chest. His cock's quickly half-hard.
So, when Byakuya pulls back, out of the kiss, Ichigo groans, low in his throat, wanting to reach for him, pull him right back in, but the other man has already gotten started on his obi and no way that Ichigo's gonna stop him from that. He shifts impatiently on his buttocks, feeling Byakuya's head so close to his neck, his lips are brushing his skin, as he opens him up. Doesn't do anything to slow down his heartbeat, for sure. Byakuya pulls up his undershirt, baring him and Ichigo's immediate response it to shrug off his hakama as far down his upper arms as it's gonna go. Opening himself up as well. Go ahead, it means. Take me, then.
except, when the other man leans in, starting to kiss his way down Ichigo's chest, all the way to his midriff, Ichigo feeling the heat pool low in his abdomen in response, he feels the first sense of apprehension, recalling when they fucked back home at his house, the kido barrier that Byakuya put up to avoid his sisters hearing... This is his family! No way if Byakuya intends to do that here, like this, can Ichigo stay silent enough that the traditionally thin walls will be able to keep it out. Doesn't Byakuya mind? Doesn't he want to...?
The feeling of his lips moving decidedly downwards is making him take in air really funny. Ichigo writhes beneath him, smoothening his hands over his hair, feeling the loose strands and the combs keeping it in place. He tightens his grip. Hard. Fingertips digging into the back of his head.
Speaking, his voice is shaking. ]
Hey, Byakuya. [ A pause, since he isn't sure how to say it right, in the end just bursting out: ] Is this all right? everyone's gonna hear, if we do it like this.
[ The fundoshi has fallen away and is putting on obvious display that Ichigo definitely doesn't mind Byakuya's clan hearing, right? His cock's so hard it hurts already. He just wants to be certain, all right. ]
[ Ichigo moves against him, shrugging out of his clothes as far as he can which from this position isn't much - in actuality, his efforts only amount to him looking a lot more ravished than he is at this point in time but Byakuya certainly won't complain. He glances up along the stretch of Ichigo's body, his midriff, chest, the broadness of his shoulders. The way the fabric clings to his upperarms still only serves to emphasise his lines even further.
Well.
He shifts. Blinks, resisting the altogether undignified urge to look down his own body. He doesn't need to see, after all, to know that he's nearly fully hard, suddenly very glad for the looseness of his clothes. That... was quick, even for him. He leans his head into Ichigo's hold, forcing himself to focus enough on his words to parse the meaning. Is what alright? This? Everyone's gonna hear. Oh yes, they certainly are. The walls in the Kuchiki mansion are even thinner than they look. He nudges in closer, lips sliding wetly over Ichigo's midriff. As he slips the fundoshi aside, he can feel the heat from Ichigo's body and smell his arousal.
Everyone's gonna hear.
And tomorrow, if not today, they will know.
He shifts a little, enough to get between Ichigo's legs properly. Making himself comfortable there, he takes a moment to reply, his gaze firmly lodged on the hard line of Ichigo's cock where it rests against his abdomen. He spits in his palm quickly and folds his fingers around the base, rubbing his thumb slowly up along the underside. ]
Would you prefer them not to?
[ After all, back at his own house, he'd been worried about his family knowing. Then again, this is Byakuya's clan home. Perhaps Ichigo thinks they're family in the same way, though nothing could be further from the truth. Really, if Great-Aunt Yukina hears Ichigo have a screaming orgasm today, at least she will have something interesting to talk about for once in her miserable life.
He knows, of course, that people will talk. There will be discussions and debates and disapproval. He's played this game many times before and though it bores him beyond all imagination, it ties into his duties and as such, he's a proficient player if not very enthusiastic. He's not planning on sucking Ichigo off or parading him around tomorrow for his birthday because he's reckless. He's had months to think his options over. Months to sit by himself in the stillness of his rooms or in his office, knowing that the way forward simply isn't meant to be easy. It wasn't before and it won't be now.
Shifting down onto his knees, he tilts his head sideways, his hair tumbling off his shoulder and onto Ichigo's thigh and hip. His gaze narrows in determination. Slowly, he licks a wet trail from the base of Ichigo's cock all the way to the tip. ]
[ For his question, Ichigo gets a question back. A question it's very hard to focus on, when Byakuya freakin' spits in his palm and takes him in hand, Ichigo realizing maybe it was the same for Byakuya, that maybe this is a bad time to have this conversation, right, and maybe Byakuya chose it for that reason. He shifts helplessly into the other man's grip, groaning, trying to keep it subdued enough, though he can tell, all right, that nothing's gonna be quiet enough for these walls. They're so thin.
Byakuya settles in between Ichigo's legs and licks a trail from the base, where he's holding him, angling his cock outwards, to the tip and that's when Ichigo realizes, belatedly, okay, because he's getting his cock sucked(!), Byakuya not only thinks it's fine that his family hears. He wants them to.
Ichigo's cock actually jerks in Byakuya's grip, against his mouth working its way up the underside of the shaft. The volume of Ichigo's groan goes up notably, his hold on the other man's hair tightening into a similar grip. Oh. Oh. Actually writhing against him, Ichigo licks his lips and glances down, at the utter disarray of Byakuya's hair, pooling over the side of Ichigo's hip and thigh, his open lap where he's... His breathing is coming out fast and shallow. He feels almost faint from it. ]
No, I -- Damn it, Byakuya. [ Despite the harshness of his words, when he reaches down with his left hand and collects as much of Byakuya's hair between his fingers as he can, pushing it out of the way so he can see better, the full visual of the Sixth Division captain sucking his cock, his touch is soft, gentle. Careful. ] It's good.
[ Whether he's talking about the prospect of the entire Kuchiki household hearing them getting it on or about the way Byakuya's lips are slick and wet and his tongue presses in just right, he doesn't specify. If Byakuya can be an inarticulate jerk about his questions, sure, Ichigo can be the same about his replies.
Not what matters now anyway, huh? He's pretty sure they both agree there. ]
[ Shifting again, nearly (but not quite) mirroring Ichigo's restless moving about, Byakuya listens to his stammered reply, not too coherent for a man who studies how to make language understandable to others but who's he to judge? He certainly doesn't know any English. In either case, the point travels perfectly - it's good, yes, the way he's licking his cock and the fact that people will know, that hiding, whilst not impossible, is preferably not on the table tonight. He will put up with it in the world of the living where Ichigo's life tips the scales in favour of whatever makes him comfortable. And true, he asked because he didn't want to presume - if Ichigo had told him no, he would have listened.
It's good, he says instead and so, Byakuya closes his eyes and mouths his way up the length of his shaft by touch and scent, until he can feel the damp tip against his tongue. Then, he lifts up on his elbows slightly, opens his mouth and presses down over the head, coaxing Ichigo's cock inside with his tongue. His taste is strong, here, musky and distinctively him. He takes him in as far as he can without straining - just enough that when he closes his lips, he has the entirety of the head along with an inch of his shaft safely locked between them. He pauses, giving himself time to adjust to the sensation of being filled, of something else taking up space within him. It's a little bit alien still, though not as much as it used to be.
His own cock, at least, has no problems with it. It's so hard that he can feel it pushing against the loose fabric of his hakama. Every time he shifts on the bed, the friction makes him want to reach down and palm himself. Happily, he's got self-control. Though changing out of the uniform for work later wouldn't be an issue, exactly, he'd rather prefer not to come in his pants.
Pulling slowly off Ichigo's cock, he lets the head slide nearly past his lips before pressing downwards again, harder this time, enough that it slides in further yet, all the way to the back of his throat. At once, he feels like he might choke on it; it's so big and broad, it's almost like it might somehow hollow him out if he were to take it down even further.
He thinks about Ichigo's smile again.
And makes an impulsive decision, just as he draws back to suck on the head, gaze still downcast, his focus actually increasing despite the rush of arousal currently flooding his bloodstream.
Indeed, there's poetry to be found in many things. ]
[ His thighs strain. Sitting like this, legs folded up underneath himself, isn't the most comfortable position to receive a blowjob in, you know, just on second thought, but there's something about it even so, about feeling his own body work into it - yeah, Ichigo likes that. If nothing else, he can work with it. He's gotten way worse for a lot less gain before. So, he just shifts on his buttocks again, easing off his heels and thus pushing up against Byakuya's mouth a little, the way his lips slide over the head as he takes it into his mouth, first time, second, harder. Shit.
He gasps as the other man sinks down over his length a little further, his toes actively curling at the feeling of wet heat, slide, slick, friction. Chin dropping a little, he just stares down at him, at the movements of his shoulders in his hakama. The graceful curve of his back, when he sits like that, on his knees, head buried in Ichigo's lap. His breathing comes out fast and funny, his fingers tightening in the other man's hair, pushing it over his shoulder once, twice, because it keeps sliding back down, pooling over Ichigo's thigh. In the way, vision-wise.
Although his hips are trembling to really push back against the feeling of his tongue, Ichigo holds back, feeling the determination with which Byakuya is sucking him and not wanting to disturb his rhythm, trip him up or anything, though honestly. He can't really imagine anything doing that. enemies have tried and they've all failed. Byakuya is still here, right here... His next intake of breath stumbles and his hand moves to the back of Byakuya's head, cupping the curve of his skull, holding him still on his cock for a second, just feeling the depth of him, sinking down. His eyes narrow. The silence is total.
Byakuya knows him, he should know this moment says more than all the moaning in the world. He's slightly overwhelmed with it, that's it, right? He's falling into it.
Upon impact, there's gonna be enough noise to fill the void. ]
[ When Ichigo shifts a little - to seat himself more comfortably, one would hope - he accidentally pushes inwards, not much but enough to give the impression of a thrust. Byakuya's breath catches in his throat at the feel of it and when Ichigo moves his hand to the back of his head, he stays perfectly still, feeling strangely afloat, like he can't quite... The silence between them feels incredibly potent and for a moment, all he can hear is the sound of Ichigo's breathing, the slight rustling of their clothes whenever they move enough to disturb the fabrics. Blinking, his next intake of breath so light that it trembles both on the way in and out, he sinks down just a bit further over Ichigo's cock, feeling it push against the very back of his throat once more. It doesn't feel the same, he thinks, when he makes the motion himself. It doesn't feel wrong, either, just more familiar - the difference, he realises, between control and pliancy.
He's never been a particularly pliant person.
But right now, Ichigo - who is never quiet - is so silent that the air around them seems to tremble with it. Byakuya pulls back about half-way, breathing in shallowly once more, his cock so hard that it aches. On his tongue, Ichigo's cock feels hot and wet, the taste of him just a little less intense, reduced to skin and salt. Arousal. Looking up at him through his lashes, Byakuya thinks that they're both stepping into unknown waters now so perhaps, he can also challenge himself in turn. Perhaps, it doesn't matter why he shouldn't (if that is, indeed, even relevant to anyone who matters), perhaps the next step really is that easy.
To steady them both, he folds his free hand against Ichigo's belly, spreading out his fingers and pushing down slightly, just enough to imply, stay. Then, frowning in concentration, he leans in and lets Ichigo's cock push along the width of his tongue, all the way to the back of his throat once more. There, the head - massive, well, if something breaks, presumably it can be fixed in the aftermath - presses against the narrow passage between mouth and throat. It's a hole, though, isn't it. Surely, if you apply - perhaps a little bit of force -
He uses his weight to sink down, feeling the head push harshly inwards and the stretch isn't comfortable, exactly, but definitely tolerable - eyes falling shut again, shoulders relaxing forcibly, he pulls back an inch and repeats. This time, the head pops past something and his breath effectively stops. Oh.
Breathing through his nose instead, he stays where he is, as still as he can, before pushing down another inch, until the tip of his nose hits the coarse, orange curls between Ichigo's legs. The other man is seated so deep in his throat that he feels like another limb, somehow, an addition more so than an intrusion. Drooling magnificently all over Ichigo's lap, he breathes out very shakily, his whole body thrumming with excitement, with the urge to keep going. He pulls back slowly, his hand against Ichigo's abdomen heavy and uncompromising.
The two of them fucking never feels meaningless, but here, in Byakuya's house, on display like that, it feels weirdly colossal. Like a freakin' big thing, okay. even so, his silence doesn't last forever. Almost as if Ichigo was urging him, Byakuya pushes down over his cock, taking it in until the head pushes against the very back of his mouth. Ichigo groans, sits still by stupid dumb luck, because his hips are straining and his thighs keep tightening up, trying to push upwards, into, but Ichigo keeps the rein on himself taut. He doesn't wanna make it uncomfortable for the other man, he doesn't wanna push past any limitations, not tonight, not when it's not life and death.
Shit, he wants sex to always be this easy between them.
Another groan, deeper as Byakuya pulls back again, creating the perfect slide. In the man's hair, Ichigo's fingers tighten, tremble. He licks his lips, is about to say something, some kind of praise, then... ]
Fuck!
[ It sounds loud in the stillness, but shit! What's he supposed to do, huh - when Byakuya just goes ahead and freakin'... freakin'... swallows him. All of him, all of it, his cock lodged deep in the other man's throat, walls clamping around him on all sides and the tightness is so good, so overwhelming, Ichigo's head lolls back, his mouth wide open along with his eyes as he moans loudly, his whole lower body straining to push, thrust, take. even if Byakuya's hand against his abdomen, firm and uncompromising, is saying don't move, Ichigo still wouldn't have done it, right? Come on. He doesn't want Byakuya to choke, he wants to keep him this way, warm and wet and buried in his lap until his face is more or less planted in Ichigo's pubes.
He strokes the back of his head, having to concentrate not to cum on the spot, his voice shaking and raw as he says: ]
Wanna -- [ Pant, pant. ] -- test me? Byakuya, I'm -- [ Pant, pant. He licks his lips again, inclining his head so he's looking down at the other man. ] -- already so close. Definitely, I'm gonna lose this round.
[ except, it doesn't feel like a loss. Feels like a win. Ichigo's eyes fall shut, his expression tightening as he fights himself, not to move, not to move. Crap.
His moan comes out stuttering, long and outdrawn and loud enough to make up for all the quietness that came before. ]
[ It's not a competition, he wants to say, except he's rather got his mouth full and Ichigo's being very nice and accommodating, isn't he, staying still even though his body is clearly fighting rigorously to move. His hand against the back of his head is gentle, too, his voice shaking audibly, broken up by his pants. He sounds so good like this. Years back, you could not have convinced him that he'd like Ichigo's voice in any capacity, let alone this much but here they are. Here he is, with the other man's cock well and truly lodged in his throat and his own body is aching at the sound of him, at the way he feels.
With a slow, uneven exhalation through his mouth, he pulls back very gradually. When the head pops past the bend between throat and mouth, his body actually tenses up briefly at the feel of it. It's partially due to the way it feels like strain, like being wedged open just a bit further than you're meant to - more than that, though, it's the knowledge of what's happening. Of how the other man's carving out a path within him and that he doesn't mind in the slightest.
Perhaps, in a way, he already has and this is simply an emphasis.
With a groan, audible now that his mouth is only half-way full, Byakuya shifts and slips both hands to Ichigo's hips instead. He digs his fingers in, grasping him as he can from this angle, buttocks, thighs, the implication of bone beneath skin. Pointedly, he pushes at him, urging him up, in, come on, unwilling to release his cock entirely to speak the words themselves. Instead, he relies on Ichigo's ability to catch his meaning (something he seems to be growing steadfastly better at, even if he likes to get grumpy about it), bends his neck and sucks him right back down. This time, the head pops into his throat just a little easier. Unfortunately, the faster pace also comes with a drawback - half a second later, his throat convulses and he gasps, forcibly relaxing himself, very, very unwilling to actually choke on Ichigo's cock.
Instead, he stays still, his shoulders shaking slightly at the strain, before his body seemingly gives in and accepts the inevitable.
He doesn't look up at Ichigo now, not because he doesn't very much want to but because he can feel the water in the corners of his eyes and the way it clumps his eyelashes together. Pitiful, unimportant instinctual response - it shall be duly ignored. ]
[ The slide doesn't exactly get better, as in - it definitely doesn't get worse, right, as Byakuya starts pulling back, Ichigo feeling the motion of his own cock slipping back out like tight walls slipping along and releasing its length, his breath shuddering out of him and his moaning coming deep from his chest. His hand keeps stroking the back of Byakuya's head, long, calm touches of fingers to his hair, his scalp, making sure that the other man can feel him in turn. Anything else would be unfair, really.
If he'd intended to say something more, Byakuya shuts him up effectively by forcing himself back down over his cock, spearing himself on the whole size of it and Ichigo groans now, his hips trembling and straining in a way that almost physically hurts, shit. He wants to move. He wants to move so bad, he almost can't see for it.
What he does see - and feel, fromt tip to base - is Byakuya choking on him in his eagerness, his throat convulsing and his inner walls tightening harshly around him, almost enough to set Ichigo off completely, though he manages to calm the first response by deep breathing, his own lungs filling shallowly, rapidly. Can't imagine how Byakuya must be feeling like that. Not sure he wants to imagine, but he likes it.
Looking down, he takes in how his shoulders are shaking and on his face... oh... is that... well, sure, but... Air leaving him in a long exhalation, Ichigo reaches down with his free hand and cups the other man's face with his palm, running his thumb along his lower lashes, smearing out the wetness there. The whole feeling of doing that, to him, for him, makes his balls draw up so harshly, he's honestly only a minute from coming. Even if he didn't do what Byakuya is soundlessly telling him to. Thrust, he means, take me, and Ichigo breathes again, and again, running his now wet fingers down to the other man's mouth, tracing the round O-shape of it, taut and tight, where it's engulfing the very base of his cock.
He wants to take him, then. Just... Since he's asking, all right. He wants to have him that way. ]
Don't worry. [ His voice doesn't sound like his voice, when he speaks. It sounds airy and full of wonder. ] I'll be careful with you.
[ Like that, eyes narrowing in concentration and pleasure, Ichigo grasps Byakuya by his chin and angles himself slightly, pushing inward, into him, filling him and fuck, the feeling of that, the slide, the sensation of... control, being in control, being given that control by someone like Byakuya...
Moaning loudly, his chin drops to his chest and he repeats the motion one more time, then again, slowly, carefully. His other hand is still touching Byakuya by the back of his head, but more in the sense of holding him still. Keeping him. There.
The sounds he's making.... he doesn't even recognise them himself... whimpering and pitiful and like he's the one with water in his eyes...
Just a minute more of this, just let Byakuya hold out that long for him, okay? ]
[ 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. ]
[ Byakuya feels like he's blown completely open this way. With how Ichigo sinks into him again and again, keeping it from being rough not with an effort, but with all the freakin' will he's got. He'd never. He'd never treat him like that. Shit, he'd die first.
Those whimpering, low but outdrawn sounds keep rolling off of his tongue and he wouldn't know how to suppress them, even if Byakuya hadn't given him a carte blanche to be as loud as he wants. Maybe because it's not really a question of wanting it, it's just part of the experience, him fucking Byakuya's throat like this and Byakuya's family having to live with the evidence, they're two sides of the same coin. Ichigo's eyes fall shut as he gets closer and closer to coming, his balls drawing up harshly and his cock trobbing hotly along the full width of Byakuya's tongue.
Fuck. Fuck.
His fingers tighten convulsively in the other man's hair as he finally leans in over him a little, not pushing in any further, not sure how far he'd even get at this point, nowhere nice, at least, just like he would if he was gonna protect him from the onslaught of attack or something, shielding him with his own body, that kind of thing.
His palm runs along Byakuya's jaw, following the shape of his face, to his ear, to his temple. It's a caress. ]
Still honoured, you know. [ Ichigo is panting heavily. ] That -- [ Pant, pant, pant. ] - you keep giving me special treatment.
[ Only, at this point, his voice sounds pretty much destroyed and Ichigo throws his head back and moans, then, his whole body shaking notably as the next thrust, and the next after that grows slightly faster, minimally harder and he finally more stumbles than falls into his orgasm. He groans, then whimpers, then nothing, his hips working desperately as he spends himself so far back Byakuya' throat, it's almost like it doesn't exist.
Except it does, it exists between them. This feeling of overwhelming lightness and pleasure. He's gasping, staring up at the ceiling, his hand grabbing on to the back of Byakuya's head for support. He could stay like this a good long while, right, but he isn't gonna. Still shuddering and gasping, he's quick to pull out, keeping the movement slow and careful all throughout.
Even post-orgasmic, he' not just gonna go forgetting himself. Forgetting Byakuya, even less. ]
[ Special treatment, he calls it, Ichigo, while he makes the kind of noise that traverses the thin doors of the mansion easily, working his cock down Byakuya's throat with a gentleness that you probably couldn't and shouldn't expect from anyone else. Byakuya, eyes closed, falls into it, into the glide and the fullness and the taste of him, more skin than anything else at this point. It barely even occurs to him that his jaw is aching and his throat has begun to feel numb - instead, his sole source of discomfort is how impossibly hard he is and how doing anything about it is equally impossible. Keeping his mouth tight around Ichigo's length, taking care to keep his teeth out of the mix when his muscles begin to tire, he shifts on his knees and leans his face into Ichigo's touch, his searching fingers.
Honoured, he says.
Imagine that, from such a man.
His next exhalation is a half-groan, strangled of course, seeing as he's got Ichigo's cock blocking his airways and the movement of his tongue. The sound pales, he thinks, in comparison to Ichigo's whimpers, sweet and loud, stumbling in that way he has in the bedroom and nowhere else; awkwardness, perhaps, a touch of uncertainty. For someone who is, in fact, human (well, some of the way, at least), it's striking how they stand out - those all-too-human traits.
It's good, to hear him lose himself.
When Ichigo comes, he whimpers - and quiets. His gasping is loud amidst the stillness of the room, his cock pulsing briefly between Byakuya's lips before the sensation abates. He can't feel his spend to begin with, though once Ichigo withdraws from his throat, a string of cum follows in his wake, coating his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Oh. Byakuya looks up at him slowly, sitting up onto his knees. His gaze is neutral, though he's fairly certain his pupils must be taking up eighty percent of his face at this point.
With a very shaky exhalation, audibly, too, almost like a groan, Byakuya reaches for his hakama and begins the long (so long, a clear sign of Shutara Senjumaru's sadism) process of undoing the knots. His fingers tremble as he works, though his movements are no less precise than always. In the background, beyond the room, the sounds of the servants preparing for tomorrow have nearly faded completely - no doubt, following Ichigo's little performance, Seike has cleared the corridors.
In front of him, Ichigo looks entirely debauched. When Byakuya finally manages to wrestle his hakama out of the way along with his underwear, he's so hard that all he needs is a dry hand and less than handful of strokes before he spends himself over his knuckles, biting his own bottom lip hard and keeping himself upright by clinging onto Ichigo's thigh with bruising strength. ]
[ Although Byakuya isn't loud the same way Ichigo is, and Ichigo knows he could probably afford to turn the volume down at least a bit around here, he just can't really be bothered, if the other man is fine with it, so is Ichigo, Byakuya makes his own kind of sound. Got his own kind of loudness. Like, the way he pulls off Ichigo's cock and got cum clinging to his lips as he sits up, towering over Ichigo who can't honestly be bothered to move anymore than he could be bothered to shut up, that's pretty freakin' loud. Same with the way he stares down at Ichigo, his pupils blown so wide, there's almost nothing else left of his face than that... Loud. So loud.
Ichigo's breathing feels forcibly still, relaxed from orgasm, though part of him wants to be racing ahead along with Byakuya who's fighting the knots on his hakama, wrestling his clothes free, only a little more desperation away from actually looking really desperate, though the Kuchiki Clan head isn't quite stooping that low yet. He'd reach out and touch , too, help, but once the clothing's out of the way, shit, it's more or less over in the same breath, Byakuya breathing funny while he jerks off with his usual determination (plus some more of the desperation he doesn't normally exhibit at all) and coming four-five strokes of his hand later. Spending himself over his knuckles, the uppermost part of Ichigo's thighs which does make Ichigo's cock twitch pitifully in all the interest it can muster currently.
Byakuya is hanging on to him with a hand that's squeezing so tight, you'd think his bloodflow's gonna suffer, right? Good thing he's all soul here.
Murmuring something that's more sound than actual words, Ichigo breathes slowly in, out, and reaches out with both arms, more or less scooping the other man in against his chest, pulling him with him down as he eases back onto his rear, extending his legs from their awkward angle with a naturalness that comes of years of physical trainng - before and after his life as a Shinigami. He holds Byakuya like that, just craddles him in against his chest, feeling exposed and exposed to to a degree that's weirdly overwhelming.
Not bad, just... a lot. And Ichigo's done a lot many times in his life, he's not sure what this counts for.
Resting his chin on top of Byakuya's head, the scent of his hair thick in his nostrils, along with the smell of sex and cum, he knows, however,it counts for something. ]
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saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
no subject
When Ichigo leans in all the way, still somehow evading all dishes and plates and cups which is really a testament to his superior motor skills, Byakuya has already lifted the pen from the paper and aimed the tip at the well, a safe distance from the book itself. He tips his chin slightly upwards and kisses Ichigo back, eyes closed, shoulders loosing the last remnants of tension.
The pen, unfortunately, tips out of the well as his wrist dips, clattering against the table. Though he can't see it nor truly care in any capacity right now, he can imagine how the ink splatters across the table top, seeping into the wooden surface. It will stay there, he thinks, reaching for Ichigo with his other hand, not to grab his head but to press his hand against his ribcage, supporting him where he sits.
Yes, the ink will stay and it'll be a different table than before. For once, he'll take notice of it every time he sits here, just another small detail with a name and an intention behind it.
Sighing into the kiss, he leaves the pen where it lies and folds his other hand against the side of Ichigo's face. Then, he pulls out of the kiss, looks at him for a brief moment and leans in again, this time to give him a kiss on the cheek, just the barest whisper of lips against skin. Reluctantly, he draws away, only to pick up the book gently and slide to his feet. ]
I will be able to see it better by the windows.
[ I'm not going anywhere, he doesn't say, but the implication should be clear enough. He goes to sit by the window close to his bed, sliding the door away slightly to let in the light from the torches outside on the engawa. He pulls his hanten closer around his shoulders. ]
no subject
No fighting, for one. No almost killing each other.
He groans into the kiss, feeling Byakuya pulling away and not really in the mood to let go, although his positon on the table is awkward at best, borderline uncomfortable maybe more like it, but come on - he's had worse and what he definitely hasn't had is something better than Byakuya's mouth this way. Nothing beats that. He can stay uncomfortable for a long time, for that. Would, too.
Still, Byakuya pulls away and takes the book with the same awe he looked at it before, which makes Ichigo's insides warm up notably, saying he can see it better by the window, meaning he isn't leaving just to leave, he isn't disappearing (or dying) or anything like that, he's just moving, right over there and Ichigo sits back on his haunches, watching him as he seats himself, looking like one of those traditional ukiyo-e paintings. That delicate.
It takes Ichigo exactly two seconds to decide to follow, getting up and moving around the table to the bed, close enough by to be near but not in Byakuya's way or anything, where he sits down, legs folded sloppily up under himself and his hands on his thighs. And it takes five seconds of looking on in silence before he blurts out, ]
I wouldn't have thought I'd ever be able to give you a gift you could use for anything.
[ It's not apologetic, he isn't fishing for reassurance. Byakuya is being plenty clear about liking the book and that makes him so satisfied, he could probably combust, but it's an observation. They were there at one point, now they're here, right? ]
no subject
He doesn't hate it, no, but he would have strongly preferred it if he were to eat all that he could before leaving the table. Of course, Ichigo rarely does anything as he ought. He sits still, letting the other man close the distance as far as he likes for now, noting that he seats himself on his bed like that's a perfectly average thing to do. In the world of the living, it seems to be normal enough - the bed, just another piece of furniture despite the intimate nature of its purpose. In Byakuya's world, there's been no one in his bed except himself for decades.
Slowly, he turns his head a fraction, just enough that he can watch Ichigo back out of the corner of one eye, through the strands of his hair that haven't been pulled back by his hairpiece. Having foregone the kenseikan for now and possibly for the rest of the year (as with other things, it's not that he can't decide, it's just that the options seem numerous when before, he didn't care enough to notice), he's opted for the thin, metallic alternative that he chose in the year following the Karakura Winter War. On the plus side, it doesn't leave his hair floating perpetually within his eyesight.
The downside of that, of course, is how naked everything feels as a consequence.
At Ichigo's words, he makes a low hmm sound and puts the book down carefully, folding the cloth underneath to provide a barrier between the floor and the cover. I wouldn't have thought, says Ichigo, like he hasn't, in fact, gifted him the life of his sister, the continued existence of his entire world and then, for the past many months, himself as well. He takes in Ichigo's form as he sits there on his bed, the too-sharp lines of his limbs, the subtle shadows tracing across his face. Everything comes at a cost, too. It's the cost, he thinks, for which Ichigo has much too little regard. ]
What a ridiculous idea.
[ He says it without any harshness. Getting to his feet briefly, he turns and sits on the bed opposite Ichigo, folding his knees up beneath himself. He shifts close, curving one hand against the side of Ichigo's face. He looks up, catching his eyes, his own gaze softer. A private mood in all aspects. ]
I hope one day you'll realise why.
[ Leaning in, he tilts his head slightly and catches hips lips in a gentle kiss. It's not particularly timid, though, nor is the way he shifts in closer yet and runs his other hand blindly down Ichigo's chest, towards his obi. ]
no subject
At this point, not just counting the months they've been mostly apart, but the months that came before, when they weren't, kissing Byakuya back is more like basic second nature, it comes so easily, parting his lips to him and with a slight sigh, opening up for him. His tongue, the wet, insistent presence of his mouth. Ichigo really likes that.
It dawns on him that besides that book, they've given each other a lot of this, this not being alone, ever since Kyoto, that night in the first hotel and onwards from there, right? The book is just the culmination of that. And it's not even where it ends, that's what Byakuya is saying, letting his hand slip down Ichigo's chest towards where his obi is keeping everything neatly in place.
Ichigo shifts on his knees, reaching out with both hands and letting his left land somewhere along the side of Byakuya's face, temple, slipping into his hair where it's pushed back tightly with some kind of hairpiece. He follows the strands where they cascade down the back of his neck. With his right hand, he reaches down and catches Byakuya's wrist before he can start in on his obi, pulling back from the kiss a bit regretfully, but Ichigo talks, right. Ichigo is noisy and loud and when he's got something to say, he'll say it, no matter what.
Byakuya knows that, of course. If he's got a point, telling him it's a ridiculous idea, what he just said, it's because he at least couldn't avoid hearing him.
He hasn't pulled away far, their breaths are still ghosting over the other's face, Ichigo smiling slightly, sharply and looking into Byakuya's face, gaze direct and unapologetic. ]
You think I don't understand already?
[ That book was a gift in exchange, you know, it means. That's the whole point, right? They're running with something, together, because there already was something, they're expanding, they're growing, both of them. Like Ichigo doesn't freakin' know that! He feels it every time Byakuya touches him. No swords right now, for one. At this point, they'd probably be too busy defending the other to point their blades at each other again. Shit.
Groaning, he leans in for another kiss, releasing Byakuya's hand, his own fingers, as they come away, slip over the palm of it where, if you really feel for it, you can feel a fine web of scar tissue, probably from Senbonzakura. He leaves the other man to take care of his obi, since that's apparently what they're gonna do, huh, folding his free hand against the side of Byakuya's face as he kisses him, hard.
The book - it was because he got something first. Something important. ]
no subject
At the other man's question, he arches an eyebrow perhaps a bit sharply. It's that smile on his face, he realises distantly, still predominantly concerned with the feel of him, with how close he is and how his obi is right there, very much within reach. The smile. It reminds him of... Eyes widening for a split second, just as Ichigo leans in to kiss him again, Byakuya takes a second to respond, to step back onto the bridge he's been offered. His mind flashes back years to the beginning, to Ichigo who'd been so nearly beaten in battle until suddenly, he just wasn't and that had been an awful day all around for everyone, hadn't it. For Byakuya, though, it had also spelled salvation.
Even then, Ichigo didn't budge. Not for him, not for anyone.
The kiss is harder now, more insistent. Byakuya closes his eyes. Leaves the question hanging between them unanswered - it was clearly rhetorical and in any case, he's not going to change that man's approach to himself just by stating the obvious - and presses into him, slipping his tongue past his lips. He tastes heavily of food, still, of rice and spices. If he wanted to take the time, though, he could kiss that taste out of him easily enough. He knows how to get to what's underneath.
For now, however, Byakuya has other plans with his mouth. He draws back, gaze lingering on Ichigo's lips for a long, outdrawn moment.
With deft movements, he makes short work of every knot currently holding the fabric together around Ichigo's hips. It leaves him reaching around Ichigo's body with both hands as he unties the knot at the small of his back, bringing him in close enough that his lips slide along the side of his neck as he works. His own breath is measured, very purposefully controlled. There's something about the situation - the house, Ichigo, his bed, the present near the window - that makes him slower, calmer.
This serenity, he thinks, is hard-won.
He pulls Ichigo's hakama open along with his upper clothes, grasping the hem of his undershirt and pulling it up to bare him. If Ichigo wants it off - the uniform, his underclothes - entirely, he'll have to do so himself. It's fine for him either way. To slip inside and navigate within the spaces of Ichigo's own fabrics, of the shadows and depths they represent. On a deep exhalation, he leans down and kisses his way down the middle of his chest, tasting salt and skin. He's warm, like stepping barefoot onto the engawa after a long day of sunshine. Sighing, shoulders lowering, he leaves a trail of kisses down Ichigo's midriff, one hand slipping to his hip to undo the rest of his underwear. ]
no subject
So, when Byakuya pulls back, out of the kiss, Ichigo groans, low in his throat, wanting to reach for him, pull him right back in, but the other man has already gotten started on his obi and no way that Ichigo's gonna stop him from that. He shifts impatiently on his buttocks, feeling Byakuya's head so close to his neck, his lips are brushing his skin, as he opens him up. Doesn't do anything to slow down his heartbeat, for sure. Byakuya pulls up his undershirt, baring him and Ichigo's immediate response it to shrug off his hakama as far down his upper arms as it's gonna go. Opening himself up as well. Go ahead, it means. Take me, then.
except, when the other man leans in, starting to kiss his way down Ichigo's chest, all the way to his midriff, Ichigo feeling the heat pool low in his abdomen in response, he feels the first sense of apprehension, recalling when they fucked back home at his house, the kido barrier that Byakuya put up to avoid his sisters hearing... This is his family! No way if Byakuya intends to do that here, like this, can Ichigo stay silent enough that the traditionally thin walls will be able to keep it out. Doesn't Byakuya mind? Doesn't he want to...?
The feeling of his lips moving decidedly downwards is making him take in air really funny. Ichigo writhes beneath him, smoothening his hands over his hair, feeling the loose strands and the combs keeping it in place. He tightens his grip. Hard. Fingertips digging into the back of his head.
Speaking, his voice is shaking. ]
Hey, Byakuya. [ A pause, since he isn't sure how to say it right, in the end just bursting out: ] Is this all right? everyone's gonna hear, if we do it like this.
[ The fundoshi has fallen away and is putting on obvious display that Ichigo definitely doesn't mind Byakuya's clan hearing, right? His cock's so hard it hurts already. He just wants to be certain, all right. ]
no subject
Well.
He shifts. Blinks, resisting the altogether undignified urge to look down his own body. He doesn't need to see, after all, to know that he's nearly fully hard, suddenly very glad for the looseness of his clothes. That... was quick, even for him. He leans his head into Ichigo's hold, forcing himself to focus enough on his words to parse the meaning. Is what alright? This? Everyone's gonna hear. Oh yes, they certainly are. The walls in the Kuchiki mansion are even thinner than they look. He nudges in closer, lips sliding wetly over Ichigo's midriff. As he slips the fundoshi aside, he can feel the heat from Ichigo's body and smell his arousal.
Everyone's gonna hear.
And tomorrow, if not today, they will know.
He shifts a little, enough to get between Ichigo's legs properly. Making himself comfortable there, he takes a moment to reply, his gaze firmly lodged on the hard line of Ichigo's cock where it rests against his abdomen. He spits in his palm quickly and folds his fingers around the base, rubbing his thumb slowly up along the underside. ]
Would you prefer them not to?
[ After all, back at his own house, he'd been worried about his family knowing. Then again, this is Byakuya's clan home. Perhaps Ichigo thinks they're family in the same way, though nothing could be further from the truth. Really, if Great-Aunt Yukina hears Ichigo have a screaming orgasm today, at least she will have something interesting to talk about for once in her miserable life.
He knows, of course, that people will talk. There will be discussions and debates and disapproval. He's played this game many times before and though it bores him beyond all imagination, it ties into his duties and as such, he's a proficient player if not very enthusiastic. He's not planning on sucking Ichigo off or parading him around tomorrow for his birthday because he's reckless. He's had months to think his options over. Months to sit by himself in the stillness of his rooms or in his office, knowing that the way forward simply isn't meant to be easy. It wasn't before and it won't be now.
Shifting down onto his knees, he tilts his head sideways, his hair tumbling off his shoulder and onto Ichigo's thigh and hip. His gaze narrows in determination. Slowly, he licks a wet trail from the base of Ichigo's cock all the way to the tip. ]
no subject
Byakuya settles in between Ichigo's legs and licks a trail from the base, where he's holding him, angling his cock outwards, to the tip and that's when Ichigo realizes, belatedly, okay, because he's getting his cock sucked(!), Byakuya not only thinks it's fine that his family hears. He wants them to.
Ichigo's cock actually jerks in Byakuya's grip, against his mouth working its way up the underside of the shaft. The volume of Ichigo's groan goes up notably, his hold on the other man's hair tightening into a similar grip. Oh. Oh. Actually writhing against him, Ichigo licks his lips and glances down, at the utter disarray of Byakuya's hair, pooling over the side of Ichigo's hip and thigh, his open lap where he's... His breathing is coming out fast and shallow. He feels almost faint from it. ]
No, I -- Damn it, Byakuya. [ Despite the harshness of his words, when he reaches down with his left hand and collects as much of Byakuya's hair between his fingers as he can, pushing it out of the way so he can see better, the full visual of the Sixth Division captain sucking his cock, his touch is soft, gentle. Careful. ] It's good.
[ Whether he's talking about the prospect of the entire Kuchiki household hearing them getting it on or about the way Byakuya's lips are slick and wet and his tongue presses in just right, he doesn't specify. If Byakuya can be an inarticulate jerk about his questions, sure, Ichigo can be the same about his replies.
Not what matters now anyway, huh? He's pretty sure they both agree there. ]
no subject
It's good, he says instead and so, Byakuya closes his eyes and mouths his way up the length of his shaft by touch and scent, until he can feel the damp tip against his tongue. Then, he lifts up on his elbows slightly, opens his mouth and presses down over the head, coaxing Ichigo's cock inside with his tongue. His taste is strong, here, musky and distinctively him. He takes him in as far as he can without straining - just enough that when he closes his lips, he has the entirety of the head along with an inch of his shaft safely locked between them. He pauses, giving himself time to adjust to the sensation of being filled, of something else taking up space within him. It's a little bit alien still, though not as much as it used to be.
His own cock, at least, has no problems with it. It's so hard that he can feel it pushing against the loose fabric of his hakama. Every time he shifts on the bed, the friction makes him want to reach down and palm himself. Happily, he's got self-control. Though changing out of the uniform for work later wouldn't be an issue, exactly, he'd rather prefer not to come in his pants.
Pulling slowly off Ichigo's cock, he lets the head slide nearly past his lips before pressing downwards again, harder this time, enough that it slides in further yet, all the way to the back of his throat. At once, he feels like he might choke on it; it's so big and broad, it's almost like it might somehow hollow him out if he were to take it down even further.
He thinks about Ichigo's smile again.
And makes an impulsive decision, just as he draws back to suck on the head, gaze still downcast, his focus actually increasing despite the rush of arousal currently flooding his bloodstream.
Indeed, there's poetry to be found in many things. ]
no subject
He gasps as the other man sinks down over his length a little further, his toes actively curling at the feeling of wet heat, slide, slick, friction. Chin dropping a little, he just stares down at him, at the movements of his shoulders in his hakama. The graceful curve of his back, when he sits like that, on his knees, head buried in Ichigo's lap. His breathing comes out fast and funny, his fingers tightening in the other man's hair, pushing it over his shoulder once, twice, because it keeps sliding back down, pooling over Ichigo's thigh. In the way, vision-wise.
Although his hips are trembling to really push back against the feeling of his tongue, Ichigo holds back, feeling the determination with which Byakuya is sucking him and not wanting to disturb his rhythm, trip him up or anything, though honestly. He can't really imagine anything doing that. enemies have tried and they've all failed. Byakuya is still here, right here... His next intake of breath stumbles and his hand moves to the back of Byakuya's head, cupping the curve of his skull, holding him still on his cock for a second, just feeling the depth of him, sinking down. His eyes narrow. The silence is total.
Byakuya knows him, he should know this moment says more than all the moaning in the world. He's slightly overwhelmed with it, that's it, right? He's falling into it.
Upon impact, there's gonna be enough noise to fill the void. ]
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He's never been a particularly pliant person.
But right now, Ichigo - who is never quiet - is so silent that the air around them seems to tremble with it. Byakuya pulls back about half-way, breathing in shallowly once more, his cock so hard that it aches. On his tongue, Ichigo's cock feels hot and wet, the taste of him just a little less intense, reduced to skin and salt. Arousal. Looking up at him through his lashes, Byakuya thinks that they're both stepping into unknown waters now so perhaps, he can also challenge himself in turn. Perhaps, it doesn't matter why he shouldn't (if that is, indeed, even relevant to anyone who matters), perhaps the next step really is that easy.
To steady them both, he folds his free hand against Ichigo's belly, spreading out his fingers and pushing down slightly, just enough to imply, stay. Then, frowning in concentration, he leans in and lets Ichigo's cock push along the width of his tongue, all the way to the back of his throat once more. There, the head - massive, well, if something breaks, presumably it can be fixed in the aftermath - presses against the narrow passage between mouth and throat. It's a hole, though, isn't it. Surely, if you apply - perhaps a little bit of force -
He uses his weight to sink down, feeling the head push harshly inwards and the stretch isn't comfortable, exactly, but definitely tolerable - eyes falling shut again, shoulders relaxing forcibly, he pulls back an inch and repeats. This time, the head pops past something and his breath effectively stops. Oh.
Breathing through his nose instead, he stays where he is, as still as he can, before pushing down another inch, until the tip of his nose hits the coarse, orange curls between Ichigo's legs. The other man is seated so deep in his throat that he feels like another limb, somehow, an addition more so than an intrusion. Drooling magnificently all over Ichigo's lap, he breathes out very shakily, his whole body thrumming with excitement, with the urge to keep going. He pulls back slowly, his hand against Ichigo's abdomen heavy and uncompromising.
In a moment, he'll let the man move. ]
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The two of them fucking never feels meaningless, but here, in Byakuya's house, on display like that, it feels weirdly colossal. Like a freakin' big thing, okay. even so, his silence doesn't last forever. Almost as if Ichigo was urging him, Byakuya pushes down over his cock, taking it in until the head pushes against the very back of his mouth. Ichigo groans, sits still by stupid dumb luck, because his hips are straining and his thighs keep tightening up, trying to push upwards, into, but Ichigo keeps the rein on himself taut. He doesn't wanna make it uncomfortable for the other man, he doesn't wanna push past any limitations, not tonight, not when it's not life and death.
Shit, he wants sex to always be this easy between them.
Another groan, deeper as Byakuya pulls back again, creating the perfect slide. In the man's hair, Ichigo's fingers tighten, tremble. He licks his lips, is about to say something, some kind of praise, then... ]
Fuck!
[ It sounds loud in the stillness, but shit! What's he supposed to do, huh - when Byakuya just goes ahead and freakin'... freakin'... swallows him. All of him, all of it, his cock lodged deep in the other man's throat, walls clamping around him on all sides and the tightness is so good, so overwhelming, Ichigo's head lolls back, his mouth wide open along with his eyes as he moans loudly, his whole lower body straining to push, thrust, take. even if Byakuya's hand against his abdomen, firm and uncompromising, is saying don't move, Ichigo still wouldn't have done it, right? Come on. He doesn't want Byakuya to choke, he wants to keep him this way, warm and wet and buried in his lap until his face is more or less planted in Ichigo's pubes.
He strokes the back of his head, having to concentrate not to cum on the spot, his voice shaking and raw as he says: ]
Wanna -- [ Pant, pant. ] -- test me? Byakuya, I'm -- [ Pant, pant. He licks his lips again, inclining his head so he's looking down at the other man. ] -- already so close. Definitely, I'm gonna lose this round.
[ except, it doesn't feel like a loss. Feels like a win. Ichigo's eyes fall shut, his expression tightening as he fights himself, not to move, not to move. Crap.
His moan comes out stuttering, long and outdrawn and loud enough to make up for all the quietness that came before. ]
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With a slow, uneven exhalation through his mouth, he pulls back very gradually. When the head pops past the bend between throat and mouth, his body actually tenses up briefly at the feel of it. It's partially due to the way it feels like strain, like being wedged open just a bit further than you're meant to - more than that, though, it's the knowledge of what's happening. Of how the other man's carving out a path within him and that he doesn't mind in the slightest.
Perhaps, in a way, he already has and this is simply an emphasis.
With a groan, audible now that his mouth is only half-way full, Byakuya shifts and slips both hands to Ichigo's hips instead. He digs his fingers in, grasping him as he can from this angle, buttocks, thighs, the implication of bone beneath skin. Pointedly, he pushes at him, urging him up, in, come on, unwilling to release his cock entirely to speak the words themselves. Instead, he relies on Ichigo's ability to catch his meaning (something he seems to be growing steadfastly better at, even if he likes to get grumpy about it), bends his neck and sucks him right back down. This time, the head pops into his throat just a little easier. Unfortunately, the faster pace also comes with a drawback - half a second later, his throat convulses and he gasps, forcibly relaxing himself, very, very unwilling to actually choke on Ichigo's cock.
Instead, he stays still, his shoulders shaking slightly at the strain, before his body seemingly gives in and accepts the inevitable.
He doesn't look up at Ichigo now, not because he doesn't very much want to but because he can feel the water in the corners of his eyes and the way it clumps his eyelashes together. Pitiful, unimportant instinctual response - it shall be duly ignored. ]
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If he'd intended to say something more, Byakuya shuts him up effectively by forcing himself back down over his cock, spearing himself on the whole size of it and Ichigo groans now, his hips trembling and straining in a way that almost physically hurts, shit. He wants to move. He wants to move so bad, he almost can't see for it.
What he does see - and feel, fromt tip to base - is Byakuya choking on him in his eagerness, his throat convulsing and his inner walls tightening harshly around him, almost enough to set Ichigo off completely, though he manages to calm the first response by deep breathing, his own lungs filling shallowly, rapidly. Can't imagine how Byakuya must be feeling like that. Not sure he wants to imagine, but he likes it.
Looking down, he takes in how his shoulders are shaking and on his face... oh... is that... well, sure, but... Air leaving him in a long exhalation, Ichigo reaches down with his free hand and cups the other man's face with his palm, running his thumb along his lower lashes, smearing out the wetness there. The whole feeling of doing that, to him, for him, makes his balls draw up so harshly, he's honestly only a minute from coming. Even if he didn't do what Byakuya is soundlessly telling him to. Thrust, he means, take me, and Ichigo breathes again, and again, running his now wet fingers down to the other man's mouth, tracing the round O-shape of it, taut and tight, where it's engulfing the very base of his cock.
He wants to take him, then. Just... Since he's asking, all right. He wants to have him that way. ]
Don't worry. [ His voice doesn't sound like his voice, when he speaks. It sounds airy and full of wonder. ] I'll be careful with you.
[ Like that, eyes narrowing in concentration and pleasure, Ichigo grasps Byakuya by his chin and angles himself slightly, pushing inward, into him, filling him and fuck, the feeling of that, the slide, the sensation of... control, being in control, being given that control by someone like Byakuya...
Moaning loudly, his chin drops to his chest and he repeats the motion one more time, then again, slowly, carefully. His other hand is still touching Byakuya by the back of his head, but more in the sense of holding him still. Keeping him. There.
The sounds he's making.... he doesn't even recognise them himself... whimpering and pitiful and like he's the one with water in his eyes...
Just a minute more of this, just let Byakuya hold out that long for him, okay? ]
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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. ]
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Those whimpering, low but outdrawn sounds keep rolling off of his tongue and he wouldn't know how to suppress them, even if Byakuya hadn't given him a carte blanche to be as loud as he wants. Maybe because it's not really a question of wanting it, it's just part of the experience, him fucking Byakuya's throat like this and Byakuya's family having to live with the evidence, they're two sides of the same coin. Ichigo's eyes fall shut as he gets closer and closer to coming, his balls drawing up harshly and his cock trobbing hotly along the full width of Byakuya's tongue.
Fuck. Fuck.
His fingers tighten convulsively in the other man's hair as he finally leans in over him a little, not pushing in any further, not sure how far he'd even get at this point, nowhere nice, at least, just like he would if he was gonna protect him from the onslaught of attack or something, shielding him with his own body, that kind of thing.
His palm runs along Byakuya's jaw, following the shape of his face, to his ear, to his temple. It's a caress. ]
Still honoured, you know. [ Ichigo is panting heavily. ] That -- [ Pant, pant, pant. ] - you keep giving me special treatment.
[ Only, at this point, his voice sounds pretty much destroyed and Ichigo throws his head back and moans, then, his whole body shaking notably as the next thrust, and the next after that grows slightly faster, minimally harder and he finally more stumbles than falls into his orgasm. He groans, then whimpers, then nothing, his hips working desperately as he spends himself so far back Byakuya' throat, it's almost like it doesn't exist.
Except it does, it exists between them. This feeling of overwhelming lightness and pleasure. He's gasping, staring up at the ceiling, his hand grabbing on to the back of Byakuya's head for support. He could stay like this a good long while, right, but he isn't gonna. Still shuddering and gasping, he's quick to pull out, keeping the movement slow and careful all throughout.
Even post-orgasmic, he' not just gonna go forgetting himself. Forgetting Byakuya, even less. ]
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Honoured, he says.
Imagine that, from such a man.
His next exhalation is a half-groan, strangled of course, seeing as he's got Ichigo's cock blocking his airways and the movement of his tongue. The sound pales, he thinks, in comparison to Ichigo's whimpers, sweet and loud, stumbling in that way he has in the bedroom and nowhere else; awkwardness, perhaps, a touch of uncertainty. For someone who is, in fact, human (well, some of the way, at least), it's striking how they stand out - those all-too-human traits.
It's good, to hear him lose himself.
When Ichigo comes, he whimpers - and quiets. His gasping is loud amidst the stillness of the room, his cock pulsing briefly between Byakuya's lips before the sensation abates. He can't feel his spend to begin with, though once Ichigo withdraws from his throat, a string of cum follows in his wake, coating his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Oh. Byakuya looks up at him slowly, sitting up onto his knees. His gaze is neutral, though he's fairly certain his pupils must be taking up eighty percent of his face at this point.
With a very shaky exhalation, audibly, too, almost like a groan, Byakuya reaches for his hakama and begins the long (so long, a clear sign of Shutara Senjumaru's sadism) process of undoing the knots. His fingers tremble as he works, though his movements are no less precise than always. In the background, beyond the room, the sounds of the servants preparing for tomorrow have nearly faded completely - no doubt, following Ichigo's little performance, Seike has cleared the corridors.
In front of him, Ichigo looks entirely debauched. When Byakuya finally manages to wrestle his hakama out of the way along with his underwear, he's so hard that all he needs is a dry hand and less than handful of strokes before he spends himself over his knuckles, biting his own bottom lip hard and keeping himself upright by clinging onto Ichigo's thigh with bruising strength. ]
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Ichigo's breathing feels forcibly still, relaxed from orgasm, though part of him wants to be racing ahead along with Byakuya who's fighting the knots on his hakama, wrestling his clothes free, only a little more desperation away from actually looking really desperate, though the Kuchiki Clan head isn't quite stooping that low yet. He'd reach out and touch , too, help, but once the clothing's out of the way, shit, it's more or less over in the same breath, Byakuya breathing funny while he jerks off with his usual determination (plus some more of the desperation he doesn't normally exhibit at all) and coming four-five strokes of his hand later. Spending himself over his knuckles, the uppermost part of Ichigo's thighs which does make Ichigo's cock twitch pitifully in all the interest it can muster currently.
Byakuya is hanging on to him with a hand that's squeezing so tight, you'd think his bloodflow's gonna suffer, right? Good thing he's all soul here.
Murmuring something that's more sound than actual words, Ichigo breathes slowly in, out, and reaches out with both arms, more or less scooping the other man in against his chest, pulling him with him down as he eases back onto his rear, extending his legs from their awkward angle with a naturalness that comes of years of physical trainng - before and after his life as a Shinigami. He holds Byakuya like that, just craddles him in against his chest, feeling exposed and exposed to to a degree that's weirdly overwhelming.
Not bad, just... a lot. And Ichigo's done a lot many times in his life, he's not sure what this counts for.
Resting his chin on top of Byakuya's head, the scent of his hair thick in his nostrils, along with the smell of sex and cum, he knows, however,it counts for something. ]