[ It's always the same memories, and they aren't even memories anymore, they're developing beyond what he remembers. What he knows to be the truth.
In his dreams, he sees all of them, but worse, slain, dead. Rukia torn to pieces by her own fear. Renji... just torn to pieces. Chad, cut down. Inoue with a gaping wound in her chest. But in his dreams... he walks by each and every one of them, recognising that they're beyond saving, that he can't save them, that he couldn't, running towards the part of Seireitei where he feels Byakuya's reiatsu, still wavering, blinking, but there. And he's flash stepping, he's running on air, and even so he's too late.
The other man is in pieces when he arrives, torn to shreds, it's a freaking wonder he even has a mouth to speak through. And Ichigo calls for him, moving closer, closer, but his voice sounds far away. Forgive me, Byakuya says. I'm deeply ashamed, and Ichigo calls again --
Wake up. Ichigo, says Byakuya, then, in his dream. In a stronger voice, so it isn't in his dream and Ichigo feels the visuals slip out of his grasp and for some reason that only makes him more desperate.
The memory is all he has. When they're gone. Rukia. Renji. Chad. Inoue.
Byakuya.
Wake up. Ichigo.
Ichigo sits up with a suppressed yell, having practiced staying silent so as not to wake his sisters, chest heaving, cold sweat clinging to his brow as he grasps the sheets with both hands, feeling the weight of something on his shoulder only faintly, like it's through a filter, a fog. Still trying to catch his breath, he looks down. Byakuya's hand is holding him firmly. Byakuya's hand isn't letting go.
He's alive.
They're both alive.
Blinking the tears back, Ichigo mutters, turning his face away, voice thick: ]
It's fine. Sorry for waking you, just go back to sleep.
[ What the tears caught in his eyelashes say, is please. ]
[ Ichigo sits up abruptly, an unknown sound clearly stuck in his throat and his skin clammy from sweat. Byakuya watches him warily through the darkness as he gasps for breath, holding onto the sheets like they might somehow anchor him to reality. Even in the dark, he can see the wet shine in his eyes, though it stays there, stubbornly.
Unshed tears are the most painful, he finds.
But of course, sometimes it's a matter of exchanging one pain for another.
He's about to nod and lie down, to mind his own business, but then he takes another look at Ichigo - at the way he's hunched over on the bed, clinging to it, to nothing of substance, and he thinks about all the ways they've clung to him throughout the years, his chest aching. Should he leave him like this, then, to fight monsters in the dark on his own, like he left him to handle his enemies after affording him nothing but the worst, most pitiful impressions of himself?
How? ]
I don't mind.
[ There's a long moment of silence during which he just sits next to him, his hand still folded over his shoulder, listening to his own breathing, to Ichigo's, which is faster and more uneven than his. His free hand clenches and unclenches by his side a couple of times as he glances sideways, taking in Ichigo's profile one more time before he shifts. Without thinking about it, about the possible consequences or the implications, Byakuya folds his arm around Ichigo's shoulders and urges him closer.
He knows why, of course. He has much experience, if old, if ancient, of stubborn people who won't share their burdens with the world, no matter how much strength you offer, no matter how badly you'd like to be burdened. He knows.
[ For a long moment, he's led to believe this will end the same way it always does, with him alone, licking his wounds and waiting for the terrible dread to reach a level he can actually live with. Byakuya sleeping next to him would be different, sure, but sleeping people don't see anything. The tears. The fear. So in the end he could just as well have been alone, right? And that would be okay. That would be preferable, really.
What's truly different, though, isn't Byakuya sleeping next to him, filling the room with his steady breathing. It's Byakuya not doing that. It's Byakuya folding his arm around Ichigo's shoulders and urging him closer, Ichigo immediately freezing against him, stiff and uncooperative against the pull of his body. He tries to shrug him off, but although he's lithe and slim-built, Byakuya is also a seasoned soldier and strong in that right. Shrugging won't do it. Ichigo would have to fight him to get out of this and he's so tired, so tired, he doesn't want to keep fighting - which is the biggest defeat he could possibly imagine.
So, after a moment of struggling against him, he kinda just gives up, yeah? He kinda just lets himself be pulled in againt Byakuya's front, his nose ending up buried in his nightwear, the cotton thin and soft against his face. He moves a little, lips and nose brushing over flat chest and subtle muscle. Ichigo feels himself blush.
Then, he feels himself raise both hands and bury his fingers in the top, really getting his fingers in there, folding them into angry fists. He tugs at Byakuya's clothes, knuckles pounding against his pecs. Ichigo breathes harshly, shaky intakes of air.
Meanwhile, he's being held. ]
Just mind, all right! Why can't you just mind? I'd stop if you just... if you just...
[ Gasping harshly around the words he can't say, feeling the tears finally track down his face, Ichigo slumps in against Byakuya's chest, the top of his head tucked in beneath the other man's chin. ]
[ Obviously, if Ichigo wanted free and out of his grasp, all he'd have to do is move properly - though Byakuya knows ways to keep people down much bigger than himself, he's not deploying any of them and Ichigo is, for all intents and purposes, physically stronger. He can feel him struggling in his hold, but in a way that implies ambiguity. Like he's not struggling against him, in particular, but against the concept, against the mere notion of comfort.
You have to wonder about that, really. Doesn't he have friends? It's true, from how they generally interact, Rukia would have probably hit him over the head instead but surely, some of the other humans... Ichigo, meanwhile, tugs at his cheap, synthetic night clothes, hard, desperately, his breathing ragged and hot. Byakuya keeps his hold as it is because he isn't being rejected or kicked off the bed and he knows what that means. He knows how desperately vulnerable it feels, to crave this kind of proximity - indeed, he's not averse to hugging, he just doesn't particularly want any from people he knows.
Perhaps, in some way or another, Ichigo is the same.
He makes a low hm at Ichigo's words and tightens his grip ever so slightly as the other man slowly but surely collapses against him, into him. Byakuya pulls him down the rest of the way onto the bed, folding one hand very lightly against the back of his head. There, it means. Stay. He can feel his night shirt growing damp and says nothing about it.
At the back of his mind, he thinks about Ichigo saying his name. Back then, in the rain, he hadn't said anything at all but as he'd thought, the words had been there, withheld, kept within and taking up no space for anyone else. Such a stubborn man. ]
[ Up close, Byakuya smells like skin and body and presence, the only way for him to be corporeal in the World of the Living and Ichigo soothes himself, once his tears have started to dry, with the knowledge that really, he isn't touching him, it's just his gigai, it's close but not his true form. He can shrug it off at any time, so Ichigo should just do that, too, right? It doesn't matter. None of it matters. They were just dreams.
They're just memories, it's in the past.
Then, Byakuya makes that deep humming sound and cups the back of his head, holding him as close as his gigai can allow and Ichigo feels himself melting in against him, his chest that is definitely his chest despite everything and it's whole and unopened as well, firm and warm against his hands that flatten out over the fabric of the other man's nightwear. Feels for him underneath.
It's not even a sudden thought, in some ways, yeah, it doesn't really occur to him at all. It just happens. Ichigo turns his face upwards, presses his nose in against the long column of Byakuya's throat, the slope of it, Adam's apple, he traces all of it, pushing upwards slightly, constantly waiting for the moment when Byakuya realizes what he's up to, what direction they're going and tells him off.
Kinda hoping for it, too.
Ichigo has known for years that he's into guys, they can all thank Chad for that, honestly, but it's never been anything... It's never mattered before. except lying like this, they're so close, Byakuya and him, he can freakin' smell him, okay, and Byakuya is holding him, comforting him, and Ichigo is being weak with him when no one...
No one else has done this for him. Before.
So, he pushes up until his lips are tracing Byakuya's jaw to his chin and up. Chin. Mouth. Lips. Without glancing up, afraid of what he's gonna see, Ichigo kisses him, desperately and hard. ]
[ Seemingly, Ichigo calms down like this, nestled in tightly against his front. He would have expected him to move away at some point, perhaps attempt to distance himself in other ways to save face - it would have been completely understandable - but instead... instead... Byakuya's eyes widen slowly. He stares up at the ceiling unseeingly, while he realises that not only is Ichigo not drawing away, he's -
Breath catching in his throat, he glances down at the feel of the other man as his grip in his nightshirt turns into a hold (a touch), hands spread out against his chest and then, oh, his nose, pressing in against his throat - surely, that's not an accident or - what is he even...
He's about to ask, lips parting uselessly around words that make it no farther than to the intent itself because Ichigo intercepts him, always quicker, always faster, and runs his lips along his jaw, to his chin, to his mouth. His brain, for a moment, completely stalls. He lets Ichigo kiss him for a second, two, without responding with anything but a fractured breath, shaken and uneven. He has so many questions whirling in his mind that he can't think for them - and overlaying them all, stark and almost impossibly clear, is the image of Ichigo in front of that bench in Byakuya's garden and his mother's flowers, his stance, the tight line of his shoulders.
Slowly, he runs one hand up Ichigo's back. It settles against his neck, fingertips sliding into his hair gently. Then, he presses back, a slight motion with more than just a tint of heat underneath, before he breaks them apart, twisting his own face away just enough to maintain eye contact. He can see the remnants of wetness on Ichigo's cheeks up close like this. His features look softer. ]
You... [ He swallows heavily. Shifts a little, not to get away but to do something with his body. The surprise feels like floating on air, out of bounds, and he has to fight to control his breathing. ] Why, exactly?
[ Not the most eloquent he's ever been, granted. But he can't - he can't possibly, when he doesn't understand. It's been so many years for him. The loneliness, too, is a serious choice. ]
[ Probably, he hasn't expected to get a fist to the face, but moving away... Byakuya could easily do that, right? Just push Ichigo away and put distance between them and say, not here, not ever. That's not what happens, however. Although he remains still and unresponsive against Ichigo's mouth - for long enough, too, that Ichigo thinks he should stop, pull away, apologise, eventually his hand comes up, running along the defined muscle in Ichigo's back to his neck, into his hair, holding him there. That's not stopping. That's not a no, is it?
When the other man presses back, Ichigo actively groans against his lips and only goes for it harder, until Byakuya steers them both to the halt that Ichigo really needed two minutes ago - but that was two minutes ago and now, he wants something entirely different! He shifts restlessly, hands still spread out wide over his chest and looks up at Byakuya's face, his surprised expression. And something else. Apprehension, maybe. Ichigo frowns.
Why, exactly? So inarticulate, Byakuya.
Ichigo licks his lips and decides he owes Byakuya an answer under any circumstances, after what he did with his mom's flowers, yeah? After that, he owes him more than that fearful glint in his eyes. He sighs, looking down slowly, reaching down with one hand to pull at the hem of his t-shirt that only barely covers his half-tenting boxer shorts. ]
Can't believe I'm still telling you this after all these years, but... [ He looks up. ] ... we're supposed to be there for each other. I'm not on my own with this. And neither are you.
[ Neither do I want to be, it means. I want this.
With the hand still pressed, palm flat, against Byakuya's chest, Ichigo smoothens out some invisible wrinkles in his night clothing, the cheap fabric dry and warm to his touch. A part of him wonders what Byakuya's chest is gonna feel like, underneath. Could be his gigai or himself, Ichigo honestly doesn't particularly care anymore.
Finally, he curls his hand back into a fist, grabbing his shirt harshly. ]
[ Under other circumstances, he would have been severely annoyed by Ichigo's overbearing attitude - can't believe I'm still telling you this, what, like he's slow - but as it is, when he swallows, he can still taste the remnants of him on his lips and feel the echoes of skin against skin. It softens everything within him, annoyance as well as surprise and apprehension, particularly once Ichigo tells him neither are you, running his fingers lightly over his nightshirt, smoothing the fabric over his skin. Then, as has always been true for this man, he shifts from gentle to harsh, his touch transforming into a grip and it makes sense, of course, from what Byakuya has heard. That Ichigo is many things all at once, some of them more human than others.
But it also makes sense for how he knows him and that feels much more important now.
Looking at him for a long moment, searching his face for any signs of insincerity, of impatience or impulsiveness or anything else that wouldn't do, not for this, not when the stakes are so high, he finally makes a decision. He thinks about tomorrow, briefly, about whether or not Ichigo's words truly are good enough and they aren't, not really. Getting your body used to nothing, to empty rooms and empty beds, is a painful process, worsened only by exceptions to the rules.
Then again, he can handle much. Surely, no matter what comes next, it's something that can be lived. It must be. ]
It's enough.
[ He folds his hand against the back of Ichigo's head and runs his other hand up his side, pulling his t-shirt up to press his palm against his side. He's burning hot, impossibly so. Alive. Breathing. Slowly, almost stiffly, he sinks back against the bed, pulling Ichigo down on top of him and entwining their legs, breath catching in his throat at the feel of it. Not on my own, Ichigo's words echo in his mind and somehow, as they tend to do, they take root there, undeniable. ]
[ It's enough, Byakuya answers and it's true enough that he takes Ichigo by his head and his side, pulling him down on top of him, their legs entangling messily in the process, as he himself lies down on his back. It's done with uncharacteristic stiffness and as such, Ichigo is careful with him, supporting himself with a hand on either side of his head, holding himself up slightly, taking his weight off of him a bit. Sure, Byakuya could carry him, no doubt, but Ichigo doesn't want him to - like he doesn't want him to suffer any bad outcomes because of this. He's ready. Maybe he's been ready for a while. Maybe he's just been waiting. Huh. ]
Good. Relax.
[ It's a reassurance, in a way. He isn't one for mollycuddling people, and Byakuya isn't the person you mollycuddle, so it fits. It fits.
Looking down at the other man, something finally settles the nightmare he just had. It's the sight of how truly okay Byakuya is. He is whole and well and not apart, not dying and Ichigo narrows his eyes slightly at that, gaze trekking down his front, the nightshirt with its row of buttons and shouldn't he be less dressed for this? Isn't this something you're supposed to do bared?
Anyway, whether or not it is, Ichigo wants him that way so, as he leans down and bends his neck a bit, carefully kissing along the other side of Byakuya's jawline towards his mouth again, he starts in on the buttons, quickly, minimal fumbling, getting his nightshirt open over his chest.
At the final three buttons, he reaches his lips, kissing him. Slower, this time, if just as insistent about it. Byakuya's lips are warm and soft and Ichigo thinks, he honestly has no idea what the hell he's doing - but he knows he wants it to come out good for them. The both of them.
And that, at least, is something he's got practice in ensuring. ]
[ Relax, he says, like it's that easy. Byakuya pushes back against him, into the kiss, slipping his tongue past his lips on an impulse, probably born from the feeling of his shirt coming undone across his chest. A heated spark ignites in his belly, almost foreign after so many years but impossible to ignore or misinterpret. He makes a rough sound into Ichigo's mouth, grasping at his shirt with both hands before pulling it up, urging the other man to move enough to get it off. He drops it onto the floor somewhere, uncaringly, breaking the kiss in the process for what feels like much, much too long.
Then, as he settles back down against the bed, he looks up at the other man. Shirtless, Ichigo should be a stranger like this - after all, it's not like they've ever... But he isn't, of course, the battlefield is many things and whilst intimate isn't necessarily the right word, it's certainly a place of physical proximity. Of layers shedding, of personal boundaries being unlocked. In that regard, perhaps it's not so different and perhaps that's why, when he looks at Ichigo now, everything about him feels familiar.
Gaze softening a fraction, he runs his hands up his back, muscled and strong, exactly as strong as he looks. His fingers dig in just a little harshly along his shoulderblades before he pulls him down towards himself, closer again, leaning in to mouth at his neck below his ear. He follows an invisible trail down the side of his neck, tasting salt and hints of musk on the way.
The heat in his body, in his blood, is slowly but surely starting to feel like urgency. To have another against him like this after such a long time would in itself be a shock to his system but for the person in question to be Ichigo is nearly impossible to comprehend. His mind is pulling next to no strings at the moment - instead, when he twists his leg in between Ichigo's and presses his thigh upwards, he's running on instinct and the thought alone is intoxicating. It's such a rare feeling, to be mindless.
[ Before too long, there's tongue and Ichigo doesn't want them to stop, preferably ever, but nothing lasts that long, so it's a tough call, right? Nothing lasts forever, things always happen, but he wants this particular moment to last as long as possible anyway. Undisturbed. Byakuya's chest is flat and subtly muscular, not bulging from it, but his body doesn't give way under Ichigo's hands either. Doesn't budge, because that's how Byakuya is, of course. That's how Ichigo knows him to be. Letting his hands roam wide-spread and hot over the other man's chest, fingertips bent slightly inward, he kisses Byakuya back, meeting his tongue with his own, pushing it over the slick surface of muscle.
Then, there is a brief pause because Byakuya makes a rough sound at the back of his throat, it reverberates within Ichigo and makes his cock freakin' jerk, and insists on starting to pull on his t-shirt, forcing it over his head fast and efficiently, so they have to break apart for air, for a moment. Ichigo is breathing rapidly, hard, only waiting for the first second when the t-shirt is out of the way, discarded to the floor and he can push down over Byakuya's body again, stretch himself out and be a protective layer over him. He likes that thought. He wants it to be that way.
After looking some, Byakuya pulls him closer again, mouthing down the side of his neck and Ichigo tilts his head to the side to let him, to let him take the lead like that. Ichigo doesn't mind. Following, for once, feels nice, huh.
Running his hands up to Byakuya's shoulders, neck, head, he slips his fingers mindlessly into his hair and doesn't pull at it as much as he gently cups it, feels the long strands curl and curve between his fingers. He's always thought Byakuya had good hair, totally different from his own in every way, color, structure, length. It was just different and kinda tantalizing because of that. Did he really always think so? Being kissed now and holding the other man by the nape of his neck, the back of his head, he decides, yeah. He always thought so. No time to recognise it, sure, but it's not a new feeling.
His breathing feels too shallow and quick, like it's not making its way down into his lungs properly.
Then, Byakuya pushes his thigh up in between Ichigo's legs, rubbing up against his hard cock with the fabric-clad length of his own leg and Ichigo actually moans, bending his head a bit to hide his face in against the other man's shoulder, pressing back, blushing, against him, nose, mouth, crotch. Oh, shit. He ruts against his thigh a few times before catching himself, glancing down into the darkness between their bodies. His voice, when he speaks, is a mutter: ]
At least wait until we're completely naked, okay? I want to feel you. [ Thinner, a bit embarrassed. ] And I don't want to cum in my boxers.
[ Ichigo presses down against him for a moment, until he doesn't - instead, he stops himself. Byakuya's quite preoccupied with the feeling of his hands in his hair (gentle, he thinks, in a way that feels oddly grounding) and so, it's a good thing that he tells him to wait, verbally, or he might have missed the signs. Blinking, he glances down at Ichigo's face, pressed in against his shoulder, the blush climbing up his cheeks and down his throat very noticeable against his pale skin. He sounds embarrassed.
The thought makes something within his chest soften, the urgency giving way momentarily to something slower. With a small huff of breath, he leans in again, lips brushing the nape of his neck and slipping through the strands of his hair. He remembers for the first time tonight that Ichigo is quite young, not just young in terms of human years but in terms of being a man, too. Of what it entails for most, if not all (the fact is, becoming a captain in the Gotei 13 immediately annuls nearly all chances of an active sex life - or it used to, anyway, before the last war; their current Captain-Commander runs them all at a different pace, for better and for worse).
But of course, Ichigo has been fighting wars for the past many years and when you fight wars the way he does, the way they've all had to, other things are naturally pushed into the background. Not a big loss when you have hundreds upon hundreds of years to enjoy the peace times when they come - provided, of course, that they don't just make you restless.
In terms of a human life, the math is altogether different. ]
Then take them off.
[ He runs his other hand down Ichigo's side, grasping the hem of his underwear and pushing at them, perhaps a little bit impatiently. Whenever he moves, he can feel him against his body, his scent imprinting itself upon his senses more and more, for every minute that passes. He wants more of it, all of it, now that they've both decided to run the risks. To do so together, something that used to be a foreign concept back in the day - before Ichigo came along, actually, and changed the rules for all of them. ]
[ Byakuya's lips feel like soft brushes along his neck, through his hair and Ichigo closes his eyes at the feeling of it, of him simply saying to take them off, then, his boxers, so he does, even if the other man has already started in, pushing at the waistband impatiently. Ichigo smiles, loopsided and pushes at Byakuya's hands, meaning mind your own business, raising his head from his shoulder finally to nod down the man's front. ]
You, too. Come on.
[ It's not really that Byakuya needs telling, supposedly they teach you some level of management skills in the Gotei 13, if he doesn't simply leave all the actual work up to Renji, which is sure what it looks like from the outside sometimes, whenever Renji talks about it at their rare meet-ups. Not that Renji means anything along those lines, of course.
Ichigo likes the idea of Byakuya making comfortable like that. however.
For now, he's getting out of his night-trousers as well, and having already pushed his own boxers down and off, kicking them off into the dark on the floor, Ichigo follows his progress with hungry eyes, staring unashamedly at every new inch of skin that is laid bare. His own lower body feels taught and his cock is rock-hard, curving against his abdomen. It occurs to him on an afterthought that's luckily easily forgotten, that his dad's gonna murder them. Ichigo, definitely, for being into men and Byakuya, he's gonna guess, for being the man he's into.
It doesn't matter. Not right now.
Scoffing hard, he inches closer as soon as Byakuya is naked, aligns their bodies again and pushes up against his hip, just as impatiently as Byakuya was before. He catches his mouth again, groaning in against it at the friction.
Blindly, but without fumbling, Ichigo reaches up and, drawing back from the kiss, holding Byakuya's gaze all the while, licks his palm, sucking at his own fingers noisily. Then, he reaches for his cock, fingers skirting down over his stomach as his hand comes down to wrap around the shaft loosely, wetly. ]
[ Ichigo catches his initiative flawlessly, shifting away to undress and leaving him to do the same. As always with him, there's such a thing as too slow and even Byakuya's growing impatience can't quite keep up with his responses. Taking a deep breath, he takes off his night clothes and lies back down, getting absolutely no seconds to ponder anything at all before Ichigo's closing the distance and pushing up against him. He folds his arm around his side, pulling him in, though his mind has started circling itself, thoughts whirling as he tries to take in the multitudes of this situation; the distress that lead to it, the fact that Ichigo is naked and so is he, the prospects of what they're about to do -
Then, Ichigo licks his own hand quite vigorously and all he can think about is how hard his own cock is, the heat seemingly trapped between his legs. It aches in a lovely way and he'd like to focus on it, on the feel of it but there's simply... oh. Before his mind can slide back into the well of emotion currently threatening to drown out everything else, Ichigo reaches down and folds his fingers around his cock.
Briefly, he can do nothing but blink uselessly up at the ceiling, his hand tightening almost violently against Ichigo's hip. His other hand, he realises belatedly, is grasping the sheets so hard it's trembling. The sudden sense of friction feels stark, like a gust of wind on an icy winter's day. A small part of him wants to shy away from it whilst the rest...
He tries to breathe. Manages it, after two failed attempts. ]
It's - yes.
[ It is fine. But it's also a lot. He doesn't know how to properly describe it so instead of speaking words that won't be sensible in any case, he pulls Ichigo closer, pulls him down towards himself, not to kiss him but to hold him close, his arm curving over his shoulder harshly. Like this, he can press his forehead against his shoulder, mirroring what Ichigo did moments earlier when he'd woken from his nightmare and pressed in against him. He buys himself moments in the darkness behind his eyelids to catch up to his body, his hips jerking very slightly into Ichigo's grip entirely by their own accords.
The resultant slide around his length makes his next breath tumble out of his mouth. ]
[ Ichigo isn't like those jerks who dominate and assault people weaker than themselves, women, children, he hates people like that and would gladly cut down every single one of them, if it took him his whole life, right? He listens and he watches, and you don't need a degree in anything to conclude from Byakuya's broken reply, the way he pulls Ichigo closer and buries his face near his shoulder, that he's falling behind and fast. And since it would be unfair to expect someone who can't run any further to speed up, Ichigo slows down instead, loosening his grip on the other man's cock just slightly, making it more of a soft hold, soft glide, patient, slow. He keeps it simple, but he also keeps it up. Byakuya is slowing down, but he isn't drawing to a halt, there's a difference and it matters.
Leaning in, he kisses the exposed column of Byakuya's neck, where his hair isn't obscuring everything, long, inky trails of black falling around his head, shoulders. He holds him close with his free arm, rubs his skin like he would a scared kid. He gets it, okay. He really does. ]
You know who the first guy was I jerked off to? [ He keeps up the slower pace of his hand, but doesn't remove it. It wasn't Chad, the Chad-thing came after, while the Quincy War raged and he was struggling to save any of the others. No, the only time Ichigo ever had time to jerk off to the thought of any guys was while he was powerless and on his own. Life's weird that way. ] It was you. I was freakin' mortified, Byakuya, when I ran into you later. [ A long silence. His breathing comes out in quick, harsh puffs of air. ] At least this? We're doing this together.
[ He's reminding himself of the speech he held for the other man many years ago, after saving Rukia, during their fight, then, about little sisters and big brothers and in the same way, he's giving out a piece of himself now to try and touch a piece of Byakuya. Feels fitting. Feels full-circle. Ichigo draws in a deep, hard breath, his cock jerking between his legs, because the air comes loaded with musk and sweat and precum.
Byakuya's scent. ]
I'm glad it turned out to be you in the end. The first time.
[ Oh. He stays as he is, quiet for a long moment, whilst Ichigo's hand on his cock slows, not entirely but enough. It should be mortifying, this entire situation - clinging to him like sex is somehow new when it isn't (except like this, it is, he's been with one person in his life before and then, for such a long time, there was silence). Thanks to his enemy, however, Byakuya came out of the war with a lot less habitual pride. It's hard to feel anything like that, anything so grand as pride, when you've seen your own innards strewn before your feet and felt your entire world collapse like a curtain, falling. Instead, what he feels now is more along the lines of resignation. Ichigo, of course, slows down to accommodate him and he, in turn, must bear the implications of that. That sometimes, despite all privilege, somehow you are simply less than you want to be.
Ichigo, of course, knows. He's been brought low many, many times yet somehow, he's emerged stronger from it and that's what Byakuya takes now, too. That thought. He shifts, listening to the other man's words as they fall across his ears in hot puffs of air and then, when he's finished talking, he frees one hand in turn and leans back down against the bed, enough to look Ichigo squarely in the eyes. He focuses on keeping his voice even, every stroke of Ichigo's hand making his body feel tight and overheated. ]
I have thought about you in other ways.
[ He frees his hand and pointedly spits in his palm, twice for good measure. The sound is loud between them against the backdrop of quiet in the hotel room. Shifting just enough to make room for himself, he reaches down between their bodies and folds his slick fingers around Ichigo's cock, hard and hot against his palm. He gives it a slow stroke, mirroring what Ichigo's doing to him. He's barely even touched himself for decades, he will have to relearn what it takes. ]
I could see you, through the rain. Your spiritual pressure. [ His breath does catch on his next inhalation and his next words are full of air, his voice thinner than usual: ] I'm sorry you can't see what I saw - I hadn't thought there was much hope left but I was wrong.
[ Ichigo isn't used to having the time to waste on this kind of softness, despite having made way for it before, forcibly, even though you'd think having to clear a road by violence annuls softness on its own, right? Nothing is annulled here. As if grateful for the time Ichigo is affording him, Byakuya eventually kicks back into action, leaning back againt the mattress and staring straight up into Ichigo's face at his admittance.
I have thought about you in other ways, he says and it occurs to Ichigo, then, that maybe, between them, Byakuya is even newer to the whole sleeping with another man thing. He was married to Hisana-san before. Then, he was grieving.
And Ichigo knows how grief can work, sometimes.
His expression softens and he keeps up the steady movement of his hand in response, because he likes the way it adds taughtness and a hitch to Byakuya's voice. Never heard him sound that way before, did he? Never heard him say anything like what he's telling him now. Not even when he was dying. He said he was ashamed.
Now, he says he was hopeful.
Ichigo's stomach clenches and he watches, wide-eyed, as the other man reaches up his hand and spits in his palm, twice, the sound each time making his cock feel wet at the tip and throbbing. Then, he reaches back down and folds his fingers around Ichigo's cock, the slickness and heat of his fingers actually making Ichigo's toes curl. He grunts, feels his hips push into it, desperately. Hungrily.
Something inside him softened beyond words, Ichigo licks his lips and lifts his chin, staring into Byakuya's calm eyes and he almost can't take it, it's almost too much and with everything Ichigo has survived at this point? Byakuya should get a freakin' medal.
With a groan, he pushes in against the other man and takes his mouth again, kissing him wetly, open-mouthed, tongue, wanting. On Byakuya's cock, his hand speeds up slightly again, though there's none of the almost harsh forward motion that characterised his initial approach.
[ Though he doesn't reply in words, Ichigo's face - his eyes - say much by themselves and Byakuya wonders fleeting what he would have seen back then, if he'd been able to see enough to make out his features. As it is, he looks at him now instead, at the way his eyes soften, his expression wide-eyed, a newness to it that doesn't have anything to do with youth. He's beautiful, he realises, and although that's a very new realisation, it doesn't come as any grand surprise. Perhaps a part of him has always known, deep down and buried beneath layers of grief and all the lonely rituals associated with it, that he didn't mind. Looking at him.
So he looks now, too, though his eyes fall shut when Ichigo closes the distance between them once more and kisses him, roughly, his tongue filling his mouth with that same, undeniable insistence that Ichigo seems to have in most aspects of life. Iron will, determination. He sighs into the kiss and reaches for Ichigo's hair, fingers curling within it, gently at first, then a little harsher as the heat in his balls and abdomen grow stronger. He groans into Ichigo's mouth and tightens his grip, holding his head still and angling it slightly to the side. Like that, he slips his tongue into his mouth, taking up space and tasting him in turn.
When Ichigo speeds up his strokes, he mirrors him again, following suit. On his next upstroke, he pushes his palm over the head of his cock, rubbing the slit and feeling the wetness there, his own cock leaking in response. Gasping, he pushes into Ichigo's grip and keeps his own hand going steadfastly, barely even thinking about it now, pleasure building in his body and overriding most other impressions.
He realises he's heading towards his climax with an almost distant sense of wonder. If this is a dream, he thinks, he'll gladly exchange it for the dreams he tends to have now, by himself when Senbonzakura is restless; even if it means he'll wake up to nothing. Even then, he would still... He breaks the kiss and pushes his face back against Ichigo's shoulder, brow furrowed, as he pushes himself towards the edge, pulling Ichigo along with him. ]
[ While they kiss, Ichigo follows the veins along the underside of Byakuya's cock with his slickened thumb, the wetness making the glide easy and smooth. Just feeling him this way, knowing that... this is Byakuya's cock. This is a part of him Ichigo is allowed to touch... He breathes out raggedly in against his lips, opening up and taking Byakuya's tongue in turn when it's offered him, pushing past his lips and filling his mouth. He feels overwhelmed by all that proximity. Not too much, just... a lot, right? It's a lot.
Then, Byakuya slicks up the head of his cock by running his palm over it on the next upstroke, and Ichigo pulls out of the kiss to moan, his voice hoarse, broken, his hips urging forward into the feeling of his hand. The slit... Shit... Ichigo feels more than sees Byakuya leaning his head against his shoulder, burying his face into him and shakily, with his non-working hand, keeping up with his other, mirroring Byakuya now, too, rubbing at the head with the same smooth, easy glide, Ichigo folds his arm around his neck, holding him close.
It's good. Being touched like this... is good, but the implications are better, that he isn't alone, that this is something he can do with someone, and not just anyone either. Byakuya.
His balls are drawing up and for a moment, he feels like he's floating mid-step, then Ichigo feels his orgasm wash over him, like a wave, big, tsunami-like, and he bends his neck to press his face into the side of Byakuya's head, groaning loudly as he spends himself in his grip, hips working against his hand, his touch. His hair is so stupidly soft. It smells like him, his scent with sweat and everything hanging in Ichigo's nostrils. His cock is pulsing, spewing cum everywhere, leaving him to feel wrought inside and out.
Give him a break. This is the first time with someone else... His body is shaking from the outlet. There's a moment when he doesn't think there'll be anything left afterwards.
Though, he knows, of course there will. He'll make sure there is. There has to be. ]
[ Ichigo's reaction gives him away moments before his climax does - the sound of his moan, hoarse and ragged, pushes Byakuya right past the edge as well and he comes perhaps half a breath after Ichigo. The intensity of it takes him by surprise - Ichigo's cradling him against his shoulder and though he ought to be ashamed of that too, of what it might mean that he likes it, that he wants it this way, all he can really think is that it's a relief. Ichigo's strength is quite incomparable. Not simply his powers, no, it's just the way he is. And right now, Byakuya leans into him, he allows himself that weakness. He lets his orgasm wash over him, his breath a stuttering, pitiful thing against Ichigo's skin.
Ichigo, meanwhile, is loud when he comes. Of course he is. He's loud everywhere, perhaps except in the intermissions, those particular movements between times and places that make you vulnerable in a very different way. Byakuya is staring to understand that about him. He's noisy and overbearing, yes, but he is also painfully, achingly silent. Right now, he's groaning loudly next to Byakuya's ear, in his hair, spending himself all over his knuckles. Byakuya, in turn, comes in spurts against Ichigo's abdomen. They can mess each other up just fine, of course, hasn't it always been like that?
As he lies there, his body feeling feather-light and untouchable, he pulls Ichigo down against him and runs his hand soothingly down his back, over his hip and waist. He's shaking, enough that it's noticeable. Very belatedly, Byakuya wonders whether this might have been Ichigo's first time - it seems implausible but then again, this man does firsts in peculiar ways. In heartstopping, impossible ways.
So Byakuya holds him close and keeps his mind open. ]
[ It doesn't help - or maybe it does - that Byakuya comes in the next moment, spurting all over Ichigo's stomach, the whole sensation of it so intense, kinda lewd too and yet not, Ichigo honestly can't think straight for it, not for a while. He only grudgingly releases the other man's cock, once he stops moving against him, reaching behind himself blindly to wipe his hand on the sheets before inching in against Byakuya's front again, forcing them chest to chest once more, face to face. He stares into Byakuya's open, post-orgasmic features, mouth opening, then closing again and he's about to tell him, this was the first time and then decides not to. It doesn't matter.
Instead he pulls Byakuya closer by his neck, arm wrapped around the back of it, good hold, difficult to wrestle free off, except he'd let Byakuya go if he wanted to, he isn't like the bullies and psychos that Ichigo fights still, even now, when the opportunity shows itself. He's nothing like that. Breath still tumbling out of him, he pushes his forehead against Byakuya's forehead, getting his bangs in his face and really not minding much, and lies like that for a moment, quietly.
Then, he says: ]
Don't say anything. Just go to sleep. [ He closes his own eyes. His voice is hoarse and sounds weirdly abused. Besides, he's not sure who he's talking to, Byakuya or himself. ] We can talk later.
[ And so, he holds him, just like that.
It doesn't even have to be tomorrow. It's more of a general reassurance, a promise. Ichigo only makes those when he knows he can keep them, when not making them would be a greater crime than struggling to live up to your word, but this feels like one of those times. Like in front of his mom's grave, back then. Or in front of her flowers in the Kuchiki garden. It means, we'll talk when you're ready, because I'll be ready when you are. ]
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saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
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In his dreams, he sees all of them, but worse, slain, dead. Rukia torn to pieces by her own fear. Renji... just torn to pieces. Chad, cut down. Inoue with a gaping wound in her chest. But in his dreams... he walks by each and every one of them, recognising that they're beyond saving, that he can't save them, that he couldn't, running towards the part of Seireitei where he feels Byakuya's reiatsu, still wavering, blinking, but there. And he's flash stepping, he's running on air, and even so he's too late.
The other man is in pieces when he arrives, torn to shreds, it's a freaking wonder he even has a mouth to speak through. And Ichigo calls for him, moving closer, closer, but his voice sounds far away. Forgive me, Byakuya says. I'm deeply ashamed, and Ichigo calls again --
Wake up. Ichigo, says Byakuya, then, in his dream. In a stronger voice, so it isn't in his dream and Ichigo feels the visuals slip out of his grasp and for some reason that only makes him more desperate.
The memory is all he has. When they're gone. Rukia. Renji. Chad. Inoue.
Byakuya.
Wake up. Ichigo.
Ichigo sits up with a suppressed yell, having practiced staying silent so as not to wake his sisters, chest heaving, cold sweat clinging to his brow as he grasps the sheets with both hands, feeling the weight of something on his shoulder only faintly, like it's through a filter, a fog. Still trying to catch his breath, he looks down. Byakuya's hand is holding him firmly. Byakuya's hand isn't letting go.
He's alive.
They're both alive.
Blinking the tears back, Ichigo mutters, turning his face away, voice thick: ]
It's fine. Sorry for waking you, just go back to sleep.
[ What the tears caught in his eyelashes say, is please. ]
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Unshed tears are the most painful, he finds.
But of course, sometimes it's a matter of exchanging one pain for another.
He's about to nod and lie down, to mind his own business, but then he takes another look at Ichigo - at the way he's hunched over on the bed, clinging to it, to nothing of substance, and he thinks about all the ways they've clung to him throughout the years, his chest aching. Should he leave him like this, then, to fight monsters in the dark on his own, like he left him to handle his enemies after affording him nothing but the worst, most pitiful impressions of himself?
How? ]
I don't mind.
[ There's a long moment of silence during which he just sits next to him, his hand still folded over his shoulder, listening to his own breathing, to Ichigo's, which is faster and more uneven than his. His free hand clenches and unclenches by his side a couple of times as he glances sideways, taking in Ichigo's profile one more time before he shifts. Without thinking about it, about the possible consequences or the implications, Byakuya folds his arm around Ichigo's shoulders and urges him closer.
He knows why, of course. He has much experience, if old, if ancient, of stubborn people who won't share their burdens with the world, no matter how much strength you offer, no matter how badly you'd like to be burdened. He knows.
And now, he reacts accordingly. ]
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What's truly different, though, isn't Byakuya sleeping next to him, filling the room with his steady breathing. It's Byakuya not doing that. It's Byakuya folding his arm around Ichigo's shoulders and urging him closer, Ichigo immediately freezing against him, stiff and uncooperative against the pull of his body. He tries to shrug him off, but although he's lithe and slim-built, Byakuya is also a seasoned soldier and strong in that right. Shrugging won't do it. Ichigo would have to fight him to get out of this and he's so tired, so tired, he doesn't want to keep fighting - which is the biggest defeat he could possibly imagine.
So, after a moment of struggling against him, he kinda just gives up, yeah? He kinda just lets himself be pulled in againt Byakuya's front, his nose ending up buried in his nightwear, the cotton thin and soft against his face. He moves a little, lips and nose brushing over flat chest and subtle muscle. Ichigo feels himself blush.
Then, he feels himself raise both hands and bury his fingers in the top, really getting his fingers in there, folding them into angry fists. He tugs at Byakuya's clothes, knuckles pounding against his pecs. Ichigo breathes harshly, shaky intakes of air.
Meanwhile, he's being held. ]
Just mind, all right! Why can't you just mind? I'd stop if you just... if you just...
[ Gasping harshly around the words he can't say, feeling the tears finally track down his face, Ichigo slumps in against Byakuya's chest, the top of his head tucked in beneath the other man's chin. ]
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You have to wonder about that, really. Doesn't he have friends? It's true, from how they generally interact, Rukia would have probably hit him over the head instead but surely, some of the other humans... Ichigo, meanwhile, tugs at his cheap, synthetic night clothes, hard, desperately, his breathing ragged and hot. Byakuya keeps his hold as it is because he isn't being rejected or kicked off the bed and he knows what that means. He knows how desperately vulnerable it feels, to crave this kind of proximity - indeed, he's not averse to hugging, he just doesn't particularly want any from people he knows.
Perhaps, in some way or another, Ichigo is the same.
He makes a low hm at Ichigo's words and tightens his grip ever so slightly as the other man slowly but surely collapses against him, into him. Byakuya pulls him down the rest of the way onto the bed, folding one hand very lightly against the back of his head. There, it means. Stay. He can feel his night shirt growing damp and says nothing about it.
At the back of his mind, he thinks about Ichigo saying his name. Back then, in the rain, he hadn't said anything at all but as he'd thought, the words had been there, withheld, kept within and taking up no space for anyone else. Such a stubborn man. ]
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They're just memories, it's in the past.
Then, Byakuya makes that deep humming sound and cups the back of his head, holding him as close as his gigai can allow and Ichigo feels himself melting in against him, his chest that is definitely his chest despite everything and it's whole and unopened as well, firm and warm against his hands that flatten out over the fabric of the other man's nightwear. Feels for him underneath.
It's not even a sudden thought, in some ways, yeah, it doesn't really occur to him at all. It just happens. Ichigo turns his face upwards, presses his nose in against the long column of Byakuya's throat, the slope of it, Adam's apple, he traces all of it, pushing upwards slightly, constantly waiting for the moment when Byakuya realizes what he's up to, what direction they're going and tells him off.
Kinda hoping for it, too.
Ichigo has known for years that he's into guys, they can all thank Chad for that, honestly, but it's never been anything... It's never mattered before. except lying like this, they're so close, Byakuya and him, he can freakin' smell him, okay, and Byakuya is holding him, comforting him, and Ichigo is being weak with him when no one...
No one else has done this for him. Before.
So, he pushes up until his lips are tracing Byakuya's jaw to his chin and up. Chin. Mouth. Lips. Without glancing up, afraid of what he's gonna see, Ichigo kisses him, desperately and hard. ]
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Breath catching in his throat, he glances down at the feel of the other man as his grip in his nightshirt turns into a hold (a touch), hands spread out against his chest and then, oh, his nose, pressing in against his throat - surely, that's not an accident or - what is he even...
He's about to ask, lips parting uselessly around words that make it no farther than to the intent itself because Ichigo intercepts him, always quicker, always faster, and runs his lips along his jaw, to his chin, to his mouth. His brain, for a moment, completely stalls. He lets Ichigo kiss him for a second, two, without responding with anything but a fractured breath, shaken and uneven. He has so many questions whirling in his mind that he can't think for them - and overlaying them all, stark and almost impossibly clear, is the image of Ichigo in front of that bench in Byakuya's garden and his mother's flowers, his stance, the tight line of his shoulders.
Slowly, he runs one hand up Ichigo's back. It settles against his neck, fingertips sliding into his hair gently. Then, he presses back, a slight motion with more than just a tint of heat underneath, before he breaks them apart, twisting his own face away just enough to maintain eye contact. He can see the remnants of wetness on Ichigo's cheeks up close like this. His features look softer. ]
You... [ He swallows heavily. Shifts a little, not to get away but to do something with his body. The surprise feels like floating on air, out of bounds, and he has to fight to control his breathing. ] Why, exactly?
[ Not the most eloquent he's ever been, granted. But he can't - he can't possibly, when he doesn't understand. It's been so many years for him. The loneliness, too, is a serious choice. ]
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When the other man presses back, Ichigo actively groans against his lips and only goes for it harder, until Byakuya steers them both to the halt that Ichigo really needed two minutes ago - but that was two minutes ago and now, he wants something entirely different! He shifts restlessly, hands still spread out wide over his chest and looks up at Byakuya's face, his surprised expression. And something else. Apprehension, maybe. Ichigo frowns.
Why, exactly? So inarticulate, Byakuya.
Ichigo licks his lips and decides he owes Byakuya an answer under any circumstances, after what he did with his mom's flowers, yeah? After that, he owes him more than that fearful glint in his eyes. He sighs, looking down slowly, reaching down with one hand to pull at the hem of his t-shirt that only barely covers his half-tenting boxer shorts. ]
Can't believe I'm still telling you this after all these years, but... [ He looks up. ] ... we're supposed to be there for each other. I'm not on my own with this. And neither are you.
[ Neither do I want to be, it means. I want this.
With the hand still pressed, palm flat, against Byakuya's chest, Ichigo smoothens out some invisible wrinkles in his night clothing, the cheap fabric dry and warm to his touch. A part of him wonders what Byakuya's chest is gonna feel like, underneath. Could be his gigai or himself, Ichigo honestly doesn't particularly care anymore.
Finally, he curls his hand back into a fist, grabbing his shirt harshly. ]
Isn't that good enough? Byakuya.
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But it also makes sense for how he knows him and that feels much more important now.
Looking at him for a long moment, searching his face for any signs of insincerity, of impatience or impulsiveness or anything else that wouldn't do, not for this, not when the stakes are so high, he finally makes a decision. He thinks about tomorrow, briefly, about whether or not Ichigo's words truly are good enough and they aren't, not really. Getting your body used to nothing, to empty rooms and empty beds, is a painful process, worsened only by exceptions to the rules.
Then again, he can handle much. Surely, no matter what comes next, it's something that can be lived. It must be. ]
It's enough.
[ He folds his hand against the back of Ichigo's head and runs his other hand up his side, pulling his t-shirt up to press his palm against his side. He's burning hot, impossibly so. Alive. Breathing. Slowly, almost stiffly, he sinks back against the bed, pulling Ichigo down on top of him and entwining their legs, breath catching in his throat at the feel of it. Not on my own, Ichigo's words echo in his mind and somehow, as they tend to do, they take root there, undeniable. ]
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Good. Relax.
[ It's a reassurance, in a way. He isn't one for mollycuddling people, and Byakuya isn't the person you mollycuddle, so it fits. It fits.
Looking down at the other man, something finally settles the nightmare he just had. It's the sight of how truly okay Byakuya is. He is whole and well and not apart, not dying and Ichigo narrows his eyes slightly at that, gaze trekking down his front, the nightshirt with its row of buttons and shouldn't he be less dressed for this? Isn't this something you're supposed to do bared?
Anyway, whether or not it is, Ichigo wants him that way so, as he leans down and bends his neck a bit, carefully kissing along the other side of Byakuya's jawline towards his mouth again, he starts in on the buttons, quickly, minimal fumbling, getting his nightshirt open over his chest.
At the final three buttons, he reaches his lips, kissing him. Slower, this time, if just as insistent about it. Byakuya's lips are warm and soft and Ichigo thinks, he honestly has no idea what the hell he's doing - but he knows he wants it to come out good for them. The both of them.
And that, at least, is something he's got practice in ensuring. ]
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Then, as he settles back down against the bed, he looks up at the other man. Shirtless, Ichigo should be a stranger like this - after all, it's not like they've ever... But he isn't, of course, the battlefield is many things and whilst intimate isn't necessarily the right word, it's certainly a place of physical proximity. Of layers shedding, of personal boundaries being unlocked. In that regard, perhaps it's not so different and perhaps that's why, when he looks at Ichigo now, everything about him feels familiar.
Gaze softening a fraction, he runs his hands up his back, muscled and strong, exactly as strong as he looks. His fingers dig in just a little harshly along his shoulderblades before he pulls him down towards himself, closer again, leaning in to mouth at his neck below his ear. He follows an invisible trail down the side of his neck, tasting salt and hints of musk on the way.
The heat in his body, in his blood, is slowly but surely starting to feel like urgency. To have another against him like this after such a long time would in itself be a shock to his system but for the person in question to be Ichigo is nearly impossible to comprehend. His mind is pulling next to no strings at the moment - instead, when he twists his leg in between Ichigo's and presses his thigh upwards, he's running on instinct and the thought alone is intoxicating. It's such a rare feeling, to be mindless.
To be safe throughout is usually impossible. ]
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Then, there is a brief pause because Byakuya makes a rough sound at the back of his throat, it reverberates within Ichigo and makes his cock freakin' jerk, and insists on starting to pull on his t-shirt, forcing it over his head fast and efficiently, so they have to break apart for air, for a moment. Ichigo is breathing rapidly, hard, only waiting for the first second when the t-shirt is out of the way, discarded to the floor and he can push down over Byakuya's body again, stretch himself out and be a protective layer over him. He likes that thought. He wants it to be that way.
After looking some, Byakuya pulls him closer again, mouthing down the side of his neck and Ichigo tilts his head to the side to let him, to let him take the lead like that. Ichigo doesn't mind. Following, for once, feels nice, huh.
Running his hands up to Byakuya's shoulders, neck, head, he slips his fingers mindlessly into his hair and doesn't pull at it as much as he gently cups it, feels the long strands curl and curve between his fingers. He's always thought Byakuya had good hair, totally different from his own in every way, color, structure, length. It was just different and kinda tantalizing because of that. Did he really always think so? Being kissed now and holding the other man by the nape of his neck, the back of his head, he decides, yeah. He always thought so. No time to recognise it, sure, but it's not a new feeling.
His breathing feels too shallow and quick, like it's not making its way down into his lungs properly.
Then, Byakuya pushes his thigh up in between Ichigo's legs, rubbing up against his hard cock with the fabric-clad length of his own leg and Ichigo actually moans, bending his head a bit to hide his face in against the other man's shoulder, pressing back, blushing, against him, nose, mouth, crotch. Oh, shit. He ruts against his thigh a few times before catching himself, glancing down into the darkness between their bodies. His voice, when he speaks, is a mutter: ]
At least wait until we're completely naked, okay? I want to feel you. [ Thinner, a bit embarrassed. ] And I don't want to cum in my boxers.
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The thought makes something within his chest soften, the urgency giving way momentarily to something slower. With a small huff of breath, he leans in again, lips brushing the nape of his neck and slipping through the strands of his hair. He remembers for the first time tonight that Ichigo is quite young, not just young in terms of human years but in terms of being a man, too. Of what it entails for most, if not all (the fact is, becoming a captain in the Gotei 13 immediately annuls nearly all chances of an active sex life - or it used to, anyway, before the last war; their current Captain-Commander runs them all at a different pace, for better and for worse).
But of course, Ichigo has been fighting wars for the past many years and when you fight wars the way he does, the way they've all had to, other things are naturally pushed into the background. Not a big loss when you have hundreds upon hundreds of years to enjoy the peace times when they come - provided, of course, that they don't just make you restless.
In terms of a human life, the math is altogether different. ]
Then take them off.
[ He runs his other hand down Ichigo's side, grasping the hem of his underwear and pushing at them, perhaps a little bit impatiently. Whenever he moves, he can feel him against his body, his scent imprinting itself upon his senses more and more, for every minute that passes. He wants more of it, all of it, now that they've both decided to run the risks. To do so together, something that used to be a foreign concept back in the day - before Ichigo came along, actually, and changed the rules for all of them. ]
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You, too. Come on.
[ It's not really that Byakuya needs telling, supposedly they teach you some level of management skills in the Gotei 13, if he doesn't simply leave all the actual work up to Renji, which is sure what it looks like from the outside sometimes, whenever Renji talks about it at their rare meet-ups. Not that Renji means anything along those lines, of course.
Ichigo likes the idea of Byakuya making comfortable like that. however.
For now, he's getting out of his night-trousers as well, and having already pushed his own boxers down and off, kicking them off into the dark on the floor, Ichigo follows his progress with hungry eyes, staring unashamedly at every new inch of skin that is laid bare. His own lower body feels taught and his cock is rock-hard, curving against his abdomen. It occurs to him on an afterthought that's luckily easily forgotten, that his dad's gonna murder them. Ichigo, definitely, for being into men and Byakuya, he's gonna guess, for being the man he's into.
It doesn't matter. Not right now.
Scoffing hard, he inches closer as soon as Byakuya is naked, aligns their bodies again and pushes up against his hip, just as impatiently as Byakuya was before. He catches his mouth again, groaning in against it at the friction.
Blindly, but without fumbling, Ichigo reaches up and, drawing back from the kiss, holding Byakuya's gaze all the while, licks his palm, sucking at his own fingers noisily. Then, he reaches for his cock, fingers skirting down over his stomach as his hand comes down to wrap around the shaft loosely, wetly. ]
That all right? Byakuya.
[ Ichigo did say, he wanted to feel him. ]
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Then, Ichigo licks his own hand quite vigorously and all he can think about is how hard his own cock is, the heat seemingly trapped between his legs. It aches in a lovely way and he'd like to focus on it, on the feel of it but there's simply... oh. Before his mind can slide back into the well of emotion currently threatening to drown out everything else, Ichigo reaches down and folds his fingers around his cock.
Briefly, he can do nothing but blink uselessly up at the ceiling, his hand tightening almost violently against Ichigo's hip. His other hand, he realises belatedly, is grasping the sheets so hard it's trembling. The sudden sense of friction feels stark, like a gust of wind on an icy winter's day. A small part of him wants to shy away from it whilst the rest...
He tries to breathe. Manages it, after two failed attempts. ]
It's - yes.
[ It is fine. But it's also a lot. He doesn't know how to properly describe it so instead of speaking words that won't be sensible in any case, he pulls Ichigo closer, pulls him down towards himself, not to kiss him but to hold him close, his arm curving over his shoulder harshly. Like this, he can press his forehead against his shoulder, mirroring what Ichigo did moments earlier when he'd woken from his nightmare and pressed in against him. He buys himself moments in the darkness behind his eyelids to catch up to his body, his hips jerking very slightly into Ichigo's grip entirely by their own accords.
The resultant slide around his length makes his next breath tumble out of his mouth. ]
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Leaning in, he kisses the exposed column of Byakuya's neck, where his hair isn't obscuring everything, long, inky trails of black falling around his head, shoulders. He holds him close with his free arm, rubs his skin like he would a scared kid. He gets it, okay. He really does. ]
You know who the first guy was I jerked off to? [ He keeps up the slower pace of his hand, but doesn't remove it. It wasn't Chad, the Chad-thing came after, while the Quincy War raged and he was struggling to save any of the others. No, the only time Ichigo ever had time to jerk off to the thought of any guys was while he was powerless and on his own. Life's weird that way. ] It was you. I was freakin' mortified, Byakuya, when I ran into you later. [ A long silence. His breathing comes out in quick, harsh puffs of air. ] At least this? We're doing this together.
[ He's reminding himself of the speech he held for the other man many years ago, after saving Rukia, during their fight, then, about little sisters and big brothers and in the same way, he's giving out a piece of himself now to try and touch a piece of Byakuya. Feels fitting. Feels full-circle. Ichigo draws in a deep, hard breath, his cock jerking between his legs, because the air comes loaded with musk and sweat and precum.
Byakuya's scent. ]
I'm glad it turned out to be you in the end. The first time.
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Ichigo, of course, knows. He's been brought low many, many times yet somehow, he's emerged stronger from it and that's what Byakuya takes now, too. That thought. He shifts, listening to the other man's words as they fall across his ears in hot puffs of air and then, when he's finished talking, he frees one hand in turn and leans back down against the bed, enough to look Ichigo squarely in the eyes. He focuses on keeping his voice even, every stroke of Ichigo's hand making his body feel tight and overheated. ]
I have thought about you in other ways.
[ He frees his hand and pointedly spits in his palm, twice for good measure. The sound is loud between them against the backdrop of quiet in the hotel room. Shifting just enough to make room for himself, he reaches down between their bodies and folds his slick fingers around Ichigo's cock, hard and hot against his palm. He gives it a slow stroke, mirroring what Ichigo's doing to him. He's barely even touched himself for decades, he will have to relearn what it takes. ]
I could see you, through the rain. Your spiritual pressure. [ His breath does catch on his next inhalation and his next words are full of air, his voice thinner than usual: ] I'm sorry you can't see what I saw - I hadn't thought there was much hope left but I was wrong.
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I have thought about you in other ways, he says and it occurs to Ichigo, then, that maybe, between them, Byakuya is even newer to the whole sleeping with another man thing. He was married to Hisana-san before. Then, he was grieving.
And Ichigo knows how grief can work, sometimes.
His expression softens and he keeps up the steady movement of his hand in response, because he likes the way it adds taughtness and a hitch to Byakuya's voice. Never heard him sound that way before, did he? Never heard him say anything like what he's telling him now. Not even when he was dying. He said he was ashamed.
Now, he says he was hopeful.
Ichigo's stomach clenches and he watches, wide-eyed, as the other man reaches up his hand and spits in his palm, twice, the sound each time making his cock feel wet at the tip and throbbing. Then, he reaches back down and folds his fingers around Ichigo's cock, the slickness and heat of his fingers actually making Ichigo's toes curl. He grunts, feels his hips push into it, desperately. Hungrily.
Something inside him softened beyond words, Ichigo licks his lips and lifts his chin, staring into Byakuya's calm eyes and he almost can't take it, it's almost too much and with everything Ichigo has survived at this point? Byakuya should get a freakin' medal.
With a groan, he pushes in against the other man and takes his mouth again, kissing him wetly, open-mouthed, tongue, wanting. On Byakuya's cock, his hand speeds up slightly again, though there's none of the almost harsh forward motion that characterised his initial approach.
Ichigo is a fast learner. ]
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So he looks now, too, though his eyes fall shut when Ichigo closes the distance between them once more and kisses him, roughly, his tongue filling his mouth with that same, undeniable insistence that Ichigo seems to have in most aspects of life. Iron will, determination. He sighs into the kiss and reaches for Ichigo's hair, fingers curling within it, gently at first, then a little harsher as the heat in his balls and abdomen grow stronger. He groans into Ichigo's mouth and tightens his grip, holding his head still and angling it slightly to the side. Like that, he slips his tongue into his mouth, taking up space and tasting him in turn.
When Ichigo speeds up his strokes, he mirrors him again, following suit. On his next upstroke, he pushes his palm over the head of his cock, rubbing the slit and feeling the wetness there, his own cock leaking in response. Gasping, he pushes into Ichigo's grip and keeps his own hand going steadfastly, barely even thinking about it now, pleasure building in his body and overriding most other impressions.
He realises he's heading towards his climax with an almost distant sense of wonder. If this is a dream, he thinks, he'll gladly exchange it for the dreams he tends to have now, by himself when Senbonzakura is restless; even if it means he'll wake up to nothing. Even then, he would still... He breaks the kiss and pushes his face back against Ichigo's shoulder, brow furrowed, as he pushes himself towards the edge, pulling Ichigo along with him. ]
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Then, Byakuya slicks up the head of his cock by running his palm over it on the next upstroke, and Ichigo pulls out of the kiss to moan, his voice hoarse, broken, his hips urging forward into the feeling of his hand. The slit... Shit... Ichigo feels more than sees Byakuya leaning his head against his shoulder, burying his face into him and shakily, with his non-working hand, keeping up with his other, mirroring Byakuya now, too, rubbing at the head with the same smooth, easy glide, Ichigo folds his arm around his neck, holding him close.
It's good. Being touched like this... is good, but the implications are better, that he isn't alone, that this is something he can do with someone, and not just anyone either. Byakuya.
His balls are drawing up and for a moment, he feels like he's floating mid-step, then Ichigo feels his orgasm wash over him, like a wave, big, tsunami-like, and he bends his neck to press his face into the side of Byakuya's head, groaning loudly as he spends himself in his grip, hips working against his hand, his touch. His hair is so stupidly soft. It smells like him, his scent with sweat and everything hanging in Ichigo's nostrils. His cock is pulsing, spewing cum everywhere, leaving him to feel wrought inside and out.
Give him a break. This is the first time with someone else... His body is shaking from the outlet. There's a moment when he doesn't think there'll be anything left afterwards.
Though, he knows, of course there will. He'll make sure there is. There has to be. ]
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Ichigo, meanwhile, is loud when he comes. Of course he is. He's loud everywhere, perhaps except in the intermissions, those particular movements between times and places that make you vulnerable in a very different way. Byakuya is staring to understand that about him. He's noisy and overbearing, yes, but he is also painfully, achingly silent. Right now, he's groaning loudly next to Byakuya's ear, in his hair, spending himself all over his knuckles. Byakuya, in turn, comes in spurts against Ichigo's abdomen. They can mess each other up just fine, of course, hasn't it always been like that?
As he lies there, his body feeling feather-light and untouchable, he pulls Ichigo down against him and runs his hand soothingly down his back, over his hip and waist. He's shaking, enough that it's noticeable. Very belatedly, Byakuya wonders whether this might have been Ichigo's first time - it seems implausible but then again, this man does firsts in peculiar ways. In heartstopping, impossible ways.
So Byakuya holds him close and keeps his mind open. ]
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Instead he pulls Byakuya closer by his neck, arm wrapped around the back of it, good hold, difficult to wrestle free off, except he'd let Byakuya go if he wanted to, he isn't like the bullies and psychos that Ichigo fights still, even now, when the opportunity shows itself. He's nothing like that. Breath still tumbling out of him, he pushes his forehead against Byakuya's forehead, getting his bangs in his face and really not minding much, and lies like that for a moment, quietly.
Then, he says: ]
Don't say anything. Just go to sleep. [ He closes his own eyes. His voice is hoarse and sounds weirdly abused. Besides, he's not sure who he's talking to, Byakuya or himself. ] We can talk later.
[ And so, he holds him, just like that.
It doesn't even have to be tomorrow. It's more of a general reassurance, a promise. Ichigo only makes those when he knows he can keep them, when not making them would be a greater crime than struggling to live up to your word, but this feels like one of those times. Like in front of his mom's grave, back then. Or in front of her flowers in the Kuchiki garden. It means, we'll talk when you're ready, because I'll be ready when you are. ]