I Gave You My Best Scowl, and You Fucked It Up

BY : Robofetus0
Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 18431
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

I do not own Bleach. I make no money from writing this. Thanks to sarith_mcgregor for her editing help.

 


 


 


 


 


 


I Gave You My Best Scowl, and You Fucked It Up


 


 


 


There was a perfectly reasonable explanation, he knew. Somewhere. It was just an all-around weird day. Maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep. Maybe he was coming down with something? Maybe he'd been exposed to something, like asbestos, or the Black Death, or some kind of weird hallucinogenic mold. Maybe he...fuck it.


Fuck it all and Mary Poppins and her penguins.


He had rocks for Ishida.


It all started at about five after ten o'clock that morning. Ishida was too weird. It wasn't normal how weird he was. After gym, communal showers. Everybody politely pointedly not looking. Ichigo slipped up on his way to turn the spray down a little.


Ishida, right there in front of God and everybody, was meticulously and attentively shampooing his pubes. With his fingers. In little circles.


It wasn't right. It wasn't right.


Too horrified to make a sound, Ichigo rinsed and bolted. Dressed like he was late for the train outta hell. Went to class and paid rapt attention, yet strangely couldn't hear anything. Actually thought about skipping lunch. There was a part of his brain that was self-aware enough to know that he was being a little stupid, but that part was overshadowed by the part that wanted to run away shrieking and ripping out his hair.


It was the look on his face while he did it. "I'm reading a newspaper article about something I already knew." "I'm watching a VH1 movie." "There's a rock on the sidewalk so I'm just going to walk around it." "I'm doing detail work on my motherfucking pubic hair with weird gay herbal shampoo in a public shower, la-dee-fucking la."


If you do that, you do it at home. Behind at least one locked door. There's decorum for the gym showers. This was unheard of. Ishida was barbaric.


You can't be acting Captain of the knitting club or whatever and publicly tend to your pubic hair like that. There's a limit to how much queer can fit into a single person. And what was worse, oh so much worse, was that Ichigo couldn't deny anymore that some of that queer seemed to have dripped on him.


And it wasn't letting go.


It was because he knew Ishida's hair was very soft. He'd touched it, accidentally, once when they'd brushed past each other, not long enough to feel it really, but enough to remember it in a little corner of his mind. He knew his skin was soft, too, and the material of his clothes was thin and hung on his body in a...in a sexual way. Even the damn school uniform.


He knew he was being pathetic, but it all made it hard not to think about the way Ishida looked. It made it hard not to think about him undressing. He'd never watched, of course, that would be suicide. But now he wondered about it. Thought about it for longer than he should have allowed. Wanted it more than he could even believe.


It was too much. He was just going to fucking die.


He was hard in trig.


Raging hard. He stared angrily in Ishida's direction, thought about various things from tripping him to throwing rocks at him, fought back the urge and gave up on it all. He stopped paying attention, waited out the day, biding his time until he could make it home to jerk off.


"Kurosaki. What are you staring at? Snap out of it."


"Piss off," he returned, frowning more deeply. He had been making his way down the hall after class, politely dodging friends and acquaintances, planning on making it home quickly. But Ishida had materialized, which made him involuntarily slow down. "You're being more annoying than usual today," he said, feigning disinterest. "Special occasion?"


All of a sudden, Ishida's eyes changed. His face changed. He seemed to turn a different color. He got that surprised look on his face that people get on TV shows when they begin to notice they're going into labor.


"Organs," he rasped. "Organs...gone."


"Hey, whoa...shit man, don't fall on me!"


"Ichigo," he flinched at the use of his personal name, "you have to...help me," Ishida groaned pathetically. "You're the only one here I can trust."


"Who told you not to get beef from the lunchroom? You brought this on yourself. Let go of my shirt...!" Gritting his teeth, he tried to pry the soft, elegant clenched fingers off of his shirt, but only succeeded in untucking it most of the way and allowing Ishida's grip to fall and hitch securely down at his beltline.


"Look! Gay PDA!"


"Get a room, guys!"


"THIS IS A ROOM!" Ishida turned and shouted back, furious.


Ichigo sighed.


"Ishida, listen. Don't get mad. They're only trying to keep their school clean." His gentler tone seemed to relax the other boy to a point where he could loosen his grip and pull him up so at least it didn't look like they were playing suckoff. "And this isn't a room, it's a hallway."


Ishida whimpered.


"....please. Ichigo!"


"Look, I'll take you to the nurse. Try not to rub your weird on me."


"Thankyou. Carry me."


"Oh. No." Ishida had circled around him and looped his arms around his neck, clearly indicating that he wanted to ride piggyback. Ichigo wasn't sure he was ready for male legs to wrap around him just... "Hey. We're not doing this." He pried the arms off. They came back. He slapped at them, turning around and finally subduing the groaning boy with a right hook in the sucker.


Just what he'd needed, apparently. Ishida rose shakily to his feet. Ichigo let him lean some of his weight on him in compromise as they made their way to the nurse's office, ten minutes after the last school bell.


"We're looking for my organs," Ishida explained slowly to the clearly frightened attendant-on-duty. "Have you seen..."


"We need to lay down. Er...he does."


Not waiting for a response, Ichigo steered Ishida sharply to the right, jerking him in that direction so he drunkenly stumbled alongside him into the sickbay.


"Kurosaki! People are going to get the wrong idea about us!"


Ichigo shut the door behind them. "What the hell? You're the one groping me! Look where your hand is!"


Ishida stopped mid-bitch, with his finger sticking up comically like he was just about to raise an important argument. He froze for a long moment. Ichigo raised an eyebrow, beyond disbelief at this point. Ishida lowered his hand and placed it wonderingly on his stomach.


"I feel better."


"Must be the healing power of sexual molestation."


Ishida had the decency to blush. "You're overreacting. But. Well, I should lie down...for a minute. For appearance's sake." He loosened his vise-grip on Ichigo and moved to brush himself off.


His left hand, by chance, had just barely not-missed the side of Ichigo's pants, had ghosted accidentally over the bulge of his erection. Ichigo bit his tongue to hold in expletives and prayed hard he hadn't noticed.


"Ichigo. You're..."


Damn the infuriating, crazy, skinny little screwball. Any normal person would have just dropped it, pretended it didn't happen and would never mention it again, but not Ishida. He slid his hand back up where it had just been and pressed it sideways against the hardness he found, staring inquiringly into Ichigo's eyes.


"You're getting hard. From...touching me?"


No, it was the other way around, but Ichigo couldn't form the words and didn't want to try. His eyes snapped helplessly closed, and he silently allowed the touch. He must have opened his mouth, because he abruptly felt Ishida frenching him. His body wanted this so much that he didn't even try to fight it (three and a half hours is a long time to have an almost constant erection in public), but he was still surprised.


As he became fully erect, Ishida guided his cock so that it stood comfortably upright in his pants, unbuckled his belt, and slipped a hand down expertly to slide against the naked, heated skin. Ichigo hummed and throbbed and sighed, not opening his eyes.


"Touch me."


"...What?"


Ishida spoke against his throat. "I'm touching you. I want you to touch me too. Touch me."


Finding no ready argument, Ichigo did, reaching the other boy's cock easily by feel, tracing the outline, then sliding his right hand below the slender waist, inside the grey uniform slacks, catching a drop of precome with his thumb and sliding it around as he began to stroke. Ishida's breath caught, and he kissed Ichigo again. Ichigo's hands didn't have a lot of room, so his motions were limited and somewhat awkward, so he thought this would be a good time to take off Ishida's belt and open his pants. Which made him realize something.


Tableaux of the century, if the nurse walked in now. Ichigo could just hear the thermometer and bottle of rubbing alcohol hitting the floor. If that happened, he'd be screwed.


"Uh, Ishida."


"Call me by my name," the other boy replied, kissing down Ichigo's throat in small licks.


"...Uryuu," he called softly, forgetting momentarily what he was about to say in the delicious response he got, a rumbling low moan and fingers caressing the back of his neck. The hand on him was smooth and warm and it felt perfect.


"We need to take this somewhere else," he managed. Ishida's other hand slipped down from behind his head to unbutton his fly and join his first, cupping Ichigo's balls as he stroked quicker. Ichigo tensed at the pleasure and instinctively dropped his hand from where it was stroking Ishida's cheek down into his pants to reciprocate. He realized, though, that taking off Ishida's belt would be required for that, which in this situation would be disadvantageous, so he held back and just stroked his testicles from outside his clothing. They kissed deeply, using only their mouths.


"Yes," Ishida said, and Ichigo was unsure if he was agreeing or just getting close. He felt him take a shuddering breath and slow his movements, so he also stilled, achingly hard and yet somewhat relieved to be stepping out of danger now. "But we need something from here."


"What?" Ichigo asked, his mind blank and blurry.


The hands, the body and the warmth withdrew from him all at once. His eyes opened reluctantly, and he watched Ishida stride across the room and open a cupboard.


"What the hell are you...WHAT? You're stealing...how did you know that was there?"


Ishida was pocketing a half rolled-up tube of K-Y and smirking.


"A bit of advice: never come in here complaining of diarrhea."


"Shit, man. Don't tell me stuff like that."


Ishida crossed the room again, and Ichigo warily let him put his arms back around his neck. He spoke very close to Ichigo's lips, "I want to go all the way with you, Ichigo. Do you want that? I want to come inside you."


Ichigo's mind came to a sudden halt. Ishida had just talked about diarrhea and alluded to rectal exams. He was caught up in a swirl of wishing he hadn't heard that, needing to get off, wanting to touch Ishida everywhere, and not remembering quite what the hell he'd just been upset about but he hadn't actually thought of having full-on sex with Ishida. He'd fantasized about him almost literally all day, but it was just kissing him and touching him or watching him touch himself. He'd even thought of taking him inside his mouth, but not his ass.


"Uh, where would we go...?"


"I know of a nearby treehouse."


Ichigo didn't like it. The possibility of little kids getting off school and finding two guys going at it in their secret base was not sexy.


"Couldn't we go to your place? Or mine? No. Not mine--"


"--For milk and cookies? I don't want to have to walk half a mile. I want you right now." He ground himself against Ichigo for effect, which worked. "The treehouse isn't far; it's technically on school grounds. There won't be anyone else there this time of day."


Ichigo knew that when it came right down to it, Ishida was a decent guy. He was actually surprisingly unselfish, lame but not stupid, and completely sincere. And he'd get embarrassingly sentimental about really dumb shit. He was a friend. Yeah, he was a social cripple, but at the end of the day they weren't just on the same side, they were friends. They could trust each other.


"You first. You're closer to the window." Ichigo re-fastened his belt and fly.


"Hmm...good idea." Ishida surprised him with a kiss on the forehead and squeeze on the shoulder as he stepped back to duck out the open window. Ichigo's shoulders were broader, and he had to ease it open a little more to get out without injury.


"So where is this treehouse? I've lived around here forever and I've never seen...don't friggin' hold my hand!"


"No one's going to see us."


"Yeah, we're just sneaking through an open courtyard..."


"Relax. This way." He tugged on Ichigo's wrist.


Ichigo acknowledged that he had a point; this wasn't the part of school where kids linger after the last bell. But he still scowled through the trip. He was pulled at a brisk walk out of the courtyard, along the windowless hind wall of the west-most building, past a modest almost-empty parking lot, behind a group of large, green cardboard dumpsters and down the dip of a grassy hill. They eventually came upon a group of three large flat-leafed trees, and in the middle branches of one of them was unmistakably a wood-planked treehouse, with a knotted rope ladder leading up through a square hole in the base.


Ishida climbed the rope without checking it. Ichigo waited for him to disappear inside, then grunted and followed him up. When he was close enough and gripped the edge of the floor, he was given a hand up the rest of the short distance inside. It was a pretty good-sized treehouse, but there still wasn't a lot of space. Ishida, reclining back and leaning his head and shoulders against the wall, continued to pull on Ichigo's arm until he fell smoothly onto him, straddling his waist. He immediately kissed Ichigo like he'd been waiting to really kiss him, winding long arms around him to pull him even closer.


Ichigo kissed back. He was satisfied that they were really alone, that no one had bothered to watch them walk down here, and that they couldn't be seen.


...It struck him that there really wasn't much of anything they couldn't get away with now. Within a certain time frame. More than likely, no one would hear them even if they screamed.


Ishida moaned loudly when Ichigo stroked the heel of his palm firmly over him though his pants. When the stimulation continued, with his eyes screwed shut he slumped his head forward, resting his teeth on Ichigo's shoulder and breathing heavily through them into the fabric.


"Hey, Ishi...Uryuu."


"Unnn..."


"Take off your clothes, we can't stay up here forever. And quit biting me." He moved backward on his knees to give the other boy space, and started to loosen his own tie.


Ishida held his eyes as he stood on his knees and pulled up his own shirt sharply, higher than he needed to, and held it as he very quickly and one-handedly removed his own belt. Ichigo's fingers quickened in their work as he watched, flinging his tie off on the floor somewhere and hurrying on to his shirt buttons.


Ishida slipped off his shoes, and in one motion, did the same to his slacks, socks and underclothes as Ichigo shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. Wordlessly, they both finished undressing all the way like it was a race.


Which was seemingly all Ishida had been waiting for. He practically dove at Ichigo, at his crotch in particular, taking him into his mouth. Ichigo was on his knees, with Ishida bowed low in front of him, letting his cock slide into his mouth, almost into his throat and swallowing around him. Ichigo groaned and tried not to thrust, but he couldn't keep from threading his fingers through that dark, thin hair, and he wound up sort of massaging Ishida's scalp.


With his absurdly deft handicrafts-club right hand, Ishida pulled out the lube without looking, uncapped it, and slickened his first two right fingers and thumb, supporting himself with his left hand on Ichigo's hip. He swirled his index finger several unhurried times around Ichigo's entrance, both teasing him and giving him a nice long chance to object. Receiving no reply but a quiet receptive hum, Ishida slid one long, slender finger all the way inside, just holding it there almost completely motionless as he continued to pleasure Ichigo with his mouth.


Ichigo wasn't even there. He only came back to cognizance a minute or so later when Ishida pulled gradually away and settled back the way he was before, with his head and shoulders leaning against the wall. Ichigo moved with him (it wasn't far) and straddled his waist again, deliberately so that the finger inside him never completely left as he moved. It slid out of him now though, briefly, only to re-enter covered thickly with much more lubricant.


It left again, after a moment. Ichigo's cock twitched as he watched Ishida squeeze more from the tube and spread it generously with his hand all along his own shaft.


In one slow movement, he held onto Ishida's base and eased himself down, sliding the other boy's cock all the way inside. Ishida's eyes slammed wide open in shock and he raised his voice sharply through closed lips. He couldn't take it. He shivered visibly and his voice cracked and he started trying to pump in and out, haltingly. It was like he was trying to keep his hips from moving, and couldn't.


"Doesn't it hurt?" he whispered, roughly, through clenched teeth.


"It's nothing."


"If you ask me to stop," he gasped and shuddered so hard Ichigo felt it inside him, "...I probably won't be able to."


"I said it's nothing. Go ahead."


Ishida seemed to find some control and stilled himself. He closed his eyes and swallowed. After a couple of deep breaths, he said, "I am the celestial warrior of tango. Dip me in butter and roll me in flour."


"WHAT?! Get away from me!"


"I was just making sure you were really listening," Ishida replied, beginning to move again and smirking in spite of the fact that he had just proven for all time, unequivocally, what a dweeb he was.


"You freak."


With effort, Ishida slowed down even more and drew himself out to the tip, then just paused and let himself slide naturally back up inside. He repeated this course, still letting his hips move but more carefully, in control of himself, pressing in but not pushing. They were very thoroughly lubricated, and even though Ichigo's body resisted tightly in instinct and inexperience, their motion was smooth and easy.


Ichigo stroked himself in time with Ishida's gentle, rocking thrusts. He couldn't help but start to unwind a little, drop his defenses. He was surprised by how incredible it was to have someone moving inside him. There was a little pain at first, and this was all just plain weird, but nothing could have prepared him for how good it felt now. And he wanted more of it.


"Hey. More." But he didn't want it harder or faster. But he did. It felt so good, he didn't want it to change, but it wasn't enough yet...


"...Ride me," Ishida suggested. His hands were holding Ichigo's hips, but not tightly; it was more like he just wanted to feel the skin there with his palms than to hold him in.


"Like hell," he replied, without thinking and without malice, lost in pleasure and relaxing more than he could remember ever...


"Ichigo...?"


He looked up to see Ishida smiling, not smirking, dark eyes kind and sort of awestruck. Strands of his hair clung together, damp with sweat, as he struggled for control, losing himself in Ichigo, in the silk-slow drag of his rhythmic strokes. He spoke very slowly, barely louder than his breathing.


"...Your eyes are relaxed, Ichigo. Ichigo. Your brow isn't creased. Your mouth is hanging open. Do you know how good you look like this?"


"More," he repeated, his own voice unsteady.


"You look incredible." He didn't move faster, or slower, or any different at all, which frustrated Ichigo, but the excitement was building in his body all the same. Ishida spoke to him again, slow and quiet but not whispering, "Don't come yet. After I do, I want you to fuck me. I'm going to, soon. Now. I'm going to come..."


"Shut up, dammit! More!"


"Ichigo," Ishida called to him softly as he rubbed his lower back twice up and down, smooth and gentle, with his open, sweating hand. All at once, he sort of seized up, his body going rigid for several long, trembling breaths as he came and came. Ichigo could feel the pulse of it inside him, even if he hadn't heard the uncharacteristic yell.


And Ishida had always struck him as a quiet type of guy.


He watched Ishida pant back to normal breathing, his eyes gradually clearing up a little (although his glasses were smudged and off-center).


"Give me your hand," he quietly demanded. Ichigo tensed.


"Oh, no. Just because we just had sex doesn't mean we're gonna hold hands."


"We're not done. Idiot. Just..."


Ishida grabbed his left hand and squeezed lube into it. It was cool to the touch. Ichigo stared down at it and parted his fingers, still a little dazed with arousal, and watched the way the thick, transparent liquid stuck in thin, drooping horizontal lines between his index and middle fingers as it began to run down his hand. There were some very small air bubbles in it.


"You're giving me gloop? You still want me to." He put it together and didn't take the time to wonder why it took him so long to put it together.


Ishida moved.


"Hey, where're you going?"


Ishida Uryuu, top of his class, the world's last surviving Quincy. Exterminated Hollows, contended with shinigami, tailored his own clothes, shampooed his pubic hair at school. Just casually got on his hands and knees and stuck his ass up in the air.


"Well?"


Ichigo swallowed.


He looked down at the lube on his fingers. He looked back over at Ishida's waiting ass. The absurdity didn't sink in right away, but when it did he ignored it, choosing to move along rather than dwell on things. He spread Ishida's cheeks apart with his right hand and pressed his left middle finger inside. It slipped in easily.


"You don't have to go slow."


Still, it didn't seem to Ichigo that he would be able to fit in there. He pulled out and put three fingers inside, testing. He stopped when Ishida hissed in pain.


"You sure?"


"Well, maybe..."


"Wuss."


"...I can take anything you can!"


Ichigo chuckled and took out his ring finger, then moved his two fingers back and forth inside, making sure to go very slow.


" It's not that bad. Just relax."


Ishida snorted. But after one or two long, patient minutes, he began gradually to obey Ichigo, a little more and then a little more, until it became apparent that he was really enjoying himself. Ichigo pulled his fingers out.


"Pass the lube." Ishida raised a hand briefly to point at it, by his side on the floor. Ichigo reached for it and poured some directly onto his cock, then rubbed it around with his hand.


This was going to feel really good.


"Now," Ishida said, impatiently.


"Now?"


"Now, for the love of motherfu...nnnk."


"Motherfunk?"


"...Shut up!"


Ichigo thrust once more inside him, all the way in, and stopped. He rested his chin over Ishida's shoulder, and turned his head sideways once to kiss the side of his face. He held Ishida tightly around the middle, pulling him up close against him as he started to move again.


It was indescribable. It was almost too much to believe that something could feel this amazing. He pressed in as far as he could each time, but he didn't back out much because he didn't want to leave. He would have been embarrassed about moaning, but it was just in front of stupid Ishida anyway, and damn it all...


"I want to kiss you," he admitted.


"Can we?" Ishida asked, breathing heavily and turning his head.


Straining, they could just reach. Ichigo was tall enough, and Ishida was flexible enough. It wasn't comfortable, but it was hot. Ishida hummed and almost whimpered into his mouth as they kissed, then pulled back fractionally to speak against his lips.


"This is just how I really wanted you. This is how I've always dreamed of you, Ichigo," he panted. "Your cock inside me. Your tongue in my mouth. Your jacket in my locker."


"Ahh...Euwggh! Stop freaking me out!" Ichigo shouted, pulling back from the kiss (but not stopping his thrusts) and fighting the sudden, irrational urge to wipe his mouth. He'd been dizzy and stupid with lust from Ishida's words until that last sentence. "And my jacket's not in your locker."


"Nnnnn...that's what you think..."


"What? Ahh..."


"You left it in the locker room this morning. Yes, harder! Who stuffed an M-80 up your ass, anyway? You took off like ah," he paused to respond with a moan to Ichigo's increase in tempo, "...a bullet train."


"It was you."


"I stuffed a...?"


"-YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!"


"What the hell is your problem, Kurosaki?"


"Look, let's talk about this later!"


"...Harder!"


He didn't understand how Ishida could be so fucked up. Or what had changed between them to make this happen. Or why they seemed to need to touch each other so badly that they wound up in a treehouse.


Mainly, he didn't understand how Ishida had gone so slow when he'd done this earlier. It seemed impossible. Ichigo's brain was earnestly sending messages to his body parts to be considerate and gentle like Ishida had done for him, but his body parts were ripping these messages up without reading them. It didn't help that Ishida wanted it 'harder' and gasped or moaned or panted whenever Ichigo got a little wilder with him.


He felt Ishida shift his weight suddenly to his left hand, then move it to support his weight as he lifted his right. Ichigo hooked an arm under his left shoulder, supporting him with a forearm beneath his chest to help hold him up, close to him. He knew what Ishida was about to do with that hand. He thought about what it would be like to watch. He felt Ishida start doing it. He could touch Ishida's hand with his own if he moved it. He could just move a little and feel him stroking himself. It might be difficult to balance though. He'd have to...switch arms.


Still thrusting deep and now much more sharply into Ishida, Ichigo moved his right hand to brace himself against the floor. He moved his left arm underneath Ishida's shoulder and slid his hand down to touch him. Ishida moved slower to let him stroke the backs of his fingers with his palm and wrap his hand around his. He kept his grip relaxed so Ishida could move like he normally would.


His hand on himself was tight, but his movements were slow. Ichigo was surprised by a rush of even greater arousal through his whole body and had to move a little faster. Ishida was moving along with him, not by himself, but because that's how hard Ichigo was fucking him. His skin was oversensitive, and he felt it when Ishida whispered, "I think about you, when I do this..."


And that did it.


"Dork!"


Tense and literally shaking from the effort of thrusting so hard, Ichigo held on tight and pushed in hard and the sounds of the world became muffled and he was lost in release, so deep and so perfectly inside, throbbing warm and sweet and now. Ishida's glasses fell completely off.


Dimly, Ichigo was aware that Ishida had also just come, for a second and slightly less explosive time, semen leaking out over both their hands. He unconsciously brought his lips down to Ishida's shoulderblade and kissed him there, tenderly, as the electric current that had seized him slowed down and subsided and his heart started pumping blood through his veins in the right direction again.


Ishida took advantage of his weakened state, collapsing to the floor on purpose and rolling over, flopping Ichigo along with him so that he was on top, with Ichigo facing him. He raised himself up on one hand.


"That's farther than I ever wanted to see up your nose," Ichigo noted.


"Want a taste?" Ishida offered smugly, extending his right hand. Ichigo realized with no small measure of shock that Ishida seemed to still be aroused, and very energetic.


More proof that Ishida Uryuu was too weird to be human.


"I don't want your freaking baby batter!" he snapped in reply, slapping the hand away, back to himself now. "Your dick was in my ass a second ago, dipshit, I'm not about to drink out of it!"


Ishida frowned and hummed disapprovingly.


"I'm getting something."


Ishida put his glasses back on and rose coolly, as if he were not completely naked, and walked on his knees over to his clothes. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small package of tissues. He took out a couple, then threw the package at Ichigo, who didn't catch it. He picked it off the floor next to him and used the three tissues left in it to clean himself off. When he finished, he threw them down the opening in the floor.


"Litterbug."


"Shut up. Kleen-ex is biodegradable."


He didn't watch to see what Ishida did with his tissues, just crawled over to his clothes and put them back on, but he was sure he could hear him wiping come off the floor. For being crumpled in a heap, his uniform didn't seem too wrinkled. Before his shirt was buttoned all the way, though, a fully dressed Ishida tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned his head, his mouth was hotly kissed.


He let himself be pressed down on his back, what the hell anyway, and let his legs fall so he was lying flat as Ishida kissed him. Without really thinking about it, he circled his arms around the other boy and held him close. It didn't feel gross, or unpleasant in any way to kiss his friend now, even after his sudden, bizarre sexual impulse had been satisfied. Which made him realize, at that very moment, that later on he would be wanting this again.


"God hates me," he muttered, when with a moan Ishida moved his lips to his neck, probably to give him a visible hickey.


"I think he's just mad because you're cuter than him," he said, affectionately stroking the sides of Ichigo's face with his fingers.


Who knew Ishida would get so mushy after sex?


"Go get mauled by a bear," replied Ichigo indifferently, and drew his lips up to meet Ishida's again. He should probably go straight home and change without meeting anyone, get some studying done after not being with it in class today...but for now, he didn't feel like getting up yet.


Being normal could wait for a couple more minutes.


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 hephestus0@juno.com



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