Strawberry Shinigami Hates You

BY : chibitrillian
Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 6063
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Disclaimer: Me = so not the owner of Bleach.

Strawberry Shinigami Hates You
by chibi_trillian

Ichigo scrubbed his hair and thought about how much he despised Ishida Uryuu.

He hated Ishida’s stupid hair and the way it framed his face perfectly. He hated the way Ishida’s long, elegant fingers could make a production out of picking up a pencil. He hated the way Ishida’s glasses glinted when he was thinking evil thoughts, and the way Ishida was always pushing those glasses up with a carelessly purposeful finger. He hated the way Ishida’s mouth moved when he talked, and the way Ishida’s lips often quirked up in a superior sneer. He hated the way Ishida’s hand-tailored clothes hung perfectly on his slim frame. He hated the way Ishida’s body moved when he walked, or ran, or drew that stupid bow of his.

Yes, Kurosaki Ichigo utterly loathed Ishida Uryuu. He loathed him so much that he had a hard-on.

Ichigo could almost see Ishida smirking at him, taunting him for wanting him. The quiet realization that he found Ishida attractive had crept over him a few weeks ago, stealthily invading his head like some creeping parasitic dork-loving brain-fungus until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He’d managed to stomp every other crush he’d had on a guy down to nothing almost as soon as he realized it was forming, in vague hope that maybe if he didn’t act on them he’d eventually take interest in a girl.

After all, if Ichigo managed to somehow force himself to like women, he wouldn’t have to tell Goat-chin and Karen and Yuzu that he batted for the other team. He didn’t think he could put up with their reactions—not the negative ones, but the positive ones. He did NOT want advice on boys from his little sisters or his father telling him to “Go for it!” every time he brought a male friend home. Therefore, when attraction was detected, Ichigo usually napalmed it as soon as possible and with extreme prejudice.

But, because Ishida damn-him-straight-to-the-tenth-level-of-Hell Uryuu was somehow different and special, this one wasn’t going away as obligingly as the others had. He’d been reduced to jerking off to that prissy asshole for the past two weeks, and it pissed him off and turned him on all at the same time.

He scowled at his penis. Stupid organ, having no taste whatsoever in men. You’d think it would at least obey logic some of the time, but no, it had to be a prick about things.

The fact that he’d even thought that pun made him scowl even more fiercely at the offending flesh.

But the fact of the matter was that scowling at an erection wasn’t going to make it go down. He sighed, gave up on struggling to assert his heterosexuality for tonight, and wrapped his shampoo-covered fingers around his dick.

He meant to try and get it over with as soon as possible. Really. Because wanking to a guy, especially a guy you hated, was something you tried to hurry up a bit, right?

Then his imagination kicked in, and Ichigo silently cursed it, because he could practically see Ishida in the shower with him, see the way his hair plastered itself to the planes of his angular face, see the way his pale skin gleamed with water. His glasses were off, and those indigo eyes (who the Hell had eyes that color anyway? Fucked-up, irritating color for eyes to be—annoyingly attractive, to boot) were shining with near-malevolent pleasure as he traced a fingertip down Ichigo’s chest, making him shiver despite the hot water.

I’m shivering at an imaginary Ishida doing imaginary things to me. I think I need professional help, Ichigo thought, giving himself a few quick strokes. The imaginary Ishida was pretty enticing, though. Especially when he glanced significantly downwards and leaned in to murmur, “So, the carpet does match the curtains,” into Ichigo’s ear, giving said ear a flick with his tongue before leaning back again to smirk knowingly at him. Yup. Professional help.

Ichigo sighed, gave in to what was obviously temporary insanity, closed his eyes, and focused on the fantasy that was the only sex he was liable to get in the foreseeable future. Ishida…the way he looked, the way his hands moved when he was sewing, the way he ate in tiny, precise little bites that made him take forever to finish lunch, the way he sometimes got that pathetically cute look on his face when he was really upset by something that made Ichigo half want to slug him for being a wuss and half want to hold him tight…Ichigo leaned against the shower wall, settling into his usual quick pumping rhythm. He could almost taste Ishida’s skin, feel Ishida’s fingers touching him, wandering lower and lower until they joined Ichigo’s. He could see those damn lips smirking, and wished they’d put themselves to good use elsewhere.

Being a fantasy, Ishida obliged.

His mouth felt even hotter than the water splattering on Ichigo’s head. Ishida’s mouth seemed so damn small most of the time, how did he manage to open it so wide so easily? Ishida’s tongue slid itself on a scenic tour of the most sensitive spots on Ichigo’s cock, and Ichigo’s breath hissed between his teeth in pleasure. The prat would have to be good at this, wouldn’t he?

Ishida looked up at him, and his eyes seemed to say, That’s right, Kurosaki. You’d like to say that you aren’t enjoying this, but you can’t. You’d love to have something to complain about, to be able to say that you don’t want me, to think that I’m doing a piss-poor job at this just so you have something to be pissed about, but you can’t, can you? Because I’m Ishida fucking Uryuu, I’m better than you, and I’m perfect at everything I do, including making you moan like a woman.

Ichigo reminded himself that you can’t punch imaginary people, especially when they’re giving you mind-blowing imaginary head. Ishida’s tongue curled like a sneer, tip flicking tauntingly, and Ichigo had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud. The walls in here weren’t that thick, and he’d be damned if even a fantasy of Ishida was going to hear him moan without a fight.

Ichigo wished that he had the real Ishida here, just so he’d have the pleasure of thrusting into his mouth and hearing him choke.

He wanted to have an argument with Ishida and fuck him right afterwards when they were both still angry and hating each other, so he could leave bite marks on Ishida’s shoulders and Ishida would leave fingernail gouges in his back.

He wanted to leave a hickey embarrassingly high on Ishida’s neck, so that the entire school would know that Ishida Uryuu’s ass was the property of Kurosaki Ichigo.

He wanted Ishida to do the same to him.

Ichigo gulped for air…he was close…so close…Ishida’s name forced itself past his lips, and he could almost feel the lips around his cock smiling…

Ichigo came with a groan, and slumped hard against the shower wall, shuddering and panting. He opened his eyes. He was alone…as he had been in the first place. Alone in a shower where the water was starting to go cold because he’d been in here for so long, with a handful of rapidly-softening dick and his own spooge dripping off his fingers. No Ishida, only his own loser-ass self. Dammit.

Of course, Goat-chin picked that moment to start kicking the door and asking him if he’d died in there. An angry bellow and a death threat confirmed that Ichigo was indeed still among the living, and he turned off the water after a very short, very necessary rinse.

Ichigo got out, dried off in a daze, and caught a glimpse of himself in the slightly fogged mirror as he was getting dressed. He didn’t like what he saw. There was a look in his eyes that he really, really did not want to see after spending that much time thinking about Ishida. It was a little lost, a little out of control, and very, very hungry.

He shivered, looked away, and whispered, “Fuck you, Ishida. Fuck you.”


****

Author's Notes: As per usual with me, I apologise for the title. It's quite uncool. I also apologise for not knowing for certain if the Kurosaki house has a Western shower, as I've yet to see their bathing room in the manga (they do have a Western-style toilet and I know they have a bathing room on the premises as Rukia used to bathe there before it got too risky, so that gives me some hope that I'm not going to find out that I'm making a hideous canon gaff). Thank you for reading, and I do hope that you enjoyed it.


You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story