Consumated Obsession

BY : best_left_exposed
Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 8033
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Title: See above
Author: me (Best Left Exposed)
Summary: title is summary
Rating: see category listing, mature readers only
Pairing(s): again, on category listing.... lol Ishida x Ichigo
Feedback: most heartily desired! ^__^
Characters: Kon and Rukia briefly, non-speaking parts
Betas: I'm my own beta. ^__^

A/N - This is my very first fanfiction and is probably too OOC all the way around. Oh well. ^_^ I really love this pairing, (who doesn't??), and thought I would try my hand at ff as a break from original erotic fiction. Please review, I'd appreciate it. ~Best Left Exposed

Disclaimer - I don't own Ichigo, Ishida or anything Bleach and do not get any monetary compensation, (this is just for FUN!). If I did, (own them), true naughtiness would ensue! As it is, Bleach belongs to the creative genius of Tite Kubo. Lucky, lucky man!!


Obsession was a dark and dangerous past time. He knew it. But images of orange hair, flashing brown eyes and those lips, always pressed in a serious line or a cocky smile. Every single fucking time he closed his eyes, there was Ichigo, mocking him. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to fuck the living shit out of him. Either way, the insidious perversity growing inside him would die, or so the Quincy thought. It was bad enough, they had to work together, now the damnable Reaper had to follow him into his dreams.

"You ready to get your ass kicked again today, archer boy?"

The object of Ishida's revery interrupting his train of thought. Yes, he decided then. Killing the baka would be too... unsatisfying.

"In your wet dreams," he sneered, turning. Long legs carrying him in easy strides across the pavement. Ichigo trotting behind him to catch up.

"What's your deal today?" Ichigo grabbed the dark haired boy by the shoulder as they rounded a corner into an alley.

The Quincy turned sharply to face his bane. "You are the fucking problem," he said, voice low. Dark and menacing even to his own ears. He hoped the Soul Reaper didn't catch the hint of craving that tinged his voice as well. "This isn't some game we're playing out here, you know."

"You don't think I don't know that? Any fucking day, we both could be dead. God, you're such an uptight asshole, UryŻ!"

The archer pressed his lips together, disapproving of Ichigo using his first name; and decided he'd had enough. He stalked up to the taller boy and pushed him hard into the rough brick of the wall, pinning him by the shoulders. Noses almost touching, he could feel Ichigo's hot breath on his lips as the Soul Reaper gasped with surprise. Small shivers of raw lust climbed with sharp claws straight down Ishida's spine and jabbed merciless at his groin at being in such close proximity to his obsession. "Uptight. Asshole," he paused deliberately between the two words. "You think so?" Dark eyes boring into brown ones. Lips parted just so. God. This was pure, unadulterated torture. They stared like that for long minutes. Neither one knowing exactly what the other was going to do. Finally, Ishida slid his hands down off Ichigo's shoulders, trailing them down his long arms before dropping them heavily to his side. He turned his head down and away from the suffocating gaze of his rival. 'I'm such a fucking coward.' Their lips separated by mere inches for what seemed forever, and he couldn't travel that small, vast space to connect to the object of his many lust-filled dreams. The feel of Ichigo's hot breath mingling with his was like the smoke of a drug, blurring his senses, until he only felt dizzy with longing.

"You're a fucking freak, Ishida," he said after a confused pause. "Let's go kick some Hollow ass."

Ichigo headed down the alley and Ishida was left to follow.


'I'm such a fucking idiot,' Ishida thought to himself for the millionth time as he laid back on his bed, later that night. He was bone weary. There seemed to be more Hollows than usual tonight. His bloodied fingers, now wrapped, throbbed in time with his beating heart. 'Damn Ichigo anyway.' The curious glances the Reaper had thrown him all night drove him crazy. What was that orange haired menace thinking about him now? It was bad enough before. The incident in the alley didn't help matters between them at all. Now more than ever, he wanted to feel that smooth skin vibrating beneath his roaming hands. He could feel Ichigo's hot breath on his lips, still. His dick lurched painfully, yearning for release.

"Ichigo...," he murmured. As if of it's own free will, his hand slid down the front of his boxers and grazed his growing erection. "Mmmm." One arm across his eyes, he rubbed his cock through the thin material, thinking about what it would feel like to have those lips wrapped around his erection, to feel that tongue lapping at his length like a popsicle. It was too much. How long could he continue like this? He pulled down on his underwear to release his engorged cock and gripped it's length with a moan, imagining Ichigo's hand pumping him firmly, just like he liked it. Lips crashing together in a bruising kiss, the taste of his fixation filling his mouth as tongues dueled just as fiercely as their owners did night after night against the never ending Hollows. Time and again tempting death. Making life all the more vividly real. In his mind, he could hear Ichigo say, with lust making his voice thick and sultry, 'Ishida, fuck me. Please.' The archer bucked one last time into his own hand and shot scalding come all over his bare chest.

He laid there for some time before dragging himself up to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Something had to be done and soon. He was going insane. It would get him killed eventually. His distraction with that moody, orange haired Soul Reaper. Obsession. Yes. Indeed, very dangerous. Especially with one such as Ichigo. 'Next time we meet, Reaper. It will be different.' It was very easy to be bold in the darkness of a lonely room, though. He knew that. The glitter of deep brown eyes and that mocking grin followed him down into a fitful sleep.


School was completely unbareable the next day. Those long covert glances Ichigo kept tossing him, like a crumb before a starved dog, burned him right through to the bone. And like the starved dog he knew he was, the archer devoured each one that was tossed. He'd been alone for so long... ever since Master was killed. Alone. Until now. No matter it was one of those hated Soul Reapers and his circle of friends. Deep down, he acknowledged he was a pack animal. And even loners would eventually creep to the edges of a group out of sheer instinct. He partially hated himself for the need for it, but couldn't resist the urge. So what? He smoothed out the front of his neatly pressed uniform, tugging it firmly at the bottom edge. He pushed up his glasses. He adjusted his books just so. He aligned his pencils precisely in an even row.

"You're fidgety today, archer boy." A husky voice murmured right behind his ear.

Was that voice husky on purpose, he wondered. It made his insides shiver. He placed his hands flat on the desk carefully and tipped his chin up and away arrogantly. "Why the hell do you insist on bothering me so goddamn much. You piss me off with your mere presence." His voice quite steady, he thought with relief, as he glanced sidelong out of the corner of his eye. Orange hair flashing in a blur as Ichigo whipped around to face him.

"And why do you have to be so goddamn arrogant. Like you don't need any of us around. I thought we settled that a while back." He squinted into his eyes, temper rising. "It's not like I ENJOYED admitting I need your help." He softened very slightly. "The others are strong, sure, but you... God. Fuck it! You piss me off, too! So fucking perfect! Just make sure your pansy ass is at the usual meeting place."

Ishida was used to the orange haired boy's mercurial moods, so just scowled. "Well then. If that's all, go piss off. I'm busy." It was so easy to be rude in the face of such a hot temperment; it was just as easy to joy ride such a strong personality, which was his secret pleasure. As fiery as that shocking hair of his, Ichigo, the archer was sure, would be insanely volitile in bed as well. And Ishida was enough of an adrenaline freak to enjoy it. Thank god school was almost over. He'd about had enough for the day, even for one as iron-willed as he.

He purposefully drug his feet getting to the usual place where he and Ichigo met after school. He could tell even from several yards away, Ichigo was fuming. His spirit rippling with contained anger. The Quincy hid a satisfied smile as he approached. "Been waiting long?" He asked with feigned innocence. The smirk dancing along his lips, unable to stay tucked completely behind his almost perpetually straight face.

"What the hell took you so long?"

"It's not like a did it on purpose." Oh, how he loved playing these games. These small amusements were almost enough. Almost.

Ichigo gave him a hard look and snorted with derision. "Let's just get going."


"That last one was too close!" Ichigo said as he slumped against the wall in a dead-end alley. Crumpled papers whirled around his feet.

Ishida wanted to slump as well, but he stood straight as a pin, fighting the urge as he did every night. Fighting the pain of a bloodied gash on his arm. Too close, indeed. He gritted his teeth and glanced over at his companion.

"God-fucking-damnit, Ishida! No one is here to see you let down your guard," Ichigo said tiredly. "I know for a fact your about ready to collapse. Come here," he said patting the wall.

Ishida sighed with resignation and leaned on the wall next to the tattered Reaper. He was too tired to care about playing their designated roles. Too tired for insults and veiled threats and posturing. Night after night, it was the same. "Sometimes, I wish..." He let the thought hang unfinished.

"Why do you continue to do this, then?"

"Easy. To prove to the Soul Society the worth of the Quincys. That I make a difference. For revenge... my master. For..." You. He couldn't bring himself to say it. "My pride as the last Quincy won't allow for anything else. Surely you understand that at least." He cast a glance at the taller boy.

"Mm. I hate admitting that you do make it easier. Not that I couldn't do it on my own!"

"Of course."

They were silent for a little while. Eyes closed, heads back, letting the pain and weariness wash over them. Letting themselves feel their mortality for just a few minutes before putting the mask of their percieved invinciblity back on. They both did it every time, after the fighting. Dropping the act while they rested. Life and death was just a bit too real to wear the facade while they caught their breath.

Long minutes passed before Ishida heard a faint rustle of movement next to him and cracked his eyes. The Reaper had shifted to lean on his side, facing the Quincy. "Hm?"

"I'm curious," the taller boy said.

"About what?"

"What's been your deal, lately? You've been acting strangely, even for you."

'Not now,' Ishida thought. "It's getting late and we're both tired," he said, changing the subject.

Ichigo dropped it for the time being. "You care if I crash at your place tonight, then? Rukia can stop by with Kon."

The Quincy bit his lip. Hard. "I, uh. I'm not... uh," he stammered. 'Brilliant,' he mentally throttled himself.

"I can't deal with the little shitheads at home tonight. What's the problem?"

Ishida could feel himself go sheet white. "I don't know..." He wanted it. Wanted it badly. What was it he told himself last night? And here was the golden opportunity. Ichigo. In his bed. He practically moaned with the thought of it. Self-denial reared it's head, then. "I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Okay, it's decided. I'm staying at your place. I won't take no for an answer. I'm too tired, your place it closer, it's quieter. I'm coming, like it or not." His jaw set in that stubborn jaunt as he so often did.

Ishida almost chuckled out loud at his phrasing it like that. "Alright," he said with forced reluctance. "But you have to pick up after yourself, you slob." It was weak, but there it was.

They shoved off the wall and made their way toward the empty house. Running into Rukia and Kon on the way, Ichigo returned to his body with a disorienting snap. It always made him a little nausious, that jolt back into living flesh, but it passed quickly enough and his pride would never allow it to show. There were no words from either Rukia or Kon in the darkness of the street. Eyes sunken in dark shadowy sockets told them everything about their night as well. Rukia only raised her eyebrow when he followed Ishida quietly. A faint scowl his only answer. He could feel the heaviness of his battle weary body with every slow step. Kon had used his body well this night, also. Never minding the abused shell he often returned to, just as long as it was kept alive until he returned. Lagging behind the archer purposefully, he stared quizzically at the Quincy's back, stooped almost inperceptably under his private burdens. Only he was able to see that slight deviation in his carriage. Ichigo, so familiar with ever nuance of movement the dark haired boy made. The last few weeks had him trying to puzzle out what had changed in the reserved boy. There was something not quite right. It had something to do with himself, he was sure about that. The insults were a bit too forced. The easiness between them, built over the course of many long nights fighting side by side, crumbling before him. He had no clue as to the reason, and he felt a nagging, fluttery feeling of discontent. Or was it sadness? At what? That Ishida was pulling away from him? And why did it bother him so damn much? His brow creased as he stared harder at the receding back, as if to see right into the soul of him. Trying to ignore his admiration of the boy's easy grace. Moving like a prowling cat, even pained and tired as he was, that subconscience fluidity the mark of a hunter. Ichigo couldn't help but wonder what those smooth, sinewy muscles would feel like gliding under his hand. 'Corded steel under silk,' he thought with some startlement at his train of thought.

"Are you coming or what?" Ishida spoke into his wondering thoughts. He hadn't realized he had stopped. The archer was well ahead of him and tossing an annoyed-as-hell look back over his shoulder. Uncharacteristically without a word, he moved forward again to reach the slim archer's side.


Ishida unlocked the door and paused momentarily at the threshold, shooting a look at the shadow cloaked Ichigo. He was unsure of how this was going to play out. Against Hollows, he was boldly aggressive with taking them out. Against the insults of the Reaper, he could hold his own. Confronted with his hunger to touch said boy and facing that reality sagging wearily at his very doorstep; he disgusted himself with his own cowardice and fear. He wanted him in the worst way. And what did it matter? Insanity was just two steps away anyway. He had all the outlet for his rage and self-loathing he wanted in the form of dispatching Hollows every single hellish night of his life. He didn't need another complication in his already fucked up world. And so what if he already had complicated it by thinking such illicit thoughts about his reluctant partner? He didn't have to make it any more so. He had more self-control than that. But, oh... how utterly delicious it would be. The press of those frowning lips on his, consuming him, being consumed. He flicked another glance at the taller boy, frown deepening as he waited. Ishida stepped inside, not bothering to flip the lightswitch. Thin moonlight streaming in the windows just enough to see by. He could've made his away around in the pitch black anyway. He saw the silhouette of Ichigo standing just inside the door waiting for his eyes to adjust completely.

"Bathroom's this way," he stated as he walked down the hall. "There's two sinks, we can share," he called back over his shoulder.

The door latched with a click and heard Ichigo make his way across the front room, noisily banging into furniture. "Shit!" followed one particularly loud crack. 'That would be the side table,' Ishida thought, amused. 'Damned clumsy baka.'

"You could've turned a light on for me," Ichigo muttered as he entered the bathroom, squeezing past the archer to get to the sink.

"Blind and clumsy," the archer snorted.

"Piss off."

"Damn it," he hissed. Wincing as the dried blood pulled at the wound on his arm as he stripped off his ruined shirt. The cold water stinging as he washed himself up, then bound the wound, wrapping it tightly. "You can have the shower first. I'll fix something to eat. Don't take too long; save me some hot water."

"Karashi mentaiko and brownies."

"You're joking. We're having misu, baka. And you'll like it," he said retreating quickly so that if Ichigo wanted to return the volley, he'd have to indignify himself by yelling.


Clean and bellies full, the two boys sat in the darkness of the front room; legs stretched out, heads tilted back staring up towards the blackness of the ceiling. Tired as they both were, sleep eluded them. The screams of all the previous nights echoing eerily in their memories, keeping them from the sweet oblivion of slumber.

Ichigo rolled his head to the side peering at the shadowy form of the archer. "Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck is up with you? We need to work as a team. If something is up, I need to know and deal with it."

"Why can't you leave well enough alone? I can handle it."

"You haven't been 'handling it'. You're distracted. Tonight was too close a call. I won't have your death plaguing my conscience. Now talk."

"I can't. I won't." The Quincy was getting pissed off. The slow bubbling of anger rising in his gut. "So. Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone."

Ichigo sat up on the edge of the couch, ready to move. Muscles taunt, ready to strike as quick as a snake. "Like hell I will! You are endangering yourself and everyone around you. Don't make me beat it out of you." Anger was tingeing his voice as well - dark and dangerous.

The archer shifted back to sit up on the couch as well. Seemingly casually, but ready to come to blows. He would welcome the blows, deserved them for thinking such thoughts about, dare he say it?, his friend. He remained silent and fuming, though. Speaking those forbidden words, admitting his perversion. He'd sooner die.

A forceful sigh escaped the orange haired boy's lips, as if in resignation, and fast as lightening, punched Ishida across the jaw. Lights bloomed like sparkling fireworks behind the Quincy archer's lids. Pain lanced through his body and then rage trailed right behind it consuming the network of his veins like fire. The fury was familiar and comforting, the same as when he fought Hollows, it numbed him to everything and he welcomed it. Launching himself at the Reaper, intent on inflicting as much damage on that body as he could. As much damage as his tormented soul had borne lusting after the untouchable.

They tumbled off the couch in a flurry of limbs and muffled curses when fists hit their mark. Ishida intent on beating the Reaper senseless and Ichigo, at that point, doing all he could to dodge blow after blow. Realizing the archer would pass out before he stopped his attack, Ichigo used his larger frame to finally overpower and sit down on him with his full weight causing the smaller boy to gasp for breath as his lung capacity diminished. Ishida continued to struggle feebly, though, as he saw Ichigo's lips moving vaguely in the moonlit room. The blood pounding in his ears kept him from hearing anything at all, and he shook his head. Either in denying his immobility or his frustration or to clear his head, even he didn't know. He felt Ichigo's hands gripping his shoulders tightly, painfully as he pinned him. He could see those dark eyes narrowing, gauging what he would do next or if he could relax his grip. The buzzing seemed to lessen a little and he could hear Ichigo finally.

"...the fuck are you doing? What the hell is wrong with you, you son-of-a-bitch?" Orange hair falling forward as he leaned in close to the archer's blank face. All signs of the blinding rage gone, in an instant, like a switch turning it off. Ichigo had not expected that level of fierce anger in the dark haired boy, not aimed at himself, anyway. He just wanted to know what was going on and now he was straddling that lean frame, pinning him to the hard floor, staring him down right in his face. The archer's hot breath panting out in quick gasps against his own lips, pressed in a frown. A haunted look flashed in those dark eyes briefly and then went blank again as the smooth line of Ishida's jaw clenched in an effort at complete self-control. Rarely did Ichigo see such pure, out of control rage from the archer, only sometimes while fighting the Hollows would that unchecked hate burst forth from the tightly wound boy. But that ever so brief flicker of tormented pain caused something deep down in Ichigo's soul to snap. Everything slowed to a crawl, became too overwhelming. The bite of Ishida's sharp bones jabbing into his skin, the sheen of sweat glowing in the moonlight, the glitter of something hidden deep in those dark eyes peering into his soul, and breath, hot and sweet, escaping full parted lips. All of it, threatening to suck the life right out of his tense body, focused itself into a solid blow of desire at his groin. A low moan escaped his throat, unbidden. A flash of surprise lit the prone boy's eyes. He felt hands like heated iron burn into his own heated flesh as they gripped his arms and as if one mind, their mouths collided into each other. Bruising lips with the fury of their blind passion. Ichigo wrapped his arms around the archer's neck and brought him up to a sitting position. Those long, lean arms winding tightly around his waist, their lips never ceasing their assault.

Ishida gripped the Reaper firmly, fingers digging deeply into that smooth solid back, pressing their bodies closer as if he could merge with the other boy. Tongues delving deeply, mouths consuming each other with an unrelenting frenzy of lust. Moans vibrating deep in their throats with the sudden urgency for more. Ishida rocked his hips up into Ichigo's ass. The delicious pressure only causing his hard cock to ache all the more with need. The archer pulled back, reluctantly breaking from that intoxicating mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of smooth skin quivering in his lap, but the pressure building in his groin was growing beyond his efforts to control it. The realization of all his most deeply hidden desires and lust-filled dreams was driving him beyond the less tangible want to explore every aspect of the Reaper's body. That could come later. Now, that consuming need to fuck him exploding uncontrollably. "Ichigo..." he moaned deliriously into his neck, sucking the pale skin, resisting the urge to bite down hard where those strong shoulders curved upward into a graceful line that disappeared into mussed orange hair that smelled like a musky tropical flower. His hands trying desperately to tug the thin material of Ichigo's boxers away. The resistant cloth pissing him off. "Mother fucking boxers," he snarled and pushed the taller boy off his lap. He growled at Ichigo's laughter at his futile attempts to strip him.

The Reaper stood gracefully, towering over the flushed archer at his feet, and dropped his underwear to his ankles and stepped precisely out of them. His fully erect cock bobbing with the need for release right in front of the dark haired boy's glazed eyes. He reached his hand down to bring the seated boy to his feet. Instead of gripping his hand, the Quincy moved forward to his knees and, grabbing his thighs fiercely, engulfed the entire length of his shaft in one mind shattering swallow of his scorching mouth. He staggered a bit against the tight grip now on his ass and about blacked out. Ishida's tongue and mouth were mauling his throbbing cock with unrestrained vigor. First bobbing up and down his length, head to root, then slathering it with wet, sloppy kisses, then sucking the head ruthlessly, then licking the underside like a popsicle. All of it so brutally done, from one motion to the next, setting no pattern whatsoever. It made him frustratingly feverish. As if he could get any more horny. "Ishida... God, please. Enough," he panted almost incoherently. The archer looked up through his eyelashes and swallowed his entire length one last time before rising to ravage his mouth again. He couldn't believe the amount of passion the small boy had carried around, all concealed beneath a cool exterior. Those hands pushing him toward the couch burned his skin, that forceful mouth never leaving his as he walked slowly backwards.

Ishida shoved the taller boy back onto the couch and stood looking down at the fulfillment of so many dreams, as he ripped his boxers off with a low growl. Pale skin, milky and glittering with sweat, glowed softly in the moonlight. The lean muscles rippling beneath smooth skin, begging to be touched and tasted. His cock lurched in almost painful want. With another moan involuntarily issuing from his throat, he fell on the supine form of his lover. "Ichigo...," he murmured against pliant lips, reaching under the cushions. His secret embarrassment in the form of a small bottle of lube; he popped the lid open with a snap and slicked his hand. All the time trailing kisses down Ichigo's exposed neck, across his collar bone, his chest and finally tormenting the small peak of a rosy nipple. The Reaper arched his back into his mouth with a whimper and spread his legs shamelessly as the archer slid a lube-slick finger between his ass crack, finding that scorching ring of pure bliss. Even blinded with lust as he was, Ishida very gently slid one slim finger in to the first knuckle, ignoring the taller boy's pleas to go deeper. He moved his mouth to the other nipple and bit, none too gently as he made little circles in Ichigo's ass, causing him to mewl in exquisite pleasure. A second finger joined the first and spread in a V, opening him. "I'm going to fuck your brain's out, Ichigo. God, your so fucking hot," he whispered, moving back up to plunder his mouth again. Shoving his fingers as far as they could go in one strong push before withdrawing them to slather more lube on his straining, flushed cock.

Ichigo, now completely mindless with wanton, carnal need, moaned over and over, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me... UryŻ... fuck me. Please..."

Ishida gritted his teeth and leaned into his own hand, his cock thick and tight, as he guided it into the writhing boy's ass. Teasing himself a bit by rubbing the head against the throbbing pucker. "Goddamn it," he muttered at the tingling on his sensitive cockhead, driving him to a frenzy; almost masochistic like, he continued for a few more long seconds before pushing into that heavenly ring of fire that threatened to burn him alive. He did have just enough rational thought to be considerate of Ichigo's pain and stopped halfway in as the splayed boy continued to writhe beneath him. His ass and jaw clenched tight against the almost overwhelming need to move. And Ichigo's squirming did nothing to ease the raging aching pain in his groin. If he didn't move soon, he'd pass out, he was sure. The orange haired boy, eyes screwed shut in pain and pleasure reached blindly between his spread legs, grabbed Ishida's hips and pulled him down. Hard. All the way to the hilt. They both yelled with a single voice that bordered on a scream. Pain and pleasure mixed into one wash of sublime sensation.

"Ishida, you fucking asshole. Pound me hard. Fuck me or I'll kick your fucking ass," Ichigo was delirious with it. His body arching into that shaft that split his body in such an torrent of pleasure, wave upon wave as the archer plunged over and again into his body. Harder and faster, hitting that secret place deep inside that caused him to lose grip on sanity. It was building deep inside of him and threatened to burst forth at any given moment and still Ishida pounded into him almost brutally, balls slapping his ass with every drive forward. A ragged gasp ripped almost silently out of his opened mouth, head tossed back, when Ishida grabbed his agonizingly rigid cock and began to firmly stroke it. It was over for him. He knew without a doubt he was going to die right on the spot. It was too much. Ishida fucking him hard and deep, hitting *that* spot over and over and his weeping cock getting jacked by the archer's still lubed hand. His vision blurred, ears ringing, almost covering the combined moans and grunts of lust from both their throats, the ache in his groin was fanning out and up into his cock.. he could feel it coming. Ground his teeth as it surged forward, bucking up violently. "Fuck! FUCK!!" Hot come erupting out in waves, spattered his chest and face and pooled on his heaving belly. His vision going black around the edges. Ishida kept thrusting with an insane rhythm, still hitting that spot causing him to whimper and sob.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!" The archer nearly screaming in ecstasy as he rammed in one last time as hard and as deep as he could go, Ichigo's asshole still clenching tightly around his cock, milking him, making him groan as the waves of orgasm ripped through his body, he ground his hips in small circles as the intensity lessened gradually and finally slumped forward. Come and sweat mingling between their bodies. He stretched up to graze the taller boy's chin with his teeth, moving up to the kiss-bruised lips, sucking on them, heedless of the spatters of come that speckled Ichigo's face. Those addictive lips, moving along his, sucking and sliding, tongue teasingly darting to taste his own lips with just the tip before retreating back into that sweet cavern, never allowing it to be captured. Even sated as he was, he felt that rapturous flutter travel lightly through him to his gut and moaned with lazy pleasure into that mobile mouth.

"Ishida...." Ichigo finally broke the slow, sensual kiss and the silence. Rational thought and sanity returning, even if slowly.

The archer sighed, still incased in his lover, reluctant to leave, head resting on the crook of his shoulder.

"This is...?"

"I promise I won't be distracted any more, if that's what you're getting at," he interrupted. He sighed again. Whether from contentment or from reluctance to speak about it, he wasn't sure. "Are you...?"

Ichigo cut him off this time, "I'm fine with this... wanted it. It's okay." He was oddly serene.

Ishida slipped gently out from between his legs and moved to lay more comfortably on his side, head still cradled in the crook of Ichigo's strong arm and started to doze.

"Ishida. Ishida..." The Reaper whispered in his ear. "Let's move to the bed. It'll be more comfortable."

"Nnn," he murmured groggily.

As he was lifted carefully and carried like some virgin to the wedding bed, he sighed. For the first time, truly content, though hardly daring to believe this wasn't all some exceptionally vivid dream. The softness of his bed cushioned around him and dipped slightly as Ichigo climbed in next to him. "Ichigo."


"Pinch me, would you?"

"Sure," he mumbled and pinched his arm.

"Ow! You asshole!" Ishida's eyes flying open. "That hurt, bitch!"

"You told me to pinch you. What did you expect?"

Ishida felt the vibration of stifled laughter and felt his own mouth spread in a grin. No, it was real and He was there lying next to him, snuggling close. Breath brushing with gentle heat across his exposed skin. Tonight was, he knew, fast and animalistic in it's intensity and fury. There would be time for exploration and gentleness later. For now, his eyes grew heavy, sleep stalking him. "Ichigo?" He murmured, fighting the rush of sleep that threatened to overpower him.

"...?" Ichigo moaned groggily. "G' ta s'eep."

"Mmmf... vvv... y..." Then the silent stillness of sleep wrapped them tightly in it's embrace as comforting as the one they shared.


Thank you for reading!! I would very much appreciate reviews. Feedback is a goooooood thing for a writer. ^____^ ~BLE


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