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Flies in the Kitchen	By : debbiechan Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2350 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Flies in the Kitchen
- 1
Flies in the Kitchen

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach or the characters of Renji and Ishida. If Kubo Tite throws anymore RenIshi subtext into his manga, though, Kubo will own me.

Description: NC-17. Written for Pr0ntober 2007 to gallo_de_pelea’s request for Renji being topped and to her prompt "flies in the kitchen." Renji/Ishida (or technically, IshiRen!)
Warning: yaoi sex, obviously

"Flattery doesn’t work on me."~ Renji to Ishida, chapter 276

There was a reason why Renji tended to top. When it came to non-reiatsu influenced, simple muscular strength, Renji was mightier than Ishida. During crazed make-out sessions, Renji had advantageous torque--along with impatience and aggression and other typical seme traits.
Ishida was smarter, though. It didn’t get past him that Renji allowed Ishida to top only when the two were fucking on the kitchen floor. Ishida eventually figured out why.
The kitchen floor was where the two were right now.
Spread across cheap vinyl tiles were the long red strands of Renji’s hair. The tiles were patterned to look like fancy India marble but their edges were curling; years of monsoon seasons in the apartment had evaporated the floor paste.
The bottle of cooking oil used for anal lubricant had fallen over; a small glossy puddle of Kadoya Sesame reflected rainbows. Morning sunlight streamed through the open window. Birdies chirped and the two lovers panted.
Ishida wore only his school shirt and did all the work, measured stroke after measured stroke, while Renji held onto Ishida’s narrow hips with his large hands. Every now and then, Ishida would toss his head back. Then he would bow with the next stroke, breathe out, and his hair would cover his face again.
"GODDAMNIT URYUU, JUST TAKE THEM OFF ALREADY!"
It drove Renji nuts when Ishida pushed his glasses up while fucking.
Ishida looked around the kitchen. He was reluctant to lay his glasses on the floor but given to uke obedience (only when fucking), he removed them. Then pressing the frames to his chest, he heaved the words, "Okay, but Abarai, if you roll over this pair--"
"And what’s with the Abarai. Look, I call you Uyruu so you should call me--"
"Renji? That sounds like the name of a little scraggly lap dog."
Renji totally didn’t get it.
"Some American movie," Ishida explained. He put his glasses back on his nose. "Benji, Renji, something like that."
The kitchen acoustics gave Renji’s short laugh a tinny echo. "What’s wrong with a lap dog? You’re the one who’s on my lap most of the time--not the other way around."
Ishida punctuated his next thrust into Renji with a guttural grmph. His tempo picked up.
Renji winced with pleasure. He grabbed his own cock and began stoking vigorously. "That’s right. Put your lap into it." He grinned. "Woo, who’s my little lap dog?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Abarai?" Ishida was breathing harder. "You don’t even know how to pun. You are literally on your back, Abarai, and my cock is in your ass. That’s the simple geography of the situation."
Renji stretched his arms and put his hands behind his head. His abandoned cock swayed in protest.
"What’s so funny?" asked Ishida.
"Nothing, nothing. Just taking a little rest here. Keep on working it, baby."
Ishida got pissed. "I know why you think I can only top you in the kitchen."
Renji blinked.
"There’s carpet everywhere else," Ishida went on. "Are you so dumb that you think I can’t handle a hard floor?"
The curly tile was pinching the backs of Renji’s legs. He didn’t think delicate Ishida skin would be able to tolerate it. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who insists on the sesame grease so we don’t fuck ourselves raw. I don’t need it."
Ishida slowed down. His hips rode rolling waves. He was demonstrating the efficacy of proper lubrication. "I hate to fuck you without it."
Renji closed his eyes. Damn Quincy had a talent for teasing the tempo. That and Ishida looked so fine showing off his control. Those almond-shaped eyes of his got all shiny and proud.
"You think I can’t top you whenever I want?" Ishida’s voice was deadly serious even though his words were kindergarten. "I can."
"Whatever," said Renji. "The only reason I let you do it here is because … because if you’re on your back, you get distracted by stuff."
"What stuff?"
"I don’t know. Flies."
"There are never any flies in my kitchen!"
"That’s what I mean. You’re always looking for something to clean in here. You wipe the countertops like a crazy person. I’d rather you be looking at me than--"
"Shut up. I dare you to inverse our positioning right now."
"Huh?"
Ishida smiled a cocky half-smile. "Try it. Try to get me on my back."
Oh what the hell. It’d be worth it just to hear Ishida squeak like a girl because peely tile was scratching his back. Renji flexed his abdominal muscles and raised himself to a near-sitting position. "You asked for it, Uryuu."
Immediately Renji was slammed back down to the floor. Ishida hadn’t moved a body part beyond the one inserted into Renji’s behind (that body part was still pumping in a liquid, drowsy rhythm).
"Wha--?" Renji tried to raise his hands but felt himself pinned by an invisible force. "How’d you do that?"
Ishida was grinning broadly now. "Ransoutengai. Don’t you remember?"
"Rasou--what?"

"I can manipulate spiritrons with my mind. I can move your limbs like a puppeteer."
Renji growled and strained his muscles forward. "Like HELL you can--!"
Ishida pushed Renji’s face back with a bundled knot of spiritrons. He leaned his own face closer. "Abarai, the only reason I haven’t done this before is…."
Renji felt his insides burn with ecstasy. Something … spiritual … was pressing against his balls.
"The only reason I haven’t done this before," Ishida said, "is I enjoy your little displays of dominance. You have a very handsome face when you think you’re all that."
"Ahhhhhh." Renji’s voice resonated with deep enjoyment of whatever Ishida was doing. It felt like all sensory areas within reach of ransoutengai were getting the sheer delight squeezed out of them drop by drop. "You … little … bastard."
"I must say, though, that I’m enjoying this face too."
Transparent ribbons of blue energy lifted Renji’s torso. Ishida’s lips were a centimeter from Renji’s.
"Spiritrons are one thing," Ishida whispered, "but they can’t approximate this sort of…." Ishida kissed Renji delicately on the upper lip. "The real me feels better, don’t you think?"
All Renji could do was moan.
Why the hell had Ishida been hiding this little trick? To make Renji feel better? Did the little Quincy believe that Renji’s ego would be crushed if he knew that Ishida was the Ultimate Seme?
And here I was worried for his little skinny back. That the floor might scratch it. Woah. My little Quincy is the Ultimate Seme.

"Let go my arms," Renji said weakly.
"Why should I?"
"Because…." Renji threw his head back, felt suspended and weightless. Ishida was thrusting harder now. "Because I want to touch you."
Ishida raised an eyebrow.
Renji felt released. His shoulders and elbows drooped, and he struggled to find his balance and not fall back to the floor.
"Give it your best shot," Ishida challenged. He braced himself for a tackle but all Renji did was wrap his arms around him.
"You’re something," Renji managed to say. He couldn’t think of any more meaningful words of appreciation--not while his prostate was being pummeled.
Ishida returned Renji’s embrace limply. He was too shocked that Renji wasn’t going to fight him for the top position.
"Well what do you know." Ishida ran his fingers through long red hair. "Abarai likes it."
The discovery was only a momentary distraction, though--like flies in the kitchen--and after giving Renji a deep kiss, Ishida settled back into a fucking routine that didn’t involve reishi manipulation.
"The real you," Renji said dreamily. Ishida was humping with hard, glorious effort. It made a difference that Ishida could top him with an assertion of real power. The kid had some nerve. Renji admired that.
"The real me," Ishida breathed as he dominated. He really wasn’t conscious of what position he was in. "The real me."

END
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Flies in the Kitchen