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Make It A Habit	By : Ardespuffy Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Hitsugaya/Ichigo Views: 2594 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor its characters. I do not make money out of writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Make It A Habit
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Tite Kubo owns all things Bleach.
WARNINGS: this is the 3rd part of my "Habit" Series (first chaps were Breaking The Habit and Old Habits * Die Hard -> they can be found at my FF.net page, linked on my profile). I guess you don't really need to read those first, but some details in this story may sound off if you didn't. Also, there might be slight references to my other IchiHitsu story, A Perfect Match. I think this kind of answers question 4.
Yay! Lemon! :°D

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Ichigo tugged uncomfortably at his collar. It was way too friggin' hot for a mid-July night, and how the redhead hated summer. Truth be told, this was somewhat a recent distaste – more likely than not due to a certain ice master's influence – but still. Damn t-shirt felt unbearably tight. Ichigo huffed at his mirror image, considering for the umpteenth time that night just making a run for it, and to hell with the goddamn party.
A knock at the door shook him out of his dim reflections. "Come in."
"Oi, you ready yet? We can't have birthday boy showing up late at his own party, can we?"
Ichigo let out a low grunt. It was all her fault to begin with. "Don't see what the big issue is. About the whole thing, I mean. This is a bad idea, Rukia." His tone took on a pleading edge at the end.
"None of that whining, Kurosaki Ichigo! You're a grown boy now. What would everyone in Soul Society say if they were to see you like this? Jus' picture nii-san!" Rukia pulled back the corners of her round eyes and pressed her lips together in a perfect imitation of the Kuchiki demeanour she'd sometimes joke about to remind her friends from Rukongai, namely Renji, how she never really fit in with nobles. "You are such a disappointment, koz�." The girl slowly uttered in a deep, menacing voice.
Ichigo moaned in protest, barely hiding the slight sneer on his face. That had been admittedly effective. "Leave me alone, Big Bro's not even coming." Then, quickly panicking: "He's not coming, right?"
"Are you kidding? Nii-san's an important person." Rukia tactlessly pointed out, before stepping further into the room, eyebrows twitching in an irritated scowl. "Those jeans won't stay up on their own, you'll need a belt." The girl joined Ichigo right in front of the mirror, her reflection just as disgruntled as the real thing. "And this tee's too tight, the sleeves don't fit you anymore. You've gained muscle these past months, did you notice?"
"Yeah, well, s'times swinging your fucking heavy sword around does that." The sub Shinigami muttered under his breath, words dripping with sarcasm. He squirmed uncomfortably under Rukia's scrutiny. "What's with that look? Cut it."
"Which look?" The dark-haired Shinigami innocently inquired, hastily masking her (purely aesthetical, mind you) appreciation with a piercing glare. "Hurry the hell up and change. I'm heading back downstairs now to make the honours. Wouldn't wanna let that up to your father."
Though Ichigo couldn't disagree, he silently wondered whether Rukia's blunt manners were actually any better. The redhead sighed in pity for their poor guests as the girl gracelessly stomped beyond the threshold.
A loud cry was heard soon after.
"WOAAAH! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE CAKE? WHO CHEWED AT POOR CHABBY'S EAR? REEENJI! Renji! Take yer sorry ass back here and spit! Yuzu can ice it up so that no one will notice. CREAM! We're gonna need cream. Ugh, did you have to salivate this much? Your germs are all over the frosting now!"
Upstairs, Ichigo banged his head against the mirror – hopefully hard enough to crack his skull open and skip the bloody feast.

"Make a wish!"
I wish this party was over already. I wish there wasn't a pained-looking bunny on my birthday cake. I wish I stopped growing up, so there won't seem to be that much of an age difference between Toshiro and me. Better yet, I wish I could die before I get any older than this, to join him in Soul Society and live together there. I wish I was born a noble Shinigami, like Byakuya, so that no one would question my right to be with whomever I please. I wish my sisters had a better brother, one that wouldn't endanger them so often and only worry about himself. I wish I was strong enough to look after the ones I love. I wish mom was here. Most of all I wish dad returned Urahara's hat, who'd hopefully stop the chasing then, and went to bed like any respectable old man should. Ah, I wish Aizen rotted forever in hell, which he probably will anyway. Does that count as a birthday cake wish? The fuck I care. Amen.

Blowing out the birthday candles is such a trivial habit. You always have to light them up once or twice more, since some picture is bound to turn out as blurry. Taking pictures, that too: seriously, what a pain in the ass. Ichigo couldn't be found smiling in a single one.
As he scrambled to get away from his father's fussing, the redhead caught a certain dark-haired Shinigami's stare across the room. A glance was all it took him to know exactly who Rukia was blaming for the birthday boy's apparent grumpiness. She'd gone wrong, but Ichigo wasn't going to bring up the matter of Toshiro's absence on his own volition. Parties were a drag, but he wasn't feeling suicidal. Yet.
Honestly, Ichigo was not upset nor mad at the white-haired captain for skiving. More like understanding, really. After all, he had no right to blame the boy for doing exactly what he himself would, if given the chance.
Then a muscular arm slid over his shoulders, startling him. "Ssssso, wha dassit fel like ta be ssssixteen, ne Ichigo?" A very pissed Renji slurred his words. "Y'know, I was yer age too, some… huh, decades ago. Maybe centr'ies, dunno. Da hell I care. 'm still young n' strrronn', and biiirds're 'll over meh like – y'know, I kinda see the birds for real. I mean there's flyin' thinghies in my vision. Ye dun think it's angels comin' down ta take meh, d'ya?"
Groaning in exasperation, Ichigo slipped from the fuktaichou's hold. "When Byakuya sees you like this you'll wish angels had taken you alright." He grunted under his breath, then strode over the living room dodging countless bodies in various states of intoxication to reach the staircase.
"WHERE do you think you're going, Ichigo? ! It's time to unwrap your presents! Mine's that big one with the long ears – bet you'd have never guessed, would you? Can't wait to see the face you'll make as you open it!"
"Get your ass back here, Ichigo! I won't let you be rude toward my newly-acquired daughter, aren't you, Rukia-chan?"
"My head's feelin' like a whatsitsname, that thin' ya use ta wash clothes. That thin' that spins. Say, Ich'go, Shinigamis dun go nowheeere when they die, da we?"
There was a throbbing vein at the demi-hollow's temple. The teen wasted no time smacking both Isshin and Renji on their heads. "You be quiet. I'm off now."
"DON'T YOU DARE, Kurosaki Ichigo! Look at poor Orihime-chan, she'll be sad if you leave!"
"I-It's alright, Rukia-san. A-After all, it's Kurosaki-kun's birthday we're celebrating, a-and if he – "
"Nonsense, he owes us! We've organized the best party ever, so now he'll stay and bloody ENJOY it! Am I wrong, Ichi-nii?"
The carrot-haired youth figured pointing out no one had bothered to hear his opinion on the matter would be quite useless. If they hadn't listened to him before, there was no reason to hope they'd start now. "Just let me go upstairs to take off this tee." He sighed in surrender, tugging at the hem of his stained t-shirt for everyone to see. "Damn baldy nearly threw up on me when I passed him by."
Rukia's vigil eyes drifted to Ikkaku (who was rehearsing a drunk version of his luck dance on the table, feet dangerously close to trample on the leftovers of Chabby the Bunny's frosty face) then back to Ichigo. The girl snorted. "Fine. You may go. But don't try anything funny, or I swear I'll come to drag you back. And don't care if you're naked, I won't knock!"
The redhead didn't hang around to witness what reactions that last threat sparked – he did catch a glimpse of Inoue's furious blushing and Renji's stunned glaring, though.

The merely wet (like hell he was letting go were someone to actually puke over him) t-shirt hit the ground before Ichigo even crossed the threshold. Huffing in relief at much needed room to breathe, the topless boy pressed his back against the door, shutting it. The mop of orange hair came to rest peacefully on the smooth wood surface as his head reclined, eyelids lowered in bliss for a long, quiet moment.
Which ended much abruptly when brown eyes reopened.
"Wrgh – OAH! Fuck!" Ichigo let out a strangled cry. "What the hell are – you scared me shitless! I think I wet myself!"
Cool and collected, Toshiro replied. "You can shit and piss at the same time? Well. Guess you must have some abilities."
"It's no – wha – why are you here?" The sub Shinigami sputtered, too stunned to think of a proper comeback. "Thought you hated parties."
The kid taichou unfolded his legs, but made no other move to climb off the bed he was apparently comfortably sitting on. "Correct. That would be why I'm in your room rather than at the party."
Toshiro's logic often left Ichigo bemused. "Hold on. How long have you been hiding up here?"
"Two hours or so, and I'm not hiding."
"Two hours? Bloody hell, Toshiro! You could have warned me, given me a hint. Like, dunno, let your reiatsu flare a bit or something."
"With a dozen high-ranked Shinigamis downstairs, at the very party I'm trying to avoid? Very clever, Kurosaki." Teal eyes took in the figure before them, then thoroughly scanned it. "You're not wearing a shirt."
At that, Ichigo's sense of humour reawakened from its coma. "Stating the obvious, aren't we? Who's clever now, taichou?"
For a moment, Hitsugaya's stare held such a great aversion the redhead regretted answering. "I meant why are you not – " The ice master trailed off mid-sentence, shaking his head. "Leave it be. It's not like I care anyway."
Ichigo bit his lip as the shorter boy stood up and inched closer, all the time fumbling with the side pocket of his faded-blue jeans. Finally Toshiro stretched an arm out. "Here. I only dropped by to give you this."
'This' being a small, rectangular, clumsily wrapped up packet. The redhead was speechless for a moment – not once had he considered the chance of Toshiro getting him a present – before eyeing the object warily. "Thanks. Huh. You know how I feel about smoking, right?"
"It's not cigarettes. Don't take me for an idiot." The white-haired boy spat resentfully. Ichigo couldn't help but notice as he crossed his arms over his chest, a habitual threatening pose according to the Gotei 13 Perfect Taichou Body Language Guideline.
"Wouldn't dream of." Ichigo muttered, then set to the complex task of unwrapping. Too much scotch-tape had been used, and his fingers kept getting stickier. "Ehr. May I ask whether you did the wrapping yourself?"
"Had to. Bloody vendor wouldn't do it. You got a problem?" Toshiro's irritated snort warned Ichigo to drop the matter.
"Mh-mmh." The demi-hollow denied, secretly wondering what kind of item a salesman would refuse to wrap up for a shopper. "You didn't need to go through all the trouble anyway. It's the thought that counts." Ichigo lowered his gaze to look directly in his boyfriend's eyes. "Whatever it is, thank you." He murmured quietly, meaning it. Gods. Realization began to kick in. Toshiro had gotten him a present. Better yet, Toshiro had personally come to see him on his birthday (it surprised Ichigo enough that he had remembered at all), and was standing in his bedroom, mere inches away, and, like he had so brilliantly pointed out, Ichigo wasn't wearing a shirt.
Now, weren't summer nights awfully hot, really?
"Quit being a sappy git and open the damn thing up already. I don't have all day."
The birthday boy drew in a sharp breath. Luckily enough I've got my atmosphere-cooler right here. "Such a bad temper. Alright, fine." He tore apart the folding paper, hands subtly shaking, then peered at the content.
It…
A low hiss escaped the redhead's lips. What in the name of – holy crap!
This boy's going to be the death of me.
"Let… let me guess. This is just like the cigarettes thing, right? You saw a colourful packet, asked – bloody hell! – asked a shop attendant about it then gave it to me without knowing half of its use. Do correct me if I'm wrong." Ichigo tried his hardest to keep any evidence of what was going on in his mind (bad, bad dirty mind) out of his voice.
"You are wrong."
That made the teenager's blood run cold. Wait up. Don't fall for it. He can't possibly mean it. Hell, he can't possibly know.
Ha, but you so wish he did, ne king? !
Ichigo felt like screaming at the top of his lungs.
Toshiro examined the birthday boy's face. Many different emotions showed – embarrassment, disbelief, some kind of snappish frustration and – was that a hint of lust he was detecting? The ice captain hugged himself tighter, feeling more than a little uneasy. "What?" He barked, barely suppressing a most pathetic, you don't like it?
How to do this. Ichigo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Toshiro, you bought me condoms as a birthday present. Now, since you obviously have no idea what you've done…"
"Don't fucking patronize me, Kurosaki!"
"… I'll set things straight for you." The redhead glanced down at the box in his hand. Christ, it was so bloody embarrassing! Your lover was not supposed to be the one you turned to for The Talk. Not if you've thoroughly shagged each other's brains out before.
Why waste time talkin' when we could be getting some action? C'mon king, the boy's practically begging for a nice hard poun –
"Don't know what got your knickers in a twist. According to Matsumoto, it was supposed to be a feisty present."
Ha! Feeling feisty much, aren't we?
"Shut UP!" Ichigo had meant to only growl it in his head, but the words somehow managed to slip past his lips. "I mean, not, not you. Wait, you too! What the hell – "
"I swear to my captain honour this is the first and last time I get you something." Hitsugaya grumbled, then snatched the pink-red pack from the other's hold. "What's so bad about 'em anyway? Did I pick the wrong colour?" He eyed the side of the box suspiciously. "I thought strawberry was – "
Ichigo saw the smaller Shinigami struggle with himself to find the words. The ice master gave up at last. "Y'know what? Forget I even came." His white fingers clenched possessively around the pack as the boy lifted his chin in defiance. "It's plain to see you don't need feisty stuff, so I'll give these to Momo or Hisagi-fuktaichou. Their headquarters could use some livening up."
It was all Ichigo could do not to burst out laughing. Yeah, that'll liven up the place alright! "Stop being a kid about it and just listen to me." The word 'kid' usually did wonders in the oh-so-delicate art of Toshiro Manipulation. "First, you did not pick the wrong colour, for you did not pick a colour at all. I don't know what you think it is that you bought, but strawberry is definitely a flavour, something you… huh, smell, and taste." Why couldn't he be oblivious like Toshiro? Giving this sort of explanation while being painfully aware of his own body's possible reactions made it all harder. Ichigo shook the bad pun out of his head. "Secondly, though I'm almost sure your fellows in Seireitei are just about as clueless as you on the matter, you'd better not go offering free samples of your gift around. Believe me, neither of us would ever hear the end of it."
The 10th division captain looked ready to punch his partner any moment. "Do you have a point?"
"My point is you've practically begged – " Hichigo's lewd comment came to mind. " – I mean, requested a… sexual performance. That's what gifting someone with condoms means."
"I'm starting to think everything classifies as sexual advances to you. Is this the same as the smoke story? Hell, you made me so paranoid 'bout the direction I blew it out I fucking quit."
"Toshiro." Ichigo felt his own voice grow way colder and steadier than he'd anticipated. "Condoms are sexual tools. You use them when you're getting at it with your lover in order to… prevent some nasty outcomes of sexual relation."
Much to the redhead's bewilderment, Hitsugaya didn't reply right away. The captain held the other's gaze for a moment, before turning to sit back down on the bed. He crossed his legs again unhurriedly, shoulders pressed into the wall, all the while scrutinizing the berry-coloured pack in his hand. "Mh. So, I assume STD doesn't stand for Strawberry Tasteful Decorations. Damn salesman made fun of me."
Ichigo decided he didn't want to know more.
Apparently, Toshiro did. "How come we've never – you know." The boy gestured vaguely at his gift, now carelessly thrown across the bedspread.
Nnnnghhkffffuck. The sub Shinigami's teeth clashed hard in his mouth. "I – We – I sorta…" Ichigo clenched his arms protectively against his chest, then huffed. "I sort of figured we… didn't need to use them." Chocolate brown eyes drifted from corner to corner, seemingly in search of a way out. "I mean, gigais can hardly get social diseases and males don't – don't get pregnant, and I – I guessed you'd never had a, a, a lover before, so – I just didn't think, alright? !" The teen finally snapped, unwilling to struggle for more explanations.
"Tch." Toshiro gave his best admonishing look then shifted to get comfortable, knees clutched to his chest with arms encircling them. "So, how do you use 'em?"
Ichigo felt his cheeks grow an angry shade of red. "I believe there's a pic somewhere on the box, so don't fuckin' ask."
"There it is."
"You didn't read the instructions? !"
"Most obviously, no I didn't. The guy at the shop said it would make a great birthday present if we did some pumping up, so I thought they were balloons I had to – "
"For fuck's sake, not another word! That guy was, was, a freaking pervert! And you, you're an idiot!"
"Watch your mouth, Kurosaki. I've kicked your ass before and I can kick it again anytime."
"But what d'you expect me to say? You could have just read!"
"Listen, you damned jerk." Toshiro spat and launched forward to grip the front of Ichigo's shirt – which Ichigo was not wearing. The prodigy's inexplicably cool hands came in contact with warm, bare skin. Both boys jumped at the unexpected touch, but the captain didn't retreat. His pride was at stake. "Have you got the faintest idea what I went through to find you a sodding present? I know little of this world, and since I didn't want anyone to come along I had to rely on my instinct. That, and some random passer-by's opinion." Cold thumbs pressed more forcefully against barely visible ribs. "So, I've screwed up – big deal! 'twas the first time I bought someone a gift. Besides, you're the one ranting 'bout how damn stupid b-day traditions are all the tim – mphhh."
Ichigo pressed his lips hard on the smaller boy's and pushed him down on the bed, following soon after. Toshiro's cry of protest was muffled by the redhead's eager mouth as they came to lie awkwardly upon the sheets, Ichigo spreading his lover's legs apart to settle in-between well-refined thighs.
"Whadda – mmppphf – Ichi – nnggh – ugh – gedda hell off me, you fucker!"
The demi-hollow bent down on his elbows, inching closer to the livid face of the white-haired beauty beneath him. "What?" He breathed, a tiny smirk ghosting over his features. "I just thought we'd put your amazing gift to good use."
Toshiro shoved him pretty hard on the chest (Ichigo pushed back). "Are you fuckin' kidding me? Don't even dream of, of what you're dreaming of! And you said we don't need condors anyway, so – mmmgh!"
Ichigo pecked his boyfriend's on the lips, once, twice, before quickly tracing the contours of that familiar mouth with the tip of his tongue. Condors. I fucking love this guy. "That's incorrect. I happen to be in desperate need for my present right now." The sub Shinigami buried his head in the crook of Hitsugaya's neck, blissfully breathing in the boy's smell. He could tell from the way the ice master's hands had yet to be removed from their happy place that he the wasn't completely against intimacy. In fact, Ichigo was under the impression Toshiro liked feeling up his bare chest a bit more than he let on – as for him, he absolutely adored Toshiro's hands, so it was a win-win situation.
Hitsugaya's teal eyes spotted the condoms pack at the edge of the bed, beside Kurosaki's left knee. He tried to stretch in a hopeless attempt at reaching it, but only succeeded in slipping further underneath the red-haired boy, who gasped quietly at the sudden friction. Realization of what exactly had he brushed against hit Toshiro the moment Ichigo grinded his hips down, rocking forward between his legs. The captain hissed. "I said no, Kurosaki. Don't make me repeat myself." But the 'no' came out slightly shaken due to the redhead's slow shifting.
Ichigo smiled unseen against his lover's collarbone. "It's my birthday." He simply stated, a low murmur that gave Toshiro's skin goosebumps.
The taichou went limp for a moment, trying to make up his mind. Apart from blowing small, distracting kisses along his jaw line, Ichigo was obviously stalling to leave the decision up to him. Sighing, Toshiro let both his hands run down the redhead's chest and abs, palming and grazing lightly. He'd rather do the laundry for the entire 10th division than admit it, but Kurosaki's body was utterly beautiful. The lower cool hands travelled, the softer his otherwise slightly roughened skin felt under Toshiro's explorations. His fingertips stilled right upon a leather belt. It took but a breathy whimper from the birthday boy to break the ice master's resolve.
"Let's get under the sheets."
"You joking? It's fucking hot tonight!" Ichigo's protests were cut short by Toshiro's unmistakable like it or leave glare. "Whatever. Here."
They rolled on the side to retrieve the covers curled up in a ball at their feet. The demi-hollow pulled the sheets above their heads and Toshiro scooted closer.

Being naked like that really was something. Toshiro's hands – beautiful, gorgeously gentle hands – were stroking up and down his hips, wandering about, tracing faint patterns on Ichigo's small back and belly. Every time they brushed against the soft curly hair between slightly parted legs, both boys would bite back a lustful moan.
Ichigo's hands were likewise occupied, stroking the back of a smooth thigh up to the perfectly soft roundness mere inches above. When his fingers slipped to graze ever so slightly at the hot crevice hiding under Toshiro's tight sac he felt his lover open for him, legs wrapping around his middle to keep him close. Their lips locked, their erections brushed, and suddenly Ichigo couldn't take it anymore. He rolled the smaller boy on his back and aligned the tip of his aching need to the awaiting opening.
Then he remembered something.
"What?"
"Hold on."
They whispered. They only ever whispered under covers, when nudity, want, proximity made both of them feel vulnerable.
"Ichigo…"
Only at times like those dared Toshiro drop formalities.
"Condoms. Wait a sec."
Rustling of sheets and sudden cold. Then Ichigo's mouth rising up along the sharp edges and curves of the captain's lower body, lingering to plant hot, soft kisses at the head of his by now throbbing arousal.
"Ichi… go…" Toshiro stared in mute fascination as the taller boy ripped the square envelope with his teeth. A heavy scent of strawberries filled the air.
The redhead bit his lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood. He'd never done this before – hell, he'd never needed to – and the extent of his knowledge on the matter was only average. Hoping the dim light would disguise the trembling of his hands, Ichigo muttered an apology and rolled back on his side to take care of the issue himself.
The sound of snapping rubber wasn't lost on Toshiro's ears, which promptly flushed scarlet.
Warmth was back soon after. Ichigo slid his way up the smaller body, nestling himself between lithe thighs. "Here." It turned out as a needy gasp.
Toshiro's breathing got ragged at the firm pressure of a hot, hard, somehow wet head against his dry opening. The instructions on the condoms pack replayed at the back of his mind. Pre-lubricated. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, fighting down a moan threatening to escape.
By now, Ichigo had acquired a substantial familiarity with his partner's tastes – enough to know Toshiro didn't do well with halting and hesitating. He pushed half the way in, hissing at the mind-numbing tightness. It felt like being sucked deep into a burning heat. Swallowing hard, he rolled his hips to inch further, hands clutching at the sheets for dear life.
The ice master growled at the intrusion, then instinctively wrapped his legs tighter around the redhead's waist to brace himself. It didn't hurt as much as the first time – gods, that had been… – and the silky barrier was easing things some, but still it took a good deal of getting used to. He breathed out through his nose, lips pressed firmly together in a poor attempt at keeping his composure.
When he felt Toshiro's hips raise ever so slowly to meet him, Ichigo pressed down, his abs relaxing so that his lower belly came to brush against the captain's – smooth, throbbing, glistening – arousal. The loud gulp that simple move elicited nearly undid him.
Hitsugaya's hands, which had never really stopped stroking the substitute Shinigami's six-pack, travelled upward to caress well-shaped biceps and shoulder blades. Eventually casting pride away, Toshiro forced his lover down against him, their chests clashing.
Ichigo took the chance to sneak a few open-mouthed kisses on his partner's cheek, neck, collarbone. As Toshiro wriggled meaningfully and arched in search of friction, however, the birthday boy got the message. His right hand let go of crumpled sheets to encircle the taichou's neglected manhood. Ichigo drove in deeper the same moment Toshiro pushed into the ring provided by the fingers clasping his cock. Their hips rolled in harmony for the first time, and both whimpered in pleasure.
"How does it feel?"
"Like damn latex is having all the fun." Ichigo lied around a soft smile, which quickly turned into a wicked grin. "Good thing you bought 'em extra-large. It's hardly comfortable as it is."
"Tch. Subtly bragging about size. So vile it suits you."
Ichigo drew back almost all the way, then slammed his cock in full force. Sex bickering turned him on, mostly because Toshiro would run out of breath before long. "Either you shut up now or put that foul mouth to good use." He murmured, leaning to nuzzle the prodigy's neck. How his lover's skin smelled, felt, tasted… Ichigo gave a sharp thrust, sighing happily at the low moan that sparked.
"Idiot." Then Toshiro was turning, lips seeking for their eager partners. Their kiss was hard and sloppy, with tongues stroking lustfully against one another. Nothing drove the usually cold swordsman wilder than snogging, as snog was but another word for tongue-fuck when Ichigo was involved. Toshiro lifted his hips as high as humanly possible, grinding his pleading arousal up in the redhead's stomach, then clenched his inner muscles to squeeze the living daylight out of his lover.
Ichigo half moaned half grunted, his hold around the other's erection instinctively tightening. "You… clever, cunning bastard." He smirked through gritted teeth before rolling his hips back and forth smoothly, teasingly. Meanwhile his thumb brushed against Toshiro's moist head, spreading the precum gathered there.
Snap. His wrist was snatched away abruptly. Ichigo looked down with a baffled frown.
Toshiro shifted, causing the redhead's erection to hit the spot inside he'd been looking for. White, skilled hands ran down to grasp at Ichigo's hipbones. "Do it."
There it went, the moment Toshiro got sick of talking and foreplay and fooling around. The demi-hollow needed no further inquiry. Leaning down to claim a soft kiss, Ichigo began moving for real, pulling half his length out then back in quickly. Their breaths mingled as greedy lips joined together, Toshiro's tongue slipping in and out his lover's mouth, ravishing or soothing. The white-haired boy's thighs were spread apart, his calves digging at the back of Ichigo's knees. The sub Shinigami let out a little yelp at the feeling, then increased his pace. Fuck, who the hell knew that was such an erogenous zone? !
Then again, this damn brat as a whole makes for a sweet spot to me.
Toshiro felt his own hips snap harshly against his will, desperate for more friction, more opening, more contact. The bed swung and creaked as they fell into an erratic rhythm, Ichigo's thrusts crushing him every time harder against the abused mattress. Toshiro had to prevent himself from biting his lips to blood, since his Silence Policy was threatening to crumble under the – goddamnit! once more there and he was done for the night – ridiculously arousing assault. His cock was weeping with blatant need, and Ichigo wasn't even touching him anymore. No way he was going to lose it before his partner did, though. The whiz kid made sure no doubts rose on the matter by jerking his hips upward to give the invading erection a thorough squeeze.
Ichigo went cross-eyed for a moment. Bloody buggerin' hell! It felt like his very life was being sucked out of him. Toshiro had become illegally good at that. The redhead distinctly sensed his constricted head start to leak in its latex prison as breath-taking pleasure overcame him. Fuck it. Gotta… Ichigo whined feebly before slowing his pace, dreading for everything to end so soon. Then Toshiro coaxed him into the umpteenth battle of lips and tongues, causing his thrusting to halt completely. Damn it all. Ichigo took his time to partake in the kiss before resuming a lazy, cautious rolling pace. It didn't take him long though to notice something was different from usual.
The white-haired boy wasn't kissing him like he normally did whenever he wished for his lover to lose control. Their liplock held a gentler shade, like the sharing of a secret between long-time companions. It felt kind of meaningful, as though Toshiro was trying to convey a message he couldn't quite put in words.
Ichigo melted at the light pressure of moist lips against his jaw line, then up to the ear.
" 's your birthday. Dun restrain."
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Toshiro had just broken the Silence Rule. That had to mean something. The demi-hollow kissed his partner with everything he possessed, all the while settling for a much more vicious, less controlled pace. The bed complained with a long series of screeches and huffs that neither boys noticed, as engrossed as they were in their fiery lovemaking.
"Ye really… gonna be… the death of me." Was all Ichigo could whisper before tumbling over the edge with a throaty moan, his prick sliding in and out the quivering opening in shallow yet powerful thrusts. Toshiro met each and every of them, too wrapped up in the surreal feeling of Ichigo coming inside, though not really inside, of him to care for his pride. The captain was used to the impossibly hot sprouts of seed filling him as his lover climaxed; the silky fabric of the condom made for a brand new experience – one he totally intended to repeat.
His own orgasm was triggered by the look of primal desire Ichigo had on as he emptied himself inside of him. Well, that look and a particularly brilliantly-aimed thrust that hit his over-stimulated prostate mercilessly, making him growl out to the heavens in a way he'd never, never admit to in the future.
Everything went still then, apart from their ragged panting. Ichigo waited a calculated time span – never less than thirteen seconds, lest Toshiro feel deserted, yet no more than that for comfort – before pulling out slowly and rolling onto the side. He completely forgot about the condom until the very thing landed on his sweated stomach, pouring half of its content. "What the – eew! That's gross!"
The pointed glance Toshiro cast him left little doubting what he was thinking.
"… yeah, huh. S'rry." Ichigo mumbled, staring at the hideous item in his lap with a mixture of genuine disgust and mild fascination. It hadn't felt that bad nor much different from usual, to be honest. Then again, sex with Toshiro could hardly turn out as even remotely unpleasant – that was a matter of fact. His white-haired lover's voice shook him out of his reverie.
"It does smell like strawberry. At least that much is true."
Ichigo blushed in a way that was admittedly out of place considering what they'd just done. "Forget it! We are not fuckin' making it a habit, ye hear me? !"
"Oh? I wasn't aware you had wished for a life of celibacy on your birthday cake." The redhead paled so visibly at the words Toshiro frowned in concern. "Wait, was that really your wish?"
Ichigo groaned as realization kicked in. He had royally screwed up his own birthday party.

The living room was suspiciously silent. Few lamplights were lit at all, making for a slightly eerie atmosphere. The sub Shinigami wandered about the seemingly desert hallways, his sharpened senses on alert. God knows he really didn't feel like being stabbed in the back by some random drunk guest's zanpakut�.
It wasn't long before Ichigo turned around a corner and saw.
Sitting crossed-arms on a chair next to the kitchen table with a plate full of crumbles in her lap was Rukia, her face darker than the birthday boy had ever seen it. She had obviously sensed him coming up, for her expression didn't change a bit when Ichigo entered the room. "I ate the whole cake. You didn't even get to taste it. Chabby was so deliciously creamy I couldn't resist."
There was something plain creepy about her tone. "Ehr… where's everyone, Rukia?"
"Fled someway between pants-ripping and scumbag-wearing."
Ichigo prayed to all known deity he'd heard wrong. "Come again? !"
Rukia couldn't hold it anymore. Her slap was so vicious it left a handprint on the sixteen-year-old's cheek. "Next time you want some time alone with your fuckbuddy just say so! I had to put your little sisters to bed before they got scarred for life!"
Ichigo's mind couldn't seem to process the data properly. Fuckbuddy… sisters… Chabby… scumbag? "You heard?" He eventually blurted out, hoping against all evidence he'd got it wrong.
"No fucking need to. Hitsugaya-taichou hid his well enough, but your reiatsu was practically screaming dirty things for everyone to feel." The Kuchiki girl grimaced at her friend's stunned face. "Brace yourself for the worst part now."
"Is there any worst?"
"You be the judge of that."
Ichigo reclined his head against the doorframe, groaning. "Spit it."
The dark-haired Shinigami stood up and stepped toward the door, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Well, let's put it like this… someone didn't make it downstairs before you made out upstairs."
The demi-hollow froze on the spot as Rukia passed him by. Her sing-song voice could still be heard from the entrance. "Good luck facing Kon in the morning!"
Kon? Morning? Fuckbuddy? ! Ichigo was still struggling to grasp the situation when an appalling cry resounded in the silent house.
"KU-RO-SA-KI!"
"Hey, hey, no need to get all swordy on me now, taichou-san! I just happened to, to, and it was Ichigo's fault anyway!, he never checks for every corner, like last time, I mean, not that I heard any or, well, what I, obviously if he didn't – whoa, whoa, w-what's with the s-sudden c-cold? T-There's frost o-on the w-windowsill… ICHIGO! HEEEEEEELP!"
"S�ten ni zase, Hy�rinmaru."
"WHOAAAAAANNNNGHYAAAAH!"
Ichigo felt his legs give out and slumped on the floor.
Well, how's that for your sweet sixteen, king? !

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Make It A Habit