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Better Things To Do On A Saturday Morning	By : kiki1983 Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Renji/Ichigo Views: 1713 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Better Things To Do On A Saturday Morning
- 1
Renji Abarai wouldn’t call himself an alcoholic, Soul Society wasn’t really that with the times yet. Needless to say, he didn’t have to have a drink to get through the day, but he looked forward to it at the end sometimes, even if most times it was one bowl of sake as opposed to a bottle or two of the stuff. These days it wasn’t often than he drank himself into oblivion but like anyone he’d had moments in his life where it truly hadn’t been conducive being all-there.
After feeling like he’d lost his best friend, damn near his sister (Rukia), had been one of those times. During that hazy part of his life the only good thing (besides somehow graduating from the Academy) was that he came out of it with his family re-grown, the most important of the new unit being Shūhei Hisagi. The rest of the Academy days after Rukia’s premature graduation, the two future fukutaichō spent their time in each other’s company but instead of giving Renji a person to spend sober time studying with, he’d gained a drinking partner.
Truthfully he hadn’t gotten black-out drunk in a good while. He couldn’t really count most of the benders had with Shūhei since the black-outs had never had anything to do with the alcohol in his system and everything to do with his drinking partner’s cock and the oh-so-kick-ass things it did.
The similarities to waking up after said benders to his present morning were numerous enough to give Renji a fiercer ache than he’d thought himself capable. Any hopes for the level of sake consumption the night before to have affected his memories were dashed. His heart was healing from losing his on-again-off-again lover Shūhei permanently to a man that seemed frigid, passive and dull-eyed, he couldn’t be the arms around him. After a split second to focus a bit more Renji felt his ache ease and nearly fade when he realized who was presently wrapped around him.
Although the gangly arms and legs (the kid was like a damn octopus) that accompanied the morning wood could have fooled his foggy half-asleep morning wits -- especially since it felt like his head was stuffed with cotton -- the reiatsu was unmistakable. Even if it was the calmest Renji had ever felt it, the cocoon of reiatsu was unmistakably Ichigo Kurosaki’s.
Not that the teen’s presence was a surprise since Renji had fallen asleep last night spooning with his impromptu overnight guest. Last night they’d had a decent number of bowls of knock-you-on-your-ass sake, compliments of Shūhei’s new beau Ito Katsumi, so at the time the likelihood that they’d both forget most of the previous night had given the ginger a bravado that Renji hadn’t minded taking advantage of.
The difference between the arms around him last night – even after Ichigo had fallen asleep and relaxed – and the suction-cupped tentacles wrapped around him this morning was arousingly obvious.
They’d begun the night facing toward the bedroom door lying on their sides, Ichigo’s body touching Renji’s just enough to make capturing sleep difficult for the redhead, intoxicated or not. Renji could recall giving the teen his own best cephalopod impression plenty during the night so really couldn’t fault the kid.
Neither could Renji really get upset about how friendly his bedmate’s hard-on was getting with his person, the redhead himself had woken up in much the same state. Much the same and yet made only worse with the heavy weight of warm limbs and sleepy but-still-eager reiatsu, no matter the layers of clothes between the two of them.
In fact Renji was pretty sure he’d been thoroughly enjoying the entire situation in his sleep, only to be awakened by his bladder. Much like the sake-soaked days he’d spent in Academy, last night had its pros and cons.
Say, sprawled on your back with a young man that was enjoying the entire tangled-limbs-and-twisted/restricting-blankets thing as much as you were. Although their pillow talk the night before had included the adamant denial of the teen’s state of sexuality where men were concerned, it had followed a maddening first kiss, and been declared moments before scowling Renji into being the Small Spoon.
Not that the position of Small Spoon was bad in any way. Renji kept his eyes closed and shifted a bit; unintentionally jostling Ichigo enough that the teen began struggling against sleep to readjust his position. Ichigo’s leg moved up, probably in an attempt to hook over the larger man’s body, and he fell back into sleep, hard-on still firmly pressed against Renji’s hip. Knowing how awkward Ichigo would make the situation when he became aware of his wanton rubbing, Renji contained the groan as the teen’s leg made like a cricket’s and rubbed back and forth as he gently rocked.
While the friction on Renji’s trapped cock was fucking fantastic, the pressure on his bladder was decidedly not.
Maybe I could escape ‘nd shunpo to the toilet, Renji pondered, only to hear a husky snicker in his head. If he wakes up, it won’t be to dry humping my leg.
And you’re gonna rub one out while you’re in there alone? Zabimaru grunted in disapproval.
Might have to if I can’t get this fuckin’ thing to go away, Renji groaned as his hips bucked of their own accord and he bit the inside of his cheek to stifle the noise. Most of Ichigo’s clinging limbs were thrown over the blankets with Renji underneath so when he started to slide out and the teen’s fingers bunched into the fabric he was still free to slip from the futon.
It was decidedly colder outside the blankets even if the heater was still going full blast, it didn’t help with the bladder situation and since Renji’s plan had never been to stick around and wait for Ichigo to wake up and show just how sweet a red he could blush at such an early hour, he scampered out and half-shunpoed down the hall in his haste to relieve himself.
Lack of stimulation and the cold helped with the hard-on, and a few purposefully recalled memories of Shūhei’s beau Katsumi finished the job. Ichigo was still asleep when Renji returned and with a glance at the clock he seriously considered returning to bed. On one hand, Renji was fully aware that he had to go in and take care of some paperwork, Byakuya only approved of less hours on the weekend (as opposed to having them off like all the other fukutaichō outside the sixth and twelfth did) and Renji knew better than to argue, on the other hand, the fucking sun wasn’t even up yet.
Plus, he’d always been a total girl when it came to cuddling, too many nights in Rukongai without blankets, too much sharing a hiding space with multiples…Touch fiend to say the least, he and Shūhei.
Just as the dark-haired fukutaichō entered Renji’s memories again the teen rolled onto his other side, his back to the doorway, all the blankets somehow in his sleeping clutches.
“Blanket hog,” Renji muttered and lowered to his knees on the edge of the futon, reaching out to grab one of the blankets, trying to gently pull it from the kid’s grasp so he could use some of it. There was no prying it from Ichigo, making Renji only pull harder, rolling the sleeper back over and making the ginger suddenly flail out as if coming awake from a dream about falling.
A noise that sounded like a cross between a groan and a whine came from Kurosaki and he kicked off most of the covers and threw an arm over his head to shield himself from the waking world, the hand of the other arm sliding under his pillow to clutch it over his face, clinging doggedly to sleep. Renji only snickered and dropped onto the mattress, now more confident that it would take more than that to get the teen to wake up.
“Renji?” At the raspy groan of his name Renji went still, half-lying down, an elbow pressed into the mattress, propping up his torso. Crimson eyes darted to the crook of Ichigo’s elbow where he could see the corner of one eye, and relief filled him when it remained closed.
“Yeah?” Renji whispered back but was answered with silence and he smirked. “That’s what I thought,” He moved nearer to Ichigo; set on taking advantage of the body in his bed (for body heat!) he slipped a tattooed arm under the teen and urged him to roll closer.
Turned out Ichigo didn’t need much encouragement to find a place plastered to the fukutaichō’s side again, although this time his orange spiky head was using the other man’s chest as a pillow. Renji wouldn’t call the sound of Ichigo’s sleeping breath snoring, but it wasn’t soundless nor easy to ignore as it was currently warming a spot over the redhead’s left nipple. Renji let his arm curl around Ichigo’s shoulders, his hand moving purposefully to cup the back of the teen’s head, fingers digging, nails gentle against his scalp.
Last night Renji had done much the same, and although Ichigo had momentarily and ineffectually objected to the massage of fingertips then, the redhead was sure the teen had held back his genuine reaction to such ministrations while awake and aware. With enough attention Ichigo had pressed his soft orange hair back against the palm of Renji’s hand like a cat seeking affection, gently, almost imperceptibly even when the fukutaichō made to move away too soon for the teen’s liking.
This morning, as Renji’s blunt fingernails scratched tenderly through the teen’s brilliant hair he was rewarded with a breathy groan of pleasure, Ichigo’s face turning to press into his tattooed chest in order to push back into his touch.
Renji Abarai was very much a sexual creature, but there was something that exceeded all that, a craving for touch that didn’t have to involve more than this. Even with all the layers of cloth between them, just the rub of affection from Ichigo’s fuzzy head into the palm of his hand sated the need.
Renji was happy just to be able to focus on the warm blanket of Ichigo and Ichigo-reiatsu instead of the wretched feeling he’d woken up with, in part, because of said temporary, new winter blanket. “Renji…” Of course Renji wasn’t disappointed when the moist heat of Ichigo’s mouth practically vibrated with the pleasured groan of his name through the layers of kimono to his sensitive nipple.
“Fuck,” Renji muttered as the sensation shot straight to his groin. “Fuck Ichigo,” He growled, lowering his lips to press against the crown of brilliant hair, fingers digging.
Then things just got better all at once. The teen’s limbs all shifted as his cock renewed rubbing very interested in any friction offered.
Coincidently the hot vibration of Ichigo’s breath happened more often, words not always coherent but obvious in their intent, much like his reiatsu. The intensity of Ichigo’s usually overly-affectionate spiritual pressure made the combination of thick blankets and blasting heater stifling.
Friction was its own considerable creator of warmth, not to mention clinging gingers.
It was also making any of the seemingly-magic libido-killing thoughts of Katsumi thoroughly ineffective. Maybe a dunk in cold air would be good for them.
Contrary to Kurosaki’s…interest the kid was asleep and would more than likely seriously reject his own attraction to his considerably older and very male nakama once awake and aware.
Renji let his reiatsu stretch out to the controls of the heater, forgetting to compensate for the pressure of someone else’s reiatsu (let alone Ichigo-fucking-Kurosaki’s). “Oi, shit Kurosaki,” The redhead hissed, hips bucking against the pressure of both his cuddly bedmate’s cricketing leg and eager reiatsu. Without even a thin barrier of his own spiritual pressure for protection, Renji couldn’t resist.
Gotta take this shit slow, Renji panted with the effort of will in trying to focus on the kidō controls (which were pretty much dummy-proof) instead of all the stimulation. Renji was glad his zanpakutō overlooked the ease with which the damn space heater was thwarting his sex-addled mind.
I’m pretty sure I ‘member sayin’ something remarkably similar earlier, Zabimaru grunted sleepily, and it was true, even when sake had muddled their collective intelligence, his companion had known attempting anything with Ichigo would be tricky.
Renji didn’t have to admit mentally or aloud that he’d had a mild sense of déjà vu when thinking the words just now, and even in reference to the kid about to rub him off like an untried virgin grinding against the blankets. It was kind of ironic, and part of the fukutaichō – a large throbbing part – didn’t want to stop. It could only be swayed by the idea of what he might be able to work out with an aware Ichigo, and how much better that would be.
Zabimaru gave a deep grunt of irritation, chastising its master’s brief worry that the kid would probably be mortified by his own arousal and flee. Shame you didn’t get him naked before bed, and as if that idea wasn’t the least helpful of ideas his zanpakutō then supplied Renji with an image of Ichigo with that brilliant blush of his suffusing his face.
A little help here? Really? Renji collected his reiatsu back to try and make a decent shield, even if he didn’t want to lose the prickly hot desire unabashedly soaking into his tattooed skin. Other than another grunt the redhead felt nothing more from his sword soul. Fucker.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Groggily hummed over Renji’s nipple and everything went very still and damned if the space heater wasn’t there to fill the resulting awkward-as-fuck silence.
“Me?” Renji kept it monosyllable, as he noticed Ichigo’s eyes open enough to spy their situation.
“Goddamn you Abarai!” A surprisingly strong hand shoved down on the center of his chest between the top row of his tattoos to heave himself away. Any harder and he’d have cracked the redhead’s sternum which, along with almost kneeing him in the groin in the process of moving his cricketing leg not to mention the tone of accusation made for a less-than-pleased Renji.
“Oi?! Me!” Renji sat up, fingers quickly shackling the teen’s wrist before he could remove his hand from his chest.
“I was sleeping!” Ichigo’s free hand came up to card through his orange spikes, the expression momentarily on his face something like loss, no doubt for the sensation of the fukutaichō’s nails. Sleepy eyes moved to the silent heater and Renji wondered if he should let the ginger make his own assumptions to explain away the redhead’s behavior, let him believe their close contact was from subconsciously seeking warmth.
“I wasn’t gonna do anythin’.” Renji saw the scowl of skepticism cross Kurosaki’s brow. “I was about to wake yew up.”
“Well your reiatsu did a good job of doing that…The heater go out?”
“I just switched it off,” Renji didn’t hesitate to admit.
Ichigo tugged gently at Renji’s restraining grip, eyes widening as the shackle of fingers tightened instead of disengaging. “Let go.”
“I ain’t gonna be rude,” Renji muttered meeting those eyes and guiding Ichigo’s hand back to his chest, where his tattoos peeked out from his loosened kimono. “So yew can stop yellin’ at me about somethin’ I was tryin’ to stop.”
“Didn’t feel like you were tryin’ to stop,” Since there were plenty of layers between them Renji didn’t feel embarrassed about the twitch of interest his cock gave at Ichigo’s soft declaration, not that he would have been even if he had been bare-assed either.
Although Renji had been surprised more than once by the modesty this particular ginger effortlessly wrung out of him, it was horrible to be so turned on from Captain Oblivious’ innocent sexuality in all its subtle gestures.
It wasn’t fair.
“Let go,” Huffed from Ichigo. “I gotta pee.”
Ask him! Zabimaru grunted and Renji resisted obeying.
Instead of asking if he could take care of their hard-ons Renji let him go with, “Yew better not have been hopin’ to leave early I’m sleepin’ in.”
“Thought you had to be at work,” Ichigo stood and skirted around Renji’s feet.
“Not this early on the weekend,” Renji tunneled into the blankets and debated waiting to see if the teen would somehow telepathically catch the drift of his thoughts and return with less clothes. He listened to the hushed slide of the bedroom’s shoji doors and the few pads of Ichigo’s feet before he shunpoed down the hallway.
Renji was alone long enough to consider taking care of himself, distracted by the realization that he couldn’t be the only person thinking along the same lines. Just when the redhead was about to get out of bed and ambush Ichigo angrily in the bathroom he heard the shoji door slide back open. “Took ya long enough,” Renji grumbled, partly angry because of what his imagination had thought up, the fact that he was really doing a shitty job of getting a hold on his own arousal but mostly he was upset about the possibility of missing out on Ichigo jerking off in his bathroom, not to mention the fact that the mere idea of such had him hard as a rock again.
Technically the kid hadn’t even been in the damn room, just the notion of him…Damn, you’re worse off than I thought boss.
Shut-up you! Don’t even speak up if you ain’t gonna be helpful! Renji turned a little, mostly twisting his neck to look over his shoulder, catching sight of Ichigo as the teen contemplated the heater. “Get back in bed, I’ll turn it back on if yer cold, pussy.”
“Fuck you,” Ichigo shot back and the redhead’s reply was a suggestive grin and to slowly pull the blankets back on the empty side of the bed. “Damn you Abarai.”
“Renji, dolt,” Renji corrected, not liking the angry separation the teen was trying to put between them with the formality of his last name. “Hurry up ‘nd get in here…” Crimson eyes met brown after a few beats of tense silence. “I’m not gonna hurt yew.”
Ichigo had started walking the short distance but stopped again at those words, his eyebrows lowering in the standard scowl, “Thought you were sleepin’ in before work.”
“What are ya gonna wander around my house while I sleep?” Came innocently.
“I could sleep,” Ichigo explained with a rub to one eye with the knuckle of his index finger. “Somehow I don’t think that’s what you had in mind.”
“Not all I had in mind,” Renji admitted. “It’s my turn to hold yew.”
“You’re gonna molest me.”
At the slightly-louder-than-inaudible accusation Renji turned over, giving the ginger a look of exasperation. “What--? Naw!” Renji pretended to be affronted but couldn’t help a chuckle and didn’t think twice before ribbing the ginger, “I plan on bein’ a perfect gentlemen…Are yew plannin’ on makin’ moves on me?”
“Maybe!” Ichigo only glared at Renji a moment before turning the customary scarlet, and the redhead knew instantly that the teen might have meant what he’d said, but had definitely not intended to say it aloud.
“You holdin’ out on me Kurosaki?” Renji moved to slip his hands under his own pillow, cradling his head as he stared up at the ruffled teen. “I should have known after ya kissed me like that last night.”
“Oi!” Ichigo grunted his stance and reiatsu defensive. “I’d never kissed a guy…” His eyes darted toward the empty corner of the room, anywhere away from Renji’s as he realized the fukutaichō had complimented him. “You liked it?”
“Did that not come across last night?” Blurted out in disbelief and the redhead sat up, reaching for Ichigo since he was close enough. “Liked it, wouldn’t mind another.”
“Yeah?” Ichigo’s blush renewed and a small smile hinted at the corners of his mouth as the older man’s hand sunk into the fabric of his half-tucked kimono and urged the substitute shinigami closer to the futon. “I don’t get practice or anything; I’ve only kissed a few girls.”
“Such a fuckin’ baby,” Renji teased and Ichigo let himself be pulled closer not waiting to kick half-heartedly at the futon blankets in the vicinity of leg. “I wouldn’t feel so old if you’d at least fucked a girl.”
“You are old,” Ichigo kicked again and Renji caught the boy’s ankle and managed to wrestle him to the empty side of the futon, and behaved by letting go once the skinny teen had bounced safely into the mattress. “And I’m not a damn baby Renji,” Ichigo continued once he’d regained the breath he’d lost in his controlled fall.
“Fine!” Renji still resisted taking Ichigo’s hand to let him feel what he was talking about as he asked, “Do ya think it’s fair you get to go rub one off in the bathroom ‘nd I’m left hard ‘nd wantin’?”
“I didn’t even--!” Ichigo hissed embarrassed, reaching down to pull the blankets up over him.
“That wasn’t an answer,” Renji said into the terse silence, and Ichigo made an exasperated sound. “Not to th’ question I asked anyhow.”
“I am not having this conversation with you.”
“Yer the one that said you weren’t a baby,” Renji muttered. “I didn’t mean you were a baby in age, although compared to me yew kinda are…I meant sexually…Bein’ forced into the substitute shinigami roll made yew grow up certain ways…But yer havin’ all this crisis.”
“Crisis?” Ichigo looked over at Renji incredulously and rolled away from him, probably forgetting it was where the redhead wanted him. “M’not in a goddamn crisis.”
Not but a hairbreadth from touching the ginger Renji went still at the sudden monotone of Ichigo’s words and the roil of worry and paranoia in the teen reiatsu that he tried to hide just as shittily as he hid that mammoth spiritual energy. The combination told Renji that it was indeed a crisis, one that the fukutaichō feared he had underestimated in size and spectrum.
“So ya don’t have a problem likin’ both guys ‘nd girls?” Renji tried, remembering to mention the opposite sex.
“I--!” Ichigo seemed to start to object, his shoulders hunching before he let whatever he was about to say out in a whoosh of air.
“Good, ya stopped denyin’ it,” Renji let a hand curl over Ichigo’s shoulder, closer to his neck, his fingers slipping beneath the collar of the spiky-haired shinigami’s kimono which made the substitute’s breath inhale sharp and fast.
“I’m not into guys,” Ichigo mumbled with an irritable breath, the muscles coiling and the reiatsu trying to, the spiritual pressure only succeeding in letting Renji know the teen’s physical reaction was for show. Renji let his hand inch toward the teen’s thrumming heartbeat, the palm of his hand cupping the nape of Ichigo’s neck, thumb and index finger curling around the column of his neck. Then Ichigo spoke again, low enough to be inaudible Renji only noticed when the words made the skin under the pads of his fingers hum and vibrate.
“What was that?” Renji prompted gently, fingers urging the tense man’s muscles to relax slowly.
Ichigo rolled onto his stomach, pulling from Renji’s grasp to bury his blushing face in his pillow, gangly arms folded over his orange head. What was repeated into the pillow was louder but still incoherent.
“Oi, brat!” Renji let out a bark of laughter and jabbed Kurosaki in the ribs, making the teen jump in surprise and wiggle away. “Ichigo, don’t be embarrassed. I…would it be any comfort to know I’m inappropriately attracted to ya?”
One of his eyes peeked out unbelieving, accompanied by a hardly-coherent, “Inappropriately?”
“Yeah ‘nd it ain’t cuz ya got a cock either,” Renji teased and his language got the desired blush, visible on Ichigo’s cheek before he turned his face back into his pillow. “Cuz yer…” He gave a pause to figure the math out. “A tenth my age, a kid ‘nd alive.”
“Oh,” Ichigo turned to rest his head on his arm, looking over at the older shinigami with a sheepish expression to his flushed face.
For a moment Renji wanted to laugh at the idea that their age difference hadn’t even occurred to Ichigo. Although knowing how adamant the orange-spiked head shook his denial about the possibility of being even bisexual, the redhead wasn’t surprised that it was the only problem he had with this situation.
“You’re attracted to Hisagi-san,” Ichigo recalled aloud.
Since Ichigo had been Renji’s “date” to Shūhei’s dinner designed to introduce his new steady beau, there was really no point in arguing that. “And?”
“M’only attracted to you,” Was Ichigo’s gruff reply before he tried to hide his face in his pillow again.
Once again Renji fought his first instinct to flirt and tease Ichigo, instead stretching a hand out to rub between the teen’s shoulder blades soothingly. “I ain’t attracted to all guys,” He defended once it occurred to the redhead what Ichigo might be implying. “Just like I ain’t attracted to all women…In fact Katsumi might actually have the ability to turn me off.”
That got a small grin and those unsure eyes again, the teen hesitantly cradling his ear in his bent arm, as he turned to face Renji. “He seems a little…” A faint flush painted his cheeks as he scrunched his face up in thought.
Renji made himself roll onto his back and copied the bent-arm-under-the-head pose, turning in time to see Ichigo’s eyes unscrunch, some of the discomfort leaving them. “He looks like a pussy but Senpai doesn’t usually like passive guys, even when he feels like bein’ seme,” Renji shrugged and let his eyes move away angling his head to the ceiling. “But he ain’t picky ‘bout who takes charge…when we were together we were whatever th’ other needed.”
“That sounds nice,” Ichigo’s voice barely whispered in the quiet, and Renji made himself keep his eyes on the ceiling and his mind on the prospect of turning the space heater on again. “I-I mean you sounded like you two had something real.”
With a self-deprecating chuckle Renji gave a small shake of his head and worried his bottom lip a moment before admitting, “I wasn’t always so inta guys, I got mostly Senpai ta thank fer that, ’nd Rukia a little I guess…er…maybe I should say lack thereof.”
The fukutaichō barely kept his crimson gaze on the ceiling when he heard an almost girlie snort of laughter come from his bedmate. “Imma tell Rukia you said that.”
“Said what?” Renji shot a pretend look of outrage at the ginger.
“She made you gay.”
“Rukia knows all about my preferences,” Renji admitted, although it really shouldn’t have been a surprise the small woman would know all there was to know about her childhood friend, especially after they had reunited amid all the Aizen-induced craziness. “All I gotta do is plant one on ya in front’a her ‘nd I could bad-mouth Chappy ‘nd her drawin’ ‘nd get away with it.”
The threat was met with silence, much like Renji had expected so he didn’t discontinue his perusal of the lines in his ceiling. He waited until the other man broke the quiet with, “I think the last time I critiqued her drawing she put me in a binding kidō…thirty or something.”
“Heh. Just another perk ta swingin’ both ways,” Renji told himself not to but he shot Ichigo a sultry wink that told of those numerous perks. Intending to turn away Renji should have expected the snare of the teen’s blush.
“I…” Ichigo stuttered a few moments before merely staring red-faced at the fukutaichō as if in deep thought.
There was something very familiar about the look on the substitute shinigami’s face. Renji had seen plenty of the shinigami around him with that introspective expression, something more than focusing on internal thoughts.
“Zangetsu bein’ difficult?”
“Z-zangetsu..?” Ichigo looked adorably confused for a moment before something that looked like horror dawned on his face. “Um, no…er…” Stammered out before the renewed blush was hidden in his borrowed pillow.
Without a thought Renji reached forward to run a hand over his bedmate’s orange spikes. “Hey, he might be givin’ ya shit but don’t let him fool ya…Yer parts of th’ same soul…he wants what yew want.”
“He wants…” Ichigo lifted his head and slowly shook it, face slightly bewildered. “Zangetsu’s not--” The teen gave a grunt and pressed his face back into the crook of his elbow.
Renji stayed quiet a moment, studying the shell of Ichigo’s exposed ear, the line of his neck as it disappeared into his kimono. “Whatever doubts are givin’ yew grief they all come from th’ same place…yew.”
“Yeah,” Ichigo’s voice immerged, hardly loud enough to escape the shelter of his arm. “Heh,” Huffed out and with just that small noise the fukutaichō knew his words had struck home, had helped somehow, although it didn’t seem to have done so as Renji had intended (not that that fucking mattered).
“S’at mean yer gonna kiss me again?” Renji couldn’t contain the teasing question. He expected the teen to curl deeper into the hiding place created with his arms and pillow, but instead Ichigo’s head twisted until the ginger could rest his ear along his upper arm again, brown eyes dancing along the curve of Renji’s bottom lip a moment before meeting the older man’s gaze.
“I’ve only kissed three girls before I kissed you last night,” Ichigo admitted and it seemed he’d realized there was no subduing his teenage blush, so unfortunately for Renji he didn’t bother hiding his reddening face.
After half a century of playing such games, Renji knew that it was important to reign in his urge to ravage Kurosaki’s lips. With all the doubt suffusing the teen’s reiatsu it was a no-brainer on Renji’s part to keep himself from making a move on the kid…a physical move anyhow. “Oh ya ain’t an untouched virgin, then?”
“You’re such an ass!” Ichigo managed after gaping a moment, cheeks flushed anew by his friend’s brazen question.
“Ya sure like ta avoid questions,” Renji commented.
“No then, m’not when it comes to kissing.”
“Then get yer ass over here brat,” Escaped before Renji could stop it.
The heat of challenge burned through Ichigo eyes, (a familiar sight for Renji after riling the ginger up any chance he could during their friendship) then sword-calloused fingers were curling in the redhead’s kimono the teen set on making his bedmate the one crossing the distance. Renji didn’t object, not only did he let Ichigo pull him close the fukutaichō found himself battling the instinct to jump the teen.
Their mouths smashed together and Ichigo’s lips vibrated with a barely-contained moan. Renji was glad the other man’s eyes were now screwed shut because the reaction of his cock to the sound was immediate and uncomfortable in his fundoshi…And the ease in which the teen incited such a reaction caused a blush to burn across the older man’s face.
Hot desperate reiatsu pressed along his and Renji let his own spiritual pressure roil out sharp with his desire. The teen’s senses weren’t nearly as refined as the redhead’s but the message was received loud and clear if the demanding nip Ichigo delivered was any indication. The press of even teeth only served to incite Renji further; tunneling his fingers into the teen’s orange spikes, cupping his head, and tilting his own until he could slide his tongue against Ichigo’s.
Clearly there was a sobering voice still working in Ichigo’s mind because he was able to pull away after a moment, hesitancy renewed in his eyes. “Renji--”
“Shut-up,” Renji murmured in a pleading tone, looking into Ichigo’s eyes as they took on a silver edge he’d only seen before when the teen was preparing his reiatsu to deliver a getsuga tensho. The ginger’s spiritual pressure was indeed past the level it was at when at rest but it definitely wasn’t as powerful as it got when he was about to sling energy from Zangetsu. “Ichigo?”
A strange swirl of black teased along the white sclera of the teen’s left eye a few moments before he quickly screwed both closed, with a soft but harsh, “Nooo.”
“Ichigo,” Renji froze at the indiscernible change to the teen’s reiatsu, almost like a difference in temperature but also a change in focus, all directed inward. “Oi!” He tightened his fingers in the bright hair and received the most obscene moan he’d heard from Ichigo to date. The sound hit Renji like a hot fist and there was a huskiness to the older man’s voice that he couldn’t help as he whispered the teen’s name again.
“Harder,” Came out in an odd watery voice, Ichigo’s but somehow not. The ginger head tilted, a stranger’s eyes fastening on Renji’s face.
A gasp escaped the redhead’s lips at the very hollow-like gaze that locked with his, sclera black as the night sky, iris a metallic gold with an edge of cruelty Ichigo had never had no matter the brutality of the situation in which he found himself. Renji didn’t fancy himself an intellectual but it wasn’t long before he put Ichigo’s reaction to his attraction to a male, together with this new persona, “Leave the kid alone.”
“Waddya think I’m doin’ to’im?” The hollow asked his tongue coming out to lick along his lips in a way that made Renji take firm control of his libido reminding himself that this was not the time.
“Hey!” Renji captured the teen’s chin in his large hand to keep his attention as the eyes wandered with a disrespectful roll at the shinigami’s insinuation, even if he truly was up to no good. “Dunno what yer about but I ain’t gonna let you hurt him, in any way, shape or form.”
“We ain’t nobody’s bitch Red,” Hissed out and Renji realized the less than gentle grip he was being treated to wasn’t all that big a problem for the being in control of the ginger’s body. “M’th’only one’s ever gonna ride th’king.”
With half a roll of their bodies Renji pinned the smaller body to the soft futon, the teen’s face still firmly captured in his fingers. “Y’leave him th’ fuck alone, he deserves to be happy after th’ shit he’s been through,” Renji repeated growling into his face, so different yet so similar to the teen that had fought by his side as his nakama.
“And ya think yer the cock that’s gonna do it?” Even though they were twisted in numerous blankets Renji still felt every angle and line of the slim body beneath him. As those sharp metallic eyes met Renji’s dead-on there was no mistaking one particular hardening angle prodding at the fukutaichō’s hip.
“Nobody said nothin’ ‘bout who was fuckin’ who…yew didn’t let us even get that far--”
Much like the redhead had only moments ago the hijacked-ginger sent them rolling back over the futon until he was firmly straddling the larger man’s hips only the layers of their combined clothes between them. Renji started to sit up only to find two ridiculously strong hands pinning his upper arms to the bed, fingers digging in. The face above him was anything but serene but the eyes were still and removed as if there was nothing but death on the mind attached to them, it was rather disheartening to any arousal brought about by the dominate roughness of his temporarily mentally-usurped bedmate.
“King’s use’ta bein’ on top Red, he fight’s fer that right with me every second I contest fer the title,” Those teeth that had only moments ago been devouring him snapped closed very close to the fukutaichō’s nose as the teen’s body leaned over his. “Feel free to ride the winner.”
“There ain’t no way shit like this lasts for long,” Renji snarled back with a flicker of his crimson gaze down their bodies, “this” meaning the change in who was in control. “We would have known before now.”
“’We,’ really?” There was a moment of malicious glee in those dark eyes moments before eyelids shuttered them, hips that felt like they knew exactly what they were doing suddenly rolling against Renji’s captured half-flagging hard-on. “From what I seen you shinigami excel at noticin’ jack-fuckin’-shit,” His odd voice came our just a little breathy, along with a mocking cackle of laughter. “Even th’ substitute ones.”
Even the hinting at Aizen’s betrayal and all the bullshit that had gone on under Soul Society’s nose didn’t detract from the encouragement of the hijacker’s hips. It didn’t take long before Renji fought to brace his feet in the blankets and return the offer of friction. It was that internal battle that made the redhead glad when those lashes lifted to show eyes that gave Katsumi’s libido-nulling powers a run for their money. Dead eyes. “Leave the kid alone,” He repeated hands moving to shackle the smaller man’s wrists.
“Don’t break yer fuckin’ brain over it shinigami, he’s weak in the mornin’ when his brain’s all bewildered and distracted…Every time I find a way to break lose he finds the leak and shores up the wall…mornin’ wood helps,” Eyebrows wiggled lecherously--overdramatically—and very suddenly the expression switched to irritation, black eyes narrowing in concentration of an internal kind, his hand slid to keep Renji pinned at the center of his large chest, pulling the other hand from the older man’s grip to make efficient work of ties to bare said-chest, showing the slashing dark of his tattoos all the way down his side to the uppermost tips of the set hugging his hips.
That same hand flatted down on the tops of one of those gatherings of ink each finger gliding along it’s own dark line moving outward over unmarked skin, pushing fabric aside until fingernails could soon dig into the other man’s flank to scratch back inward. It was at that moment that Renji discovered that where Katsumi would continue to show his ability of deadening even if he somehow came to be in such an intimate position; Ichigo (even this sinister version) in such an intimate position effortlessly created a sensation that caused Renji to swear in a low moan and buck his hips upward like some wanton virgin.
When the older man could open his eyes there were shocked brown eyes staring down at him. “Ichigo?” There was no mistaking the new tension in the teen’s body; Abarai was just pleased the wide-eyed ginger was showing too much white with his deer-in-headlights look, not black. “I wanna bring to attention right away that yew ‘re the one molestin’ me there’s no way yew can mistake this as me makin’ moves on yew.”
“N-no,” Ichigo’s voice came out a little hoarse but it was the boy’s own voice, not a strangers. The teen moved enough to dislodge the fingernails driving into fukutaichō flesh, straightening the fingers back along the lines but moving nothing more. “I’m sorry I’ve got him mostly under control but…he seems to know exactly when to push to catch me slacking off.”
“I ain’t sorry,” Renji didn’t hesitate to move the hand that had just been shaken off reaching to take Kurosaki’s face in an only minorly gentler grip than before while the usurper had been in charge. “Don’t stop,” Nor did he hesitate to color his words with the desperation he was feeling after what was starting to seem like the longest-ass-morning of his life outside of the two morning’s he had spent trussed up like a parcel (and hard as a rock) in Shūhei’s quarters on one of the temp-taichō’s usual weekends off (where he gets called in for a minute and then has to stay all weekend) that tied for first place.
“I…” He tightened his grip on the older man’s hip looking down at the twisted fabric of Renji’s fundoshi where it was riding low.
“No, no,” The redhead shook his head and sat up to help divest himself of his kimono watching brown eyes dart up and down his body, as if committing the pattern of his tattoos to memory. “Yer the one that needs help,” He let his experienced hands work the knots of Kurosaki’s hakama ties.
Suddenly Ichigo reared back, moving away and making Renji think the teen had lost whatever nerve he’d gained while battling for control of his own body. When he had gotten significant space between them however Ichigo’s fingers flew over the minimum amount of ties that needed loosening to get his pants off, kimono on top flying open seconds after leaving the ginger nothing but his blush to cover him (and cover it did, all the way down).
In the back of his head Renji tried to keep in mind that a few moments ago Ichigo had been both mentally fighting someone and himself about the idea of anything remotely similar to the fantasies replaying over and over in the cozy spot next to Abarai’s cautionary thoughts in the back of his head. The larger man sat up and rolled forward to practically lunge at the ginger, sprawling them on the lower half of the bed, trying to find a suitable fantasy to enact on the hapless teen.
He knew he would have no problem keeping the doubting voices in his bedmate’s mind quiet; he had no issues teaching Ichigo how to please him, mostly making the ginger squirm with his body in desire did it for the tattooed shinigami. “You anti-fundoshi Kurosaki?”
The fukutaichō didn’t mind that he’d struck the teen mute with just that simple attack, that just the press of their nearly naked bodies had rendered him speechless. He shook his brilliant orange head instead and as Renji pulled back a little, his hands slid from the teen’s shoulders and down his chest, “You seem to be a fan.”
“Not an option in a kimono,” Was the redhead’s answer before he lowered to press his lips around a nipple returning the ginger to silence. “Besides bein’ essential around sexy fuckers like you…s’uniform requirement.”
“Oh and Byakuya’s just gonna check that thoroughly when uniform inspections come around,” Quipped the teen his Bravado About the Whole Nipple Tasting Done by Renji in his voice but the arousal almost drowned it out.
“Yer right,” Renji moved to fold his arms over the quivering abdomen of the teen, cradling his own chin in the crook of his arm to look up at him. “He’s all about the surprise inspection.”
Ichigo burst out laughing and Renji didn’t keep himself from grinning like an idiot not having heard the noise nearly enough from the substitute shinigami. “No shit?”
“No shit,” Renji nodded feeling the reiatsu and body beneath him relax a bit more. “Don’t get me wrong, we still do uniform inspection everyday, they’re thorough they ain’t more than Taichō’s critical noble eye.”
“Thanks for the mental imagery,” The mere ghost of his usual orange scowl painted his face.
“Uh-huh, just getting’ yer mind off things, that’s my job,” Renji moved his arms out of the way and caught the edge of the teen’s belly button between his teeth. “There ain’t a single thing wrong with my skills of distraction.”
A gasp met the nip of teeth but the teen continued with, “Learn that at the Academy?”
“Learned a lot there,” Renji nodded the tip of his tongue dragging along the defined line of one muscle away from his naval and over toward his hip.
Whatever he’d been planning on saying Ichigo’s voice came out in an unintelligible noise of pleasure at the nip the other man delivered once he’d reached his destination before continuing kisses down the side of his hip and across over the line of his upper thigh. “Renji…?”
“Hm?” The redhead managed as he nosed into the lightest pubic hair he’d seen, tongue licking towards its obvious destination.
“I though--” Ichigo started only to be interrupted by the large sword-calloused fingers wrapped around his straining erection. His hips gave a small involuntary thrust upward into the fukutaichō’s fist, a throaty gasp escaping him instead.
“Yew thought what?” Renji moved back just enough to move his face out of the teen’s groin. “Thought I was just gonna let you fend for yerself around my ass,” Renji murmured leaning forward to press the tip of his tongue along the underside of Ichigo’s cock.
“Ngh--Dunno,” Brown eyes peered down over his chest at Renji’s glistening tongue as it licked upward and twisted to tease along the slit. “Renji--aah!” Came part protest but ended up very much a plea that he continue.
“Well I ain’t gonna let you yet,” Whispered hottily over hard-on. “Or did you want me to stop?”
“Fucker,” Ichigo cursed in a single harsh breath. “Don’t stop…please,” Scarlet renewed over his face and the redhead couldn’t contain the groan at the politeness of the request not to mention the sight of the teen affected so, by his own words; he made sure to let the noise free with his mouth firmly around the ginger’s hardened shaft.
The vice captain’s large hand slid down and back up until his knuckle brushed his own lip where they wrapped around the head. While Renji’s tongue played in that same spot underneath, lips sucked tight, mouth unmoving, he lazily pumped his hand up and down.
Each moan and half-formed word only made the tattooed man’s arousal doggedly battled at the confines of his fundoshi. “You taste so fuckin’ good,” Rasped out over the head of Ichigo’s cock, his fist giving an extra long stroke to make up for removing his mouth.
“Keep tasting it then,” Moaned back as the ginger pushed up onto his elbows to catch a better look at the brilliant redhead between his legs, deep crimson eyes peered back up drinking in each flicker of pleasure his hand was giving the teen.
At the connection of eyes Renji let his hand slide all the way to the base of Ichigo’s penis, his grip angling the teen’s shaft toward his mouth not hesitating to lick and taste his way down this time until his lip brushed his knuckle near the base, eyes closing as he focused on his efforts. He sucked his mouth tight around Ichigo’s erection, saliva and precum helping his lips glide down over his twitching hardness.
Eyelids flickered down over warm brown eyes and Ichigo’s teeth captured his own bottom lip to contain what he thought about the wet suction of a certain fukutaichō’s mouth. Hoping it would go unnoticed Ichigo was somehow still unsurprised when crimson eyes chose such a moment to snap back open.
“Fuck…” Groaned out of the teen’s lips in a desperate huskiness, the teen’s gaze darting down to see Renji’s free hand working to loosen his fundoshi, just enough to accommodate his hand around his dick.
His orange head rolled back lowering to hang back between his shoulders, not relaxing his elbows in the mattress since their position afforded him such an excellent view of this so-visually-affected older man. There was no way he’d admit that Renji’s laid back attitude with this type of thing sometimes put him off kilter, just like a watery hollow voice when it taunted him within his own head.
Ichigo knew that his hollow didn’t do seme, he howled and bitched far too much about having to play Horse to his King; even while under control that voice was hard to mute if the monster fought back, the level of concentration needed was distracting…and truthfully the hollow was distracting himself. He’d been the one to bring to Ichigo’s attention that he’d been staring at Renji in a more than a Looking-Out-for-One’s-Nakama kind of way.
“Oi you like that do you?” Renji asked of the noticeable spike of reiatsu paired with a curse just as the redhead was touching himself, his voice huskily breathed over a hard-on that couldn’t get any harder but seemed to manage at the tight and torturously slow pump of the redhead’s knowing hand. “Pervert, ne?”
“Wha--” Yelped the teen, doubt clear on his face as he lifted his head to stare down his body again to see a beautiful spread of red, black and tan. And white, the grin on the fukutaichō couldn’t have gotten larger his hips doing a distracting wiggle that caught Ichigo’s gaze. Releasing his own cock Renji loosened the fundoshi until the article could be lowered enough to support his arousal once he’d returned his grip into a similar pump currently squeezing the watching ginger’s, letting Ichigo get full view and the fukutaichō to get a view of the teen’s view.
“Hey,” Ichigo moaned in a whiny sort of voice, his eyes still very much on the motion of both hands having noticed they were out of sync more than they were in. “Why do you get the quicker tempo?”
“You wanna do it be my guest,” Renji slowed and stopped his fist at the base, eyes moving from his hand to the teen’s gaze. “I wanna see.”
“Renji--”
“Show me how to do it right,” Renji said in a no-nonsense voice and the older man noticed something he’d seen last night, the kid could take orders.
All movement in the redhead stopped as Ichigo’s fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, sandwiching Renji’s hand between. “Like…thisss…” The ginger attempted to cut off the sibilant noise by catching his lip between his teeth again and Renji still didn’t like it.
Tighter and faster; nearly faster than Renji stroke himself unless he was in a ‘comerightnow’ situation. As soon as Ichigo gave an enthusiastic nod of his spiky head and moved his hand back to rest in the blankets, elbow supporting that side, Renji slowed to a stop.
Before the ginger could open his mouth to protest Renji shook his head and gave a silencing squeeze. “You ain’t comin’ I have somethin’ to show you first.”
“What’s that?”
“Anatomy lesson.”
“When’d you get your educator certifications?” Ichigo teased and Renji played his fingers over the ginger’s hard-on. “I did grow up in a house/clinic. I learned to sew lacerations before I figured out algebra.”
“I’ll just educate, stop me when I start to say something you know already…” Renji moved back to sit on his knees, hand still pleasuring without finishing the teen. “I know you know ‘em but not all educators let the kids these days get a feel for their bodies.”
“Now who’s the pervert?” Ichigo seemed moments from laughing at the more refined language and posture of the fukutaichō.
In answer Renji merely showed off an unknown perk of his good posture, the slight arc of his back helping to thrust his hardened cock out to catch the ginger’s eyes and it succeeded. Since the brown eyes wouldn’t look away Renji pumped slow on his own arousal and moaned out, “Mmeee…You’re catchin’ on though…I am such a good, sensei.”
The teen’s attempt to mock was mostly-ruined when said with a set of eyes glued to Renji’s groin, “Humble…much?”
Renji shook his head in a truly shameless answer his attention shifting to the other man’s cock in his hand twitching at the sight of the only moving fist in the room. “Cock,” He finally started a few strokes doing them just like he’d been physically instructed to by Ichigo, earning a gut-wrenching moan from the ginger.
The fukutaichō abandoned his own arousal moving down onto his stomach in the thoroughly thrashed blankets. Without the show Ichigo’s eyes returned to his own crotch as Renji’s deep voice and free hand (re)introduced him to his testicles.
After explaining the things he could do Renji drew the tip of his tongue down the vein along the underside of Ichigo’s penis. He licked down along the base and laved one of the teen’s balls into his mouth his fingers stroking the shaft.
Friction along his neglected hard-on brought Renji back to the angle of his hips, he gently scraped as he let the sack escape his teeth gaining a keening sort of sound of pleasure from the ginger. “Perineum,” The redhead moved the hand cupping Ichigo’s scrotum further down, fingers pressing into the skin there.
“Ah…” Ichigo’s hips swiveled and pressed against the fukutaichō’s insistent digits. “Mm…Are you--” Again his bottom lip was marshaled by even white teeth.
The tension was so restrained Renji could only sense a minute tremble in the teen’s reiatsu along his. He let his spiritual pressure flow and stroke in a calm arousing intent along Ichigo’s.
Taking on his sensei persona Renji returned to lick back up the teen’s erection. “I’m gonna let you fuck me one of these days. I want you to feel a fraction of what yer gonna be doin’ to me.”
Ichigo could only nod, his teeth losing hold of his lip, reiatsu melting along Renji’s, the trust strengthened his resolve even as seeking fingers brushed over his entrance. “Yeah…” He eagerly nodded, toes curling in the sheets on either side of Renji’s sides.
“Yer okay with that?”
A vigorous nod interrupted by a groan and closing of eyes at the slight pressure of a fingertip. “Yes, yes.”
Although he was reluctantly thinking of the hollow-eyed usurper, or more specifically the lack of him at the moment, Renji didn’t voice anything to his responsive bedmate about the possible future reoccurrence of such an event. “Need some lube, I wasn’t plannin’ on over night sex guests so I ain’t gotten to the fourth to restock…”
Then Renji’s exploring hand began feeling its way up Ichigo’s trembling body, tapping gently on his chin with his index finger. Liking the silent direction Ichigo was capable of taking Renji watched pink lips drop open, equally pink tongue darting down to bring the first pad of the fukutaichō’s finger into his moist mouth.
A sudden suck pulled the digit all the way into the last knuckle, tongue wetting Renji’s index finger. With a groan at the teen’s deft tongue movements tempting the redhead’s cock into switching spots in that mouth! “Suck so sexy…” Renji moaned watching as he unceremoniously pressed in first one, then two more fingers. “Fuck…” Slipped out as the result of his demanding move was a vibrating moan along the digits, more suction and sweet brown lusty eyes framed with a brilliant blush.
A buck of hips against the pile of different fabric rolled the fukutaichō’s eyes back as Ichigo’s tongue fellated like a pro. “Wetter baby,” Murmured out in a gasp the redhead’s mouth moving back to their spot halfway down Ichigo’s cock, just to drive the ginger crazy with the sounds of pleasure he elicited within the tattooed shinigami as they vibrated in his mouth and throat.
Renji succeeded in driving the virgin to distraction, keeping him from thinking too much, and soon enough saliva dripped past his lip, licked along the digits. For good measure Renji moved his fingers out of Ichigo’s wet mouth and back in, damned if the quick learner didn’t adjust the suction to create the most obscene slurping sound.
“Fuck goin’ in to work…” Gasped around Ichigo’s cock as he looked up to see the results of his fingers and seriously enjoying the debauched look to the ginger’s lips. There wasn’t time left before Byakuya imposed his usual, “Long Work Week” where the customary five-day work week stretched across the weekend to seven-days.
There was so much more Ichigo left to debauch. It was hardly fair! And who knew if this would scare the shit out of the innocent brat? There may be no ‘next time’ like this one!
Renji’s friction-seeking hips began to match the thrust of his fingers into Ichigo’s mouth, no coincidence when the buck of the narrower hips began to find the same rhythm into the fukutaichō’s mouth.
There just weren’t enough hours in the day for Renji, shit more hands right then would have done it for the redhead, he couldn’t tolerate removing his fingers. When the hum of Ichigo’s sounds of pleasure ran along his entire hand the fukutaichō recalled that there were other benefits to counter the feel of the teen’s treacherous tongue on his fingertips and knuckles.
Namely the sounds he could wring out of the ginger with those fingers elsewhere, easily freeing up that surprisingly wicked mouth for such a task.
With a gasp and a disappointed moan Ichigo let go of Renji’s fingers and watched them disappear past the spot where the fukutaichō’s lips were wrapped around Kurosaki’s cock. Wasn’t that a nice image?
Ichigo watched Renji’s mouth move up and down his cock, one hand’s fingers helping by squeezing the base, the others tracing around the ginger’s asshole, trying in every action to relax and distract the teen. A line of saliva stretched to Renji’s bottom lip as he pulled off of Ichigo’s shaft enough to mouth, “You ready?” around the head.
“Yeah,” Ichigo nodded eyes, widening a bit as the fukutaichō’s spit-slicked middle finger immediately breached the tight ring of muscle without a problem.
As Renji worked his finger deeper he glanced up to watch the contortions of his lover’s face as he stopped at the second knuckle and withdrew and then pushed back in, stroking Ichigo’s hard-on as he pressed in all the way. The widening of the ginger’s eyes caught Renji’s attention, “Y’like that? Keep in mind…” He gave a stroke to Ichigo’s cock as he thrust a finger inside him. “That’s only one finger. And…” He did it again and the teen’s hips fought between the impulses to thrust into Renji’s fist and back onto his finger. “Yer dick is bigger.”
Ichigo couldn’t fathom how the mechanics of such sex were possible unless both parties didn’t mind getting hurt or hurting another. Having had his usual teenage self-esteem bolstered by the feel of Renji’s spiritual pressure, which mirrored the gentle encouragement of the fukutaichō’s hands and mouth; Ichigo wasn’t shy asking, “How?”
“Hm…” Renji murmured, the sound full of meaning especially when he squeezed his fist a bit, and gave another thrust of his finger purposefully hitting Ichigo’s prostate in a very non-medical procedure. “Like this…” He growled over the tip of Ichigo’s arousal making sure his stroking fist did its job facilitating a second wet finger slide in on the next thrust.
A cry of surprised pleasure was abruptly interrupted as Renji returned the slow torturous suction of his mouth to over half of Ichigo’s dick. The wet hot seal of mouth slipped tight along the shaft, tongue teasing along the underside as he sped up the two-fingered thrusts making sure to miss the gland enough to increase the ginger’s anticipation of the thrusts that brought the stabs of white hot pleasure, stretching him almost imperceptibly.
“Renji how could I--aahh…” Ichigo moaned and started to piston between both stimulations. “How could I make you feel like--”
Mouth leaving Ichigo’s arousal Renji adjusted his grip and managed to push upward onto his knees to lean over the teen just enough to capture the other man’s lips, silencing any doubts. Without hesitation Renji went on to let the full impact of his attraction for the teen permeate his reiatsu, keeping it layered thick over their bodies and Ichigo’s own spiritual pressure.
The redhead was then treated to a shiver that went from where his reiatsu touched the ginger’s sinking into his body where it lay beneath the larger man’s; Renji’s gruff growling voice spilled out over the place the fukutaichō had moments ago bitten and licked discovering a ridiculously susceptible spot in the substitute shinigami’s neck. “Can you feel that?” Came low and throaty from Renji, punctuated by the sinuous slide of the redhead’s slick hard-beyond-enduring cock thrusting along the ginger’s hip.
“Shit yes,” Ichigo’s arms trembled a moment in indecision before letting their bodies lower to lay flat on the futon. Sure the ginger lost the angle to see the work of Renji’s hands but now his own hands were free to touch the other man.
“That’s just from havin’ my fingers inside you and yer cock in my mouth—ohshit--” He gave another slickened grind of his erection as Ichigo caught and squeezed the redhead’s length in his hand.
“Can’t be,” Ichigo objected stroking upward, catching precum to ease the stroke back down, just as slow as Renji was currently torturing his ass with at the moment.
“I’d be lyin’ if I said those sexy -- fuckjustlikethat -- sexy sounds you make ain’t the icing on the cake,” As his tattooed hips started to thrust into the tunnel of Ichigo’s hand Renji closed his eyes to imagine his cock was where his fingers currently thrust.
“I don’t see ho-how this,” Ichigo’s fingers squeezed along from base to tip and back. “Is going to fit anywhere inside me,” His voice shook at the idea, and yet his eyes were swimming with desire for just such a thing to occur; definitely mixed messages.
Without a thought Renji added a third finger making the teen’s spine arch, ass moving into the thrust especially when a fingertip rubbed at his prostate. “Guess I can understand how yew’d miss it,” Continued to rumble from the fukutaichō’s throat as he succeeded in teasing the ginger even at a moment like this. “Gotta have a shred of patience, Brat,” He licked along Ichigo’s earlobe, teeth nipping.
“I have patience,” Moaned out as the new width driving in and out of the ginger felt much nicer than he’d expected it to.
“Then we ain’t gonna have a problem,” Bit down the side of the teen’s neck, meandering only a moment before making a beeline for a nipple. “But right his moment…” Hummed over Ichigo’s erect nipple. “All I’m concerned with is makin’ you come.”
“Renji…” Ichigo protested even as the redhead pulled away, the teen’s grip not tight enough to keep him there.
“Nope,” Renji popped his ‘p’ and shook his head. “Right now Brat,” Renji resumed his sprawled position, mouth very much at crotch level and pleased to be there.
“You don’t wanna come?” The ginger hissed as a familiar feeling snaked over his erection wet and hot like the tip of a fukutaichō’s tongue.
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” Renji didn’t fail to mention the idea of finishing the other man off was reducing this whole “Don’t Fuck Ichigo” resistance he was trying to develop to shreds. “See, I wanna show you just how you’ll make me feel…either way yer gonna make me come…whether on my cock or in my mouth.”
The head of Ichigo’s straining erection bumped very insistently into the redhead’s chin as the hot breath plus the words that created it spilled down. There was no irritation, in fact it was something very like a moan and delighted laughter tumbling from Renji’s mouth moments before those lips latched onto his cock on the second lift of narrow hips.
“You know what’s gonna happen?” Emerged after a slobbery pop of lips off of the ridge of Ichigo’s cockhead.
The look on the ginger’s face showed astute crimson eyes how on edge the teen was, the telltale blush covered his face. “Tell me…”
“I’m gonna make you pay to wash my blankets when you make me rub-off on my sheets,” Renji teased both with words and his tongue on Ichigo’s shaft.
“Damn Renji I--shit…” Ichigo curled his toes tightly into the sheets leg muscles flexing as he was once again subjected to Renji’s hot mouth and slick fingers, stuck with the decision of fucking or being fucked. He definitely hadn’t imagined the choice would be so difficult to make.
Already the spot where the fukutaichō’s aching hard-on was grinding was wet with the sweat and precum soaking into it. The damp friction joined with the near-constant encouraging mewls and keens from innocent lips, combining to wreak havoc on Renji’s stamina.
Maybe if he was actually cock-deep in the crazily tight ass of one Ichigo Kurosaki it wouldn’t be as embarrassing. With such a vivid imagination the fantasy of such and a slick fist would have lasted longer, let alone his futon’s loving embrace. This was insane.
Renji loved it; the ginger had chased away any sullen memories of romance he might have woken up wishing he could still relive with a certain other tattooed shinigami. Who knew how long it would have taken him to get over the kyūbantai-fukutaichō?
Even if it took another couple of months to get here again with Ichigo, Renji really couldn’t object. He finally understood how fun the chase could be, he gave Shūhei kudos for not throwing down and ravaging a certain drunk flirt that had too-long been oblivious to the easy-going senpai that always flirted back drunk or sober.
Knowing he’d soon be a goner, Renji tried to slow the rock of his hips into the blankets, stopped being gentle with Ichigo’s prostate and didn’t stop his mouth from getting the virgin as “cock-deep” as he could get without Renji losing his resolve and asking for a ride on the King to see what it was all about (although the positions weren’t as the black-eyed stranger had imagined).
“Ffff-u-uck!” Meaning to bark out the word Renji’s sudden blitz attack drew it out as the teen tried not to come right then.
Damn but the shout of surprised pleasure made the lust spike deep inside Renji, so hard that he went still against the sheets, eyes stuck on the beautiful expression contorting the ginger’s face. The teen was close, so close Abarai could taste it in Ichigo’s come, the clench of his virgin ass.
“Tch don’t make me pull out the big guns Brat,” Renji threatened as he heard deep steadying breath escaping the slender frame. “And by ‘big gun’ I do mean my cock.”
Ichigo tried to laugh but it was lost amid the ecstasy Renji was giving him among those things; the redhead’s threat. “No objections here, mm…”
“Sure there ain’t,” Slurped around the tip of the other man’s penis, mind going back to being single-handedly pinned by one big objection. Without a serious (clothed) discussion Renji wouldn’t understand the person he’d met today, so he’d decided to treat him like another piece of the substitute shinigami, like a nastier Zangetsu.
Kurosaki might be so sexed he’d take Renji’s cock without hesitating if the redhead offered…Then it would be four or five months he could cajole the teen close again instead of weeks. Part of the ginger had told Renji what Ichigo wanted quite enthusiastically.
Maybe one of these days the fukutaichō would love to take the offer, but there were other things the younger man had to experience before that.
No problem.
First on the list, come in Renji’s mouth. Now.
Swallowing until his lips reached the base Renji adjusted his grip, adding fondling Ichigo’s sack to the sensations bombarding his control. The teen’s reiatsu started to lose coherency and as it stroked and melted against Renji’s the redhead stopped holding back the sensations he was battling, letting it scorch through his spiritual pressure as he purposefully picked up the speed of his thrust against the futon blankets.
Ichigo’s muscles pulled taunt as his eyes flew open wide, mouth calling out, “Renji!” voice braking over the name as he came apart. As he shuddered and came both hands moved down one winding in the loosened strands of red, the other curling over the spot where Renji’s shoulder met his neck.
Damn the ginger if the fukutaichō found himself succumbing in the end to a vicious controlling yank to that hair as soon as the last drop has been spent from the other man. As the redhead followed the fist in his hair he had to stretched his body forward, different parts of his markings stood in relief on his skin as the muscles stretched beneath it, he only shuffled his knees a bit to move further up Ichigo’s body.
“Oi, shit,” Renji cursed as he freed his hands and pressed one to either side of the teen’s body, being led up the panting sweat-slicked chest forcibly by his hair. The other hand moved down, fingers digging into one of the redhead’s buttock as it tried to assist in moving the larger man; the result was tattooed arms collapsing the larger body down onto the ginger’s, erection sandwiched between them.
Then there was a harsh kiss, one measly rock of his hips in the hollow between Ichigo’s thigh and groin and Renji was coming.
Panting and cursing together, tangled and sated the two drifted in a sort of daze of afterglow before Renji broke the silence with…
“Can you breathe?”
“Wha…” Ichigo wheezed airily and when Renji pushed back up on his straightened arms he laughed boisterously, his airway fine.
“Brat!” Renji did a half-roll and ended up still half-sprawled on the teen, the brunt of his weight pressed along his side. “Have I said before how pullin’ hair is cheatin’…”
“I believe…” Ichigo said with a yawn for breath. “You said it was for girls.”
“That was just to keep you from doin’ it again.”
“Oh?” Ichigo lifted his head just a bit off the futon to look over at Renji where his head was resting in the crook of the teen’s elbow, tattooed-forehead pressed to his side. “So it’s like, Hamlet you were bringing it to my attention?”
“Huh?” Renji murmured, body still throbbing, reiatsu warm and fuzzy and as close to mixing with the ginger’s in his clutches as he thought possible, so much that he could feel the pulsing buzz also affecting the teen, it really wasn’t a favorable state to be in for thinking hard.
“S’a play…Shakespeare…y’know’t?” The mood was helpful when it came to basking in recent sex, relaxing, sleeping and eventually a hot bath hopefully together, before the fukutaichō had to go in to work (Abarai was still debating staying late on a few different days to make up for it, scraped together it’d make a half-day of work and then some).
Since Renji had heard the ginger drunk he was sure the slur of his speech was sleep-induced, “Shakespeare yeah?”
“’Th’lady doth protest t’much, methinks,’” Ichigo murmured. “You bitched about it only t’get my attention, all….all I wanted t’do was pull it after that first time.”
“Wanna take a bath?” Renji tried knowing the idea to go in to work today was blown if he fell asleep in the next few minutes.
“Fuck I don’t wanna get up right now,” Ichigo whined and did another of those feeble half-assed lifts of his head to spy the cooling mess Renji had left on his stomach. “Damn it.”
At the curse Renji laughed and curled a toe into the blankets pulling one close so he could grab it to clean up his own mess. “Unless you pulled me up for that sexy-as-fuck kiss just to get outta payin’ for my dry cleanin’?”
“Oi,” Ichigo threw an arm over his eyes only to peek out at the drag of sheets up his legs. “I am not payin’ for a mess I can clean up--”
“Shut-the-fuck-up ‘nd go to sleep yer about to pass out,” Renji ordered as he separated the one sweaty stained blanket among them. He used it to clean up the ginger’s abdomen getting utterly hard and ready for Round Two in the process.
Calm down. Calm down, Renji told himself again and again.
Purposefully thinking of giving the kid space, going to work, letting him sleep in and decide to take a different way home or wait. Folding the sheet’s dirty bits inward Renji gave the cloth a toss toward a spot beside the shoji.
Crimson eyes sought brown seeking a clue as to how to handle his new…lover..? and found eyelids instead. “Guess that answers that,” Renji muttered and started to stand, tempted by the soft curve where the ginger’s shoulder met his neck, wondering how soft the orange spikes were that laid along his neck.
Not even noticing as he leaned back toward the foot of the bed instead of leaving Renji carefully brushed the tip of his nose along the line of Ichigo’s shoulder and neck until he could nuzzle into the soft spikes. Damn it I need yer help with this kinda shit, Renji growled to his zanpakutō.
You just had him in your mouth what was our plan? Zabimaru’s words were dry and a little snide. When did it change?
Renji began to answer when Ichigo stirred and showed his eyes were still open if only just. The turn of his ginger head brought his lips grazing the fukutaichō’s cheek and bottom lip. The redhead kept still, not wanting to be the one to pull away, taken by surprise as Ichigo spoke as if the words weren’t being whispered against the other man’s mouth. “Byakuya won’t come lookin’ for you will he?”
“There’s always surprise inspections,” Renji teased, unable to resist pressing their lips more firmly together, tongue swiping the line of the ginger’s lips. “Waddya tryin’ to say?”
Silently Ichigo’s hand took firm hold of the other’s tattooed forearm and rolled away from him and onto his side, pulling Renji with him until the redhead was firmly the Big Spoon. “It’s your turn to fuckin’ hold me.”
- 1
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Better Things To Do On A Saturday Morning