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Happy Fucking Birthday, Shinji	By : CherryStarburst Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2906 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Bleach verse, and make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Happy Fucking Birthday, Shinji
- 1
So,
I was writing some of my HP fanfiction, but was in a really smutty
mood, and couldn't really put smut anywhere in there. I moved onto a
StarkxIchigo oneshot, but Stark and Ichigo kept wanting to have a
plot, and I was
like 'noes, get to the smex', and they refused, so I'm ignoring them,
and wrote this, instead XD

Pairing: ShinjixIchigo

Warnings:
Smut! Ichigo in girly knickers, rough sex, looots of foul language,
spanking

XxXxXxX

“It's
Shinji's birthday soon,” Hiyori commented. Ichigo rolled his
eyes and turned to face her.

“So that's what you've been
stalking me for,” he snapped. She had been following him all
day in soul form, to school, around school, and from school. She'd
distracted him in all his lessons and blatantly peered at him, Chad
and Renji as they changed for PE. Renji had tried to shoo her away,
and Chad had retreated into a toilet stall bashfully.

“I
wasn't stalking you!” Hiyori denied just as crossly, arms
folding over her chest. Ichigo snorted and turned away from her,
beginning to walk home again. He'd sent the others on, getting the
feeling Hiyori wanted him alone.

“So?” Hiyori
asked, running up so that she could walk next to him, peering up at
his scowling face. “Whatcha gonna do?”

“About
what?” Ichigo asked, even though he already knew what Hiyori
meant. He just chose to ignore it completely. Hiyori was always
butting her creepy nose into his life.

“About Shinji's
birthday!” she roared, and Ichigo, not expecting it, jumped a
mile high in fright. Christ, for such a little girl she had a scary
voice.

“Why would I care?” Ichigo roared right
back, before picking up his pace, hoping to make it home and shake
off the annoying brat with her annoying nosiness. Hiyori growled and
matched him for pace. He could feel her eyes burning holes into him.

“You're fucking on a regular basis, of course you
should care!” Ichigo tried, to no avail, to force down a blush.
Girls Hiyori's age shouldn't be so blunt! Or use such foul language.
Or be so cruel.

“We're not fucking!” Ichigo
denied, even though he and Shinji did, in fact, have sex quite
frequently. Ichigo refused to think of it as anything other than
releasing tension from the situation with Aizen. They weren't in a
relationship or anything.

“I might look like a kid, but
I'm older than you!” Hiyori reminded. Why had she come to him
only to argue? “I know exactly what's going on!”

“How
could you?” The question was phrased harshly but, in actual
fact, Ichigo was quite curious. They'd tried to keep it hidden,
mostly using Urahara's basement on the pretence of 'training'.
Urahara, of course, didn't buy it. Perverted old man.

“...
Love told me,” Hiyori admitted in an anti-climatic moment.
Ichigo made a dissatisfied noise, no longer interested. “That
doesn't make me a kid though!”

“Sure, sure,”
Ichigo agreed despondently. Hiyori growled again and, next thing
Ichigo knew, he was being kicked in the head with a sandal and
falling to the pavement. He managed to stop himself using his hands,
and glared up at Hiyori.

Hiyori grinned, one hand digging into
the pocket of her tracksuit. Ichigo watched curiously as her hand
withdrew, holding something pink and silky.

“What is
it?” Ichigo asked warily. Pink and silky? Sounded like a recipe
for destruction.

“Shinji was drooling over this, said
something about you before he remembered I was with him.”
Ichigo gaped at Hiyori. Shinji was such a pervert. “So I bought
them, and now I'm giving them to you. It'd make his day to see you in
them, I think.”

“You gotta be kidding me!”
Ichigo groaned as Hiyori dropped the item into his lap. Knickers.
Bloody knickers!

“His birthday's in two days. You better
fucking make him happy!” Hiyori stalked off as Ichigo
hesitantly picked up the pink abomination.

“No! Take
them back! Take them back!” he cried to Hiyori's back. Hiyori
ignored him.

XxXxXxX

Guilt and depraved interest had
niggled at Ichigo over the next couple of days until, finally, he
gave in to his own consciousness. He could think of nothing else to
get Shinji for his birthday, and didn't even have the money for a
gift, anyway.

Hiyori better be fucking right about Shinji
wanting this. If the blond burst out laughing the minute he saw
Ichigo, Hiyori was going to die.

So that's what led to Ichigo
standing in his bedroom, naked, with the curtains shut, the front
door and his bedroom door locked, staring at the knickers innocently
laid on his bed. His father had received a letter just that morning,
courtesy of the Vizards, threatening the lives of him and his
daughters unless he left town for the night.

Ishiin had
promptly whisked the twins and himself out of town, leaving Ichigo to
his own devices. Now Ichigo had no excuse. Shinji had called him in
the afternoon to say he was coming over, although he'd made no
mention of his birthday, which annoyed Ichigo – was the Vizard
just never planning on telling him about his birthday?

Ichigo
looked to his alarm clock. He only had ten minutes before Shinji
arrived. His window was unlocked for Shinji to get through, and he
just hoped no other Shinigami came a-calling.

“Fine,”
Ichigo grumbled, picking up the pants, pinched between two fingers as
if it were a bomb. “Why the hell am I doing this?”

Because
I feel something more for Shinji,
his mind suggested, and Ichigo ruthlessly pushed that thought down.

Wincing as if in pain, he stepped into the knickers and slid
them up his legs, until they were securely in place. It was a thong,
flimsy as fuck and nearly see-through, the string that lodged
uncomfortably between his cheeks connected to the main body with a
pink bow, and the sides fastened with equally as ghastly bows.

It
made his bits feel right uncomfortable.

Ichigo's head snapped
up as he felt familiar reiatsu near the house. Shinji was early.

His curtains fluttered, and then were pulled aside as Shinji
stepped through his window and onto his bed, eyes moving around the
room until they settled on the frozen, standing Ichigo.

Shinji
froze as well, eyes widening as they took in Ichigo's naked form,
save the thong doing a poor job at hiding his cock. Ichigo flushed to
the tips of his hair and crossed his arms over his chest defensively,
looking away from Shinji.

“Ichigo,” Shinji finally
greeted in a strangled voice. Probably about to laugh. Ichigo knew
he shouldn't have let Hiyori's
words get to him!

“Erm,” Ichigo started, and then
just stopped, unable to function properly. Maybe he could run out of
the room, into the bathroom, lock the door and never, ever come out
again?

“Fuck, Ichigo,” Shinji said, voice turned
from strangled to deep, husky. Ichigo shuddered and looked back at
Shinji, who had hopped off his bed, and was raking his eyes over
Ichigo in clear appreciation. “Why?”

Ichigo
cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting his arms so that he was
hiding his clothed dick from view. He saw Shinji's mouth twitch in a
smirk.

“You know, your birthday... and Hiyori, and...”
Ichigo trailed off, not wanting to say any more and look even more
like a prat. Wow was he stupid. “Just, well, happy fucking
birthday.”

“This...” Shinji started, and
then cut himself off with a shake of his head. Ichigo looked away
again, dreading what that head shake meant. Oh God, Hiyori had lied
to him, hadn't she? This was all some awful, awful prank!

He
swallowed audibly when Shinji began moving closer, footsteps light
and barely audible on the carpet covered floor. The closer Shinji
drew, the harsher Ichigo's panicked breaths became, until he was
barely breathing at all.

Shinji stopped when he was mere
centimetres from Ichigo, and raised a hand, cupping the one Ichigo
had covering himself. Ichigo gasped sharply as Shinji pressed
Ichigo's hand down, against his cock. Shinji then tugged Ichigo's
hand away, admiring the spectacular view.

“Best birthday
present ever,” Shinji murmured, and leant closer, pressing his
lips to Ichigo's. Ichigo sighed in relief and melted into the kiss,
not entirely certain why he'd
wanted to please Shinji so much.

Shinji wrapped an arm around
Ichigo's waist and pulled him snug against him. Ichigo groaned into
the kiss as his stirring dick met Shinji's, and parted his lips.
Shinji took advantage and plunged his tongue into Ichigo's mouth,
ravaging it completely. Ichigo fisted a hand in Shinji's shirt, the
other one tugging at his tie.

Shinji pulled away from the
kiss to nibble at Ichigo's ear with his perfectly straight teeth,
mouth curved into a lecherous grin. “Yer so sexy, Ichigo,”
he purred, and Ichigo moaned lowly, wrapping an arm around Shinji's
back, their contact just not enough.

Shinji's hand on Ichigo's
waist slid downwards as Ichigo began thrusting against him. He
fondled the thong for a moment, erection growing at the hotness of
Ichigo wearing such a thing, of someone so masculine looking so
vulnerable. He slid the string of the thong aside, one finger running
down the crack of Ichigo's arse, just shy of his pucker.

“Please,”
Ichigo gasped, voice harsh and demanding as he tugged Shinji's tie
off and began on his buttons, pressing open mouthed kisses to
Shinji's throat. Shinji grunted and gave in to Ichigo's plea, his
fingertip brushing Ichigo's sensitive entrance.

Ichigo gasped
and bucked against Shinji, rubbing like a dog in heat, cheeks
flushing delightfully. Shinji licked one of the flushed cheeks, then
his jaw, before nibbling his way down to his neck, as his fingertip
toyed with Ichigo's asshole, not quite slipping inside.

“Quit
playing, you bastard!” Ichigo growled. Shinji laughed at
Ichigo's frustration – he loved toying with the Shinigami. As
he pressed his finger into Ichigo's hole, his teeth sunk into
Ichigo's neck, pulling the flesh out and sucking on it as hard as he
could.

“Fuck,” Ichigo gasped weakly, barely able
to move from the sensations that were like a pleasurable kick in the
gut. His fingers on Shinji's buttons grabbed onto his shirt, as if
holding on for dear life. Shinji moaned deeply around the flesh in
his mouth.

When Shinji decided he'd sucked enough to leave a
satisfactory mark, he pulled his mouth away, admiring the burning
pink, wet patch he'd left that was sure to bruise. He pulled his
finger from Ichigo, much to the other's displeasure, grabbed Ichigo
in his arms, and turned them around, throwing Ichigo onto his
bed.

Shinji stared down at the flushed, panting Ichigo, as if
contemplating what to do next. Ichigo glared at him in irritation,
wondering why Shinji wasn't on the bed with him, fucking him or
something.

“Spread yer legs,” Shinji finally
ordered. Ichigo frowned, feeling slightly embarrassed, but did as he
was told. When Shinji took on that tone of voice, there was no
disobeying without consequences. Sometimes, Ichigo found himself in
the mood for these consequences.

When Ichigo had spread his
legs, revealing the damp spot on the soft material of the thong, and
the delectable pink strap of material against Ichigo's arse, Shinji
issued his next order, eyes half lidded with burning desire.

“Touch
yourself.” Ichigo's breath hitched at the command. It was
something new – Shinji usually relished in touching him, in
Ichigo returning the favour. Nervous, Ichigo slid his hand down his
stomach, fingers gliding underneath the pink knickers, anticipation
building.

“Nuh-uh,” Shinji said, wagging a
finger. Ichigo stared at him, confused, fingertips moments away from
his cock. “Take yer hand out.” Ichigo groaned, not
entirely certain he wanted to comply, but doing so nonetheless.
“Touch yerself through yer pretty little panties.”

Ichigo
felt himself flushing further from embarrassment at the command, but
hesitantly rested his hand on the noticeable bulge in his knickers,
which were straining quite painfully against him. Shinji didn't say
anything, so Ichigo continued, beginning to slowly rub his hand up
and down.

“Fuck,” he hissed. The feeling of that
silk... it was amazing! Shinji's mouth spread into a slow smirk and
he moved closer, riveted to the sight of Ichigo touching himself with
such an innocent, naughty look plastered across his lustful face.
Ichigo rubbed again, and again, his cock being taunted with that
silky perfection.

“Faster,” Shinji said, voice
hoarse. Ichigo moaned in agreement, speeding up his hand, his other
hand cupping his balls, which were hanging out of the skimpy
underwear, squeezing and rolling them. Shinji let out a low growl
which had Ichigo arching his back.

“Stop,” Shinji
finally said when he saw Ichigo getting more and more aroused.
Ichigo, too lost in pleasure, didn't register the command. Shinji
stalked closer, got on the bed and ripped Ichigo's hands away,
forcing them up on the bed, over his head. Tendrils of spirit
pressure leaked out of Shinji, wrapped around Ichigo's wrists and
tied them to his bed.

“Shit,” Ichigo murmured,
tugging against the bonds, which didn't break. Shinji grinned. Ichigo
didn't like being bound, he liked action, doing stuff, fighting, and
Shinji loved seeing Ichigo bound, at his mercy.

“That's
what yeh get for not obeying the master,” he whispered into
Ichigo's ear, before his tongue slid out, plunging into the
appendage. Ichigo's breath came out in pants as Shinji ravaged his
ear, body weight slowly putting more and more pressure on Ichigo
until he was resting his full weight on the boy, knowing Ichigo could
take it, wanted to take it.

One of Shinji's hands slid up
Ichigo's chest, pinching a nipple between two fingers. Ichigo let out
a quite unmanly squeak, jerking his hips up, against Shinji's. Shinji
pressed back, rubbing his groin against Ichigo, while his fingers
fondled the nipple, rubbing and pulling until it was swollen and
hard.

“God, God. Shinji!” Ichigo cried out,
losing that prudent reservation he carried with him every day. Shinji
loved making the
uptight Shinigami lose all morals, loved that only Shinji could make
him this way, fucking begging for
his cock.

“Oi, what did ya call me?” Shinji
snapped, raising up onto his knees and hoisting Ichigo's legs up
until they were on his shoulders. When Ichigo didn't answer
immediately, too caught up in a haze, Shinji delivered a sharp smack
to Ichigo's arse. “Well?”

“Sorry, Master!”
Ichigo ground out, rubbing his arse against Shinji's hard cock.
Shinji thrust forward instinctively, and Ichigo grinned.

“Yer
gonna pay for that, pet,” Shinji promised, raining another two
smacks on Ichigo's ass. Ichigo panted and moaned, raising his bum for
more. Such a kinky bastard, just like Shinji. They were fucking
perfect for each other.

“Make me pay,” Ichigo
whispered, embarrassed by the words even as he moved back into
Shinji's spanks. Shinji bared his teeth in a dangerous smile.

“Such
a whore,” he murmured, laughing when Ichigo's cock jerked,
moving the pants, at the words. So eager.

Quickly deciding he
could do with less clothes, Shinji untangled himself from a
protesting Ichigo and stood, shucking out of his shirt and trousers.
Ichigo watched, mesmerised by Shinji's strong muscles, broad
shoulders. Shinji winked at him, pulling down his boxers, teasingly
slow.

Ichigo's breath caught in his throat as he stared,
transfixed. Finally, the boxers passed Shinji's cock, which leapt out
gratefully, smacking against his stomach. Ichigo's hips arched into
the air as his gaze fixed on that gorgeous, large, perfect dick.

“Ne, Ichigo, do you want this?” Shinji asked,
thrusting his hips a bit to emphasise his point as he stepped out of
the clothes puddled on the floor and moved back to the bed, crouching
on it, between Ichigo's legs. Ichigo nodded frantically.

“Hoe
much?” Shinji continued, rooting around in Ichigo's bedside
drawer, drawing out some lube.

“So much,” Ichigo
choked out, staring into Shinji's droopy eyes. Shinji smirked,
opening the bottle and squeezing some onto his hands.

“Good.
Hope you're prepared,” he said, slathering lube over his cock.
Ichigo groaned and shifted impatiently. It wasn't the first time
Shinji hadn't prepared him, and wouldn't be the last. Ichigo loved it
rough, just like Shinji did, and Shinji always stole some medicine
from Urahara to give to Ichigo afterwards.

Shinji quickly
flipped Ichigo onto his front. He was definitely in the mood to take
Ichigo from behind, like they were dogs in heat or something. Ichigo
moaned, obviously agreeing with him.

Shinji pulled aside the
string covering his prized treasure, Ichigo's asshole, and positioned
his dripping erection at the entrance. Ichigo pushed back, delightful
mewling whimpers spilling from his lips.

Shinji put a
steadying hand on Ichigo's hips, and then, in one long thrust,
plunged into his lover, stretching him as wide as possible, with no
relief. Ichigo cried out, pain and fucking pleasure mixing as one.

Shinji stilled for a moment, draped across Ichigo's back,
nibbling at his shoulder. He loved causing Ichigo pain, Ichigo loved
receiving pain, but there was a line between pleasurable pain and far
too much agony.

“Move,” Ichigo grit out,
impatiently clenching his channel. Shinji sighed despairingly at the
harsh demand, but sat up on his knees anyway, pulling out and then
pushing back into Ichigo in deep strokes. Ichigo gasped and arched
his back, hands still bound to the headboard, arms twisted, position
becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“That's it, take
it, you fucking bitch,” Shinji hissed, both hands running up
Ichigo's chest to roll his nipples between his fingertips. He could
feel the thong string rubbing his cock and Ichigo's raw entrance, and
it made him thrust his hips faster at the reminder of just what
Ichigo was wearing, the depraved kid.

“Nn, Ichigo,
ye're so sexy, so fucking gorgeous,” Shinji told him, the words
practically meaningless gasps spilling from his mouth onto the damp
skin of Ichigo's neck.

“Shinji, fuck!” Ichigo
growled out, thrusting back into Shinji, wanting him to go so
much faster. “More!”

“What's
the magic word?” Shinji asked teasingly, laughing. One hand
trailed down Ichigo's chest, down his frantically moving stomach
muscles, and to the soaking wet panties covering Ichigo's straining
need.

“Wanker,” Ichigo muttered, but it was
desperate, strained. “Please?”

Ichigo had said the
word so sweetly, so perfectly, that Shinji felt his arousal reach new
peaks, cock swelling inside Ichigo. He began thrusting harder,
faster, battering Ichigo's prostate with his dick, balls slapping
against Ichigo's arse frantically.

His hand slipped inside
Ichigo's underwear, cupping his neglected cock, drawing up and down
slowly in comparison to his thrusts.

“Un, ah!”
Ichigo grunted, not sure whether to move into the hand or onto
Shinji's erection. Shinji squeezed his hand around Ichigo and then
drew it up once more, very slowly. Ichigo saw stars as the coil
inside his stomach completely snapped, and he found himself cumming,
heavy streams of semen bursting from his cock and wetting the fabric
around him even more.

“Fuck, yeah, Ichi!” Shinji
practically yelled as Ichigo tightened around him impossibly further,
squeezing his cock. Two more thrusts and he was there,
cumming into Ichigo with abandon, growling out Ichigo's name
animalistically and drawing shudders from his lover at the feel of
the cum filling him up.

Ichigo groaned and sunk down onto the
bed when Shinji rested his weight against his back, orgasm-induced
high making him completely lifeless.

“Christ, Ichi,”
Shinji whispered reverently, almost a prayer. Ichigo nodded in
agreement. That had been fantastic.

“We're definitely
keeping these,” Shinji announced, fiddling with the knickers.
Cum seeped out of Ichigo's arse, wetting the stretched thong even
further and trickling down his thighs. Ichigo turned to glare
blearily at Shinji.

“Oh yeah? Well you can fucking wear
them next time! My balls chafe.”

XxXxXxX

Haha,
oh, the smut. Just what
I needed. I think that'll stop any writers frustration for a bit.
Now, only a hectic schedule shall get in the way... Bollocks.

Hope
you enjoyed! Read and review :D
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Happy Fucking Birthday, Shinji