Disclaimer: Kubo Tite, Perriot Studios and Viz Comic own Bleach, and I think that this action is a capitalist crime.
Description: NC17, PWP, Ichi/Ishi
Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here's a happy one for you.
The couch where they had sex so often that there were handy tubes of lubricant and wiping cloths under the cushions. The couch where on wintery days friends had squished together beyond it’s capacity. The couch where a take-out box once spilled a sticky sauce that required Ishida to pick sesame seeds out by hand. A couch where Ichigo read his homework. A couch whose arms-rest served as foot-rests.
That couch was going to be picked up by the combustibles trash truck at four p.m.
“A farewell fuck? asked Ichigo.
“I want to finish this book,” Ishida said. “I’m near the end.”
“You’d rather read than fuck. That’s pathetic.”
They sat, side to side, on the couch. Ishida was reading Man of La Mancha, and Ichigo held the same book, different cover.
“The couch deserves a big send off,” said Ichigo. “Or do I have to graduate before I can get some ass?”
Ishida continued reading, and Ichigo inched over. He raised an arm to snatch the conscientious student, but Ishida knocked Ichigo sideways and flung their books all the way to the kitchen. Now the two lay top to bottom, Ishida resting all his weight on Ichigo.
Meeting one another’s eyes never failed to jolt the sex urge.
“If we celebrate our first kiss this way do we have to go back to Hueco Mundo?”
Ichigo didn’t answer. He lay back his head and expected divinity.
He who was sometimes called Divinity kissed Ichigo’s throat and realized, with annoyance, that Ichigo was wearing a heavy shirt. So instead of kissing his way down to the navel, as was his habit, he kissed going up. The nape of the ear … the upper lip of the ear … the already flushed forehead … the eyebrow area, pink and orange.
“You drank something cold a moment ago.” Ichigo said.
Ishida tugged at Ichigo’s belt. That was a cue to undress, so the boys stood on their knees and did.
“Why won’t you wear my clothes?”
“They’re not me.” Ichigo pulled down his briefs and displayed a swollen penis. “This is me.”
“I could work up a style for you.”
“I’m not anybody’s style,” said Ichigo. “I’m my own person.”
“No,” said Ishida. He pitched his shirt across the room. “A lot of who you are is me now.”
“Philosophy,” said Ichigo and kissed Ishida on the mouth. It was a ravenous, slobbery kiss. It was a kiss that caused Ishida to palm the breadth of Ichigo’s chest. The fuzz there was already sweaty from the thick shirt.
Ichigo popped off to say “Stupid--”
But it was then that Ishida discovered the soft place he’d been looking for. To the side of brown-orange hairs, close to the highest rib, between muscles. He pushed Ichigo down again and began to suck the spot.
“I’m not you, Uryuu. I’m not gay. Ahh, god damn that feels good. You changed me. Is that what you mean?”
Ishida stopped sucking and fingered Ichigo’s nipples, rolling them gently while he talked. “Never mind. It would take too long to explain and you’re not patient.”
“If I’m impatient, that’s like a compliment to you.”
“You’re impatient when you have to stand in line for the bathroom.”
It was idle talk and served little purpose but to keep the boys’ mouths busy so they could make foreplay last longer.
The circles Ichigo was making with his pelvis were cheating. One wasn’t supposed to touch the penis in this game, but the boys hadn’t played don’t touch the love-warrior on this narrow couch yet.
Nice, subtle rotations pressed Ishida’s crotch. Hands were rubbing a passionate zig-zag the length of Ishida’s back. But the sighs of delight came from Ichigo (Ishida did nothing but breathe loudly until the last moments). Ichigo’s own caressing turned him on so much that once, Ishida had made him masturbate over and over to see if a lover made any difference.
It did. Without Ishida, Ichigo finished with a heroic face. With his lover, he was left as vulnerable as a flower, sweaty with lovesickness, exhausted by emotion.
Ishida liked both Ichigos.
Ishida stopped complying with the circles. Ichigo slowed his rubbing.
“When I’m gone …,” Ishida said, “what man will replace me?”
Ichigo rubbed Ishida’s white ass around and around. “I’ll start seeing Keigo.”
“Keigo has unappreciated qualities.”
“Right.” Sarcasm could delay over-arousal. The boys had discovered that long ago.
Ichigo ran his hands over Ishida’s thighs. A more eager rubbing, the fingers wider apart. Then he whispered into Ishida’s ear, “Chad, maybe.”
A swathe of Ishida’s black hair had covered Ichigo’s mouth during the little confession. He was about to wipe the hair away but decided to take the opportunity to lick Ishida’s earlobe. For too long a time, Ichigo had ignored the soft places in favor of sleek, exciting sinew and skin. He had fallen too fast into dramatic sex. Now, following Ishida’s lead, Ichigo knew the strength of sustained pleasure. Now, Ichigo knew how to give a belly suck that Ishida liked almost as much as a blowjob.
By the time Ichigo had reached the belly, Ishida was trying to check his breathing. “What makes you think I won’t get Chad first?”
“Uryuu, I was kidding.” Ichigo opened Ishida’s thighs.
Ishida pulled Ichigo away from the immanent blow job. “Stupid, I was too.”
They were face to face now.
Ichigo ran his hands through black hair. “You’re cute; he goes for cute. Maybe he’s fallen for you already, and he doesn’t do anything because he’s my best friend.”
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.” Ishida’s hips resumed the circle-making. He hadn’t called Ichigo a penalty against Ichigo earlier, and now signs indicated that the foreplay game was over. Ichigo’s supernatural hardness was pressing harder. “I thought I was your best friend now.”
“Lover. Didn’t we agree on lover?” Ichigo tossed his head back. “Mmmmmmmm. Uryuu.”
“Lover makes it sound like we do it all the time.”
“We do.” Ichigo raised his head and rubbed his cheek against Ishida’s. “As for cute … you have your moments.”
“You’re acting like a cat waiting to fed. Rubbing all over everything.”
“Table-legs don’t make me horny.” Ichigo slipped his hand under the cushion for the tube.
“I love you too,” said Ishida in a cutting voice.
There was sarcasm and then there was loving sarcasm. Ichigo’s look was as lust-distracted as Ishida’s was unwavering. A frozen flame, the moment was lit with the promise of sex.
The moment was smashed by a loud, aggravated noise in Ichigo’s throat. “Damn it,” he snarled,” this couch is too small.”
“Wait. Wait. Not again. Ichigooooooo.”
Ichigo carried Ishida, bride-style, to a bigger space. Ishida, who had suffered this situation before, closed his eyes. “I thought this was supposed to be about the couch.”
Ichigo tossed his lover on the bed. “I’m not nostalgic.”
“Me either.” Ishida opened his arms and in an instant they were they were kissing ravenously.
They sucked one another’s nipples, kissed one another’s hair, argued over who should bottom first. Ichigo sloppily wiped his whole groin area with lubricant and then, with a slow considerate fingernail, pushed a generous swab into Ishida’s hole.
Ishida winced. “It’s the tingly kind.”
Ichigo lowered his head and looked. “No, I think it’s the flavored kind.” He tasted there. And tasted again. And swiped his tongue around until he had eaten all the lube and licked the underside of Ishida’s cock for good measure.
“It doesn’t do anything for me,” Ichigo said.
But Ichigo’s tongue had done something for Ishida. The slight body had stretched, hands over head, and the pelvis was making the circles they’d made on the couch. Ishida’s eyes were closed and one hand was palming his own chest.
Ichigo watched a moment. “You want to be fucked,” he said.
“Shut up, I’m going to fuck you.”
He did. With his hand. Two fingers found the hot button and teased, meanwhile his other hand stroked Ichigo’s already very erect cock.
There always came an instant that marked a sensuous point of no return. No more teasing, no more dishonesty. A point where one boy lost the ability to refuse the other. And the other was compelled to please. Ishida couldn’t hold back little sighs. The very sight of his lover getting off pushed Ishida beyond his safe plateau. Two fingers fucking, one hand moving over a dribbling cock, Ichigo’s breaths coming deeper--who could bear that? Ichigo, likewise, watched Ishida’s face as it tried to hold back an expression of wantonness. When Ishida bit his own bottom lip, Ichigo felt on the brink.
A force pushed on the boys from all directions: I have you now. Release, release, release.
At the first moan from Ichigo, Ishida quit the fondling.
Ichigo opened his eyes. “Wha--?” His voice sounded desperate. “You can’t.”
“Don’t worry. It’s going to last a long, long time.”
Ichigo grabbed Ishida by the shoulders. “You little bastard. You can’t do this right.”
“It’s my way,” Ishida said. He shrugged off Ichigo’s hold, pushed a still-angry Ichigo down and slid into him without hearing one complaint.
Once Ishida began to move, though, Ichigo who looked significantly lower on the cliff than before, grumbled something about how he hated Ishida and was going to miss him one day. Miss him terribly.
Ishida moved at a non-changing tempo. Ichigo panted in rhythm as Ishida’s hips went forward and back, forward and back. The very sight of those pointy hips caused Ichigo’s excitement to climb The thrusts were even as stitches, and every now and then Ishida’s hand would address Ichigo’s cock with a loving massage. Ishida avoided the spot; he prolonged the pleasure.
They continued at this dreamy, regular pace until Ishida slowed his thrusting and looked ready to give. Pink flushes were coming and going on his face. He talked to distract himself.
“You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”
“Don’t say it like that, Uryuu. It’s just university in the fall.”
“You’re the one who’s been languishing over the idea.”
“You too. I can tell.”
“Your insight into the human psyche never fails to amaze.”
“So, admit it, you’ll cry a river missing me too.”
“Yes,” Ishida panted in an answer that seemed only partly to do with the question. “Ye--”
The tone of Ichigo’s voice changed. “Uryuu, are you okay?”
Ishida’s bottom lip trembled, either from sentiment or from the excruciating effort that it took to hold up his body with his arms. Ishida was strong. Archery made for strong arms. But Ichigo always made Ishida’s intentions wobble, and in this position Ishida’s upper arms couldn’t last as long as his lower body could.
Straining for purchase and on the brink of orgasm, he shook all over.
Ichigo pushed and rolled him over to his back. Ishida slipped out and stayed out because the boys were not adept at certain positions yet.
“I’m not letting you go.” Ichigo pinned Ishida’s wrists above his head. “I’m not letting you go.”
The words had a different context from their usual bedroom one.
Ishida didn’t answer his usual way either. He lay there, trembling less than before, while Ichigo wrapped his hand around Ishida’s cock to coax the release whose delay was agonizing his Uryuu.
But it was Ichigo who came, spraying Ishida. His face stayed sex-exerted for while and when it relaxed, it looked unhappy. “Not letting you go,” he sighed.
“Marking your territory?” Ishida could be irreverent, even at a moment like this one.
Ichigo licked the semen on Ishida’s chest and kissed Ishida full on the mouth. Then he slid down the agitated body and his mouth swallowed Ishida’s cock.
It didn’t take long after that, of course. Ishida thrashed this way and that. The way he went ugh, ugh, ugh in his delicate voice always made Ichigo crazy. A few hard, purposeful sucks, and Ishida let out a moan sweet enough to make Ichigo hard again.
“Gone,” Ishida managed to say as he released into Ichigo’s mouth. Ichigo took his mouth away and Ishida spurted the last of the warm semen into Ichigo’s hair.
“You even said it.”
“What did I say?” Ishida was still breathing hard. “Was it I love you? I say that all the time.”
“No,” said Ichigo. “You said gone.”
Ishida’s fingers meshed with Ichigo’s. Handholding was not something either was familiar with so they did it self-consciously. “It’s not a momentous change,” Ishida said. “It’s just me going to university and you staying here to jump-start your father’s business.”
“If the clinic closes--”
“Stop it right now, Kurosaki. You’re not going to follow me like a homeless dog. We’ve been through this. We have obligations.”
Semen had dried to a white powder on Ishida’s chest. Ichigo absently brushed it away with the hand that wasn’t holding Ishida’s. “Is it true that a person can fall in love in an instant and fall out of love just as fast?”
“I don’t know,” said Ishida. “The first one happened with me.”
Ishida’s pale skin was goose-pimpling, so Ichigo reached down for a blanket and sheet to cover them both. His face nuzzled Ishida’s face. It was a cozy scene, but Ichigo had a moderate hard-on. “There’s a whole campus of smart, good-looking guys waiting for you.”
“Right. And you’ve got Keigo and Mizuiro here to tempt you. Seriously, Ichigo, this is not something to worry about. After all, we’ve both lived in this town of good-looking men--”
“What, are you bisexual again? You say that one week and then the next you change your mind.”
“See,” said Ichigo. “Even my decision-making is bi.” His fingers had pulled away from Ishida’s gentle hold and were now petting Ishida’s groin.
Ishida turned to put one arm over Ichigo and started the routine. First, he kissed the throat. Then he ran his open mouth down the neck to the clavicle. “Seeing as you like binary systems, Kurosaki,” he whispered, “You should adjust easily to my going away and coming back for holidays, going away and coming back for summer.”
“Maybe,” Ichigo said in a voice that was close to a whine, “But I’ll still miss you.” He took Ishida’s face in his hands and landed a sweet sentimental kiss on his lover’s lips.
“Oh shit,” Ishida said. His lips were still pressed against Ichigo’s.
Ichigo let him go. “What?”
“We forgot to put out the couch. It’s past four-o-clock. I had a sticker for it, and now I’m going to have to buy another one.”
“Why are you messing with the Karakura waste-disposal system? I can shunpou that couch over to the old couch memorial shrine or wherever it goes.”
“No, no.” Ishida’s expression shifted from bothered to cunning. “Let it stay.”
He threw one leg over Ichigo’s thigh and kissed his ear again. “I suppose,” he whispered, our farewell fucking has to last one more day.”
This was the story I was fussing about when I said I couldn't write hardcore. I've found that I can write detached sex, googly love sex, ordinary lifelike sex, failed premature ejaculation sex, but I still can't write one of those sexy sexy hardcore scenes.
I've been trying all year, maybe longer.
I'm sure I have an inner super-pervert--she's just AWOL