As the Kami are my witness, I will write truly pervy porn one day!
Now, a plug for the Boys Next Door Porn contest 2007. Good reading in the archives. For info:
Thank you tolaurabryannan for reminding me about it. I'm going to try to write the smuttiest thing I can without falling over dead. Today the husband and I discussed "possible smutty ideas" for the contest. XD
Now the RenIshi one-shot.
Warnings: Voyeurism, (arguable) non-con, brief mention of torture.
Beautiful illustration by orin:
Of My Own Free Will
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite invented these characters, and Bleach isn’t owned by me.
Description: NC17. Renji/Ishida. PWP, sort of. Again, I failed to do straight porn from start to finish.
Warnings: Voyeurism, non-con, mentions of torture.
Thank you to my new beta, lacegeisha, who’s saved my word-dropping life.
“I’ll be thinking about how grotesquely I’m going to butcher the both of you.” ~ Szayel Aporro, chapter 276
“Free will was given and freedom of movement.” ~ Ulquiorra, chapter 249.
“It’s okay, kid.” Renji put one hand on Ishida’s knee. “Kiss me.”
Ishida kissed Renji’s slightly parted lips and felt the wetness there. Renji didn’t open his mouth so Ishida’s lips lingered in this chaste position for a while. There was nothing indifferent about the kiss, though. Renji’s heart was pounding, and Ishida’s famous low blood pressure rose enough for his ears and face to blush.
Ishida pulled away, thinking about how if his blood pressure dropped too quickly from this height he might faint. What if he fainted? Would that merely delay the inevitable? Was there no resistance or killing intent left in his body?
“You would kiss your grandmother with more passion,” said a melodic voice not far away. It was a voice that echoed against the reiatsu inhibiting walls. “Once more, with feeling.”
Ishida bent down again. His nose almost touched Renji’s. He was aware of wearing his glasses. He undid Renji’s hair. Lifting handfuls of it, Ishida made a curtain that hid their faces from the Espada Number Eight.
“Don’t panic,” Ishida whispered. “I’ll think of something to do.”
Behind the curtain of long red hair was a resolute and trusting Renji. “I know.”
“That’s a very sexy move, but I can’t seeeee you,” came the voice. “Let go of the pretty hair or else move the Shinigami to the left a bit so I can see.”
Ishida didn’t want to move an injured Renji, so he let go of the hair.
“I’m sorry,” Ishida said.
“Don’t be,” Renji said.
Renji hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time, least of all an inexperienced boy, so he was expecting further awkwardness. Instead, the kiss was warm and distracting. It was good to close his eyes and not have to look at Ishida’s face. The whole of Ishida’s tongue fit into Renji’s mouth, but it didn’t move. Renji’s lips made a half-hearted attempt to push against the kiss. Maybe if they did this long enough, the crazy scientist would fall asleep from boredom.
He had offered them three choices, all of which Ishida knew to be phony. Renji, though, had suffered trying to evaluate them.
One, die now. Know that you did nothing to help the friend you were coming to rescue, but die quick and painlessly.
Two, do all manner of sexual acts--none life threatening, painful or incapacitating--and go free in Las Noches. Free to go about your rescue mission until someone else kills the both of you.
Choice three? Refuse to make a choice. Be proud and believe that your death will have more meaning if you’re tortured.
The Quincy and Shinigami had been given ten minutes to decide. “Oh and one more thing about that manly choice three,” Espada Number Eight had added. “You should know that Aizen doesn’t mind what I do to Inoue Orihime as long as her powers are unaffected. Oppose me and I’ll torture her too.”
That threat had capsized the two fighters already overwhelmed by recent events. Willing to risk their lives, they’d come to Hueco Mundo. The battles had been exhausting, invigorating, hard won.This latest opponent, though--he'd been too strange. Not only was his laboratory reiatsu-draining, but Espada Number Eight depleted courage somehow. His lack of interest in fighting unsettled Renji. His oddities distracted Ishida. Renji and Ishida had slowly come to realize that they weren’t risking only their lives. This guy ate his subordinates. This guy said he couldn’t fight unless he was properly attired. He was insane. There was no telling what he would do.
What else besides dying am I willing to do for that girl?
“I’m not going to do disgusting things,” Renji had said. He lay, still disabled after the fight, blood-soaked and unable to rise to his knees. “There are just some things I can’t do. I’d rather die.”
Ishida remembered Mayuri complaining about the Quincy. Before dying, they said, no, you can’t make me do that and by the pride of the Quincy I will never…. In the end their protestations were useless and their pride meant nothing. Parents, Mayuri boasted, were made to burn their own children.
“Forget the choices.” Ishida had knotted his brows in order to keep from looking as despondent as he felt. “He intends to kill us no matter what.”
“Then let’s fight him!”
“No, we can’t. Fighting him will only hurt Inoue-san. As long as there’s an infinitesimal chance that he will let us go, we….”
“I know.” Renji had set his jaw and looked determined not to lose whatever dignity he could hold onto before the worse began. “If it starts to get bad--I mean really disgusting--kill me. A well-placed smack on the head should do the trick. I’d rather die by your hand than by his.”
Ishida could not imagine what “really disgusting” entailed but hadn’t asked for a definition. “If I kill you, he’ll kill me--probably right away given what I’ve seen of his temper.”
“I didn’t think--” Renji was about to apologize.
“No, you were considering options.”
The majority of the ten minutes passed in silence.
“We can’t give up trying to save her,” Ishida had said at last. “Maybe this Szayel Aporro is crazy enough to let us go. Maybe.”
Kissing Renji now, he didn’t believe that. Renji held onto a shred of hope that there was a way out, that Ishida would come up with a plan. Ishida wasn’t thinking of a plan; in fact, he was trying not to think at all.
Ishida went through the motions as instructed. If Renji were a total stranger, this would be easier so he tried to imagine Renji that way. He tried to imagine himself as a stranger too, someone not Ishida Uryuu, but someone driven by sensations.
Renji had kissed boys before, but that had been years ago, when he himself was a boy among other hungry boys in the Rukongai. Sex had been a more available pleasure than food. But kissing Ishida--that was wrong. It shamed Renji to do it.
“Lick the blood off his face,” Espada Number Eight told Ishida.
That wasn’t so bad. Ishida’s innocence distanced him from the idea that licking a face was a sensuous gesture. His own fantasies had involved kissing the way movie stars do and then, without much prelude, going for the girl’s best part.
Ishida licked Renji’s throat. Renji let out a long breath that sounded frustrated. Ishida didn’t want to ask, but when he noticed the shape inside the bloodied hakama, he realized his unnamed fear: We’re going to like this.
Because Renji was too battle-torn to move much, Ishida anticipated that he would be doing all the stimulating. He didn’t think he was any good at this, though. “Suck his nipples,” the Espada would say and Ishida would, somehow failing because the Espada would say, “No, lick around it first. Take the little pink part between your lips.” When Ishida failed at nipple-sucking, the Espada complained, “Gods, boy, have you never done this before?”
Ishida didn’t talk to the Espada. He might say something wrong and inspire a fit of savagery in the guy.
“I thought that by the way you shot that bow--hmmm, so expert at that but…. I should’ve saved you for myself then.”
Ishida had paused over Renji’s chest to listen to Szayel.
“Stupid! Virgins can be so stupid! It looks stupid to hesitate like that. Hesitate, and the girl you came to save gets her hands chewed off. I’ll shave her bald and burn her eyelashes. I’ll--I’ll--”
A sudden cold filled Ishida’s chest. He was incapable of convincing himself that this wasn’t happening.
“See that there between his legs that’s poking through his clothes? That’s called a pe-nis. Touch it with your hand. Rub on it. Up, down, there’s a good boy. You’re making him feel very nice.”
Something about this gesture made Ishida’s groin warm. It was possible to feel fear and sexual excitement at the same time. As Ishida’s cock rose, he told himself that sex was an action independent of his Quincy soul. His Quincy soul was not involved in any of this.
“I can see it through those rather tight pants of yours, Quincy. Isn’t this wonderful? It only gets more lovely from here on.”
Renji’s eyes were closed. Ishida wished he could close his own eyes.
“Take off your clothes, Quincy.”
“What?” He honestly could not process the request.
“Take off those tattered rags and let us see your young and supple body. You there, Redhead! Open your eyes. Look at him.”
Even stripping in the presence of another male in an innocuous situation would have made Ishida nervous. He didn’t swim often. He loathed public baths.
“Oh so that’s how it comes off. Pretty cape. Too bad it’s all messed up.”
The blood was filling Ishida’s head, pounding in his ears. He opened his mouth to breathe and looked at Renji looking at him.
Renji saw an uninspiring sight. A thin white kid. And it was Ishida, the kid who moments ago had become a real comrade.
Ichigo’s friend. The smart one. The one who had saved Renji’s life today. He and Renji were going to have one of those relationships that made Renji feel good without having to think about it.
That kid was flushing every color of the rainbow and looked like he was about to come right then and there.
Renji felt unrestrained compassion and a renewal of courage. This wasn’t going to be so bad. Feel odd, trade orgasms, go back out to fight. Renji knew he could handle it--if it didn’t get too weird and disgusting. Could Ishida?
“Uh oh, the boy is a little ahead of the game. Let’s make the inevitable a little more interesting. Quincy, I want your legs open over the redhead’s face. Don’t sit down on him and suffocate him. You don’t want to do that to the man who is going to suck your cock.”
Hesitate, and the girl you came to save gets her hands chewed off.
He didn’t hesitate. Ishida wanted his cock sucked.
He didn’t have to maneuver it in because Renji took it into his mouth. Right away there was a throbbing pressure like Ishida had never felt before. That and the very fact that he was having sex with Renji filled him with an even stronger desire to come. But he didn’t want to--he wanted the feeling to last.
Renji was sucking like he wanted to get this over with.
“Slow down,” Ishida heard himself say. His chest was heaving. He could hear himself panting.
Renji slowed down.
It was no use. Ishida turned to one side and felt an involuntary moan leave his throat--that had never happened before. He had never been that excited before. Then his shoulders shook and trying to hold back didn’t work. His hair slapped against his face. He came into a person’s mouth. He didn’t pull out until he was all finished, and even then he didn’t move. He waited for Espada Number Eight to tell him what to do. Ishida never waited for someone to tell him what to do. This waiting was more humiliating than being forced to have sex and being watched while having it.
“Very nice. You realize that you got your cock sucked while you were wearing your glasses? Very nice.”
Pleasure anesthetized the wrongness after that. Turning around, palms on the floor and sucking Renji while Renji revived Ishida’s own erection blocked rational thoughts from Ishida’s brain.
Commands to kiss were initiated before the word was fully spoken. The urge to dissolve into the other’s mouth felt devoid of moral purpose. Renji swept his hands into Ishida’s hair and massaged the skull as if to comfort a person who was no longer there. Ishida clutched Renji’s upper arms and felt the satisfying resistance of muscle.
Renji was thinking that the kid was a natural. The sex acts became fluid. Hands and faces behaved in rhythm with rising passions. Renji swept his hands up and down Ishida’s bare back and cupped his surprisingly tight ass in his hands. Ishida buried his face in Renji’s hair and opened his mouth over Renji’s earlobe.
“That’s good,” said the mad scientist who hadn’t spoken for a while.
Renji knew the guy was jacking off and didn’t want to be reminded. Ishida didn’t hear. His ears were covered by long red hair. The softness of it, not the boundary of it, muted sound.
Renji made growling noises deep in his throat, and Ishida’s breath kept stopping and starting. Then as Renji’s fingers circled a sensitive place, the kid gasped. Ishida pulled away, and Renji rose to a sitting position to kiss him. To apologize? To reassure?
“Look at that, you big faker Redhead. You can sit up.”
Renji really couldn’t, but it was not a strain on his body to turn Ishida over as instructed and align himself in a position to fuck his friend. Renji’s palms were flat on the floor. His head down, his hair brushing Ishida’s chest.
“I’ll try to make this … not bad,” Renji whispered.
They were the first words spoken since Ishida had disrobed, and they jolted Ishida. His shoulders shook for a second. Then Renji’s saliva-drenched finger against his hole jolted him again. “I--”
“Sssh. It’s not bad. Trust me--it won’t be that bad.”
Then Espada Number Eight said in a breathless voice that if Redhead was going to fuck, he needed to be naked like the Quincy. There wasn’t much of Renji’s Shinigami uniform left to take off, but when Renji pulled himself out of singed cloth, the Espada said, “Forget what I said earlier about not being interested in you.” A whistling sigh. “Those tattoos. I could--” A long shuddering breath. “I could eat those tattoos.”
A scary remark considering what the Espada had done earlier with his subordinate. Renji didn’t have the energy to pull off his hakama so it stayed rumpled at his knees. He took his time preparing Ishida, smearing him outside with spit and pre-come and finger by finger pushing the wetness inside. Ishida resisted at first, then for some reason unknown to Renji, he relaxed.
The reason was unknown to Ishida as well. Just let him do it.
The mad scientist was in the throes of madness before Renji entered Ishida. He shouted strange noises, sighed strange sighs, and then by the long silence following, Renji knew the crazy guy was finished.
“Very well,” came an exhausted voice. Renji didn’t dare look in the creature’s direction. “I’m a mess. I’ll have to change clothes again. In fact, I think I need a nap.”
Renji stood poised over Ishida. Was the guy really leaving?
Ishida’s eyes locked with his.
They heard a chair pull back, sensed a faltering reiatsu move away. Moments passed.
They weren’t free.
Renji’s cock was dribbling on Ishida’s skin. Ishida’s cock was engorged.
It was hard to keep holding Renji’s gaze so Ishida looked away. At the same time, he lifted his arms over his head, clenched and unclenched his hands, and raised his thighs to the sides of Renji’s hips.
“It’s better,” Renji breathed, “if your legs are higher.”
Ishida’s legs seemed unnaturally long and impossibly smooth. Renji remembered a girl whose legs weren’t as smooth. A prostitute maybe? She hadn’t charged Renji a thing because she fancied him so much, but there was a weariness about her that allowed Renji to be as rough as he wanted. She seemed like she couldn’t feel a damn thing.
Ishida was about to sense everything with that hyper-aware mind of his. He would remember. It would be important.
And so when Ishida’s knees pressed Renji’s shoulders, Renji entered. One quick movement as natural as sheathing Zabimaru.
It really hurt. Ishida was too aware that it really hurt. Hurt less, though, than being whipped by Cirucci Thunderwitch’s weapon today. Hurt less than falling, out of breath and clinging to consciousness, against the training room floor. Hurt less than the sword-slashing from Renji on that bridge.
That blow hadn’t hurt much because Ishida had been too stunned that it happened. Only later had his flesh stung. His first cut in battle. Not bad, not terrible.
Renji looked at Ishida’s eyes to see if the kid was okay. He was, and so Renji moved.
Renji’s injuries made him grunt with effort, but it was impossible to quit, impossible to slow down or assume another position. Ishida writhed as if uncomfortable but not in pain. The kid’s eyes were half-closed and his mouth was slightly parted.
Renji knew he’d found the correct angle when the kid hissed. Ishida’s teeth gritted. His head turned side to side at each of Renji’s measured thrusts. Ishida was a kid; he wasn’t going to last. So Renji sped up, fucking and fucking him until his own blood spilled from un-closed wounds. A warm trickle running down his cheeks. A pain in his lower legs and in the exhausted arms that held Ishida’s thighs.
“Nyahh.” One soft sound and the kid came. None of the cream touched Renji’s face. The sweet-salty smell of it on Ishida’s chest made Renji groan and come too. At that, Ishida opened his eyes and made a startled sound. Renji didn’t know if the spilling was hurting him so he pulled out right away and lay there, softening in the crease between Ishida’s groin and thigh.
“I’m sorry,” Renji said because he didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t meet Ishida’s eyes but he kissed Ishida’s lips nonetheless. A chaste kiss. A wet and lingering kiss like their first one had been. Then he collapsed on his back at Ishida’s side.
The fighters lay, temperatures cooling, semen drying, for long moments. Ishida’s arms goose pimpled and he looked to a pile of white clothes.
“Is he gone?” Ishida asked.
“He’s been gone for a while,” Renji said.
Ishida sat up, wiped his wet brow with his wet palm, and dared to look in Szayel Aporro’s direction. Espada Number Eight wasn’t there.
“He meant it,” Ishida said. “I think we’re free to go.” He fingered his bracelet, felt the return of his Quincy soul.
“Put your clothes on and go,” Renji said.
“You’re coming with me,” Ishida said, already knowing Renji couldn’t. “Try. You can get up. I’ll help you.”
“Even if I could get up, I’d slow you down. Be a man and get out of here already.”
Ishida put on his clothes, his glasses, looked toward the giant opening in the wall that his arrows had made what seemed years and years ago. All he had to do was step out.
“I can’t abandon a comrade,” Ishida said. “I have my pride left still.”
“Idiot, if you don’t get out, I’ll tell Kurosaki Ichigo what happened here.”
Ishida looked appalled that Renji would even make such a joke. “Kurosaki can still save her,” Ishida said. “I can feel his reiatsu.” He knew that everyone else was down.
“You can’t afford to take the chance.”
After putting on his shoes, which were the only unscathed part of his Quincy outfit, Ishida rose on shaky legs. “I’m going to go,” he said.
“And if I die here….” Renji had to say it. He didn’t want to die without having said it. “Just remember that I didn’t make you leave me here. It won’t be your fault if I die.”
“I know.” Ishida blinked a few times and a warrior’s determination returned to his face. “I made this decision out of my own free will.”
Moving right on down the to-do list. May take another side-trip and write IshiHime domestic comedy--that's too fun to do.