The others won't be this long, I hope. Read the warnings. Tis pure yaoi fangurl dream of romantic porn. SPOILERS for current HM arc.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach; I just write fanfiction. Kubo Tite, Perriot Studios, Viz, Shueisha, and clever bootleggers make all the $--not I.
Description: NC-17. Renji and Ishida. Written for the Pr0ntober challenge on LJ. All-out yaoi romance, oh yes.
Warning: A little Renji-->Rukia and of course, Shinigami/Quincy sex.
“Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.”~William Blake from the Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1790.
There were some urges not worth satisfying. Putting a hole in Omaeda’s head every time the slug ate his own boogers at an officers’ meeting meant enduring subsequent disciplinary measures. Who knows what old man Yama could come up with next? Last time it was lame paperwork and the time before that Renji had to talk to an academy class about how he, a former hoodlum of the Rukongai, overcame his punk past to become a shining star in the Gotei 13.
So forget hurting Omaeda. Holding back the urge to punch him was do-able. Like holding back the annoying need to take a piss during Yama’s lecturing. Do-able.
“Shinigami who have already fought Arrancar,” the general droned, “will collaborate on a tactics guide….”
Another urge Renji could kill? Wanting to drop-kick that obnoxious talking toy that lived with Ichigo--SO not worth the helpless, moist-eyed look of victimization after the deed. Anyway, Renji had sated his curiosity as to whether or not kicking it would kill it, and he wasn’t going to kick it again, no matter what it said about Rukia’s underpants.
“The Menos Grande illustrations have been revised….”
Renji wanted to fuck Ishida, though.
Fuck Ishida and fuck the consequences.
“From what we know of Arrancar releases….”
Renji stared at the floor and knew, at last and for certain, what he was going to be doing with his R&R time tomorrow. Since training for the Winter War had intensified, Renji hadn’t had a single day off. Twenty-four hours was good. Long enough to go to the Living World and find out whether this Ishida-urge was quenchable … or whether it would have to just rot in his loins.
Why did it feel like Renji’s whole world was about to tilt and spill over? Was he really going to do it? Why did this I’m-going-to-get-some mission feel as easy and natural and bound for success as leaping the chasm that divided the Living and the Dead? It wasn’t every day that Renji visited the Living World. It wasn’t every day that Renji wanted to fuck the living daylights out of one of its human inhabitants.
At first it had been one of those passing crazinesses. In Hueco Mundo, the prolonged battle had made him ready for any sort of insanity. Then the titillation (ugh, Renji hated to admit it) of seeing the kid wrestle inside the Giant Butterfly’s wing during that forni-fuckwhat attack had sent the goddamn near irresistable but so not worth it urge shock-waving though his body. Damn, Ishida had moaned. Like the kid was being fucked inside out and upside down.
Even before that obscene display, Renji had wanted to grab the kid by the collar of that stupid cape and bite-kiss that know-it-all, smart-ass face. Okay, maybe more than a couple times during the whole adventure Renji had wanted to do that. The urges had been complicated by a real affection for the kid, an admiration for his grace under pressure and his sinewy limbs speeding through battle.
He knew better though. No matter how impulsive people took him to be, Renji knew better than to push Ishida against a wall and take him was like the pretty bitch he was. It was just a crazy urge. Then, after everyone was safe and healed and the fighting over, Renji hadn’t given his crazy urge a second thought.
Not until later in Soul Society.
Rukia stood at the end of the ranks next to Ukitake. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and she looked tired but beautiful. It had been somewhat surprising that she’d been promoted to vice-captain after her and Renji’s rebellion, but Yamamoto knew who his best fighters were. The man wasn’t an idiot, just booooring.
“Captain Ukitake and Vice-captain Kuchiki will lead the seminar on diversionary techniques….”
If old man Yama had let him and Rukia get away with taking off to Hueco Mundo then he probably wasn’t going to give a flip if Renji did sex things with Living World civilians…. Not that the general would find out but….
Renji chewed his thumbnail.
From the way Rukia had acted a few weeks back, you’d think that Shinigami-human relations were a crime.
While looking through Rukia’s utility bag for something to eat, Renji had discovered a giant bundle of Living World porn. The girl didn’t have any snacks packed but she had, like, fifty manga of boys doing it.
Rukia had blushed like crazy but the incident had led to her giving Renji quite the educational lecture about the Living World. She’d gone on about how these little books are sold at train stations and some people have sex with rubber dolls and there’s no shortage of drawn material for any kink you could imagine…. And who would’ve thought that Rukia liked guy-on-guy action? The very idea….
The very idea recalled Hueco Mundo, made Renji’s cock jump to attention, and the crazy urge rushed back.
“A man with another man?” Renji had asked Rukia. “Would you really want to see it, not just imagine it?”
She’d narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop it.”
“Just curious.” Renji had shrugged and looked away. His baboon spirit had done a tumble and screeched in anticipation. Rukia, sexy. Rukia watching Ishida and Renji, sexier.
“You’re one to talk--you’re the one reading those yaoi things.”
Maybe it had been the dreariness of routine after the adventure of Hueco Mundo. Maybe it had been finding that mountain of porn after Rukia came back from a Living World reconnaissance mission but … Renji could not remember when he’d wanted to make a fantastical sex scenario actually come true.
He settled for the next best thing--talking about sex with Rukia. She liked to show off her knowledge about the Living World and seemed totally innocent as to how enticing she looked talking about hand-held vibrating machines in the shape of duckies and koi fish.
Weighing consequences wasn’t Renji’s forte but it was during that conversation that he started to wonder if maybe … just maybe he could arrange it so that he and the fancy boy Quincy could … and Rukia could just happen to catch them….
After some awkward questioning on Renji’s part, Rukia said that there was no rule against Shinigami having sexual relations with humans. No laws against that sort of thing from Soul Society at all. The Living World, though (Rukia had pronounced this with all the seriousness of Yamomoto’s holding an officers’ meeting) did have rigidly enforced sexual mores. In fact, older people having sex with teenagers was illegal and so was sex between males in some parts of the world. Renji had taken this information as further evidence of the superiority of the Realm of the Dead, but he didn’t want to … take chances … with the dumb laws of the Living.
“And you can get that shiny look out of your eye because girls at Ichigo’s high school all think you’re a moron,” Rukia had said. “This isn’t a time to be dreaming about your love life. We’ve got a war to fight, Renji.”
Trying to arrange the situation would’ve taken too much energy anyway. Four decades now and he still hadn’t managed to get Rukia to kiss him.
She didn’t want him that way, never had.
Nah, it would never happen for real.
At bedtime for two weeks, Renji had entertained himself with his new favorite imagined scenario, and then the fantasizing stopped working.
It plain stopped satisfying. Oh he came into his own hand alright but that peaceful detachment that jacking off is supposed to accomplish wasn’t happening. Ishida’s white weirdo clothes falling to reveal long white muscular legs, each thrust into the kid tasting better than taiyaki, Rukia making little sighing sounds at the sight and pinching her own rosebud nipples--the images didn’t satisfy. Other jack-off sessions let Renji sleep. Other forbidden cravings had come and gone and late night reveries had served Renji like life-size helpings of real flesh and sweat.
But there was something … weird … about these fantasies.
For one thing, Rukia, his mainstay of lustful inspiration for years and years, started to fade into the background. Sometimes the fantasies ended up with her dissolved altogether and Renji alone with Ishida, clawing the kid’s ass with his fingernails, sucking the kid’s tongue.
Then, during those restless nights, it so happened that Renji found himself wondering if the kid was one-hundred-percent fancy boy or if Ishida could go for a girl like Rukia. Then he found himself not wanting to expose the kid to the temptation, even in fantasy.
Ishida was, in some tiny ways, like Rukia. Shiny black hair, a lean physique, tapered fingers and …those thin lips that were always on the verge of saying something sarcastic. Maybe Ishida was a lot like Rukia if you took into consideration how bossy he was. But people who are smart have a right to be bossy, Renji figured. He’d always let Rukia boss him around a good deal. For years, he ‘d also allowed her to slide into fantasies where, he, Renji, was the real boss.
Rukia was a living idol, though, in Renji’s waking life. Too cherished to risk hurting. What a clumsy boyfriend Renji would make--he was already clumsy enough of a friend to her. She deserved … better. No, no, that was finished, never would be, forget it.
Ishida--hell, guys are different.
“Powerful humans and all non-Shinigami combatants,” Yamamoto was saying, “are to be treated as civilians and you must not engage their help in combating Arrancar….”
Ishida, Renji figured, could take care of himself. Let him blow an arrow through Renji’s head if he didn’t want it, but Renji was going to try to fuck him.
How exactly he was going to manage that, he’d figure out when he saw Ishida.
"It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop. " ~ Confucius
Renji landed on a telephone pole and looked down the street bathed in pink and blue dawnlight. The mercury lamps were going out one by one as morning rose on Karakura.
He hadn’t been this nervous since Academy days, when all the future seemed to be riding on a test score. He hadn’t been this driven since fighting his own Captain for Rukia’s life, What an odd sequence of moments being that particular challenge had been. Death and disaster had seemed like the mere by-products of being himself. Renji wasn’t facing disaster now… was he?
Rukia had sensed something was up with him. “Don’t look for Ichigo,” she’d told him before he left. “You don’t need to get into a fight with him and get all injured and have the disciplinary board coming down on you again. Go for a swim in the ocean.”
Then she’d given him a list of some of her favorite movies to rent and a handful of yen.
Like he would bother with a gigai and buying from a salesperson. He was going in pure Shinigami form. If he wanted to watch a movie, he’d pick it off the shelf. If things didn’t work out with the kid, then he’d crash at Urahara’s.
The kid trained with his father by day in some undisclosed and undetectable (damn those Quincy!) location, but Renji knew where Ishida slept. Urahara had mentioned the place once, as well as the fact that Ishida was an odd boy who liked to appear to keep a distance but was “truly emotionally engaged.”
That remark of Urahara’s gave Renji hope.
I didn’t imagine the connection, did I?
The second Ishida had burst through the walls to interrupt Renji’s fight with the Freak Espada, Renji had been shocked. He didn’t think of the Quincy as the type to be distracted from the mission of rescuing an innocent girl, but the kid apparently had some code of honor that didn’t let him ignore a comrade about to be killed.
Renji hadn’t doubted Ishida’s friendship after that. The kid was a decent person, kinder than he let on.
And sexier than he tried to be.
And more yielding to touch than one would’ve guessed.
Renji remembered his arm around Ishida when trying to rouse the kid after the grotesque Espada forni-fuckwhat incident. When Ishida came to, Renji hadn’t let go. Renji was going to be damned if that Freak Butterfly got his gooey wings on the kid again, and Ishida hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t shaken Renji off…. Ishida had been able to stand on his own two feet and yet part of him had leaned into Renji’s support.
I’m not doing the wrong thing. He felt it too.
Renji sprung, in one weightless leap, to Ishida’s window ledge. The kid’s reiatsu was everywhere but Renji would’ve known which apartment was Ishida’s by the light blue curtains with the little crosses.
“Abarai?” The kid was coming out of the bathroom. He held a little black comb and wore what Renji recognized as a school uniform.
“Yo,” said Renji. “Look at you. You’re the type that gets up before the sun does.”
“The sun is up.” Ishida gestured with his chin at the window.
“Not really,” Renji protested. “I was just out there. Didn’t see it.”
Slowly, the kid’s mouth shaped into that half-smile that had stirred Renji so much in Hueco Mundo--the smile that said Ishida liked Renji, that the two shared an unspoken bond, that they would die for one another but wouldn’t admit the big deal about it.
Even if it’s the wrong thing, I have to do it. Renji walked with a soldier’s deliberation across the floor. I have to do it.
He put his hands on the kid’s shoulders, and Ishida continued to look amused.
This is the part where I kiss him.
“I came all the way from Soul Society just to see you,” The sentence wasn’t out before Renji winced at the melodrama of it. What he’d meant was you better not fuck this up for me because I’m taking a risk here.
Ishida lost the friendly, amused look. “What--?” A voice as soft as a girl’s. “What’s wrong?”
An odd sequence of moments in which disaster was a mere by-product of being Renji. His lips on Ishida’s cheek. His breath blowing a wisp of Ishida’s hair. Pressing past that lock of hair and finding the kid’s ear.
“If you want me to stop….” Renji kissed the kid’s neck where ear met hairline, a place Renji expected to taste musky and intimate, but Ishida’s flesh was sweet there, clean and innocent as bathroom tile. “If you want me to stop, tell me….” A lick of the kid’s scentless skin. He must’ve just taken a shower. “Tell me that you want me to stop and I will.”
“Abarai…” The sigh in the voice made Renji feel a little crazy. The moment was unreal. It would be like a dream except for the hard, undeniable press of Ishida’s body under his. It wasn’t struggling; it wasn’t rejecting; it was the warm, honest presence Renji had shaken out of unconsciousness in Hueco Mundo. It was a body that felt like it was coming to life under Renji’s grasp.
“Abarai, stop,” said Ishida.
Renji pulled away from that delectable neck. “Huh?” He looked into Ishida’s eyes.
There was no denying the kid looked uncomfortable. Not freaked out, scared, or angry--just ill at ease. Renji was reassured and kissed him on the mouth.
“Rrrr, Abaa…” Ishida’s lips moved under Renji’s, and the kid’s palms landed on Renji’s shoulders and pushed.
Well, Renji wasn’t a rapist.
He stepped back and, because he didn’t want to bother with the impossible task of convincing the kid to follow through on even a kiss, Renji turned around to go.
“Wait, where are you going?”
Renji looked over his shoulder.
“Are you even going to--?” Ishida swallowed and when he spoke again, his voice was harder. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself?”
He’d forgotten the kid was a talker. There Ishida was-- flushed and breathless and totally turned on but of course, the kid expected dialogue.
“Listen, do you want me to stay or not?”
“It’s just that--” Ishida bit his lip where Renji’s mouth had pressed. “I didn’t expect--” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand like some baby trying not to cry after being scolded. “Why did you think that you could--?” No, he wasn’t crying--it looked like he’d developed a sudden headache. “Abarai, this is … this is….”
Renji grabbed Ishida by the shoulders.
“Ishida, you can’t put a sentence together right now, so how do you expect me--” His fingers moved up Ishida’s shoulders, curled into limp fists against either side of Ishida’s face. “How do you expect me to explain?”
Ishida’s eyes widened. “Um.”
Renji’s thumbs petted Ishida’s cheeks. “There’s nothing … logical … going on here.”
Ishida’s face relaxed somewhat. At least he lost the headache frown. His eyes still looked worried, and Renji rubbed the semi-circles under them, lifting the frames of Ishida’s glasses with the rolling joints of his thumbs. How much he’d wanted to touch Ishida’s face in Hueco Mundo. He’d wanted to bite-kiss it then; why he now was holding Ishida’s face with such patient affection--he had no clue.
“I need….” Ishida looked for all the world like its most vulnerable child and not the arrogant, handsome warrior Renji had been obsessed with kissing. “I need logic.”
“Too bad,” said Renji and lowered his face closer to Ishida’s.
It didn’t happen the way Renji had expected it to at all. It didn’t happen with sudden heat and all limbs charging--the way Renji started fights and the way he’d started every other sexual encounter before this one. The fight with some district 78 kid that had turned into kissing and groping. The hookers, each one wanting to get things over with and Renji about to burst with crazy lust.
Because Ishida was scared, Renji kissed him lightly. His lips barely pressed the kid’s lips. Ishida’s mouth opened, in awe or protest or because it was about to spout logic but no sound came out. Renji opened his own mouth over it and felt a tongue graze his own. This time Ishida leaned into the kiss.
It had to be the kid’s first time. Renji hadn’t even taken that into consideration before. He’d expected Ishida to respond to him the way a warrior does with an enemy--with natural confidence, senses honed, all reflexes trained. Renji felt the reluctance in Ishida’s fingers even as they gripped his upper arms. He heard an involuntary groan that sounded like oh no, oh no in Ishida’s throat even as the kid kissed him back.
Okay, Ishida, just a little bit at a time. Nice and easy.
Then they were on the bed because Ishida had pushed Renji there.
Ishida had pushed forward into Renji’s body until Renji had started walking backwards and fallen on the mattress.
The kid was on top. He was making slurpy eager sounds as he sucked Renji’s bottom lip. Renji put his hands on the kid’s hips and felt the thrill of a contest.
This was the fighter he recognized. The neck he had wanted to bite-kiss in Hueco Mundo was scraping against his own. Pointy collarbones. Even through the kid’s shirt, his shoulders felt sharp.
When it became clear that Renji had no idea how to undo Ishida’s tie, Ishida stood up and pulled it off himself. Renji took the opportunity to tackle the kid around the waist and toss him to his side. The unmade bed got in the way; a tangle of sheets writhed around them; Ishida’s lower body began to buck in an erratic rhythm; his hips knocked Renji’s thigh; the kid’s hot hard boner poked through the school trousers, a thick blanket, and the folds of Renji’s hakama. Hold on, hold on, kid, I’ll get you. As soon as Renji figured out the belt buckle, his fingers wrapped around Ishida’s cock and began to pump. Renji wanted to look at the live thing in his hand, but he wanted to kiss Ishida more. He sucked Ishida’s tongue with a soft but insistent pressure while masturbating him.
“Harder,” the bossy kid insisted when he got his tongue back. He opened his mouth against Renji’s chin. “Harder.”
The kid’s wriggling impatience amused Renji so he decided to show Ishida what was better than a handjob before it was too late.
Ishida’s gasp was so loud that Renji could scarcely close his lips over Ishida’s cock for smiling. The kid thrashed, clawed at Renji’s headscarf and pulled it off. Then he brought the scarf to his mouth and chewed at it while Renji’s head bobbed.
“Abarai.” A voice tortured with pleasure.
Renji would let go every time the kid was close and look up to see Ishida’s teeth bared, his throat swallowing desperately, his knuckles white as they clenched the crumpled ball of headscarf.
“Abarai!” A cry--clear and full-throated. “Abarai, don’t stop goddammit!”
Being bossed at was glorious; the sound of his own name was glorious. It was he, Renji, doing this, and Ishida knew it. Not just any mouth. The kid wasn’t subject to mere sensations of wetness and pressure. He was subject to Renji. I’ve got you, Ishida. I’ve got you.
The kid didn’t last long. He arched his back and slammed, once, twice, with deliberate aggression against Renji’s face. When he came--hot spurt after hot spurt burning the back of Renji’s throat--it was with a high keening whine that faded into a sigh, and then the kid went limp. He was still fully clothed except for where Renji had been making love to him. Renji felt a sharp heel pressing his ribs, the awkward weight of the kid’s shoes in the bed.
Blood pounded in Renji’s ears but through that noise, he could hear Ishida panting. Even though Renji was still agitated with need, there was something satisfying here. I did this, I did this.
He crawled to Ishida’s heaving chest and unbuttoned his shirt.
“Abarai--I--” Ishida’s hand touched Renji’s forearm. “Wait.”
“It’s okay,” Renji whispered. “I’m not going to fuck you. Relax.”
He took all Ishida’s clothes off. He pulled Ishida’s feet, both at once, out of their shoes, and then he yanked the socks off. He took Ishida’s glasses off and lay them on the nightstand. He shoved the clothes, shoes, and an annoying clump of blanket off the bed, and then he licked and fondled Ishida’s nude, exhausted body.
“Weird scar,” Renji breathed, expecting Ishida to explain the mark that looked like it had been fire-branded onto the kid’s chest.
Ishida didn’t say anything.
Renji figured that it was an emotional exhaustion that made Ishida lie so still. Imagine being strung tight all your life and then getting laid on your back by the one and only Abarai Renji!
Renji was so proud of himself.
As huge as his urge was to finish this with one quick stab and the kid’s legs thrown over his shoulders, a simple, sensual curiosity led Renji to explore ribs, nipples, the white expanse of taut flesh. He avoided touching the light brown scab in the shape of a five-pointed star. It was a fresh wound, maybe only days old.
Renji kissed Ishida’s stomach. Wondering about the scar had distracted Renji from a sense of urgency. His tongue swept over skin here and skin there and the moments passed just as gently.
“What are you--?” Ishida’s cock had started to throb under Renji’s cheek. “I can’t--”
“Sssh.” Renji kissed Ishida’s hipbone. “There’s no hurry. I don’t have to check back into headquarters for another twenty-four hours.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean we’ve got time to piss around, take a nap, whatever.”
“But….” Ishida’s voice sounded scared again. “I mean what are you going to do now?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The feeling of being satisfied several times over happened before Renji finished. Not bothering to completely disrobe, he came in his own hand. The cream dribbled out of his fingers and fell on Ishida. Renji didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to wipe the spot clean with his own sleeve.
It was okay. He’d fuck Ishida later. Whenever the kid was ready for it.
“The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.”~ Franz Kafka, 1915.
When Renji asked Ishida if he remembered every moment of Hueco Mundo, Ishida said that no, he didn’t remember what had happened when he was inside the Eighth Espada’s wing. The answer was reassuring in more ways than one. Renji didn’t think that his own Shinigami lovemaking could compare to that of some genius Arrancar whose every body part seemed capable of bursting into a bouquet of tentacles. And, of course, Renji didn’t want the kid to associate being fucked--if indeed that’s what had happened in there, maybe forni-fuckwhat just sucked out your reiatsu or something--with something Hollowish and perverted.
When Ishida asked Renji if he expected to get any more days off before the Winter War, Renji appreciated the earnestness in the kid’s voice. Ishida didn’t even try to hide it--he wanted more of this.
Renji said that if Soul Society didn’t give its officers any more leave, then he would just take some when he felt like it. What’s the worst they could do to him? Give him gopher duty in the fourth division building?
An alarm clock went off at eight a.m. and gave Renji a little start.
“What’s that? You have to go to school?”
“No,” said Ishida. “I don’t have to.”
“Do you feel--?” Renji didn’t have any hope in himself ever being talky enough for Ishida. “Never mind.”
Renji stood up and pulled off what was left of his clothing. He took note of Ishida’s intent gaze as it passed over his chest and then met his own. The kid seemed surprisingly relaxed now. Maybe this time was going to be the time.
Renji leaned over Ishida. His long red hair fell touching the kid’s shoulders. Ishida, without any self-consciousness, as if he’d been lying in bed with naked Shinigami every school morning of his life, put his finger on the jagged point of one of Renji’s tattoos and began to idly trace the line.
“Do you feel satisfied?” Renji asked.
“What do you mean by satisfied?”
Renji made a little snorting sound of disapproval. “I’m not going to get all philosophical and all, Boy Genius. What I meant was … are you ready for some more now? Or do you want to take a rest or something? Are you satisfied?”
That irresistable Ishida half-smile. “Hell, no,” Ishida said.
So Renji kissed him. As the kid’s fingers worked through his hair and as Renji’s tongue worked past Ishida’s lips and teeth, Renji wondered if he himself was satisfied. In the way he had originally meant. In that deep down purified happy way he hoped Ishida was. Was Renji satisfied now?
Hell no. Maybe he never would be. Not with Ishida. And that was just fine.
As always typo-catches, grammar corrections, all feedback welcome. I'm not revising these so I didn't really proof. You can leave anon comments if you want, and if you're not an ass, I'll answer you.
In addition to fics already in progress (including a Gin/Ran for edge_chan and an IshiIchi A/U forsublimeparadigm --and a couple fanarts long overdue), the Pr0Ntober requests on my plate are:
For more info about participating or requesting in Pr0Ntober, look here.
Three of my favorite lovelies, na_no_nai, gallo_de_pelea, and grass_angel have birthdays coming up very very soon, and if I were a deity and could everything I wanted to do, I'd write special things for them instead of being distracted by Pr0ntober....but hey, you guys have your birthday month designated as PR0NTOBER? How groovy is that?