Fic: The Consequences of Our Actions
Title: The Consequences of Our Actions
Summary: Ichigo and Ishida don't have sex -- OR DO THEY??
Warnings: No plot, no plot at all. Porn, though.
Pairing: Ichigo/Ishida
There are times in life when a person needs to stop and take stock of the situation and wonder, quite frankly, what the fuck had happened to get them there.
Kurosaki Ichigo, for example, had such a moment when he first found himself wielding a soul slayer, standing triumphant, having vanquished his first Hollow. In that instance, he came to the conclusion that none of it was his fault, since both the shinigami who had granted him power and the Hollow in question had pretty much fallen on top of him. He couldn't help his spirit power since he had no idea he had it in the first place, so, really, he wasn't responsible for any of that weirdness.
A lot of the ensuing weirdness, he figured, couldn't be pinned on him, either, really. It was crazy shit playing out just right in the universe or Fate or something, who knew? That was out of his hands.
In the current moment, roughly making out with Ishida and pressing his groin into the other boy's thigh, thinking in a moment of epiphany-like clarity, "how did this happen, exactly?" he thought maybe he wasn't so blameless. In fact, he thought maybe he had kind of an active hand in it, and the steps leading up to this very instant could be pretty easily followed if you were remotely clever. He had, after all, been the one to follow the bastard home, start a petty squabble with him, and then grab him by his tie and kiss him. So, yeah, maybe Ichigo could admit that he fucking well knew how he got himself into this one.
He had just wanted to shut Ishida up, and God knew that most people who had ever met the pissant wouldn't blame him for that. How his hands, body, and mouth had defied his brain and attacked Ishida was utterly beyond him, and he swore mentally he would get them back when this was over. Maybe. Because despite the panicky voice in his head shouting at him that this was such a big goddamn mistake, he felt good. Ishida shifted his leg against Ichigo's crotch, and amended that to feeling very good.
Somehow, they had made it to Ishida's bed - Ichigo had a feeling that Ishida might have actually dragged him here by his collar, but his memory wasn't clear on that matter - and Ichigo was currently working Ishida's shirt off, having discarded his tie somewhere around the kitchen area. Ishida wasn't a big help, refusing to move his hands away from Ichigo's pants, fumbling with his belt buckle. Ishida sat up slowly, urging Ichigo to stand, as he undid Ichigo's fly. He quickly took off his glasses and laid them on his bedside table, and Ichigo had only a moment to marvel at how nice Ishida looked before he was distracted again.
"Take off your shirt." Ishida pressed his mouth against Ichigo's exposed skin just above the waistline of his open jeans, and Ichigo complied immediately. Ishida, perched on the edge of his bed, looked up at Ichigo and smirked. The effect was dampened a touch by Ishida's having to squint without the benefit of his glasses, but his smug little mouth was almost perfectly lined up with Ichigo's cock, and Ichigo felt suddenly dizzy. Maybe it was just the fog of his arousal screwing up his perception, but this was going really fast. This morning he was sure he didn't hate any living person more than Ishida Uryuu, and now it looked like that same person was about to give him head. Ichigo groaned.
"Hmmm," Ishida breathed as he worked Ichigo's pants down around his knees, "you wear very small briefs."
"Shut up!" Ichigo was high-strung enough to consider punching Ishida in the side of the head for being such a bewildering little prick, but as he was currently nipping gently along the inside of Ichigo's thigh, Ichigo didn't think the satisfaction of hurting Ishida would outweigh the satisfaction of letting him finish if he was headed where Ichigo hoped he was headed.
It turned out that Ishida wasn't taking the situation where Ichigo thought. "I want you to fuck me," Ishida murmured into the dark hair sticking out of the top of Ichigo's briefs, sending jolts all though his body and pushing the throb in his dick to an almost painful degree. "Do you want to do that?"
"Yes," he breathed, the word ending in a squeak as Ishida mouthed Ichigo through his underwear, and damn if he couldn't feel the son of a bitch smiling against his crotch. Ichigo's fingers fisted in Ishida's hair as he briefly drew teeth across Ichigo's erection.
"All right." Ishida pulled away gently, more gently than Ichigo thought he was capable of being, pulled off his shirt, pants, underwear and socks without ceremony, and sat back on the bed, legs open wide.
Ichigo was pretty sure he was sputtering at this point, standing there in his socks and briefs, raging hard, staring at a completely naked Ishida, splayed out in front of him for the taking. "Ahhh. Uhhh," Ichigo flustered. Ishida didn't seem to notice.
"Oh, wait," he said, as though Ichigo had the mental fortitude and motor skills to do anything at the moment, and flipped onto his stomach to rummage under his mattress. Was he getting porn or something? Ichigo almost laughed out loud, but the desire dried up instantly when he saw what Ishida brought out: a small tube of what could only be lube. Ishida took Ichigo's hand, uncapped the tube, and squirted a large dollop of - yes, definitely lubricant - into his palm. "There you go," he said calmly, tucking the lube back under his bed before shifting around so his face was to the wall, propping himself up on his elbows, and sticking his ass in the air.
Ichigo was nervous, confused that Ishida had lube available, amused that he hid it when there wasn't a risk of a parent finding out, and really goddamn horny at the thought of fucking him. It was a bit much for him to process all at once. In spite of not understanding what the hell was going on, he knelt behind Ishida, staring at the slimy goop in his palm. There was at least one thing he wanted cleared up before he proceeded.
"Why do you have lube? How do you know so much about this?"
Ishida craned his neck to quirk a teasing eyebrow at Ichigo, who didn't think he would ever stop feeling confused. The implications of that look made the voice in his head scream incoherently for reasons he didn't care to investigate.
"You mean you've done this before? With who?" What masochistic dumbass would put up with the prick long enough to screw him, Ichigo wondered viciously, before realizing that he was a masochistic dumbass doing exactly that.
When Ichigo didn't move, Ishida sighed in exasperation. "Nobody, Kurosaki; I was teasing you. Now will you shut up and lube my ass so we can get on with this?"
He really hated Ishida. He did, however, feel a wash of relief to know that this was the first time for both of them. That and all other conflicting emotions were quickly overruled by the urgent pulsing in his cock, and his attention returned to the boy on all fours in front of him.
Ichigo frowned down at the goopy lump in his hand and grimaced, smearing it awkwardly over two fingers. He made a strangled noise of disgust when he realized his other hand was sticky with it and he had no way to clean himself off, so, without thinking, he wiped the excess onto Ishida's hip. Ishida slapped a hand to his forehead, but actually refrained from saying anything for once. Might as well get this over with, Ichigo thought, eying Ishida's ass nervously. Horny as he was, he had serious apprehensions about sticking his hand in someone else's asshole.
It had to be done, though, and he was too far into this to turn back if he so desired, and he had to admit to himself that he really wanted Ishida. So Ichigo sucked in a breath, braced himself, and slid two lube-slicked fingers into the boy who irritated him more than anyone else in his life. And immediately had to pause, because around just those two digits, Ishida was tight, and the thought of having his cock in there made his eyes cross.
Ichigo began moving his hand back and forth tentatively and Ishida's breath hitched, a shudder passing through his thin body. He made small, encouraging noises in the back of his throat that went straight to Ichigo's crotch. He moved faster, rotating his fingers, and Ishida groaned, pressing back insistently.
"Good. Now try another finger," Ishida panted, moving his hips in time with Ichigo's pumping hand. As much as he didn't like the bossy tone, Ichigo complied, and was rewarded with another soft moan. It really was becoming impossible to think, but he knew he needed to be inside Ishida very badly. His cock was throbbing like crazy, and rubbing against Ishida's thigh wasn't the best thing he could be doing with it right now. Ishida twisted again to look back at Ichigo and snorted.
"Why are you still wearing underwear? Will you hurry up?"
Pride slightly wounded, Ichigo wrestled his remaining clothes off, nearly falling over in the process through lack of coordination and an unwillingness to actually stand and make undressing easier. "There," he snapped, indicating his nudeness with both hands and lining up behind Ishida again.
"Fantastic," Ishida said waspishly. "Maybe now you can actually get around to fucking me."
He really wanted to, to hammer Ishida so hard he couldn't walk or be smug ever again, but some part of him was still logical. "Wait," he said, "don't we need a condom?" A big part of Ichigo hated himself for bringing it up - namely, his penis - but years of living with a doctor had drilled certain notions about safe sex into his head.
"I don't think so, Kurosaki," he replied. "I'm not about to get pregnant, and I'm pretty sure you're not riddled with STDs. Just tell me you don't have crabs and we should be fine."
"I don't have crabs," Ichigo blurted before realizing Ishida probably hadn't actually expected that assurance.
Coughing self-consciously, Ichigo took himself one hand and rested the other on Ishida's hip. The voice in his head was whispering panicky warnings to him about all the things that could go wrong and how hard Ishida would laugh if he did it wrong and his heart was thumping so wildly his chest hurt, but he moved in spite of the niggling reservations. The head of his erection pressed into Ishida and he thought maybe he should give him time to adjust, but his hips kept pressing forward, slowly but steadily working inside. Ichigo couldn't breathe; he didn't think he had any more breath in him, because, aw Christ, this felt incredible and his lungs were burning, and was that moaning coming from him? He barely even registered when he was all the way in, as far as he could go, his legs trembling to support him.
"God, Kurosaki," Ishida whispered, fingers spasmodically clutching the bedsheets. "Move."
Even if his brain couldn't consciously process the command, his body took up the duty and began thrusting, slowly. Ichigo dropped his chin to his chest, trying to focus on the unbelievable feeling of fucking Ishida. It was unlike anything he'd felt in his life, and even jacking off to his best fantasies of Tatsuki and Orihime going down on him at once didn't compare to this. Didn't come close. He became vaguely aware that he was speaking, mumbling nonsense affirmatives to himself and Ishida as he moved.
"No. Wrong," Ishida's voice cut through his pleasant mental buzz. "Harder."
In irritated retaliation, Ichigo thrust hard enough to force Ishida to brace his hands against the wall to prevent hitting his head. He cried out loudly and pushed back hard, much to Ichigo's satisfaction, and he picked up the pace. He made a mental note that the next time they did this would be face-to-face so he could have access to Ishida's mouth, to kiss him or bite his lip or just hold a hand over it to keep him from speaking.
Ishida shifted, holding himself up on one arm, and used the other to reach around and grab Ichigo's hand. Ichigo had the bizarre impression that Ishida was trying to be romantic or something and almost yanked free of Ishida's grip. Ishida held on and guided him down under his body to his cock, wrapped their fingers around his erection, and began stroking. Ichigo was almost entirely surrounding Ishida now, and something about the position was really erotic. Heat was pooling urgently in his stomach and under his heart, and he was pumping so frantically he was sure he must be hurting Ishida. The sounds he was making and the occassional annoying "Damn you, Kurosaki, harder," kind of crippled that idea, though. With one last burst, he pounded Ishida practically through the wall and then was coming, hard.
He knew he screamed, but that was about all he was aware of as his vision blanked. In the periphery of his consciousness, he also realized that Ishida was still using both of their hands on himself and speeding up considerably. Ichigo's mind was just starting to clear when he felt Ishida go completely rigid and a hot, thick liquid poured over their fingers. Eugh.
Ishida flopped down onto his stomach, pulling Ichigo out of him, and both of them moaned in protest. Ichigo didn't care to do much besides fall over on his side next to Ishida, where he realized with distant dissatisfaction that he was completely naked except for his socks. He must look really sexy. Ishida crawled over to the edge of the bed to grab a towel and began wiping off his genitals and ass. Ichigo grimaced, but conceded that he could be doing less attractive things than laying around in nothing but footwear. He supposed he really shouldn't be surprised at Ishida's fastidiousness, though it did rankle him for some reason.
What he was surprised at was when Ishida came over to him and used a clean corner of the towel to wipe off Ichigo's cock with unexpected tenderness. Ichigo blushed and plucked the towel from his hand, tossing it to the floor. Ishida sighed, but seemed otherwise content as he settled back against his pillow.
And, laying beside the boy he just lost his virginity to, Ichigo had never felt so awkward in his life. What. Now. He coughed and shifted uncomfortably, itching to either get dressed and get the hell out or pull of his stupid socks and go to sleep.
"Well, that was OK," Ichigo muttered.
Ishida chuckled next to him. "Yeah, not bad for your first time."
Ichigo sniffed.
"You know, Kurosaki," Ishida said casually, "you can stick around for a while if you like. I know that must have worn you out. You never accept your limits."
Ichigo would have protested, but even he realized that Ishida had just issued him an open invitation to stay in his bed. Ishida didn't wait for an answer, just curled up on his side, back to Ichigo, and tossed a blanket over the both of them as he did.
Well. It wasn't like Ichigo was going to spoon him or anything, but napping here - naked, with his body pressed up against Ishida's similarly naked body - for a while wasn't unappealing. Ichigo yawned and sprawled all four limbs in every direction, pushing Ishida further into the corner of his own bed. He snapped something angry and irritated, but Ichigo didn't hear it. He grinned, scratched his stomach, and settled in to sleep. For the first time in a long time, instead of wondering how he had gotten himself into a situation, Ichigo was contemplating how to get himself back into it.
Summary: Ichigo and Ishida don't have sex -- OR DO THEY??
Warnings: No plot, no plot at all. Porn, though.
Pairing: Ichigo/Ishida
There are times in life when a person needs to stop and take stock of the situation and wonder, quite frankly, what the fuck had happened to get them there.
Kurosaki Ichigo, for example, had such a moment when he first found himself wielding a soul slayer, standing triumphant, having vanquished his first Hollow. In that instance, he came to the conclusion that none of it was his fault, since both the shinigami who had granted him power and the Hollow in question had pretty much fallen on top of him. He couldn't help his spirit power since he had no idea he had it in the first place, so, really, he wasn't responsible for any of that weirdness.
A lot of the ensuing weirdness, he figured, couldn't be pinned on him, either, really. It was crazy shit playing out just right in the universe or Fate or something, who knew? That was out of his hands.
In the current moment, roughly making out with Ishida and pressing his groin into the other boy's thigh, thinking in a moment of epiphany-like clarity, "how did this happen, exactly?" he thought maybe he wasn't so blameless. In fact, he thought maybe he had kind of an active hand in it, and the steps leading up to this very instant could be pretty easily followed if you were remotely clever. He had, after all, been the one to follow the bastard home, start a petty squabble with him, and then grab him by his tie and kiss him. So, yeah, maybe Ichigo could admit that he fucking well knew how he got himself into this one.
He had just wanted to shut Ishida up, and God knew that most people who had ever met the pissant wouldn't blame him for that. How his hands, body, and mouth had defied his brain and attacked Ishida was utterly beyond him, and he swore mentally he would get them back when this was over. Maybe. Because despite the panicky voice in his head shouting at him that this was such a big goddamn mistake, he felt good. Ishida shifted his leg against Ichigo's crotch, and amended that to feeling very good.
Somehow, they had made it to Ishida's bed - Ichigo had a feeling that Ishida might have actually dragged him here by his collar, but his memory wasn't clear on that matter - and Ichigo was currently working Ishida's shirt off, having discarded his tie somewhere around the kitchen area. Ishida wasn't a big help, refusing to move his hands away from Ichigo's pants, fumbling with his belt buckle. Ishida sat up slowly, urging Ichigo to stand, as he undid Ichigo's fly. He quickly took off his glasses and laid them on his bedside table, and Ichigo had only a moment to marvel at how nice Ishida looked before he was distracted again.
"Take off your shirt." Ishida pressed his mouth against Ichigo's exposed skin just above the waistline of his open jeans, and Ichigo complied immediately. Ishida, perched on the edge of his bed, looked up at Ichigo and smirked. The effect was dampened a touch by Ishida's having to squint without the benefit of his glasses, but his smug little mouth was almost perfectly lined up with Ichigo's cock, and Ichigo felt suddenly dizzy. Maybe it was just the fog of his arousal screwing up his perception, but this was going really fast. This morning he was sure he didn't hate any living person more than Ishida Uryuu, and now it looked like that same person was about to give him head. Ichigo groaned.
"Hmmm," Ishida breathed as he worked Ichigo's pants down around his knees, "you wear very small briefs."
"Shut up!" Ichigo was high-strung enough to consider punching Ishida in the side of the head for being such a bewildering little prick, but as he was currently nipping gently along the inside of Ichigo's thigh, Ichigo didn't think the satisfaction of hurting Ishida would outweigh the satisfaction of letting him finish if he was headed where Ichigo hoped he was headed.
It turned out that Ishida wasn't taking the situation where Ichigo thought. "I want you to fuck me," Ishida murmured into the dark hair sticking out of the top of Ichigo's briefs, sending jolts all though his body and pushing the throb in his dick to an almost painful degree. "Do you want to do that?"
"Yes," he breathed, the word ending in a squeak as Ishida mouthed Ichigo through his underwear, and damn if he couldn't feel the son of a bitch smiling against his crotch. Ichigo's fingers fisted in Ishida's hair as he briefly drew teeth across Ichigo's erection.
"All right." Ishida pulled away gently, more gently than Ichigo thought he was capable of being, pulled off his shirt, pants, underwear and socks without ceremony, and sat back on the bed, legs open wide.
Ichigo was pretty sure he was sputtering at this point, standing there in his socks and briefs, raging hard, staring at a completely naked Ishida, splayed out in front of him for the taking. "Ahhh. Uhhh," Ichigo flustered. Ishida didn't seem to notice.
"Oh, wait," he said, as though Ichigo had the mental fortitude and motor skills to do anything at the moment, and flipped onto his stomach to rummage under his mattress. Was he getting porn or something? Ichigo almost laughed out loud, but the desire dried up instantly when he saw what Ishida brought out: a small tube of what could only be lube. Ishida took Ichigo's hand, uncapped the tube, and squirted a large dollop of - yes, definitely lubricant - into his palm. "There you go," he said calmly, tucking the lube back under his bed before shifting around so his face was to the wall, propping himself up on his elbows, and sticking his ass in the air.
Ichigo was nervous, confused that Ishida had lube available, amused that he hid it when there wasn't a risk of a parent finding out, and really goddamn horny at the thought of fucking him. It was a bit much for him to process all at once. In spite of not understanding what the hell was going on, he knelt behind Ishida, staring at the slimy goop in his palm. There was at least one thing he wanted cleared up before he proceeded.
"Why do you have lube? How do you know so much about this?"
Ishida craned his neck to quirk a teasing eyebrow at Ichigo, who didn't think he would ever stop feeling confused. The implications of that look made the voice in his head scream incoherently for reasons he didn't care to investigate.
"You mean you've done this before? With who?" What masochistic dumbass would put up with the prick long enough to screw him, Ichigo wondered viciously, before realizing that he was a masochistic dumbass doing exactly that.
When Ichigo didn't move, Ishida sighed in exasperation. "Nobody, Kurosaki; I was teasing you. Now will you shut up and lube my ass so we can get on with this?"
He really hated Ishida. He did, however, feel a wash of relief to know that this was the first time for both of them. That and all other conflicting emotions were quickly overruled by the urgent pulsing in his cock, and his attention returned to the boy on all fours in front of him.
Ichigo frowned down at the goopy lump in his hand and grimaced, smearing it awkwardly over two fingers. He made a strangled noise of disgust when he realized his other hand was sticky with it and he had no way to clean himself off, so, without thinking, he wiped the excess onto Ishida's hip. Ishida slapped a hand to his forehead, but actually refrained from saying anything for once. Might as well get this over with, Ichigo thought, eying Ishida's ass nervously. Horny as he was, he had serious apprehensions about sticking his hand in someone else's asshole.
It had to be done, though, and he was too far into this to turn back if he so desired, and he had to admit to himself that he really wanted Ishida. So Ichigo sucked in a breath, braced himself, and slid two lube-slicked fingers into the boy who irritated him more than anyone else in his life. And immediately had to pause, because around just those two digits, Ishida was tight, and the thought of having his cock in there made his eyes cross.
Ichigo began moving his hand back and forth tentatively and Ishida's breath hitched, a shudder passing through his thin body. He made small, encouraging noises in the back of his throat that went straight to Ichigo's crotch. He moved faster, rotating his fingers, and Ishida groaned, pressing back insistently.
"Good. Now try another finger," Ishida panted, moving his hips in time with Ichigo's pumping hand. As much as he didn't like the bossy tone, Ichigo complied, and was rewarded with another soft moan. It really was becoming impossible to think, but he knew he needed to be inside Ishida very badly. His cock was throbbing like crazy, and rubbing against Ishida's thigh wasn't the best thing he could be doing with it right now. Ishida twisted again to look back at Ichigo and snorted.
"Why are you still wearing underwear? Will you hurry up?"
Pride slightly wounded, Ichigo wrestled his remaining clothes off, nearly falling over in the process through lack of coordination and an unwillingness to actually stand and make undressing easier. "There," he snapped, indicating his nudeness with both hands and lining up behind Ishida again.
"Fantastic," Ishida said waspishly. "Maybe now you can actually get around to fucking me."
He really wanted to, to hammer Ishida so hard he couldn't walk or be smug ever again, but some part of him was still logical. "Wait," he said, "don't we need a condom?" A big part of Ichigo hated himself for bringing it up - namely, his penis - but years of living with a doctor had drilled certain notions about safe sex into his head.
"I don't think so, Kurosaki," he replied. "I'm not about to get pregnant, and I'm pretty sure you're not riddled with STDs. Just tell me you don't have crabs and we should be fine."
"I don't have crabs," Ichigo blurted before realizing Ishida probably hadn't actually expected that assurance.
Coughing self-consciously, Ichigo took himself one hand and rested the other on Ishida's hip. The voice in his head was whispering panicky warnings to him about all the things that could go wrong and how hard Ishida would laugh if he did it wrong and his heart was thumping so wildly his chest hurt, but he moved in spite of the niggling reservations. The head of his erection pressed into Ishida and he thought maybe he should give him time to adjust, but his hips kept pressing forward, slowly but steadily working inside. Ichigo couldn't breathe; he didn't think he had any more breath in him, because, aw Christ, this felt incredible and his lungs were burning, and was that moaning coming from him? He barely even registered when he was all the way in, as far as he could go, his legs trembling to support him.
"God, Kurosaki," Ishida whispered, fingers spasmodically clutching the bedsheets. "Move."
Even if his brain couldn't consciously process the command, his body took up the duty and began thrusting, slowly. Ichigo dropped his chin to his chest, trying to focus on the unbelievable feeling of fucking Ishida. It was unlike anything he'd felt in his life, and even jacking off to his best fantasies of Tatsuki and Orihime going down on him at once didn't compare to this. Didn't come close. He became vaguely aware that he was speaking, mumbling nonsense affirmatives to himself and Ishida as he moved.
"No. Wrong," Ishida's voice cut through his pleasant mental buzz. "Harder."
In irritated retaliation, Ichigo thrust hard enough to force Ishida to brace his hands against the wall to prevent hitting his head. He cried out loudly and pushed back hard, much to Ichigo's satisfaction, and he picked up the pace. He made a mental note that the next time they did this would be face-to-face so he could have access to Ishida's mouth, to kiss him or bite his lip or just hold a hand over it to keep him from speaking.
Ishida shifted, holding himself up on one arm, and used the other to reach around and grab Ichigo's hand. Ichigo had the bizarre impression that Ishida was trying to be romantic or something and almost yanked free of Ishida's grip. Ishida held on and guided him down under his body to his cock, wrapped their fingers around his erection, and began stroking. Ichigo was almost entirely surrounding Ishida now, and something about the position was really erotic. Heat was pooling urgently in his stomach and under his heart, and he was pumping so frantically he was sure he must be hurting Ishida. The sounds he was making and the occassional annoying "Damn you, Kurosaki, harder," kind of crippled that idea, though. With one last burst, he pounded Ishida practically through the wall and then was coming, hard.
He knew he screamed, but that was about all he was aware of as his vision blanked. In the periphery of his consciousness, he also realized that Ishida was still using both of their hands on himself and speeding up considerably. Ichigo's mind was just starting to clear when he felt Ishida go completely rigid and a hot, thick liquid poured over their fingers. Eugh.
Ishida flopped down onto his stomach, pulling Ichigo out of him, and both of them moaned in protest. Ichigo didn't care to do much besides fall over on his side next to Ishida, where he realized with distant dissatisfaction that he was completely naked except for his socks. He must look really sexy. Ishida crawled over to the edge of the bed to grab a towel and began wiping off his genitals and ass. Ichigo grimaced, but conceded that he could be doing less attractive things than laying around in nothing but footwear. He supposed he really shouldn't be surprised at Ishida's fastidiousness, though it did rankle him for some reason.
What he was surprised at was when Ishida came over to him and used a clean corner of the towel to wipe off Ichigo's cock with unexpected tenderness. Ichigo blushed and plucked the towel from his hand, tossing it to the floor. Ishida sighed, but seemed otherwise content as he settled back against his pillow.
And, laying beside the boy he just lost his virginity to, Ichigo had never felt so awkward in his life. What. Now. He coughed and shifted uncomfortably, itching to either get dressed and get the hell out or pull of his stupid socks and go to sleep.
"Well, that was OK," Ichigo muttered.
Ishida chuckled next to him. "Yeah, not bad for your first time."
Ichigo sniffed.
"You know, Kurosaki," Ishida said casually, "you can stick around for a while if you like. I know that must have worn you out. You never accept your limits."
Ichigo would have protested, but even he realized that Ishida had just issued him an open invitation to stay in his bed. Ishida didn't wait for an answer, just curled up on his side, back to Ichigo, and tossed a blanket over the both of them as he did.
Well. It wasn't like Ichigo was going to spoon him or anything, but napping here - naked, with his body pressed up against Ishida's similarly naked body - for a while wasn't unappealing. Ichigo yawned and sprawled all four limbs in every direction, pushing Ishida further into the corner of his own bed. He snapped something angry and irritated, but Ichigo didn't hear it. He grinned, scratched his stomach, and settled in to sleep. For the first time in a long time, instead of wondering how he had gotten himself into a situation, Ichigo was contemplating how to get himself back into it.