[ A damp, spring breeze stirred half-drawn curtains against the windowsill, the view below of a bed of early irises; the scent mixing with new, green shoots to create a wonderfully clean perfume. Inside a small, modest bedroom with a large wardrobe, Ichigo lay on top of his cotton bedclothes in jeans and a T-shirt, breath stirring the soft crown of Shiro's hair. A slight sigh of pleasure stirred the snow white hair as he shifted in his half-asleep state, and felt the warmth of another body pressed into the curve of his.
Rolling over in his sleep, he snuggles in closer. A forearm cinched around the other's waist, and Ichigo buried his nose against the back of the hollow's neck, parted lips damp with the hot breath of slumber as they grazed their way up to the short, downy tufts at the base of his skull. Like any teenage boy his body started to react to the pleasant form aligned against the planes of his chest, and stomach and he subconsciously fit his hips snug against a firm bottom, effectively a warm, heavy blanket of pure boy as he panted against sweat-dewy skin, muscles relaxing into the firm slopes, and planes of white skin. ]