Insomnia (chapter 11, pt. 2)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Insomnia (chapter 11, pt. 2)
Rating:NC-17 (to be safe)
Pairing: IchigoxRenji
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, spoilers
Summary: When you carry world on your shoulders, who’s left to catch you when you fall? (previous chapters)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
Notes: The second part, as promised. Also, this brings Insomnia current on LJ, so posts will be coming out slower from here in out *sad face*.
(chapter 11, pt. 1)
Tempest (pt. 2)
“Owwww,” Ichigo groaned, rolling onto his side so that he could draw his legs closer to his chest.
“Here.” Urahara was kneeling beside him, pressing a bottle of water into his hand.
He sipped at it without raising his head, letting it puddle under his face when it ran over. His chest was throbbing dully, but he was more concerned with the way that his stomach was rolling, threatening to rebel if he didn’t comply with its wish to remain still. He felt fingers pressing against his neck and managed to turn his head.
“How long?” Ichigo muttered, watching Urahara frown.
“One hour and thirteen minutes,” he replied, looking apologetic. “I probably should have brought you out.”
“M’fine.” Ichigo waved him off. “Doesn’t really hurt, just feel sick.”
Urahara pulled out his notepad, jotting down a couple of entries as Ichigo took slow, deep breaths to calm himself.
“Where’s Renji?” he asked after a moment, feeling a little better.
The corner of Urahara’s mouth lifted and he spared him a wicked glance before returning to what he was writing. “He’s sitting about 12 feet behind you. He seems rather angry.”
Ichigo groaned, pushing himself a little ways off the ground to test his stomach’s resolve. They’d managed to get two rounds in, though the last one had been rough. The first time he’d reappeared, slamming into the sand and coughing up a little blood, Renji had decided this was a bad idea. Unfortunately, bad idea or not, it was necessary for Urahara’s testing and so he’d pulled himself back up and shook off the residual pain. Renji had gritted his teeth but hadn’t said anything; he knew the stakes as well as anyone.
“Did you get enough?” Ichigo asked Urahara, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Renji was stalking towards them.
“Enough for now,” Urahara sighed, closing his pencil in the notebook. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hold an Espada for more than a couple of hours, but it looks promising for the lower ranks.”
“Can it take more than one person at a time?” Ichigo finally managed to sit up properly.
“I’m still working on that.” Urahara tugged off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I have the basic concept laid out, but it will be almost impossible to test outside of actually taking it into a battle.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard to find soon,” Ichigo pointed out as Renji dropped down next to him.
“You have to go again?” he asked, sounding more resigned to the process now that he’d witnessed it again.
“I can’t today,” Ichigo sighed, digging his palm into his eyes.
“Ya sure Seireitei wouldn’t have somethin’ you could test with?” he asked, helping Ichigo pull the cube from around his neck.
“They don’t have access to the type of Hollow energy I’m targeting and I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t be pleased that I’m dabbling in these experiments again.” Urahara accepted the small device, looking tired. “I wish that there was some other way to go about this, but there simply isn’t.”
He reached forward, turning Ichigo’s arm over to peel the flat disc off of his wrist. He rubbed his thumb over the reddened patch of skin a couple of times, pale brows furrowed in thought.
“I never asked what that was,” Ichigo muttered, allowing Renji to examine his wrist when Urahara released it.
He felt a little shiver run through him as long fingers moved over his skin, sending a tingle up his arm that had more to do with the memory of the redhead’s panting breath against his neck than with the experiment. He shook his head, trying to focus on what Urahara was saying.
“I was taking some more involved readings of your reiatsu fluctuations.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “I’m trying to collect enough data to modify the way we track the Arrancar. Currently, everything is centered on the reiatsu signatures of an ordinary Hollow, which can cause problems when monitoring something else.”
“Could ya track the fuckin’ reiatsu supressin’ ones?” Renji asked.
“I don’t know at this point.” He stood slowly, pocketing the little devices. “I just don’t have access to a wide enough testing pool.”
“Something else to test while we fight.” Ichigo gave him a wry smile.
“I suppose,” he agreed, offering him a hand up.
Ichigo allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, swaying slightly as the world righted itself. Urahara’s hand closed around his arm as he peered at him in concern.
“Are you sure you haven’t overdone it?” he asked.
“Well, Zangetsu isn’t complaining, so I guess it’s fine.” Ichigo unconsciously leaned into Renji when the redhead stepped up behind him, not missing the twitch of a pale eyebrow as Urahara released his arm.
He scowled, but didn’t move. “Knock it off.”
“My, my, such a rude tone.” Urahara was grinning again as he replaced his hat, pulling it low over his eyes.
Ichigo felt the heat creeping into his face but he’d had enough experience with Urahara’s odd behavior to keep it from spreading too far. He straightened, feeling the fatigue settling in his bones.
“You should get some rest if you’re planning on patrolling later, Kurosaki-kun.” Urahara was still smirking, but his tone was genuinely concerned.
“I will.” Ichigo was more than ready to comply.
“I could tell Hitsugaya-taichou that ya ain’t feelin’ up to it,” Renji suggested, falling into step as they headed for the ladder.
“Fuck that,” Ichigo scoffed.
Renji chuckled, feeling relieved that Ichigo at least sounded like himself, even if he looked half dead. Ichigo staggered again, catching his foot on an overturned rock and Renji slipped an arm around him for support. It was the least he could offer after having spent the last couple of hours unable to do anything but watch him struggle.
Ichigo slid an arm up Renji's back, gripping his shoulder like a crutch. Honestly, he really did feel like he’d over done it, but there was no point in complaining about it now. Renji’s arm tightened around him and he felt Urahara’s eyes boring into the side of his head.
“Not a fucking word,” he muttered, looking straight ahead.
Urahara’s dark chuckle barely reached his ears. “I’m certainly in no position to be questioning other people’s behavior.”
Ichigo ignored him for the rest of the trip back into the shop, not even bothering to look back as he trudged into Renji’s room. He stripped down to his hakama and fell onto the futon in a graceless sprawl.
“Ya really gonna be okay for tonight?” Renji dropped into a chair, looking down at him.
“Yeah, just wake me up in a couple of hours,” Ichigo muttered, already feeling sleep overcoming him.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The Hollow was running again. Ichigo swore, wondering why the hell things couldn’t just stand still and die as he took off in pursuit. It wasn’t an Arrancar, but it was big and seemed capable of speeds that, in Ichigo’s opinion, were just unnecessary. They’d been chasing it for what felt like hours, and it was getting irritating because it could dodge as well as it could run. He swore again as it disappeared between a couple of buildings, using shunpo to cut up an alley and head it off.
Renji had let him sleep until only an hour or so before they were due to start their shift, which was longer than he’d intended but left him feeling worlds better. He’d been able to shower and forage for food without any real sense of hurry, allowing him to keep that sense of wellbeing for a little while longer. He even accepted Ururu’s message that Urahara had some medicine he wanted him to take with better than usual spirits, muttering only a couple of choice curses as he trudged down the hall.
He’d found Urahara on the phone with some unknown caller, an unusual occurrence because the former captain hardly knew anyone who bothered with human communication. He’d had the most incredible look of glee on his face as he blithely explained that he could hardly be held responsible for other people’s failure to pay attention to what was going on around them.
Ichigo had started to leave but Urahara had motioned him to stay, digging one handed through his supplies for whatever horrible concoction he was planning to foist on his victim. He paused, wicked gaze locked on Ichigo as he informed the mouth piece that whether or not he had been aware of the situation was beside the point, as he was running a humble shop, not an information service. Ichigo frowned, wondering why the way he’d drawled the word ‘situation’ seemed to linger with him.
He’d taken the little bottle of death flavored mystery sludge, not even bothering to ask what it was in his haste to get out of the room. Something about seeing Urahara that thrilled made him want to be as far away as possible. As he slid the door closed, he thought he saw the blond give him the slightest wink, which only served to reassure him that nothing good was going to come of this.
He skidded out of the alley and blinked at the empty street, wondering for a brief moment if the Hollow had somehow managed to become invisible. A muffled explosion to his left cleared that mystery up, and he realized that he’d just missed a turn somewhere. He dashed off towards the destruction, wondering where the hell Renji had disappeared to.
He got his answer as he rounded the corner of an obscure industrial block and found the other Shinigami lunging at the Hollow. He missed, narrowly avoiding its lashing tail as it spun around and ran again.
“Stop fuckin’ running!” Renji demanded insanely, lashing out with Zabimaru and taking a chunk out of the street.
Ichigo jumped into the intersection, effectively heading it off. It shrieked at him and launched itself skyward but he was ready, following it up. He swung Zangetsu down and almost sighed with relief as he felt the blade bite into something solid. The Hollow screamed its rage at him, even as it started to disintegrate. He landed near Renji, watching until it faded into nothing.
“Fuckin’…runnin’…bullshit,” Renji panted, leaning back against a wall and closing his eyes.
Ichigo laughed, slouching against the brick as well, running his sleeve over his forehead. He felt good, the adrenaline still pulsing in his veins, the light breeze cooling the sweat on the back of his neck. He turned so that his shoulder was pressed to the cold surface, still chuckling as Renji caught his breath.
Renji’s tongue slipped out, wetting lips that remained softly parted as his breathing started to slow. Ichigo felt that strange pull in his chest, that twisting, tingling feeling that made his blood race. He felt his own tongue dart out, licking his lower lip in response, unable to look away. Renji’s eyes were still closed, his head thrown back against the wall, exposing the curve of his throat to the night air. Ichigo watched as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his neck, tracing the contours of muscle and tendon that his fingers itched to follow. It disappeared under the edge of his robes, traveling down over that tattooed flesh that he could still see every time he closed his eyes. His smile fell away and he realized that he didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
Ever since the abrupt end to that morning’s activity, he’d been suffering from a complicated mixture of dissatisfaction, arousal, and irritation. If he remained idle for too long he could feel the memory of the fingers sliding over him like it was happening again, hear the echoes of the shuddering sounds as Renji moved against him. He’d been in a slightly uncomfortable state for most of the day, and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t even breathe. He bit his lip to muffle the sound of frustration that tried to sneak out.
Renji heard it anyway, and his eyes cracked open as he turned his head, staring down at him intently. He could feel the raw need rolling off Ichigo in hot waves, sending an almost imperceptible shiver through him as his eyes darkened. He watched as Ichigo bit harder into his lip under the weight of his stare, his pulse pounding visibly beneath the delicate skin of his throat. A moment passed between them, a thickening of the air, a sudden heat in what had been a cool night, and Renji felt his stomach drop. He reached out, pressing his thumb against Ichigo’s lip, pulling it out from between his teeth slowly. He traced along the soft curve, smoothing out the teeth marks, dipping into the warm mouth when the lips parted easily. Ichigo reacted without thought, licking the pad of the thumb, his breath hot and moist.
“Shit,” Renji breathed, Zabimaru clattering to the ground as he reached for Ichigo, pulling him closer to taste his mouth.
Zangetsu joined Zabimaru as Ichigo’s hands fisted in Renji’s kimono, pressing into the kiss, sucking on the tongue sweeping into his mouth. One of Renji’s hands was in his hair, tilting his head to the side, and the other was slipping down his back to crush them together. Ichigo made a soft, whimpering noise as a thigh ground against his already straining erection.
He pulled away from the kiss, leaning in to lick the side of Renji’s neck, tasting the skin that had been haunting his dreams since his moment of drugged indiscretion. The tang of sweat mixed with Renji’s unique, wild flavor, and Ichigo pressed closer, needing to burn it into his memory.
The redhead fell back, leaning against the wall, dragging Ichigo with him as he felt sharp teeth graze his skin. He gasped, his hips jerking forward, thrusting shallowly against Ichigo in a broken rhythm. He snaked a hand between them, pulling roughly at Ichigo’s kimono, peeling back the layers so that he could slide his hands over bare skin. Ichigo groaned at the contact, his breath stirring the fine hairs on Renji’s neck.
The hand in his hair tightened, pulling him back to the kiss, their tongues crashing together with frenzied need. Ichigo’s hands shook as he tugged at Renji’s clothes, faltering a little when he felt calloused fingers sliding up his back. With a final dizzy effort he made it to skin, blunt nails scraping over the tattooed chest as Renji hissed into his mouth. He found a nipple, pinching it, twisting it hard just like he’d been shown.
“Ichigo…fuck…” Renji’s head rolled back. His hands fell to the lean hips riding against him, shifting them sideways to grind their erections together.
Ichigo choked, his fingers biting down hard, drawing another spasm from the other man as he dropped his head onto the tattooed shoulder. Renji’s hands left his hips, working the ties on his hakama, plunging inside to curl around Ichigo’s aching cock. Teeth sank into his shoulder as the younger man cried out, straining against the touch.
Ichigo felt like he was on fire, his heart beating so fast that he thought he might choke on it. He was still sensitive from the morning, and the fingers stroking over him felt so good that it almost hurt. He wanted this so badly that he couldn’t even think, couldn’t do anything but moan brokenly as he thrust himself into that fist over and over again.
His hands fell from Renji’s chest to tear at his hakama, needing to touch him, needing to make him feel the same burn that was quickly drowning him. Renji groaned, riding a shudder as the hand closed over him, sliding over his weeping head and down his pulsing length.
“Gods, yes…” he breathed against Ichigo’s ear, biting down on the lobe as he pumped him faster.
Renji’s hand ripped free, shoving Ichigo’s hakama lower, licking a sloppy trail across his palm before gripping him again.
“Oh, shit…ngghh…fuck.” Ichigo was writhing, straining against the fingers that where stealing his sanity.
He copied Renji’s actions, tasting the salty fluid across his fingers, pulling him free so that he could slide over him, faster, harder. He squeezed his eyes shut, drinking in the sound of Renji’s shuddering groans mingling with the ones spilling from his own lips. He sank his teeth into his shoulder again, feeling the world start to draw in on itself, throbbing between his legs as he started to convulse.
“Harder…” Renji’s voice was dark and wild and Ichigo didn’t know if he meant his hand or his teeth so he did both.
Renji threw his head back, not bothering to muffle his shout as he arched forward, thrusting into the rough fist. The sound was too much for Ichigo, shooting through him like lightning, shoving him over the edge.
He buried his face in the crook of Renji’s neck, his sobbing moan muffled as he came, spilling hot over the still moving fingers. Renji tensed, his rhythm faltering as his own release screamed through him, pulsing between them in blinding waves of pleasure. The hand slid over him a couple more times, drawing out the orgasm, leaving him gasping for breath.
Ichigo finally released him, still panting into his neck as the shivers raked his body. Renji brought his clean hand up to thread through his hair, stroking the back of his neck as they wound their way back down. He rubbed his jaw against the orange hair, sliding against the sweat on his temple, in a lazy gesture of affection.
Ichigo pulled back, straightening up, flushed slightly with embarrassment. Renji cocked his head to one side, studying him intently and Ichigo managed a weak smile of reassurance. He stared shakily down at his hand, still coated in Renji’s release, and at his stomach which had suffered a similar fate. He had no idea what to do about it. He flushed deeper, noticing that his hakama had pooled around his feet, trying not to stare at the fact that Renji was equally exposed.
The redhead chuckled lightly and Ichigo’s head snapped back up, watching him raise his own hand to examine it with interest. He seemed to consider for a moment before tentatively licking the still warm fluids from the tip of one finger.
“Ugh.” Ichigo wrinkled his nose, forgetting his momentary embarrassment. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?” Renji licked the finger again, his brows furrowing as if he were trying to decipher the taste.
“Isn’t it gross?” he asked, still looking disgusted.
“Well it ain’t made of candy.” Renji rolled his eyes. “But it ain’t the worst thing I ever tasted. Figured it might be worth gettin’ used to.”
“Why?” Ichigo looked at him like he was crazy.
Renji just smirked at him, sucking the finger into his mouth up to the second knuckle, holding his gaze with heavy intent before slipping it in deeper. Ichigo felt a flush creep over him that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
“Oh,” he breathed, unable to find any other words at the moment.
Renji let the finger fall from his mouth, smirking again. He dug around in the folds of his clothes with his clean hand, pulling out one of his bandanas and tossing it to Ichigo. The younger man blinked at it for a moment before realizing what it was for. He cleaned himself up the best he could before handing it back, working on re-securing his clothing while Renji wiped himself down.
He brushed some invisible dirt off of his leg, trying to find something to do with his hands as he struggled to process everything that had just happened. He didn’t feel the pull of the familiar panic, which he assumed was a good thing. Still, he couldn’t help the embarrassment that rolled over him every time he remembered the sounds he’d been making, or the way he responded so shamelessly.
He’d never really thought of himself as a sexual person before. Sure, he was a guy and he had certain needs, but it was something that had always been a distant second to whatever crisis was going on in his life at the moment. He’d never been so overcome that he forgot where he was, or what he sounded like, or everything except the blinding need for release.
A finger hooked under his jaw, tilting his face towards the man responsible for his current problem. “Ya okay?” Renji asked softly.
“Will you stop asking me that?!” Ichigo scowled, irritated that he had been caught worrying, and that he was apparently so easy to read.
“Ya gonna stop lookin’ like that?” Renji countered, cocking an eyebrow at him.
Ichigo’s scowl darkened but Renji just snickered, leaning down to kiss him before releasing his chin. He fished his communicator out of his pocket and flipped it open, scanning through a couple of screens.
“Still got an hour ‘till we gotta meet Hitsugaya, where do ya wanna head?”
Ichigo took the little device from his hand, scrolling through maps of the city while Renji looked for a trashcan to dispose of the now overly sticky bandana. He’d settled into a somewhat mechanical pace of page flipping when something caught his attention and he faltered. He hit the back button a couple of times until he came to a map of the street that Inoue’s apartment was on. He frowned.
“Does this thing pick up Shinigami now?” he looked up as Renji returned.
“No.” Renji gave him an odd look. “Why?”
Ichigo shrugged. “Just a weird reading on Inoue’s street, but no alarm or anything. I thought maybe it was Matsumoto and Toushirou since they’re staying there while she’s in Soul Society.”
“Weird how?” Renji took the offered communicator, staring down at the screen. For a second he didn’t see anything, and then there was a soft flicker, a tiny, barely there pulse that was soon joined by a second. His eyes widened, a memory of blood slicked grass flashing through his mind.
“Shit!” He took off running even before he started to dial, knowing Ichigo would follow.
“What is it?” Ichigo was keeping pace beside him, matching his speed in shunpo.
“Arrancar,” Renji growled, a sickening feeling settling in his stomach as the call continued to ring unanswered. He put on an extra burst of speed.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Insomnia (chapter 11, pt. 2)
Rating:NC-17 (to be safe)
Pairing: IchigoxRenji
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, spoilers
Summary: When you carry world on your shoulders, who’s left to catch you when you fall? (previous chapters)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo, I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
Notes: The second part, as promised. Also, this brings Insomnia current on LJ, so posts will be coming out slower from here in out *sad face*.
(chapter 11, pt. 1)
Tempest (pt. 2)
“Owwww,” Ichigo groaned, rolling onto his side so that he could draw his legs closer to his chest.
“Here.” Urahara was kneeling beside him, pressing a bottle of water into his hand.
He sipped at it without raising his head, letting it puddle under his face when it ran over. His chest was throbbing dully, but he was more concerned with the way that his stomach was rolling, threatening to rebel if he didn’t comply with its wish to remain still. He felt fingers pressing against his neck and managed to turn his head.
“How long?” Ichigo muttered, watching Urahara frown.
“One hour and thirteen minutes,” he replied, looking apologetic. “I probably should have brought you out.”
“M’fine.” Ichigo waved him off. “Doesn’t really hurt, just feel sick.”
Urahara pulled out his notepad, jotting down a couple of entries as Ichigo took slow, deep breaths to calm himself.
“Where’s Renji?” he asked after a moment, feeling a little better.
The corner of Urahara’s mouth lifted and he spared him a wicked glance before returning to what he was writing. “He’s sitting about 12 feet behind you. He seems rather angry.”
Ichigo groaned, pushing himself a little ways off the ground to test his stomach’s resolve. They’d managed to get two rounds in, though the last one had been rough. The first time he’d reappeared, slamming into the sand and coughing up a little blood, Renji had decided this was a bad idea. Unfortunately, bad idea or not, it was necessary for Urahara’s testing and so he’d pulled himself back up and shook off the residual pain. Renji had gritted his teeth but hadn’t said anything; he knew the stakes as well as anyone.
“Did you get enough?” Ichigo asked Urahara, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Renji was stalking towards them.
“Enough for now,” Urahara sighed, closing his pencil in the notebook. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hold an Espada for more than a couple of hours, but it looks promising for the lower ranks.”
“Can it take more than one person at a time?” Ichigo finally managed to sit up properly.
“I’m still working on that.” Urahara tugged off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I have the basic concept laid out, but it will be almost impossible to test outside of actually taking it into a battle.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard to find soon,” Ichigo pointed out as Renji dropped down next to him.
“You have to go again?” he asked, sounding more resigned to the process now that he’d witnessed it again.
“I can’t today,” Ichigo sighed, digging his palm into his eyes.
“Ya sure Seireitei wouldn’t have somethin’ you could test with?” he asked, helping Ichigo pull the cube from around his neck.
“They don’t have access to the type of Hollow energy I’m targeting and I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t be pleased that I’m dabbling in these experiments again.” Urahara accepted the small device, looking tired. “I wish that there was some other way to go about this, but there simply isn’t.”
He reached forward, turning Ichigo’s arm over to peel the flat disc off of his wrist. He rubbed his thumb over the reddened patch of skin a couple of times, pale brows furrowed in thought.
“I never asked what that was,” Ichigo muttered, allowing Renji to examine his wrist when Urahara released it.
He felt a little shiver run through him as long fingers moved over his skin, sending a tingle up his arm that had more to do with the memory of the redhead’s panting breath against his neck than with the experiment. He shook his head, trying to focus on what Urahara was saying.
“I was taking some more involved readings of your reiatsu fluctuations.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “I’m trying to collect enough data to modify the way we track the Arrancar. Currently, everything is centered on the reiatsu signatures of an ordinary Hollow, which can cause problems when monitoring something else.”
“Could ya track the fuckin’ reiatsu supressin’ ones?” Renji asked.
“I don’t know at this point.” He stood slowly, pocketing the little devices. “I just don’t have access to a wide enough testing pool.”
“Something else to test while we fight.” Ichigo gave him a wry smile.
“I suppose,” he agreed, offering him a hand up.
Ichigo allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, swaying slightly as the world righted itself. Urahara’s hand closed around his arm as he peered at him in concern.
“Are you sure you haven’t overdone it?” he asked.
“Well, Zangetsu isn’t complaining, so I guess it’s fine.” Ichigo unconsciously leaned into Renji when the redhead stepped up behind him, not missing the twitch of a pale eyebrow as Urahara released his arm.
He scowled, but didn’t move. “Knock it off.”
“My, my, such a rude tone.” Urahara was grinning again as he replaced his hat, pulling it low over his eyes.
Ichigo felt the heat creeping into his face but he’d had enough experience with Urahara’s odd behavior to keep it from spreading too far. He straightened, feeling the fatigue settling in his bones.
“You should get some rest if you’re planning on patrolling later, Kurosaki-kun.” Urahara was still smirking, but his tone was genuinely concerned.
“I will.” Ichigo was more than ready to comply.
“I could tell Hitsugaya-taichou that ya ain’t feelin’ up to it,” Renji suggested, falling into step as they headed for the ladder.
“Fuck that,” Ichigo scoffed.
Renji chuckled, feeling relieved that Ichigo at least sounded like himself, even if he looked half dead. Ichigo staggered again, catching his foot on an overturned rock and Renji slipped an arm around him for support. It was the least he could offer after having spent the last couple of hours unable to do anything but watch him struggle.
Ichigo slid an arm up Renji's back, gripping his shoulder like a crutch. Honestly, he really did feel like he’d over done it, but there was no point in complaining about it now. Renji’s arm tightened around him and he felt Urahara’s eyes boring into the side of his head.
“Not a fucking word,” he muttered, looking straight ahead.
Urahara’s dark chuckle barely reached his ears. “I’m certainly in no position to be questioning other people’s behavior.”
Ichigo ignored him for the rest of the trip back into the shop, not even bothering to look back as he trudged into Renji’s room. He stripped down to his hakama and fell onto the futon in a graceless sprawl.
“Ya really gonna be okay for tonight?” Renji dropped into a chair, looking down at him.
“Yeah, just wake me up in a couple of hours,” Ichigo muttered, already feeling sleep overcoming him.
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The Hollow was running again. Ichigo swore, wondering why the hell things couldn’t just stand still and die as he took off in pursuit. It wasn’t an Arrancar, but it was big and seemed capable of speeds that, in Ichigo’s opinion, were just unnecessary. They’d been chasing it for what felt like hours, and it was getting irritating because it could dodge as well as it could run. He swore again as it disappeared between a couple of buildings, using shunpo to cut up an alley and head it off.
Renji had let him sleep until only an hour or so before they were due to start their shift, which was longer than he’d intended but left him feeling worlds better. He’d been able to shower and forage for food without any real sense of hurry, allowing him to keep that sense of wellbeing for a little while longer. He even accepted Ururu’s message that Urahara had some medicine he wanted him to take with better than usual spirits, muttering only a couple of choice curses as he trudged down the hall.
He’d found Urahara on the phone with some unknown caller, an unusual occurrence because the former captain hardly knew anyone who bothered with human communication. He’d had the most incredible look of glee on his face as he blithely explained that he could hardly be held responsible for other people’s failure to pay attention to what was going on around them.
Ichigo had started to leave but Urahara had motioned him to stay, digging one handed through his supplies for whatever horrible concoction he was planning to foist on his victim. He paused, wicked gaze locked on Ichigo as he informed the mouth piece that whether or not he had been aware of the situation was beside the point, as he was running a humble shop, not an information service. Ichigo frowned, wondering why the way he’d drawled the word ‘situation’ seemed to linger with him.
He’d taken the little bottle of death flavored mystery sludge, not even bothering to ask what it was in his haste to get out of the room. Something about seeing Urahara that thrilled made him want to be as far away as possible. As he slid the door closed, he thought he saw the blond give him the slightest wink, which only served to reassure him that nothing good was going to come of this.
He skidded out of the alley and blinked at the empty street, wondering for a brief moment if the Hollow had somehow managed to become invisible. A muffled explosion to his left cleared that mystery up, and he realized that he’d just missed a turn somewhere. He dashed off towards the destruction, wondering where the hell Renji had disappeared to.
He got his answer as he rounded the corner of an obscure industrial block and found the other Shinigami lunging at the Hollow. He missed, narrowly avoiding its lashing tail as it spun around and ran again.
“Stop fuckin’ running!” Renji demanded insanely, lashing out with Zabimaru and taking a chunk out of the street.
Ichigo jumped into the intersection, effectively heading it off. It shrieked at him and launched itself skyward but he was ready, following it up. He swung Zangetsu down and almost sighed with relief as he felt the blade bite into something solid. The Hollow screamed its rage at him, even as it started to disintegrate. He landed near Renji, watching until it faded into nothing.
“Fuckin’…runnin’…bullshit,” Renji panted, leaning back against a wall and closing his eyes.
Ichigo laughed, slouching against the brick as well, running his sleeve over his forehead. He felt good, the adrenaline still pulsing in his veins, the light breeze cooling the sweat on the back of his neck. He turned so that his shoulder was pressed to the cold surface, still chuckling as Renji caught his breath.
Renji’s tongue slipped out, wetting lips that remained softly parted as his breathing started to slow. Ichigo felt that strange pull in his chest, that twisting, tingling feeling that made his blood race. He felt his own tongue dart out, licking his lower lip in response, unable to look away. Renji’s eyes were still closed, his head thrown back against the wall, exposing the curve of his throat to the night air. Ichigo watched as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his neck, tracing the contours of muscle and tendon that his fingers itched to follow. It disappeared under the edge of his robes, traveling down over that tattooed flesh that he could still see every time he closed his eyes. His smile fell away and he realized that he didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
Ever since the abrupt end to that morning’s activity, he’d been suffering from a complicated mixture of dissatisfaction, arousal, and irritation. If he remained idle for too long he could feel the memory of the fingers sliding over him like it was happening again, hear the echoes of the shuddering sounds as Renji moved against him. He’d been in a slightly uncomfortable state for most of the day, and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t even breathe. He bit his lip to muffle the sound of frustration that tried to sneak out.
Renji heard it anyway, and his eyes cracked open as he turned his head, staring down at him intently. He could feel the raw need rolling off Ichigo in hot waves, sending an almost imperceptible shiver through him as his eyes darkened. He watched as Ichigo bit harder into his lip under the weight of his stare, his pulse pounding visibly beneath the delicate skin of his throat. A moment passed between them, a thickening of the air, a sudden heat in what had been a cool night, and Renji felt his stomach drop. He reached out, pressing his thumb against Ichigo’s lip, pulling it out from between his teeth slowly. He traced along the soft curve, smoothing out the teeth marks, dipping into the warm mouth when the lips parted easily. Ichigo reacted without thought, licking the pad of the thumb, his breath hot and moist.
“Shit,” Renji breathed, Zabimaru clattering to the ground as he reached for Ichigo, pulling him closer to taste his mouth.
Zangetsu joined Zabimaru as Ichigo’s hands fisted in Renji’s kimono, pressing into the kiss, sucking on the tongue sweeping into his mouth. One of Renji’s hands was in his hair, tilting his head to the side, and the other was slipping down his back to crush them together. Ichigo made a soft, whimpering noise as a thigh ground against his already straining erection.
He pulled away from the kiss, leaning in to lick the side of Renji’s neck, tasting the skin that had been haunting his dreams since his moment of drugged indiscretion. The tang of sweat mixed with Renji’s unique, wild flavor, and Ichigo pressed closer, needing to burn it into his memory.
The redhead fell back, leaning against the wall, dragging Ichigo with him as he felt sharp teeth graze his skin. He gasped, his hips jerking forward, thrusting shallowly against Ichigo in a broken rhythm. He snaked a hand between them, pulling roughly at Ichigo’s kimono, peeling back the layers so that he could slide his hands over bare skin. Ichigo groaned at the contact, his breath stirring the fine hairs on Renji’s neck.
The hand in his hair tightened, pulling him back to the kiss, their tongues crashing together with frenzied need. Ichigo’s hands shook as he tugged at Renji’s clothes, faltering a little when he felt calloused fingers sliding up his back. With a final dizzy effort he made it to skin, blunt nails scraping over the tattooed chest as Renji hissed into his mouth. He found a nipple, pinching it, twisting it hard just like he’d been shown.
“Ichigo…fuck…” Renji’s head rolled back. His hands fell to the lean hips riding against him, shifting them sideways to grind their erections together.
Ichigo choked, his fingers biting down hard, drawing another spasm from the other man as he dropped his head onto the tattooed shoulder. Renji’s hands left his hips, working the ties on his hakama, plunging inside to curl around Ichigo’s aching cock. Teeth sank into his shoulder as the younger man cried out, straining against the touch.
Ichigo felt like he was on fire, his heart beating so fast that he thought he might choke on it. He was still sensitive from the morning, and the fingers stroking over him felt so good that it almost hurt. He wanted this so badly that he couldn’t even think, couldn’t do anything but moan brokenly as he thrust himself into that fist over and over again.
His hands fell from Renji’s chest to tear at his hakama, needing to touch him, needing to make him feel the same burn that was quickly drowning him. Renji groaned, riding a shudder as the hand closed over him, sliding over his weeping head and down his pulsing length.
“Gods, yes…” he breathed against Ichigo’s ear, biting down on the lobe as he pumped him faster.
Renji’s hand ripped free, shoving Ichigo’s hakama lower, licking a sloppy trail across his palm before gripping him again.
“Oh, shit…ngghh…fuck.” Ichigo was writhing, straining against the fingers that where stealing his sanity.
He copied Renji’s actions, tasting the salty fluid across his fingers, pulling him free so that he could slide over him, faster, harder. He squeezed his eyes shut, drinking in the sound of Renji’s shuddering groans mingling with the ones spilling from his own lips. He sank his teeth into his shoulder again, feeling the world start to draw in on itself, throbbing between his legs as he started to convulse.
“Harder…” Renji’s voice was dark and wild and Ichigo didn’t know if he meant his hand or his teeth so he did both.
Renji threw his head back, not bothering to muffle his shout as he arched forward, thrusting into the rough fist. The sound was too much for Ichigo, shooting through him like lightning, shoving him over the edge.
He buried his face in the crook of Renji’s neck, his sobbing moan muffled as he came, spilling hot over the still moving fingers. Renji tensed, his rhythm faltering as his own release screamed through him, pulsing between them in blinding waves of pleasure. The hand slid over him a couple more times, drawing out the orgasm, leaving him gasping for breath.
Ichigo finally released him, still panting into his neck as the shivers raked his body. Renji brought his clean hand up to thread through his hair, stroking the back of his neck as they wound their way back down. He rubbed his jaw against the orange hair, sliding against the sweat on his temple, in a lazy gesture of affection.
Ichigo pulled back, straightening up, flushed slightly with embarrassment. Renji cocked his head to one side, studying him intently and Ichigo managed a weak smile of reassurance. He stared shakily down at his hand, still coated in Renji’s release, and at his stomach which had suffered a similar fate. He had no idea what to do about it. He flushed deeper, noticing that his hakama had pooled around his feet, trying not to stare at the fact that Renji was equally exposed.
The redhead chuckled lightly and Ichigo’s head snapped back up, watching him raise his own hand to examine it with interest. He seemed to consider for a moment before tentatively licking the still warm fluids from the tip of one finger.
“Ugh.” Ichigo wrinkled his nose, forgetting his momentary embarrassment. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?” Renji licked the finger again, his brows furrowing as if he were trying to decipher the taste.
“Isn’t it gross?” he asked, still looking disgusted.
“Well it ain’t made of candy.” Renji rolled his eyes. “But it ain’t the worst thing I ever tasted. Figured it might be worth gettin’ used to.”
“Why?” Ichigo looked at him like he was crazy.
Renji just smirked at him, sucking the finger into his mouth up to the second knuckle, holding his gaze with heavy intent before slipping it in deeper. Ichigo felt a flush creep over him that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
“Oh,” he breathed, unable to find any other words at the moment.
Renji let the finger fall from his mouth, smirking again. He dug around in the folds of his clothes with his clean hand, pulling out one of his bandanas and tossing it to Ichigo. The younger man blinked at it for a moment before realizing what it was for. He cleaned himself up the best he could before handing it back, working on re-securing his clothing while Renji wiped himself down.
He brushed some invisible dirt off of his leg, trying to find something to do with his hands as he struggled to process everything that had just happened. He didn’t feel the pull of the familiar panic, which he assumed was a good thing. Still, he couldn’t help the embarrassment that rolled over him every time he remembered the sounds he’d been making, or the way he responded so shamelessly.
He’d never really thought of himself as a sexual person before. Sure, he was a guy and he had certain needs, but it was something that had always been a distant second to whatever crisis was going on in his life at the moment. He’d never been so overcome that he forgot where he was, or what he sounded like, or everything except the blinding need for release.
A finger hooked under his jaw, tilting his face towards the man responsible for his current problem. “Ya okay?” Renji asked softly.
“Will you stop asking me that?!” Ichigo scowled, irritated that he had been caught worrying, and that he was apparently so easy to read.
“Ya gonna stop lookin’ like that?” Renji countered, cocking an eyebrow at him.
Ichigo’s scowl darkened but Renji just snickered, leaning down to kiss him before releasing his chin. He fished his communicator out of his pocket and flipped it open, scanning through a couple of screens.
“Still got an hour ‘till we gotta meet Hitsugaya, where do ya wanna head?”
Ichigo took the little device from his hand, scrolling through maps of the city while Renji looked for a trashcan to dispose of the now overly sticky bandana. He’d settled into a somewhat mechanical pace of page flipping when something caught his attention and he faltered. He hit the back button a couple of times until he came to a map of the street that Inoue’s apartment was on. He frowned.
“Does this thing pick up Shinigami now?” he looked up as Renji returned.
“No.” Renji gave him an odd look. “Why?”
Ichigo shrugged. “Just a weird reading on Inoue’s street, but no alarm or anything. I thought maybe it was Matsumoto and Toushirou since they’re staying there while she’s in Soul Society.”
“Weird how?” Renji took the offered communicator, staring down at the screen. For a second he didn’t see anything, and then there was a soft flicker, a tiny, barely there pulse that was soon joined by a second. His eyes widened, a memory of blood slicked grass flashing through his mind.
“Shit!” He took off running even before he started to dial, knowing Ichigo would follow.
“What is it?” Ichigo was keeping pace beside him, matching his speed in shunpo.
“Arrancar,” Renji growled, a sickening feeling settling in his stomach as the call continued to ring unanswered. He put on an extra burst of speed.