RenIchi - Top Of The World (1/4)
Title: On Top of the World (You Get Nothing Done) Or: Boom Boom Sexy Time
Pairings: Renji/Ichigo, mentions of UlquiHime, past IchiIshi, one-sided RenRuki and a tiny bit of RenShuu.
AU: In which Ichigo is besties with Orihime, has had some serious shit happen to him, takes life Really Seriously, and is a baker. Renji has sunglasses and fame, and likes pastries, so that works out nicely.
Rating: NC-17 (just the one :D).
Warning: mentions of violence, homophobia, and Ishida getting treated quite poorly by me.
Word Count: 22,000 words.
Beta: pb_cookie! ♥
Summary: The first time Ichigo had lived in Seireitei had been a trainwreck, simply put. Among other things, it made him determined to make the most of his second try in the city. He thought he was on the right track, too, with two jobs, a place to stay and all the pies he could ever want. That his life suddenly involved an awkward relationship with local celebrity Renji Abarai was either a surprising bonus or a disaster waiting to happen.
Notes: Alright! There are quite a few this time!
* The cake-messaging has been inspired by Funny Cake Pics, Cake Wrecks, and some pictures goldensprite had sent me a long time ago.
* I haven't actually made any of the pastries mentioned (like Renji, I pride myself mostly on some mean whipped cream), so I can't recommend you the recipes I used in the story. I have, however, looked extensively into Renji's sunglasses, and seriously, just look at this, and of course The Pair. As for Ichigo's piercings, this is the mellow one. I'm just gonna leave this here, too.
* The fic title is taken from the song One of a Kind by Placebo, and the song mentioned in the fic is, of course, Black Dog by Led Zeppelin.
* Just so you don't get thrown off: all of Orihime's employees besides Ichigo are her fairy things. I've just decided to use their English names, purely for aesthetic reasons.
* So, this is what happens when I set out to write a short romantic fic. It turns from this into 20k with a side of emotional abuse. /fail
* I will kill, or write fic, for fanart of Renji/chic Ray-Bans or Ichigo/piercings or any combination thereof.
*"For god’s sake, you're freaking everyone out. Just go supervise, Kurosaki."
Ichigo was all but shoved out of the kitchen by the chef himself. As if it was his fault everyone but him was incompetent and he was bored and wanted to yell... okay, maybe he did deserve to be shoved out of the kitchen.
He hadn't had high hopes for that night. He'd never been a big fan of parties, let alone the ones he worked at. He wasn't allowed to drink in those parties, which meant yelling at cooks and waiters and pretty much anyone wearing a uniform in the huge manor.
What else was he supposed to do? He had no access to the party itself, of course. It was one of those industry parties that celebrities clawed their way into but behaved themselves once they were inside. Fucking boring, he thought.
He'd peeked into the main room once, on his way to a cigarette break. Black ties, occasional speeches and moderate dancing. He almost felt bad for the actors and actresses who had to attend the party, just as he almost felt bad for the catering staff having to serve them. Ichigo's motley crew.
Complaints aside, he was definitely grateful to have a job in the city, as it had been the one condition of moving back there. It was all thanks to Orihime, who gave him a day job at the Delicious Dissonance bakery and hooked him up with catering companies once a week. He'd earned a reputation for himself when he’d orchestrated a big Shiba event a couple of months ago, and since then caterers had been hiring him to lead the staff and supervise, things he was actually good at. He was busy as hell and had to work with idiots in idiotic places (why would someone even need such a huge house? ), but it was good to get out of Karakura Town.
As nice as it had been to spend so much time with his family again, he'd had enough of the small town, the people he'd known since he could remember, the questions, the therapist. In Seireitei, he shared an apartment with just Orihime and had no time to spare. Pretty much perfect, considering how he'd spent the previous two years.
He still ranted and "freaked everyone out", though.
Shooed out of the last place he could hide in, he was left standing in the hallway leading to the party, the restroom, and the kitchen. It was softly lit, just enough so the passersby could see his intense glare. True, it was mostly directed at his employees, but Ichigo didn't spare the industry guys.
He had a slight problem with people who thought they were better than him. After two hours of people watching, he could tell just by looking at people's faces which of them were guests and which were his subordinates.
He thought he could recognize everyone by then, so of course that was when someone caught him completely by surprise. Undoubtedly, it was the most exciting thing that had happened all evening.
Ichigo was on glaring duty, privately judging people, when a guy he hadn't seen before stepped into the hallway. Like he had until that point, Ichigo first looked at his outfit (a tie, black slacks, a black dress shirt), and promptly decided that he was a staff member. The only thing that seemed out of place was a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar.
After the initial assessment, Ichigo gave the guy a proper look, and suddenly his throat felt a bit dry. The man wasn't just any member of the staff; he was tall and had broad shoulders and muscular arms. Then there was his face: narrow, dark eyes, angular features, tattoos all over his forehead, complemented by his sideburns.
He looked sharp, and he looked hot, and he had long hair and something completely unprincipled about him. It could have been his defiant expression or the drink in his hand. Being in charge of the staff, Ichigo knew he had to take care of the problem-problem being the man in front of him, leaning against the wall and stretching his long, tattooed neck to take a drink from his beer glass.
They really weren't allowed to drink while working. And what was up with the tattoos? If Ichigo had been forced to remove his piercings, that guy could have at least tried covering up some of his tattoos.
Whether it bothered Ichigo because he couldn't afford to lose his job or because he liked being in charge, it didn't matter. Something had to be done, and since glaring didn't work (the prick hadn't even given him a second look), Ichigo decided to walk over and scold him.
Then something weird happened. Ichigo stood in front of him. The man looked him over from top to bottom with a quirked eyebrow. Ichigo more or less forgot what he'd wanted to say.
It came back to him when the guy raised his glass again, tilting his head back and then licking the foam off his lips. His eyebrow was still raised at Ichigo, like he was particularly amused or begging Ichigo to tell him off. Oh, hell. Ichigo went for it.
"You can't drink here," he said, folding his arms across his chest. Despite the man being taller than he was, Ichigo tried to feel authoritative. He hoped it was working.
"Why the fuck not?" was the reply. Ichigo was still stuck on the image of him licking his lips, and it took him a second to come up with something to say.
"Because it's unprofessional," Ichigo said. He thought it was reasonable to tell him off, really, but with the stranger just looking at him like that, it felt preposterous to suggest he stop doing anything with his mouth. That could have been why he kept pushing.
"So?"
Well, he guessed the guy didn't really care about professionalism, given his tattoos and the ridiculously lewd voice. He couldn't back down, though, so he cut to the chase. "Because I said so."
The man chucked quietly. His teeth were sharp, and the atmosphere was getting stuffier, hotter by the second. "And who the fuck are you?"
Ichigo gritted his teeth, feeling charged up. He tried taking a deep breath and remembering his anger management exercises, but eventually he just stepped closer without thinking. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, the guy in charge."
The man bared his teeth, not moving an inch, but his eyes got a bit wider. "That's fucking hilarious, since I'm Renji Abarai, and I've never heard of you."
Ichigo thought for a moment that the name sounded slightly familiar, but he'd been talking to this gorgeous guy for only two minutes and somehow the word "fuck" had slipped into the conversation three times. Ichigo was easily distracted.
"Screw you," was all he could muster. It sounded more decisive in his head, but his heartbeat sounded louder there, too, so Ichigo wasn't really surprised that the result was merely a whisper and maybe glancing at his-Renji Abarai's mouth too often. He had a really nice mouth.
He was jolted by a touch, and looked down to see Renji's knee nudging his thigh. It felt like the tight material of Ichigo's jeans (uniform, yeah right) was nonexistent, like Renji had touched his naked skin. He should have wondered why the hell they were standing so close to each other in the first place, but that would mean facing the fact he didn't really mind. After the night he'd had, he could use some tension release.
Instead of thinking about any of that, he focused on staring downward. As a result, he'd missed Renji moving forward until he heard, obscenely close to his ear, "Sure."
Ichigo shivered when Renji's breath brushed his skin.
"What?" he asked, thanking his lucky stars he didn't sound breathless. At least he sounded like he was still handling the situation, letting it unfold. Two years of therapy weren't for nothing; he was getting the hang of "letting things happen". Ichigo was mellow. Ichigo was a master of calm-
"Let's." Renji moved his knee again, this time nudging it between Ichigo's thighs. Fuck mellow. Ichigo decided to move forward against his knee while catching Renji's hips and pushing them back against the wall.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked, just to see what would happen. He thought he already knew, and his body certainly did; he was just standing there but it felt like he was running or fucking… yeah, fucking. But Renji was a stranger, who knew what he had planned?
Renji leaned even closer. His lips brushed Ichigo's skin, moist and warm and he smelled good and Ichigo would have flattened himself against Renji if it weren't for the beer glass still between them. Or his self control. Whatever.
"It's been a long night," Renji started. "I'm horny and you're vaguely attractive. Screw, you said?"
Who could argue with that logic?
Well, probably someone who really cared about professionalism, took offense at the use of "vaguely", or didn’t have Renji breathing in his ear-close-there. Ichigo tightened his hands on Renji's hips, slipping his thumbs under the leather belt. Renji's skin was hot, and Ichigo could tell he was fit.
He pretty much knew right then that, unless something tremendously tragic happened, he was going to go for it.
Renji chuckled quietly in his ear, his shoulders slightly shaking. "I've got you already, haven’t I?"
Ichigo pushed Renji more firmly, and leaned back just enough to look into his eyes. They were darker then, somehow, almost red. Intense, but he was grinning, playful. Ichigo wanted to lick his fucking teeth.
"Don't be so full of yourself," he said. Renji's grin faltered for a moment, which pleased Ichigo. A bit less pleasing when instead of saying anything, Renji curled his free hand around Ichigo's neck. Goosebumps rose on his skin and his breathing picked up when Renji's thumb stroked behind his ear.
He only realized he'd been staring at Renji's mouth when he couldn't focus on it anymore, because it was suddenly brushing his lips, warm, slow, tentative if not teasing. Ichigo closed his eyes, more or less frozen.
Sadly enough, the last time he'd had sex was more recent than the last time he'd kissed someone (like that, anyway). Renji must have taken Ichigo's surprise as an accomplishment, because he could feel his lips curl up in a smile.
It seemed hardly appropriate, and Ichigo decided to show him that by changing his tactics and sucking Renji's lower lip gently into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth.
He heard a faint sound from Renji's throat, but it was overshadowed by Renji gripping his nape tighter, pulling his hair. To think that until that very moment, Ichigo had regretted letting his hair grow out.
He ran his tongue over Renji's lips, now a bit swollen, and he knew they were redder and he was ridiculously pleased with himself. When Renji's tongue joined in, stroking his quickly, Ichigo was ridiculously a lot of things. Light-headed. That was certainly not helped by Renji's fingers still buried in his hair, grasping it hard.
He noticed that Renji tasted like good beer and breath mints, as if he'd spotted him and planned this before Ichigo had even come up to him. The thought made Ichigo shiver. Another thought crossed his mind, that Renji could probably taste too and could report him for stealing food from the catering kitchen.
Well, he could also report Ichigo for fucking him against a wall in a conspicuous hallway while he was at it. Neither could be helped.
Renji must have sensed that Ichigo was doing too much thinking, because he doubled his efforts. He lowered his hand to the small of Ichigo's back, pulling him closer and making him ride his knee while licking into his mouth. Ichigo groaned, getting hard.
He left Renji's mouth with some difficulty, breathing into Renji's neck and fighting with all he had not to tear Renji's belt off and unzip his pants with his teeth.
"Come on. I know a place," Renji said, bowing his head to nip Ichigo's earlobe. Knew a place. Great. Maybe that was why he was hired despite his tattoos. As if there-
"Fuck," he blurted when Renji's hand dropped to his ass and squeezed. "Right, okay," he breathed, stepping back and stuffing his hands into his pockets to avoid the temptation of putting them back on Renji's hips, running them over his sides, popping open the buttons of his black shirt and tweaking his nipples.
It could have been the kiss, the atmosphere or Renji's hand still on his ass that wound him up, or maybe the combination of the three just made him feel like he couldn't wait another minute. Luckily, Renji seemed to share the sentiment. He put his other hand on Ichigo's back and led him down the miraculously empty hall.
First Ichigo thought they were heading to the restroom, which would have been fine by him, even though it was too close to the kitchen for his taste. He was wrong. Renji made a turn right before the restroom and brought Ichigo to a staircase they were really not supposed to use. Ichigo had no idea what was up there, but Renji apparently had.
"Have you worked here or something?" Ichigo asked, following Renji up. His hands were still in his pockets, but Renji's hand moved to his lower back. He wasn't hurrying him-it was like he was just making sure Ichigo wouldn't disappear, or like he wanted to keep contact. Ichigo was all for that shit.
"Or something."
They reached the end of a hallway just like the one downstairs. Renji looked behind him before opening a door and slipping into a room. For a moment, they were in different rooms and Ichigo could breathe.
Oh, fuck it.
Ichigo followed into the room, looking around for a moment. It was a restroom, but nothing like the one downstairs. It was huge and heated and had only two stalls. Deserted, too. Ichigo guessed they could have just gone at it right there (big mirror, marble countertop on which Renji had already put his beer and sunglasses), but some professional part of him made him pull Renji into a stall.
There should have been another second of staring, waiting. He should have looked into Renji's eyes and found that he could trust him, or been reminded of Renji being hot, or asking himself if he was ready.
Then again, being himself, there wasn't a second to lose. Renji pinned him to the wall with a look and then with his hands-one on his shoulder and one on his hip, pushing him against the surface and then pressing tight against him and attacking his neck with his teeth, his tongue.
Ichigo groaned, not bothering to keep it down. He slipped his hands between their bodies, first getting rid of Renji's tie and then starting to open his shirt. He was sloppy and it took more time than necessary, but Renji was hell-bent on giving him a hickey and being as close as humanly possible, which were both horrible distractions.
Nearly tearing the shirt to pieces, it finally yielded. He pulled it off Renji's shoulders and then forced Renji to stop touching him so the shirt could fall to the floor. Which also allowed him to look at Renji's torso. Which, well.
Renji was broad and muscular and tattooed all over and Ichigo was fascinated and possibly a little amazed. He didn't let it show, though; he had a feeling it would bite him in the ass with this guy.
His expression must have given him away anyway, as Renji was smirking down at him. Ichigo cursed and leaned up to kiss him again-fast-paced, hot, a little filthy. Renji gravitated toward him until his hips ground against Ichigo's. Trapped between that friction and the wall behind him, Ichigo could have screamed. He knew he was scratching Renji's chest, but found no resistance.
Soon enough, Renji's hands were on him again.
Maybe he should have thought about it before they'd gotten started, should have warned Renji, but he was too focused on Renji's body to pay attention to what was happening, what would happen.
It came as a shock to both of them that when Renji put his hand on Ichigo's waist, slipping his fingers under the shirt and running them up to his navel, brushing through the fine trail of hair there, it was the hand that had touched the chilled beer. Ichigo cringed and swatted it away instinctively.
"What's wrong?" Renji asked right away. He looked put out and concerned, which was weird, but Ichigo guessed not weirder than freaking out when cold things touched his bare skin. His heart was hammering in his chest for all the wrong reasons, and Renji was still looking at him like that, and Ichigo had to say something.
"Just. Cold."
Renji's wrist was still caught by Ichigo's hand, and it kept him from pulling away completely. Ichigo felt embarrassed and still a bit jittery, but he didn't want Renji to just go. He didn't want him to go at all.
Simply enough, Renji nodded. Just a brief moment of understanding before he went back to being all over him. He didn't try to undress him again, and didn't kiss him either, which meant Ichigo could hear every breath coming out of his mouth.
One of his hands sneaked into Ichigo's hair again, his fingers running in it more gently than before. Ichigo would have told him that nothing fucking happened and he'd better not tone it down, when he felt Renji's other hand. On his crotch. He bucked into his hand, feeling heat flood him again.
"You don’t like it cold, then? Maybe you should rub my hands together. Or…" Ichigo bit his lip when Renji unzipped his jeans and, careful to stay over the boxer shorts and not touch his skin, cupped his cock. He pressed the heel of his palm against the underside of the head, his fingers running over his balls, and Ichigo knew he was staining his shorts but he was too busy not banging his head against the wall to notice.
When Renji started rubbing his cock over his underwear, Ichigo had to say, "You think you're so clever…"
It came out less steady than he would have liked, but he still got a chuckle out of Renji. The way he could feel Renji's body shake against him reminded him of how much he wanted to touch him. He ran his hands over Renji's back, kneading the pronounced muscles there, scratching, heating up the skin-from the small of his back to his nape, his fingers curling in Renji's ponytail and pulling the roots a little. Renji growled in response, and Ichigo really regretted not owning loose pants, because Renji really needed to pick up the pace.
He untangled his hand from Renji's hair and grabbed his wrist again. Renji instantly froze and Ichigo could swear he made a disappointed little sound, so he didn't waste time. He used his other hand to pull his jeans down to his thighs, along with his underwear.
Instead of pretending he wasn't aware of the chills going through him or of his cock, still hard from Renji's work and straining against his stomach, he focused on taking both of Renji's hands up to his mouth.
He cupped them in his hands and blew hot air on them, rubbing them with his thumbs, kissing the knuckles. Renji just looked at him throughout all that, his eyes hooded, and in the stall every little stunned sound that escaped him was magnified. The previous incident all but forgotten, Ichigo was good to go.
He couldn't resist and gave the tip of Renji's forefinger a little bite, making him bare his teeth again.
"Let's try this again," he said, lowering one of Renji's hands slowly and wrapping it around his cock. He hissed and shivered at the contact, not because it was cold, but because fuck, it felt good.
He could have laughed at how self-satisfied Renji looked. Of course, he was rather satisfied himself, as well, so he was pretty sure opening his mouth to laugh would mean moaning and burying his face in Renji's neck and forgetting himself, which he wasn't really ready to do just yet.
Not that Renji cared. He was jerking him off like a pro, until Ichigo was thrusting into his fist and scratching his chest again, squeezing his shoulder. His breath was getting quicker and he knew where things were heading, but he couldn't stop, and Renji pressed up against him, sucking on his neck-under his ear-and pushing-oh god, Ichigo could feel Renji's cock, grinding against his hip, and it was nearly enough to set him off.
"Slow-slow down…" he whispered.
All that happened was that Renji made a really inappropriate noise against his neck and didn't relent one bit, and really, if there was ever a time to be angry at someone for not listening-"Fuck, Renji," he let out when Renji used his other hand to help Ichigo move his hips faster.
It was time for drastic measures. Ichigo was not going down alone.
He lowered his hands and pushed Renji's hips away from him so he could work, fumbling, on his pants. Once those were pulled down, Ichigo stopped Renji's hand so he could focus. And focus. And, okay, maybe stare a little, because Renji's cock kind of deserved it.
He kept one hand on Renji's thigh and moved the other up his cock, his knuckles brushing the underside and his thumb sliding over the exposed head, wetting it and feeling… Renji's chest rumbled against him and he pushed his hips weakly. Ichigo's cock jerked at the sight, and Renji reached over and wrapped his fingers around it again. He was pumping it slower this time, prompting Ichigo to move with him. He did, assuming Renji's pace and pulling him forward again, putting his free hand on Renji's ass and hearing him gasp quietly.
He only stopped staring when he felt Renji's lips on his neck, soft enough to make him shut his eyes and roll his hips, intense heat spreading through him. Renji used that moment of idleness to pry Ichigo's hand off his cock. He wondered what was going on when-oh, god. Renji ground their hips together, moving his whole body into Ichigo's until they were so close it was suffocating. Only then did Renji put his hand on both of their cocks and started stroking.
He really hoped Renji was getting there, because it was getting harder to hold on. The whole thing was rougher than necessary-Ichigo biting Renji's shoulder, his back banging against the wall when Renji pushed forward, grabbing his thigh like he was trying to lift him up, which made Ichigo groan and suck harder on his skin.
He wasn't even jerking them off; he was fucking his own slick fist, driving into Ichigo. His hand was moving faster and Ichigo had to wrap his own around it, make the grip tighter and taking over and-"Fuck, tell me you're gonna-"
"Yeah," Renji muttered, mouthing against his temple. He was surprised that all it took for Renji was a tug on his hair and a bite on the crook of his neck. Ichigo was so caught up with his own pleasure that he almost missed it: Renji's grunt, and the jerkiness of his hips. He leaned back to watch him. Breathing heavily, his eyes fluttering shut, his cheeks slightly flushed-then, a sudden, vicious bite to his own lip and Ichigo felt Renji come all over their hands, over Ichigo's fucking cock.
Ichigo lost it, letting it all go while digging his teeth into Renji's skin. He clung to those few moments afterward, a bit overwhelmed. He was pretty much wrapped around Renji, and they were both panting. Ichigo rested his head on Renji's exposed neck, feeling the hot skin against his cheek, Renji panting into his ear. Clinging to that state of mind, because it was definitely good to know he could still do that.
They both went rigid when they heard a noise outside their stall, presumably the door opening (he hoped, at least. It would have been awkward if the door had closed rather than opened). They exchanged a quick look and Ichigo really wanted to laugh, all of a sudden. He really hadn't thought the night would take this turn.
Spotting his amusement, Renji cracked a grin in return.
Just like that, it was over. They detached from each other quickly and Renji put his shirt back on while Ichigo found toilet paper and tidied up, completely silent. At least he was wearing black, so the… wetness didn't show.
A few minutes later, when they were all set, they heard someone flush the toilet next to theirs. They waited, relieved, until whoever it was left the restroom. They slipped out.
It was shockingly colder outside, and Ichigo winced when he washed his hands in freezing water. Renji noticed and nudged his shoulder. Ichigo ignored the heat crawling up his neck. He peeked into the mirror, and cursed in annoyance.
Renji looked perfectly presentable, while Ichigo looked perfectly fucked out of his mind. Maybe the crew would believe he especially enjoyed his cigarette or something. As long as Renji didn't tell the boss…
It suddenly hit Ichigo that they hadn't talked for too long, and by then he had nothing to say. It was nice to meet you? Thanks for getting me off? For fuck's sake. Ichigo had never been particularly smooth, but this was ridiculous.
Before he could come up with something, Renji said, "Well, see ya around," clapped him on the back, put his sunglasses on and left.
That's one way to say goodbye. Ichigo stared at himself in the mirror for a few beats, confused, before he realized a few things. He'd forgotten to ask Renji for his number. That probably made him cheap. He didn't really care. That probably made him even cheaper.
He wasn't really looking for him, but he had noticed that Renji wasn't in the hallway or in the secret smoking corner. Maybe he was in the kitchen. Maybe Ichigo shouldn't care about the stranger he'd just gotten off with.
Ichigo was mellow.
*
"Shit, you look fucked."
Renji hoped his expression would be enough to convey, "Really? I hadn't noticed, fuckwad". Ikkaku probably would have shrugged in response if he hadn't been carrying so much heavy equipment. Then again, maybe he would have tried punching Renji's arm as a salute to the fucked, from the guy who wore sunglasses on a cloudy morning to cover up his eyes to the guy who had random sex in a restroom at the annual Kuchiki party and couldn't handle his hangover. (Also wearing his third favorite sunglasses, but for no particular reason.)
Even after more than a year, Renji had problems adjusting to his schedule. He'd spent enough years working around the clock (losing one job after another meant he'd gotten a lot of exciting experience in random things, and that his life had sucked), but waking up before dawn was something he'd avoided until then. Of course, there were the years that dawn literally awoke him because he was sleeping outside, but as soon as he'd found a place, nothing could get him to roll out of bed, not even classes.
Hangovers of this caliber were new, too. Renji didn't normally like getting shitfaced and losing control, but last night turned out to be all about that. He let out a long-suffering groan and drank half of his water bottle.
He hoped this was the worst of it, he really did. He couldn't afford to fuck up work. He had no doubt that he’d used up all of his last chances last year, and that by then he was expected to know what he was doing. He really didn't, but he was good at pretending, and there was always someone to back him up when he screwed up.
Ikkaku was still standing there, like he was waiting for Renji to say something. When Renji offered no assistance, he asked, "Well? Did'ya?"
Get fucked?
Ikkaku didn't want the explanation. He didn't want to know that Renji had asked Rukia to go with him to the party like a stupid date and she'd let him down gently, crushing years of carrying a torch for her. Come to think of it, in that department, Renji's life still really fucking sucked. It didn't matter to Ikkaku that Renji had moped quite a bit and then decided to go to the party anyway.
He definitely didn't want Renji to tell him how he'd first seen Ichigo smoking outside and decided to keep an eye on him, how he'd seen him again hovering between the party and where the staff worked. Ichigo had been frowning and barking at people and didn't seem intimidated by the stars in the next room, and Renji had realized two things. The guy had been out of alcohol, and the guy had looked good in those jeans, despite him scowling at people. Or maybe because he was scowling at people. Maybe Renji needed a change.
Ikkaku might have been his best friend on set, but he couldn't care less about what Renji had done to gain Ichigo's attention, or about how Ichigo hadn't recognized him and had just stared with big, scrutinizing eyes like they'd been about to duel, or how it had turned Renji on. About the fact it had taken Renji a couple of minutes to get used to it, since he hadn't been with a guy since the split with Shuuhei six years ago, but Ichigo was a hot guy and Renji had already been drunk and bent on having a good time.
Renji didn't have a big philosophy on one night stands. When he was in a relationship he was loyal to a fault, but when he wasn't, and found himself in one of those moods, he thought he deserved some fun.
And if he'd gotten drunk afterward and dodged Ichigo (he must have thought Renji worked with the caterers, which made him question both his taste in formalwear and Ichigo's intelligence) because the sex was better than it should have been and then he thought of Rukia and felt a bit sick, well, that was his business.
After sleeping it off, Renji decided to focus on the undeniable kick he got out of having had sex at the Kuchiki manor, and felt rather pleased with himself. If he'd get shit for it, at least it was worth it.
Instead of telling Ikkaku everything, Renji just said, "Yeah, sort of."
Ikkaku grinned, like it wasn't seven in the morning and Renji's head wasn't splitting. "Good for you. Imagine how much shittier you'da felt if you hadn't gotten some last night."
Renji didn't dare imagining such catastrophes. "You're wiser than people give you credit for."
"Thanks a fuck, jackass," Ikkaku said.
"Don't you have somewhere to be? Lights to set up, cameras to move?" As nice as it was to chat with Ikkaku, Renji had hoped to nap until he got called to the set. The initial plan had been to sit outside until he felt ready for a run, but then he'd sat outside, and that was the end of that.
"Yeah, yeah. I think little Kuchiki's boy was looking for you."
"Fuck me," Renji grunted, feeling his heart sink. He had no idea what Rukia might have to say to him, but he wasn't in the mood. The worst possibility was that her brother had sent her to tell Renji off about embarrassing him at the party or some shit. It was too early to deal with big Kuchiki, executive producer or not, and Renji wasn't too sweet on little Kuchiki at the moment either.
Ikkaku could see all that, of course, despite Renji's sunglasses. He smirked at Renji and walked away without another word. Renji pushed the sunglasses up his nose and pulled his hoodie over his head. He still had twenty minutes before he had to get dressed, maybe a little more if Rukia was in a charitable mood. Flirting was out of the question at that point (the realization still felt like a kick to the gut, yet better than a day ago), but maybe their twenty-year friendship counted for something. If he just closed his eyes and hoped no one would notice him…
"Mr. Abarai! Mr. Abarai!"
"For the love of god…" Renji muttered, opening his eyes. He never won in the mornings, not shuteye or a break. "What, Yamada?"
Yamada stopped in front of him, panting because of the run. Maybe it was rude that Renji remained completely still-arms folded and legs on the table in front of his uncomfortable chair-while Yamada ran from the other side of the set to get him, but whatever.
"Ms. Kuchiki said to send you away."
Now that's interesting. Renji put his feet on the ground and took off his sunglasses, squinting because ow sun ow head, and fiddling with the tacky red frame. "I'm getting the day off?"
"No!" Yamada yelled, causing Renji to cringe. He sounded like he expected Renji to sprint away thinking he had the whole day, and like that would be his death sentence. Not for the first time, Renji wondered if being a producer's PA was too stressful for the kid. Even if his job description was basically being Rukia's bitch, he was dedicated and Renji respected him for that.
"Ms. Kuchiki said that you didn't look so good when you came in and that you are to go to the bakery on Black Ridge Street and eat coffee and a muffin. Drink coffee, I mean. It's on Black Ridge Street, two blocks from here. Oh, and you need to be back before nine."
"Relax, boy." Renji was thrilled. He had an hour. Black coffee sounded great right then and he could do with something sweet. He might be hung-over and prone to throwing up, but Renji could always do with something sweet
He stood up, perhaps a little less jaunty than usual, and put his hand on Yamada's shoulder. He thought about words of encouragement and approval. "Don't tell Rikichi where I am. Or about the hangover."
'Cause he'd follow me around with five water bottles and home remedies. Rukia had thought, once upon a time, that it would be hilarious to assign someone specifically to look after Renji. The problem was that Rikichi took his job fucking seriously, and Renji felt too guilty not to find a use for him. That morning was no time for guilt.
He left Yamada there and walked to the Black Ridge gate, putting his sunglasses back on.
Renji needed a change.
Part 2
Pairings: Renji/Ichigo, mentions of UlquiHime, past IchiIshi, one-sided RenRuki and a tiny bit of RenShuu.
AU: In which Ichigo is besties with Orihime, has had some serious shit happen to him, takes life Really Seriously, and is a baker. Renji has sunglasses and fame, and likes pastries, so that works out nicely.
Rating: NC-17 (just the one :D).
Warning: mentions of violence, homophobia, and Ishida getting treated quite poorly by me.
Word Count: 22,000 words.
Beta: pb_cookie! ♥
Summary: The first time Ichigo had lived in Seireitei had been a trainwreck, simply put. Among other things, it made him determined to make the most of his second try in the city. He thought he was on the right track, too, with two jobs, a place to stay and all the pies he could ever want. That his life suddenly involved an awkward relationship with local celebrity Renji Abarai was either a surprising bonus or a disaster waiting to happen.
Notes: Alright! There are quite a few this time!
* The cake-messaging has been inspired by Funny Cake Pics, Cake Wrecks, and some pictures goldensprite had sent me a long time ago.
* I haven't actually made any of the pastries mentioned (like Renji, I pride myself mostly on some mean whipped cream), so I can't recommend you the recipes I used in the story. I have, however, looked extensively into Renji's sunglasses, and seriously, just look at this, and of course The Pair. As for Ichigo's piercings, this is the mellow one. I'm just gonna leave this here, too.
* The fic title is taken from the song One of a Kind by Placebo, and the song mentioned in the fic is, of course, Black Dog by Led Zeppelin.
* Just so you don't get thrown off: all of Orihime's employees besides Ichigo are her fairy things. I've just decided to use their English names, purely for aesthetic reasons.
* So, this is what happens when I set out to write a short romantic fic. It turns from this into 20k with a side of emotional abuse. /fail
* I will kill, or write fic, for fanart of Renji/chic Ray-Bans or Ichigo/piercings or any combination thereof.
*"For god’s sake, you're freaking everyone out. Just go supervise, Kurosaki."
Ichigo was all but shoved out of the kitchen by the chef himself. As if it was his fault everyone but him was incompetent and he was bored and wanted to yell... okay, maybe he did deserve to be shoved out of the kitchen.
He hadn't had high hopes for that night. He'd never been a big fan of parties, let alone the ones he worked at. He wasn't allowed to drink in those parties, which meant yelling at cooks and waiters and pretty much anyone wearing a uniform in the huge manor.
What else was he supposed to do? He had no access to the party itself, of course. It was one of those industry parties that celebrities clawed their way into but behaved themselves once they were inside. Fucking boring, he thought.
He'd peeked into the main room once, on his way to a cigarette break. Black ties, occasional speeches and moderate dancing. He almost felt bad for the actors and actresses who had to attend the party, just as he almost felt bad for the catering staff having to serve them. Ichigo's motley crew.
Complaints aside, he was definitely grateful to have a job in the city, as it had been the one condition of moving back there. It was all thanks to Orihime, who gave him a day job at the Delicious Dissonance bakery and hooked him up with catering companies once a week. He'd earned a reputation for himself when he’d orchestrated a big Shiba event a couple of months ago, and since then caterers had been hiring him to lead the staff and supervise, things he was actually good at. He was busy as hell and had to work with idiots in idiotic places (why would someone even need such a huge house? ), but it was good to get out of Karakura Town.
As nice as it had been to spend so much time with his family again, he'd had enough of the small town, the people he'd known since he could remember, the questions, the therapist. In Seireitei, he shared an apartment with just Orihime and had no time to spare. Pretty much perfect, considering how he'd spent the previous two years.
He still ranted and "freaked everyone out", though.
Shooed out of the last place he could hide in, he was left standing in the hallway leading to the party, the restroom, and the kitchen. It was softly lit, just enough so the passersby could see his intense glare. True, it was mostly directed at his employees, but Ichigo didn't spare the industry guys.
He had a slight problem with people who thought they were better than him. After two hours of people watching, he could tell just by looking at people's faces which of them were guests and which were his subordinates.
He thought he could recognize everyone by then, so of course that was when someone caught him completely by surprise. Undoubtedly, it was the most exciting thing that had happened all evening.
Ichigo was on glaring duty, privately judging people, when a guy he hadn't seen before stepped into the hallway. Like he had until that point, Ichigo first looked at his outfit (a tie, black slacks, a black dress shirt), and promptly decided that he was a staff member. The only thing that seemed out of place was a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar.
After the initial assessment, Ichigo gave the guy a proper look, and suddenly his throat felt a bit dry. The man wasn't just any member of the staff; he was tall and had broad shoulders and muscular arms. Then there was his face: narrow, dark eyes, angular features, tattoos all over his forehead, complemented by his sideburns.
He looked sharp, and he looked hot, and he had long hair and something completely unprincipled about him. It could have been his defiant expression or the drink in his hand. Being in charge of the staff, Ichigo knew he had to take care of the problem-problem being the man in front of him, leaning against the wall and stretching his long, tattooed neck to take a drink from his beer glass.
They really weren't allowed to drink while working. And what was up with the tattoos? If Ichigo had been forced to remove his piercings, that guy could have at least tried covering up some of his tattoos.
Whether it bothered Ichigo because he couldn't afford to lose his job or because he liked being in charge, it didn't matter. Something had to be done, and since glaring didn't work (the prick hadn't even given him a second look), Ichigo decided to walk over and scold him.
Then something weird happened. Ichigo stood in front of him. The man looked him over from top to bottom with a quirked eyebrow. Ichigo more or less forgot what he'd wanted to say.
It came back to him when the guy raised his glass again, tilting his head back and then licking the foam off his lips. His eyebrow was still raised at Ichigo, like he was particularly amused or begging Ichigo to tell him off. Oh, hell. Ichigo went for it.
"You can't drink here," he said, folding his arms across his chest. Despite the man being taller than he was, Ichigo tried to feel authoritative. He hoped it was working.
"Why the fuck not?" was the reply. Ichigo was still stuck on the image of him licking his lips, and it took him a second to come up with something to say.
"Because it's unprofessional," Ichigo said. He thought it was reasonable to tell him off, really, but with the stranger just looking at him like that, it felt preposterous to suggest he stop doing anything with his mouth. That could have been why he kept pushing.
"So?"
Well, he guessed the guy didn't really care about professionalism, given his tattoos and the ridiculously lewd voice. He couldn't back down, though, so he cut to the chase. "Because I said so."
The man chucked quietly. His teeth were sharp, and the atmosphere was getting stuffier, hotter by the second. "And who the fuck are you?"
Ichigo gritted his teeth, feeling charged up. He tried taking a deep breath and remembering his anger management exercises, but eventually he just stepped closer without thinking. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, the guy in charge."
The man bared his teeth, not moving an inch, but his eyes got a bit wider. "That's fucking hilarious, since I'm Renji Abarai, and I've never heard of you."
Ichigo thought for a moment that the name sounded slightly familiar, but he'd been talking to this gorgeous guy for only two minutes and somehow the word "fuck" had slipped into the conversation three times. Ichigo was easily distracted.
"Screw you," was all he could muster. It sounded more decisive in his head, but his heartbeat sounded louder there, too, so Ichigo wasn't really surprised that the result was merely a whisper and maybe glancing at his-Renji Abarai's mouth too often. He had a really nice mouth.
He was jolted by a touch, and looked down to see Renji's knee nudging his thigh. It felt like the tight material of Ichigo's jeans (uniform, yeah right) was nonexistent, like Renji had touched his naked skin. He should have wondered why the hell they were standing so close to each other in the first place, but that would mean facing the fact he didn't really mind. After the night he'd had, he could use some tension release.
Instead of thinking about any of that, he focused on staring downward. As a result, he'd missed Renji moving forward until he heard, obscenely close to his ear, "Sure."
Ichigo shivered when Renji's breath brushed his skin.
"What?" he asked, thanking his lucky stars he didn't sound breathless. At least he sounded like he was still handling the situation, letting it unfold. Two years of therapy weren't for nothing; he was getting the hang of "letting things happen". Ichigo was mellow. Ichigo was a master of calm-
"Let's." Renji moved his knee again, this time nudging it between Ichigo's thighs. Fuck mellow. Ichigo decided to move forward against his knee while catching Renji's hips and pushing them back against the wall.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked, just to see what would happen. He thought he already knew, and his body certainly did; he was just standing there but it felt like he was running or fucking… yeah, fucking. But Renji was a stranger, who knew what he had planned?
Renji leaned even closer. His lips brushed Ichigo's skin, moist and warm and he smelled good and Ichigo would have flattened himself against Renji if it weren't for the beer glass still between them. Or his self control. Whatever.
"It's been a long night," Renji started. "I'm horny and you're vaguely attractive. Screw, you said?"
Who could argue with that logic?
Well, probably someone who really cared about professionalism, took offense at the use of "vaguely", or didn’t have Renji breathing in his ear-close-there. Ichigo tightened his hands on Renji's hips, slipping his thumbs under the leather belt. Renji's skin was hot, and Ichigo could tell he was fit.
He pretty much knew right then that, unless something tremendously tragic happened, he was going to go for it.
Renji chuckled quietly in his ear, his shoulders slightly shaking. "I've got you already, haven’t I?"
Ichigo pushed Renji more firmly, and leaned back just enough to look into his eyes. They were darker then, somehow, almost red. Intense, but he was grinning, playful. Ichigo wanted to lick his fucking teeth.
"Don't be so full of yourself," he said. Renji's grin faltered for a moment, which pleased Ichigo. A bit less pleasing when instead of saying anything, Renji curled his free hand around Ichigo's neck. Goosebumps rose on his skin and his breathing picked up when Renji's thumb stroked behind his ear.
He only realized he'd been staring at Renji's mouth when he couldn't focus on it anymore, because it was suddenly brushing his lips, warm, slow, tentative if not teasing. Ichigo closed his eyes, more or less frozen.
Sadly enough, the last time he'd had sex was more recent than the last time he'd kissed someone (like that, anyway). Renji must have taken Ichigo's surprise as an accomplishment, because he could feel his lips curl up in a smile.
It seemed hardly appropriate, and Ichigo decided to show him that by changing his tactics and sucking Renji's lower lip gently into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth.
He heard a faint sound from Renji's throat, but it was overshadowed by Renji gripping his nape tighter, pulling his hair. To think that until that very moment, Ichigo had regretted letting his hair grow out.
He ran his tongue over Renji's lips, now a bit swollen, and he knew they were redder and he was ridiculously pleased with himself. When Renji's tongue joined in, stroking his quickly, Ichigo was ridiculously a lot of things. Light-headed. That was certainly not helped by Renji's fingers still buried in his hair, grasping it hard.
He noticed that Renji tasted like good beer and breath mints, as if he'd spotted him and planned this before Ichigo had even come up to him. The thought made Ichigo shiver. Another thought crossed his mind, that Renji could probably taste too and could report him for stealing food from the catering kitchen.
Well, he could also report Ichigo for fucking him against a wall in a conspicuous hallway while he was at it. Neither could be helped.
Renji must have sensed that Ichigo was doing too much thinking, because he doubled his efforts. He lowered his hand to the small of Ichigo's back, pulling him closer and making him ride his knee while licking into his mouth. Ichigo groaned, getting hard.
He left Renji's mouth with some difficulty, breathing into Renji's neck and fighting with all he had not to tear Renji's belt off and unzip his pants with his teeth.
"Come on. I know a place," Renji said, bowing his head to nip Ichigo's earlobe. Knew a place. Great. Maybe that was why he was hired despite his tattoos. As if there-
"Fuck," he blurted when Renji's hand dropped to his ass and squeezed. "Right, okay," he breathed, stepping back and stuffing his hands into his pockets to avoid the temptation of putting them back on Renji's hips, running them over his sides, popping open the buttons of his black shirt and tweaking his nipples.
It could have been the kiss, the atmosphere or Renji's hand still on his ass that wound him up, or maybe the combination of the three just made him feel like he couldn't wait another minute. Luckily, Renji seemed to share the sentiment. He put his other hand on Ichigo's back and led him down the miraculously empty hall.
First Ichigo thought they were heading to the restroom, which would have been fine by him, even though it was too close to the kitchen for his taste. He was wrong. Renji made a turn right before the restroom and brought Ichigo to a staircase they were really not supposed to use. Ichigo had no idea what was up there, but Renji apparently had.
"Have you worked here or something?" Ichigo asked, following Renji up. His hands were still in his pockets, but Renji's hand moved to his lower back. He wasn't hurrying him-it was like he was just making sure Ichigo wouldn't disappear, or like he wanted to keep contact. Ichigo was all for that shit.
"Or something."
They reached the end of a hallway just like the one downstairs. Renji looked behind him before opening a door and slipping into a room. For a moment, they were in different rooms and Ichigo could breathe.
Oh, fuck it.
Ichigo followed into the room, looking around for a moment. It was a restroom, but nothing like the one downstairs. It was huge and heated and had only two stalls. Deserted, too. Ichigo guessed they could have just gone at it right there (big mirror, marble countertop on which Renji had already put his beer and sunglasses), but some professional part of him made him pull Renji into a stall.
There should have been another second of staring, waiting. He should have looked into Renji's eyes and found that he could trust him, or been reminded of Renji being hot, or asking himself if he was ready.
Then again, being himself, there wasn't a second to lose. Renji pinned him to the wall with a look and then with his hands-one on his shoulder and one on his hip, pushing him against the surface and then pressing tight against him and attacking his neck with his teeth, his tongue.
Ichigo groaned, not bothering to keep it down. He slipped his hands between their bodies, first getting rid of Renji's tie and then starting to open his shirt. He was sloppy and it took more time than necessary, but Renji was hell-bent on giving him a hickey and being as close as humanly possible, which were both horrible distractions.
Nearly tearing the shirt to pieces, it finally yielded. He pulled it off Renji's shoulders and then forced Renji to stop touching him so the shirt could fall to the floor. Which also allowed him to look at Renji's torso. Which, well.
Renji was broad and muscular and tattooed all over and Ichigo was fascinated and possibly a little amazed. He didn't let it show, though; he had a feeling it would bite him in the ass with this guy.
His expression must have given him away anyway, as Renji was smirking down at him. Ichigo cursed and leaned up to kiss him again-fast-paced, hot, a little filthy. Renji gravitated toward him until his hips ground against Ichigo's. Trapped between that friction and the wall behind him, Ichigo could have screamed. He knew he was scratching Renji's chest, but found no resistance.
Soon enough, Renji's hands were on him again.
Maybe he should have thought about it before they'd gotten started, should have warned Renji, but he was too focused on Renji's body to pay attention to what was happening, what would happen.
It came as a shock to both of them that when Renji put his hand on Ichigo's waist, slipping his fingers under the shirt and running them up to his navel, brushing through the fine trail of hair there, it was the hand that had touched the chilled beer. Ichigo cringed and swatted it away instinctively.
"What's wrong?" Renji asked right away. He looked put out and concerned, which was weird, but Ichigo guessed not weirder than freaking out when cold things touched his bare skin. His heart was hammering in his chest for all the wrong reasons, and Renji was still looking at him like that, and Ichigo had to say something.
"Just. Cold."
Renji's wrist was still caught by Ichigo's hand, and it kept him from pulling away completely. Ichigo felt embarrassed and still a bit jittery, but he didn't want Renji to just go. He didn't want him to go at all.
Simply enough, Renji nodded. Just a brief moment of understanding before he went back to being all over him. He didn't try to undress him again, and didn't kiss him either, which meant Ichigo could hear every breath coming out of his mouth.
One of his hands sneaked into Ichigo's hair again, his fingers running in it more gently than before. Ichigo would have told him that nothing fucking happened and he'd better not tone it down, when he felt Renji's other hand. On his crotch. He bucked into his hand, feeling heat flood him again.
"You don’t like it cold, then? Maybe you should rub my hands together. Or…" Ichigo bit his lip when Renji unzipped his jeans and, careful to stay over the boxer shorts and not touch his skin, cupped his cock. He pressed the heel of his palm against the underside of the head, his fingers running over his balls, and Ichigo knew he was staining his shorts but he was too busy not banging his head against the wall to notice.
When Renji started rubbing his cock over his underwear, Ichigo had to say, "You think you're so clever…"
It came out less steady than he would have liked, but he still got a chuckle out of Renji. The way he could feel Renji's body shake against him reminded him of how much he wanted to touch him. He ran his hands over Renji's back, kneading the pronounced muscles there, scratching, heating up the skin-from the small of his back to his nape, his fingers curling in Renji's ponytail and pulling the roots a little. Renji growled in response, and Ichigo really regretted not owning loose pants, because Renji really needed to pick up the pace.
He untangled his hand from Renji's hair and grabbed his wrist again. Renji instantly froze and Ichigo could swear he made a disappointed little sound, so he didn't waste time. He used his other hand to pull his jeans down to his thighs, along with his underwear.
Instead of pretending he wasn't aware of the chills going through him or of his cock, still hard from Renji's work and straining against his stomach, he focused on taking both of Renji's hands up to his mouth.
He cupped them in his hands and blew hot air on them, rubbing them with his thumbs, kissing the knuckles. Renji just looked at him throughout all that, his eyes hooded, and in the stall every little stunned sound that escaped him was magnified. The previous incident all but forgotten, Ichigo was good to go.
He couldn't resist and gave the tip of Renji's forefinger a little bite, making him bare his teeth again.
"Let's try this again," he said, lowering one of Renji's hands slowly and wrapping it around his cock. He hissed and shivered at the contact, not because it was cold, but because fuck, it felt good.
He could have laughed at how self-satisfied Renji looked. Of course, he was rather satisfied himself, as well, so he was pretty sure opening his mouth to laugh would mean moaning and burying his face in Renji's neck and forgetting himself, which he wasn't really ready to do just yet.
Not that Renji cared. He was jerking him off like a pro, until Ichigo was thrusting into his fist and scratching his chest again, squeezing his shoulder. His breath was getting quicker and he knew where things were heading, but he couldn't stop, and Renji pressed up against him, sucking on his neck-under his ear-and pushing-oh god, Ichigo could feel Renji's cock, grinding against his hip, and it was nearly enough to set him off.
"Slow-slow down…" he whispered.
All that happened was that Renji made a really inappropriate noise against his neck and didn't relent one bit, and really, if there was ever a time to be angry at someone for not listening-"Fuck, Renji," he let out when Renji used his other hand to help Ichigo move his hips faster.
It was time for drastic measures. Ichigo was not going down alone.
He lowered his hands and pushed Renji's hips away from him so he could work, fumbling, on his pants. Once those were pulled down, Ichigo stopped Renji's hand so he could focus. And focus. And, okay, maybe stare a little, because Renji's cock kind of deserved it.
He kept one hand on Renji's thigh and moved the other up his cock, his knuckles brushing the underside and his thumb sliding over the exposed head, wetting it and feeling… Renji's chest rumbled against him and he pushed his hips weakly. Ichigo's cock jerked at the sight, and Renji reached over and wrapped his fingers around it again. He was pumping it slower this time, prompting Ichigo to move with him. He did, assuming Renji's pace and pulling him forward again, putting his free hand on Renji's ass and hearing him gasp quietly.
He only stopped staring when he felt Renji's lips on his neck, soft enough to make him shut his eyes and roll his hips, intense heat spreading through him. Renji used that moment of idleness to pry Ichigo's hand off his cock. He wondered what was going on when-oh, god. Renji ground their hips together, moving his whole body into Ichigo's until they were so close it was suffocating. Only then did Renji put his hand on both of their cocks and started stroking.
He really hoped Renji was getting there, because it was getting harder to hold on. The whole thing was rougher than necessary-Ichigo biting Renji's shoulder, his back banging against the wall when Renji pushed forward, grabbing his thigh like he was trying to lift him up, which made Ichigo groan and suck harder on his skin.
He wasn't even jerking them off; he was fucking his own slick fist, driving into Ichigo. His hand was moving faster and Ichigo had to wrap his own around it, make the grip tighter and taking over and-"Fuck, tell me you're gonna-"
"Yeah," Renji muttered, mouthing against his temple. He was surprised that all it took for Renji was a tug on his hair and a bite on the crook of his neck. Ichigo was so caught up with his own pleasure that he almost missed it: Renji's grunt, and the jerkiness of his hips. He leaned back to watch him. Breathing heavily, his eyes fluttering shut, his cheeks slightly flushed-then, a sudden, vicious bite to his own lip and Ichigo felt Renji come all over their hands, over Ichigo's fucking cock.
Ichigo lost it, letting it all go while digging his teeth into Renji's skin. He clung to those few moments afterward, a bit overwhelmed. He was pretty much wrapped around Renji, and they were both panting. Ichigo rested his head on Renji's exposed neck, feeling the hot skin against his cheek, Renji panting into his ear. Clinging to that state of mind, because it was definitely good to know he could still do that.
They both went rigid when they heard a noise outside their stall, presumably the door opening (he hoped, at least. It would have been awkward if the door had closed rather than opened). They exchanged a quick look and Ichigo really wanted to laugh, all of a sudden. He really hadn't thought the night would take this turn.
Spotting his amusement, Renji cracked a grin in return.
Just like that, it was over. They detached from each other quickly and Renji put his shirt back on while Ichigo found toilet paper and tidied up, completely silent. At least he was wearing black, so the… wetness didn't show.
A few minutes later, when they were all set, they heard someone flush the toilet next to theirs. They waited, relieved, until whoever it was left the restroom. They slipped out.
It was shockingly colder outside, and Ichigo winced when he washed his hands in freezing water. Renji noticed and nudged his shoulder. Ichigo ignored the heat crawling up his neck. He peeked into the mirror, and cursed in annoyance.
Renji looked perfectly presentable, while Ichigo looked perfectly fucked out of his mind. Maybe the crew would believe he especially enjoyed his cigarette or something. As long as Renji didn't tell the boss…
It suddenly hit Ichigo that they hadn't talked for too long, and by then he had nothing to say. It was nice to meet you? Thanks for getting me off? For fuck's sake. Ichigo had never been particularly smooth, but this was ridiculous.
Before he could come up with something, Renji said, "Well, see ya around," clapped him on the back, put his sunglasses on and left.
That's one way to say goodbye. Ichigo stared at himself in the mirror for a few beats, confused, before he realized a few things. He'd forgotten to ask Renji for his number. That probably made him cheap. He didn't really care. That probably made him even cheaper.
He wasn't really looking for him, but he had noticed that Renji wasn't in the hallway or in the secret smoking corner. Maybe he was in the kitchen. Maybe Ichigo shouldn't care about the stranger he'd just gotten off with.
Ichigo was mellow.
*
"Shit, you look fucked."
Renji hoped his expression would be enough to convey, "Really? I hadn't noticed, fuckwad". Ikkaku probably would have shrugged in response if he hadn't been carrying so much heavy equipment. Then again, maybe he would have tried punching Renji's arm as a salute to the fucked, from the guy who wore sunglasses on a cloudy morning to cover up his eyes to the guy who had random sex in a restroom at the annual Kuchiki party and couldn't handle his hangover. (Also wearing his third favorite sunglasses, but for no particular reason.)
Even after more than a year, Renji had problems adjusting to his schedule. He'd spent enough years working around the clock (losing one job after another meant he'd gotten a lot of exciting experience in random things, and that his life had sucked), but waking up before dawn was something he'd avoided until then. Of course, there were the years that dawn literally awoke him because he was sleeping outside, but as soon as he'd found a place, nothing could get him to roll out of bed, not even classes.
Hangovers of this caliber were new, too. Renji didn't normally like getting shitfaced and losing control, but last night turned out to be all about that. He let out a long-suffering groan and drank half of his water bottle.
He hoped this was the worst of it, he really did. He couldn't afford to fuck up work. He had no doubt that he’d used up all of his last chances last year, and that by then he was expected to know what he was doing. He really didn't, but he was good at pretending, and there was always someone to back him up when he screwed up.
Ikkaku was still standing there, like he was waiting for Renji to say something. When Renji offered no assistance, he asked, "Well? Did'ya?"
Get fucked?
Ikkaku didn't want the explanation. He didn't want to know that Renji had asked Rukia to go with him to the party like a stupid date and she'd let him down gently, crushing years of carrying a torch for her. Come to think of it, in that department, Renji's life still really fucking sucked. It didn't matter to Ikkaku that Renji had moped quite a bit and then decided to go to the party anyway.
He definitely didn't want Renji to tell him how he'd first seen Ichigo smoking outside and decided to keep an eye on him, how he'd seen him again hovering between the party and where the staff worked. Ichigo had been frowning and barking at people and didn't seem intimidated by the stars in the next room, and Renji had realized two things. The guy had been out of alcohol, and the guy had looked good in those jeans, despite him scowling at people. Or maybe because he was scowling at people. Maybe Renji needed a change.
Ikkaku might have been his best friend on set, but he couldn't care less about what Renji had done to gain Ichigo's attention, or about how Ichigo hadn't recognized him and had just stared with big, scrutinizing eyes like they'd been about to duel, or how it had turned Renji on. About the fact it had taken Renji a couple of minutes to get used to it, since he hadn't been with a guy since the split with Shuuhei six years ago, but Ichigo was a hot guy and Renji had already been drunk and bent on having a good time.
Renji didn't have a big philosophy on one night stands. When he was in a relationship he was loyal to a fault, but when he wasn't, and found himself in one of those moods, he thought he deserved some fun.
And if he'd gotten drunk afterward and dodged Ichigo (he must have thought Renji worked with the caterers, which made him question both his taste in formalwear and Ichigo's intelligence) because the sex was better than it should have been and then he thought of Rukia and felt a bit sick, well, that was his business.
After sleeping it off, Renji decided to focus on the undeniable kick he got out of having had sex at the Kuchiki manor, and felt rather pleased with himself. If he'd get shit for it, at least it was worth it.
Instead of telling Ikkaku everything, Renji just said, "Yeah, sort of."
Ikkaku grinned, like it wasn't seven in the morning and Renji's head wasn't splitting. "Good for you. Imagine how much shittier you'da felt if you hadn't gotten some last night."
Renji didn't dare imagining such catastrophes. "You're wiser than people give you credit for."
"Thanks a fuck, jackass," Ikkaku said.
"Don't you have somewhere to be? Lights to set up, cameras to move?" As nice as it was to chat with Ikkaku, Renji had hoped to nap until he got called to the set. The initial plan had been to sit outside until he felt ready for a run, but then he'd sat outside, and that was the end of that.
"Yeah, yeah. I think little Kuchiki's boy was looking for you."
"Fuck me," Renji grunted, feeling his heart sink. He had no idea what Rukia might have to say to him, but he wasn't in the mood. The worst possibility was that her brother had sent her to tell Renji off about embarrassing him at the party or some shit. It was too early to deal with big Kuchiki, executive producer or not, and Renji wasn't too sweet on little Kuchiki at the moment either.
Ikkaku could see all that, of course, despite Renji's sunglasses. He smirked at Renji and walked away without another word. Renji pushed the sunglasses up his nose and pulled his hoodie over his head. He still had twenty minutes before he had to get dressed, maybe a little more if Rukia was in a charitable mood. Flirting was out of the question at that point (the realization still felt like a kick to the gut, yet better than a day ago), but maybe their twenty-year friendship counted for something. If he just closed his eyes and hoped no one would notice him…
"Mr. Abarai! Mr. Abarai!"
"For the love of god…" Renji muttered, opening his eyes. He never won in the mornings, not shuteye or a break. "What, Yamada?"
Yamada stopped in front of him, panting because of the run. Maybe it was rude that Renji remained completely still-arms folded and legs on the table in front of his uncomfortable chair-while Yamada ran from the other side of the set to get him, but whatever.
"Ms. Kuchiki said to send you away."
Now that's interesting. Renji put his feet on the ground and took off his sunglasses, squinting because ow sun ow head, and fiddling with the tacky red frame. "I'm getting the day off?"
"No!" Yamada yelled, causing Renji to cringe. He sounded like he expected Renji to sprint away thinking he had the whole day, and like that would be his death sentence. Not for the first time, Renji wondered if being a producer's PA was too stressful for the kid. Even if his job description was basically being Rukia's bitch, he was dedicated and Renji respected him for that.
"Ms. Kuchiki said that you didn't look so good when you came in and that you are to go to the bakery on Black Ridge Street and eat coffee and a muffin. Drink coffee, I mean. It's on Black Ridge Street, two blocks from here. Oh, and you need to be back before nine."
"Relax, boy." Renji was thrilled. He had an hour. Black coffee sounded great right then and he could do with something sweet. He might be hung-over and prone to throwing up, but Renji could always do with something sweet
He stood up, perhaps a little less jaunty than usual, and put his hand on Yamada's shoulder. He thought about words of encouragement and approval. "Don't tell Rikichi where I am. Or about the hangover."
'Cause he'd follow me around with five water bottles and home remedies. Rukia had thought, once upon a time, that it would be hilarious to assign someone specifically to look after Renji. The problem was that Rikichi took his job fucking seriously, and Renji felt too guilty not to find a use for him. That morning was no time for guilt.
He left Yamada there and walked to the Black Ridge gate, putting his sunglasses back on.
Renji needed a change.
Part 2