[ The sharp sting of claw marks is ignored as pleasure ricocheted through his nervous system, thighs parting ever wider to allow Shiro to touch every part of him. His mind swam with the sight of his near-identical twin; someone he loathed and needed and couldn't stop touching.
He had never been so furious before, so desperate to get off. The anger was becoming mixed with lust, though. Now that rage wasn't poison searing his guts, it was a purging fire. The pain of being fucked into his own mattress completely overshadowed by that blessed relief of the cleansing flame. He kept grasping for something solid to hold onto, hands so uncoordinated that he finally managed to wrap his fingers around the tip of Shiro's tail again. A muffled noise between a moan and a whimper is smothered against the appendage coiling it's way from Ichigo's palm, nearly to touching his elbow. Writhing, and tossing his head back, and forth against the pillow, Ichigo arched his back hard, and keened when Shiro found the exact right angle. Ichigo's free hand scrabbled across the sheet to reach up, and grab a white outer thigh, desperately, the corners of his eyes beading with moisture. So stubborn, but so desperate. ]
[ His voice is a raspy whisper, quavering just like his nerves as he chanted the nickname like a prayer. He wasn't thinking logically of what he didn't want to say - acting on impulse as he did in most other things - making noises he certainly wasn't going to own up to once they were finished.
But pulling away from clinging to a white thigh, he reaches down to wrap fingers around his own neglected erection. It only took two pumps to set him off. Neck arching back, a long, loud yell heralded Ichigo's orgasm, as he spilled himself all over his own stomach; vision gone white, and every muscle in his body clenching, and holding, Ichigo thought he might have just died. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 07:23 am (UTC)He had never been so furious before, so desperate to get off. The anger was becoming mixed with lust, though. Now that rage wasn't poison searing his guts, it was a purging fire. The pain of being fucked into his own mattress completely overshadowed by that blessed relief of the cleansing flame.
He kept grasping for something solid to hold onto, hands so uncoordinated that he finally managed to wrap his fingers around the tip of Shiro's tail again. A muffled noise between a moan and a whimper is smothered against the appendage coiling it's way from Ichigo's palm, nearly to touching his elbow.
Writhing, and tossing his head back, and forth against the pillow, Ichigo arched his back hard, and keened when Shiro found the exact right angle. Ichigo's free hand scrabbled across the sheet to reach up, and grab a white outer thigh, desperately, the corners of his eyes beading with moisture. So stubborn, but so desperate. ]
Shiro, oh f-fuck, you, I...Hn, Shiro, Shiro, Shiro-!
[ His voice is a raspy whisper, quavering just like his nerves as he chanted the nickname like a prayer. He wasn't thinking logically of what he didn't want to say - acting on impulse as he did in most other things - making noises he certainly wasn't going to own up to once they were finished.
But pulling away from clinging to a white thigh, he reaches down to wrap fingers around his own neglected erection. It only took two pumps to set him off. Neck arching back, a long, loud yell heralded Ichigo's orgasm, as he spilled himself all over his own stomach; vision gone white, and every muscle in his body clenching, and holding, Ichigo thought he might have just died. ]