savior_n_black | Need You/ See You/ Find You/ Taste You/ Use You/ Scar You/ Fuck You/ Break You

Need You/ See You/ Find You/ Taste You/ Use You/ Scar You/ Fuck You/ Break You

[ No one was home. Again. Somehow that pissed Ichigo off, in some strange way, but part of him was grateful, too. At this point, after Tatsuki, and Orihime had been out most days, Xion acting weird, and Rukia's general avoidance of him was grating on his nerves. So, it was probably for the best that no one was around.

He was irritated, still, even after getting a little bit of a workout from Madsen. She was an accomplished swordswoman, and no denying it. But, Ichigo was still stuck without a stronger partner to polish his skills against. That, too, irritated him. Hell, everything was irritating Ichigo today, and that irritated him too!

Where was Shiro? Not that I care, or anything. Only he did care. He wanted to see the pale bastard. He wanted to shout at him, shove him up against a wall, and maybe bite the stupid bastard's lip-- Stop thinking like that! You don't NEED that, damnitt. And that's just what he would want.
He was angry. He was angry Shiro had just backed down, not fought him. Angry that if it was so easy for him to just walk off and then not bother to even try to confront it for days--
That brought Ichigo up short again, and made him slam the door to his bedroom in a fit of pique. What did it matter if Shiro didn't try to crawl into bed with him? It didn't! It shouldn't. ...So why was Ichigo so pissed that the hollow was all but ignoring him?
He didn't bother checking his messages, or replying to any of his friend's equally pissy responses. After all, it wasn’t anybody’s business if he was angry. He couldn’t think of anything about him that was anyone else's business, actually, so he ignored the messages on his phone as he set it on his desk, and plopped down on the foot of his bed.

He sighed. Maybe the kitchen was the place to be right then, though he had no appetite. Usually he was hungry when he got home, so it made sense that Shiro might be watching T.V. where all the snacks were in easy reach. Right then, though, even knowing he’d probably missed dinner, the thought of eating actually made him feel a tiny bit sick. Maybe a shower, then. He was still in his bankai haroi, with Tensa Zangetsu sitting propped against the far side of his desk. Maybe he could use the bath to calm down...

Maybe he should have tried harder.

He couldn’t tell if the lump in his throat was anger again or some other orphaned emotion, but he did his best to swallow it as he stood up to get a change of clothes from his drawer, but he suddenly found he was incapable of doing anything except leaning against the wall, his head buried in the crook of his upraised arm.

Fuck.

The worst part was that he didn’t know who to blame for the fact that his insides had just been scooped out. Shiro shouldn’t have let me act like that—he should have stayed—why did I—is it really that easy for him? He was angry again, and he didn’t know where to direct it — Shiro, himself, everywhere or nowhere. And he was hot, burning up, sweaty from the fight...

Oh, who am I kidding?

He couldn’t move, because he didn’t know what he’d do if he did. Instead he stayed there, leaning against the wall until his body was shaking from the tension and the pressure, until he was sure he would collapse or yell or punch something. His hands were curling themselves into fists, his own part in the action completely involuntary.
And for someone as physically expressive of emotions as Ichigo, it's starting to take its toll. In disheveled bankai haori, he looked as if he had ran several marathons; sweaty, panting, hoarse.

I fucking miss him. The bastard.

Yet, it wasn't until that thought formed in his brain that Ichigo realized that the distant ache inside his stomach wasn't just that.
He was hard. Ridiculously hard. And had been for a while now.

...Fuck. ]

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[Shiro thrusts, in and out, and as he does, they fall into a more natural position, with Shiro less on top and Ichigo more in his lap than anything else.]

Hnnrggh... no... n-no. Fuck YOU! [he hissed out a laugh that quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as he angled for that sweet spot just a few inches in.

It was just feeling. Such an overload that nothing made any sense, and there was no line drawn between pain and pleasure, rage and love.

But none of that reiatsu ever got too far away from Shiro. As soon as it spilled out, it flowed into Shiro like water down a drain, right into his Chain of Fate hole, giving him an extra spring in his step. He magnified it, amplified it, and the reiatsu anyone else in the house would feel would be a perfect melding of Hollow and Shinigami]

D-dammit!!

[ 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. ]

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. ]

[There was plenty of pent up steam for Ichigo to let off. Shiro could feel it, feel it building up inside him, ready to explode. One way or another.

The Hollow read Ichigo's body's reactions like a book, the way he squirmed, the way he yelped. He knew they were both close, and hitting that sweet spot was just the thing. Shiro's dick throbbed hard inside of Ichigo, causing Shiro to lose rhythm for a split second as he tried to get a hold of himself. That had been too close, and it would have been far, far too soon.

That tail uncurled completely and thrashed wildly behind Shiro. Fuck, those noises! That squirming! It was so fucking hot.

Simultaneous orgasm in normal partners was fairly rare. But with partners like these, connected as they were, heart and soul? The echoes of Ichigo's orgasm, that beautiful sweet release, was enough to set the Hollow over the edge. He came, and he came hard, spurts of himself coming out around the edges as his body contorted and he let out a howl]

[ Shiro collapsed on top of Ichigo, his hot chest molded to Ichigo's molten skin with sweat gluing them both together. Both of them were heaving with the after-effects of wild, hot, screaming sex. Shiro was still inside as well.
Ichigo's lungs were burning with his constant desperate breaths and his mind was spinning from lack of oxygen. His lips were bruised and pink and there was even a tiny laceration on the edge; blood slid down his mouth but he swept it up with his tongue before it could get very far. His thighs were numb, and his arms felt like they were on fire due to how much he had been flexing them. Ichigo tried to steady his breathing, but his sweaty cheek was pressed deep into his pillow and he found that he was not only gasping, but also trembling.
Ichigo tried to adjust himself, to move up on the bed, if only because having his legs folded up against his chest like this wasn't that comfortable for long. But, with liquified muscle, bone, and brain he wasn't doing much more than fitful squirming.

Managing, eventually, to try stretching his legs out beneath the heavy body on top of him. Something in the vicinity of his groin popped loudly, causing him to mumble an unintelligible noise of discomfort.
He knew he was frowning. He couldn’t even really close his mouth. He could barely keep his eyes open, barely keep them focused on the hollow on top of him. It took quite a while, but he did manage to unfold enough to rest more comfortably under Shiro.

...But as awesome as that had been, there was a creeping sense of chilly guilt sneaking it's way into the post-coital haze. He shouldn't have done that. He should have had more restraint. Some part of him wanted to say he was sorry, but it would taste too much like a lie. Ichigo wasn't sorry for the sex, at least. That part was genuine, and wonderful...it was the reasons behind it. And his behavior. ]

[And good fucking lord, had it been good. It was always good. But hot wrathful monkey sex is ESPECIALLY good. And now Shiro was collapsed on top of Ichigo with his cock bent at a strange angle and he can't even be bothered to pull out. He was too busy catching his breath.

But he was a bit more with it than Ichigo was and eventually he does pull out, if only so Ichigo and put his legs down and so Shiro can lay cleanly on top of him, head tucked in to his other's shoulder. Eventually they were both comfortable on top of eachother, although emptied.

If Shiro notices something is the matter, he doesn't say anything. Sure, it had been... strange, that Ichigo had been so insistent... but he had needs, right? He was just super needful today.]

[ With that delirious, half-blind expression he always had when Ichigow as really, deeply satisfied, he shifted one more time to hook his calves around the backs of Shiro's legs. But, he was still, pointedly, not looking at Shiro. ]

"... Sorry I made you do that. Should have had more restraint."

Sorry? For what?

[the Hollow moans and wraps his tail around Ichigo's leg, snuggling in, all sweat and lust and love]

If I hadn't wanted it, I would have left, idiot.

[ Squirm, squirm, and wrinkling his nose a bit at how sticky, and sweaty he is, now. Going to need a shower soon. ]

Ew. Gonna have to wash the sheets again, too.

[ Yes, let's focus on that. Focus on anything else. Like raising a hand that's a little less shaky to gingerly prod at the bite wound on his shoulder. ]

Damnitt, how am I going to explain this?

[ Keeping his face turned away from Shiro, he's looking at the sight blood left on his fingers with a frown creeping back onto his expression like a wounded puppy. He'd used Shiro. He'd used the hollow to feel better, and while it was fun, and enjoyable for both, Ichigo still couldn't shake the feeling that he had done something very wrong/ His intentions hadn't been good, and the last thing he thought he could deal with was cheapening what they'd just done. ]

...You didn't want to, though. Not at first. You just went along with it bec--

[ Ichigo cut himself short with pursed lips, before he ended up saying something stupid like "Because I needed it."
He hated this feeling. Hated feeling so lonely...feeling afraid of needing someone else. ]

[Shiro looks at the sheets and then sniffs them. Mmm. Berry stink. He just snickers a little]

Laundry is easy. This is why we have extra sheets, dumbass. [he frowns, looking at the wound] I can fix it, if you want.

[he could tell Ichigo was conflicted. He sat up, sitting next to Ichigo instead of on top of him, eyebrows furrowed.

Then punched him (albeit lightly) on the uninjured shoulder]

Shut up. I "went along with it" because I wanted to fuck you, it just took me a minute to get in the mood.

[ Rolling onto his side, and grabbing the remains of his bankai haori to tuck around him. He was still blushing furious pink, but since he still felt like his limbs were made of gelatin, he didn't want to risk getting up, yet. ]

...Is that why you've been hiding out? You're "not in the mood"?

[ Now, he finally does raise his eyes to look at the hollow with a mild frown. The guy has some serious issues with intimacy, so it's no wonder his own ideas about himself, and whatever the hell this was - his relationship with Shiro, and Shiro's behavior towards him - which were a bit skewed. And the question was blunt, maybe even a little hurt sounding? hard to tell with Ichigo; he did his best to hide any emotion that might tip other people off to the fact he cared about them enough that he needed them a lot more than they might need him. ]

I told you. I was hiding out for your sake. [he picks at his ear casually, trying to make Ichigo certain that it just wasn't a big deal. But the Hollow frowns, looking away and curling up a bit]

... I just want to do what you need me to do for you, Ichigo. That's what makes me happy, you know. [MOMENT RUINED]

[ Not expecting that, nope. Come here for kisses, and maybe a snuggle or two, then.
Nestled together, again, with lines, and curves identically matched, Ichigo hid his face in Shiro's shoulder. ]

...Why?

[ Why would you do that? You hated me, you said so yourself! And how can you know what I need, because I sure as hell don't... ]

[The Hollow blushes blue, hiding his face in turn after a few short, sweet kisses. He couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. It was so stupid, so sappy. ... But so true.]

Because... I want you to be strong. When you're happy, so am I. [he nuzzles in deeper, pulling himself closer. Once, he had hated Ichigo, with every fiber of his being. But those feelings had polarized, switched, and had been replaced. No he couldn't imagine life without him. He didn't remember when the switch happened. And the scariest part was, he didn't care. This was nicer. There was no reason to hate Ichigo.

Every reason in the world to be frustrated, angry, rageful... but these were different from hate.]

[ Looping his arms around a neck, he used the leverage to get a leg over a hip, trembling in a way he would never have dreamed of doing elsewhere or for anyone other than the hollow. He would have felt oddly debased ... as it was, he had never had a very high opinion of himself and believed those of his nakama, whom he may have considered in a vaguely attractive light, deserved much better than to deal with this; with Ichigo's needs. They dealt with so much already.

But, Shiro could handle every twisted corner of Ichigo's mind, couldn't he? Somehow, that made this alright, and what's more; the hollow had even started displaying something akin to affection recently. Ichigo may not be that traditional of a guy, but whether he admitted to it, or not, deep down he was a romantic at heart.
It felt really nice to be held, too. Held, and touched, and the musky warmth of the hollow filling his nose was all becoming a very comforting combination for Ichigo. Warm, and content, Ichigo stayed where he was, but mumbled into Shiro's throat; ]

...I don't want you to hide, anymore.

[The Hollow purrs contentedly in his throat, all fluff and love now that his lust is spent for now. More than anything, he wanted to be close. To touch and be touched.

For such a brave boy, Ichigo had more self esteem issues than most. Issues that made him feel like he was a burden, to everyone, but especially in a relationship. But this was Shiro's job, one of the things he arose to do. But also something he chose, because no one else could. And hey, even the tough monster had to admit.

Sometimes romanticism was nice. It was nice to just hold the other, to feel his heart beat and hear him breathe. It wasn't like being part of him again, but it was similar.

And better. Shiro didn't want to go back inside again, any more.]

Hrf... even if you tell me to go away...? [Half joking, half serious.]

[ Ichigo put his hand on the other side of Shiro's neck, and slowly leans in, stopping only when he can feel his breath wash over white skin, then back onto his face and closes his eyes. The hand on Shiro's neck drifts up to touch the edge of the hollow's jaw. Coaxing Shiro's head around to look him in the eye, Ichigo pins his hollow with a guarded look. ]

I didn't tell you to hide earlier. And I wouldn't tell you to hide at all.

[ Without any other warning he pushes up and crushes their mouths together, wrapping his arms around Shiro's neck. Then he leans back on the mattress so that Shiro is tumbling down on top of him. He smiles victoriously, then his tongue is against those lips again; not pushing in but licking the swollen flesh, teasing at the seam. It feels wonderful, but only when Shiro parts his lips does he slide his tongue past sharp teeth, till it teases the hollow's warm, blue tongue too.
Gradually, and reluctantly, he did pull away enough to speak, but stayed close enough that when he canted his head just slightly to the side, his lips were brushing Shiro's cheek when he spoke; ]

Besides, you only listen to me when you feel like it.

Edited 2011-06-08 03:20 (UTC)

[Those liquid gold eyes just look somewhat blankly into Ichigo's amber ones, meeting them evenly and unshakingly. The kiss is warm and inviting, loving, gentle. They're even a little less terrible at it, now. Then he grins a bit]

But you did say it was something you wanted to figure out on your own... that you didn't want to fight me... [the grin fades into a bit of a guilty look] But I guess I could have at least stuck around. [their skin is close, close enough for Shiro's hair to tickle at Ichigo's face] Heh. It's true, isn't it. [he just smiles knowingly and wraps his arms around Ichigo closer, content to lie next to him, even if the sheets are gross]

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