All that Shiro could think (while he COULD still think) was that this was fucking awesome. He should partially Hollowfy Ichigo every time they do this. He was so much more intense. Hotter, in every sense of the word. Just more, all around. But maybe it was because neither of them had been touched in so long. It had been so long... too long. Shiro feels hunger for pleasure. He needs it, now, and he hadn't even known it until Ichigo had jumped him.

With his hands finally free, Shiro moves them to Ichigo's head, burying his clawed fingers into Ichigo's hair, damp with sweat and so soft and so right. He pulls him close, pressing their lips together, licking and sucking and biting. The feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other, stiff as boards and sensitive as can be, is euphoric. Shiro lets out a moan that he makes no attempt to stifle, then a hiss. They fit together so perfectly, and this was what their bodies, their souls, craved. To be together, to be one in the same, to feel pleasure and pain echo and reverberate and grow. The Hollow licks Ichigo's chin and neck, nibbling at his skin and tasting his sweat as his hips move in time with Ichigo's. One hand stays tangled in that beautiful ginger hair, as the other traces down his neck, his chest, those wonderful abs, slicing a clean line down Ichigo's shirt with a claw as he goes. Don't need that.... More skin to skin.... more touching. More.

Then that hand finds both of their cocks lying parallel to each other and he grabs, hard, wrapping his hands around them both and around Ichigo's hand.

Yes... fuck... come on!!