In My Nothing; You were everything to me || For abaxrpg, NSFW BOY LOVE WITHIN!

[savior_n_black]

It was difficult for Ichigo's internal clock to adjust without the sun rising, and setting to mark the borders between each day. Ichigo didn't mind too much, though, because he was happy for the quiet settled in the little 'nest' of blankets the converted sleeping alcove offered during mid-afternoon. Rukia was closeted with her sister, and adoptive brother ( brother-in-law? ) getting them caught up on what had happened in the year's ( or week's, it's hard to keep proper track with a time, or universe paradox around ever corner ) events leading up to their abrupt arrival in the city of Abax.

After the moment of complete emotional overwhelm, Ichigo had used the minute, or two it took to dress himself to gather the wits. Wits that seeing Shiro, again, had effectively scattered, even to the point that Ichigo's inherent stubborn resolve to hide all of his more intense emotions was thrown out the window the moment he felt those familiar claws pricking his shoulders. Shiro, though...well, he was so out of sorts that once the hollow had dressed himself, Shiro barely put up more than token arguments against Ichigo carrying Shiro piggy-back style all the way to the shop.

That's where they were, now. Shiro was curled up with Ichigo next to him, and both had gained another warm comforter at some point while they slept. But, now Ichigo was awake, and though painfully aware of the risk of starling Shiro...he just could not help it. He couldn't help reaching out to let a lock of that soft, white hair slither through three of his fingers like strands of spun moonlight.

Fuck, but I was such an idiot.

I've missed you....so much...

And both statements were further illustrated by the fact that Ichigo still 'talked to himself' within his own mind ( too used to Shiro 'taking back' to stop ) and the uncensored addendum to the first thought. Idly, he let the lock of white hair fan between his fingers, and though Ichigo could feel that raw, burning, urge-- no. The need to wrap his arms around Shiro, and hold on tight, he also knew the hollow was upset with Ichigo.

Not, you know, that Shiro didn't have a right to be, but still.

Comments

[holeheart]

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!!

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo settles into place, plastering his body along the length of Shiro's chest and emitting the same not-quite-human sound. Something between a warning growl, and a rumbling purr. His knees shove against the backs of Shiro's thighs, hips taking up short, stuttered, instinctive thrusts, and with his shirt tron open, his sweat-slicked skin was sliding so easily over Shiro's pale chest, it was getting harder to tell where one stopped and the other began.

Another bite, snap of teeth aggressively maintaining that this was his, that Ichigo is in control here, and for once, it was Ichigo who was actually behaving something so close to an hollow it would otherwise have been a little frightening. But then the aggression turns on a dime, becoming a surprisingly tender kiss that lands at the corner of Shiro's mouth, a nuzzle to the hollow's jawline, a nip to an earlobe.

But all the while hand squeezed, and pumped, teasing here, and there with a twist of Ichigo's wrist, a harder squeeze to the base of Shiro's cock, then just as quickly back to the shared pressure both oth hands wrapped them both. Ichigo was shaking by this point, head falling forward so that hot, damp breath bathed Shiro's shoulder, his neck. Desperate to be closer, body ignorant of stamina, or any other sight, or sound outside of Shiro's lips, Shiro's skin, Shiro, Shiro, Shiro--

Ichigo's wrist was starting to ache from the added pressure, but he didn't care, and something just snapped inside him, and he couldn't -- couldn't stop!
Panting, and thrusting into the slicked, hot grip of both hands around him, all it takes is that one glancing touch of the claw on Shiro's thumb. The sudden thrill of feeling something sharp as glass, and twice as hard teasing at the most sensitive part of him, and Ichigo broke.

Spine curved taught, hips losing their rhythm, but becoming faster, rougher for it. Ichigo bit down on the white skin of Shiro's throat in order to muffle a helpless whine. Oh fuck, it felt so good, so right, and the heated tension coiling tighter in his gut just burst all of a sudden.

Even with his mouth pressed to Shiro's skin, there was no good way to muffle the shivering moan that escaped Ichigo as he came, and came messily all over his fingers, Shiro's fingers, and splattered across the quivering muscle of the hollow's stomach.

mutual orgasm; u mad, readers? >D

[holeheart]

Shiro moans, mouth slightly askew, as their bodies rub against one another, swapping sweat. The feeling of Ichigo rubbing against him, against his Chain of Fate hole, made him shiver and squirm in delight. It was so wonderful, the feeling of their bodies so close together, so close.

For others, it was probably horrifying. Mortifying, even. But this was the most turned on Shiro had ever been. Ichigo partially Hollowfied? The growling, the biting (which Shiro returned in kind through shaky breaths); there was nothing better, and he was so hard he just might burst. Kissing and biting alternating in turn, aggression and tenderness looped together, entwined like their bodies. Shiro wanted this, needed this, and it was great. He should really, really make sure that Ichigo was partially Hollowfied every time.

They're not quite as in sync as they could be, so there is some fumbling down below when Shiro accidentally moves his hand the same was as Ichigo, fingers brushing together awkwardly. But it didn't matter. Shiro hungrily eats at Ichigo's mouth, tongues brushing against each other. Of course, when Ichigo starts jerking that way, Shiro instinctively grabs on harder to both of them, claws digging into his own cock and leaving small blue marks even as Ichigo comes all over him.

And for Shiro, who hasn't felt anything this good in a long time? That feeling of hot, wet, sticky cum was enough to set him over the edge too. The pain of keeping it in releases completely, and he comes not but a few seconds later, hips bucking arrhythmically and letting loose all over Ichigo's belly in return. He lets out a loud, eerie noise of pleasure. Of course, gravity means that most of that just comes right back down, squishing between the two as they fell to the blurry euphoria.

[savior_n_black]

The pit of his stomach was lit afire as the feedback scraped through again and again, hollowing Ichigo out with each passing, until he thought he was left with a shell so brittle he might simply fly apart and ruin all of Rukia's hard work to put him back together.

Not caring about the mess, or the embarrassment of the fact there was no way that the others that shared this living space hadn't heard, or know about that, Ichigo wriggled his wrist out from being sandwiched in between them, and wrapped himself around Shiro. His arms, and legs felt numb, clumsy with exhaustion, and little trembling aftershocks still ratcheted up his thighs at random.

But he curled up, dragging the white body as close as he could get Shiro, leaning in cheek to cheek...and not really even noticing the dry hiccuping little breaths that were escaping him right now. You couldn't really call it crying, because his eyes were completely dry...but it was sobbing all the same.

With the hurt still there, but the anger spent, and the mixture of relief, rejection, then aggressive sex, Ichigo was a mess. As Ichigo's own ears stopped ringing, he made an effort to gulp back the hot, desperate breaths. Shiro would just have to deal with Ichigo tucking his head under the hollow's chin for now. He needed the simple reassurance that Shiro was close. That he was there...and that whether it was love, or hate, Ichigo still needed Shiro.

[holeheart]

Feedback, repeating over and over like an echo, until both of them were so completely spent that it felt like there wasn't an ounce of fluid left in either of their bodies. Well... save for the fact that the Hollow is more or less drooling in bliss, moaning a little as he squirms under Ichigo.

Gone is the hate, gone is the desire for revenge or whatever it was even. Did it ever even matter? How foolish. Wrapping his arms around Ichigo, the Hollow can feel the echoes of that hatred, but can't consciously figure out why it's there. What had he been angry about...? In the fog of bliss and pain and exhaustion, he only felt the need to be close to Ichigo, the need to touch and be touched. What was... sobbing...? Why? Shiro lets a small sound escape from his mouth and he moves his weak, numbed arms up, caressing Ichigo's face with sweaty, sticky hands as gently as he can.

"Shhh... shh..." Shushing those sobs away. No no. None of that. No rain. Cradling him close and rubbing his chin in that soft ginger hair. The hurt remains, but Shiro now wants to chase it away. He felt bad, now, for saying those things. For thinking those things... he had been wrong and he feels that particular emotion stinging at his eyes. Ichigo sobbed dryly, but Shiro cried quietly. Just a few tears. I'm sorry I didn't mean it I don't hate you I don't hate you.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo didn't respond. He couldn't. He could barely get his breath under control, much less think about things like words, or the sort of focus it takes to make words work in the silent way.

He'd been hurt, angry, then hurt worse, then fighting, then ripped back, and forth between being half-hollwfied, had angry, aggressive sex...and finally his soul had righted itself when the dry sobs spent themselves in Shiro's chest. But he was tired...so very tired.
The mess could wait. The rest of the emotional clusterfuck that was his ties to Shiro, and Rukia could wait. He needed just a little bit of quiet...just...a little...

Love you

And without further ado, Ichigo was asleep with his head tucked under Shiro's chin. The hollow had very slow, to no heartbeat, but he was a solid, reassuring presence, and Ichigo didn't particularly want to stop touching Shiro for a very long time to come, anyway.