A more than fortunate form of torture || For abaxrpg, NSFW BOY LOVE WITHIN!

[savior_n_black]

It had been a long day.

Hours ago, Ichigo had stumbled back to the store covered in his own blood, and meeting a furious hollow at the door. He'd had to use his mask just for the extra energy to push back the splintering pain of broken bones, broken face, and all the swallowed, impotent anger the injuries bore evidence of.
Shiro had reamed him up one side, down the other, and probably informed the whole damn store, and it's motley group of inhabitants what happened to Ichigo to cause him to look like some horror movie extra. Rukia's cold fury was just as bad, though she restrained herself from kicking him him in the face thanks to his already-broken nose. She didn't need to, anyway, Ichigo had kept his eyes pointed at the floor as he hissed, and clenched his teeth through the painful, acid-sensation of Shiro mending broken bones, and torn cartilage.

Rinzler aside, the stress, and worry of weeks, even a full month on end were piling up. Yukio's presence in the city, the tricks of chocolates, and strange behavior out of Madsen, the creepy way Bradley-san kept acting around Yori-san, and both the boys watching the older man with misgivings, and Lior constantly finding a way to find trouble, plus the flaw, or whatever-it-was in Ichigo, and Shiro's shared soul chain weighed heavily on Ichigo's mind. Byakuya's continued idiocy over the tangled relationship between human, hollow, and shinigami didn't help, and Ichigo was more than happy that the captain, and his wife were moving to a new space of their own. He felt bad for Rukia, because it was her family that was pulling her in so many directions, what with Hisana's unsettled place in Rukia's life, and Byakuya's outright disdain for Ichigo in general. He felt bad, but he also kept his damn mouth shut around Hisana because he didn't want to add his own ( less than complimentary ) opinions on any older sibling abandoning the younger in the ghetto as a baby to cause anymore trouble for Rukia than she already dealt with.
It was all piled up, all a mess in Ichigo's head, and he just...just needed to think for a while.

Think...and feel so incredibly lonely, that it was almost a physical ache.

It had been a few hours into the 'night' ( or so any of them reckoned 'night' when it was always dark in this place ) before Shiro had come back to the little alcove that served as their shared bedroom, too. There was silence, then, and that was so much worse.

But, Ichigo had purposefully kept his thoughts to himself. It was taking work, because he just wasn't very good at that level of control, but...he just needed a little quiet, a little bit of time without the censure of his loved ones to sort through his own head.

...And to dig out the little bottle of lube he'd carefully stashed after the last time that Rukia had taken him along to Cheetara-san's lingerie shop to find bras, and panties for Yori.

When Shiro came back, though, Ichigo was curled on his side, under the covers, with the blankets pulled up nearly to his face. He stared fixedly at the other wall, the hand under his pillow clutched around the incriminating little bottle, and waited in silence.

Comments

[holeheart]

Shiro's reaming had been short, but violent, and most of the healing process passed in silence.

Painful, cold silence. And even then, the Hollow didn't heal Ichigo completely. The nose, the rib, the broken bits were all mended. But Shiro left some of the bruises and more minor injuries, and didn't even lick up the blood like he usually did. No, Ichigo, you'd have to get rid of that blood yourself.

Then he'd taken his sword and left Rukia to chew him out. Ichigo obviously didn't care to listen to anything Shiro said. Maybe Rukia would have more luck. But even as Shiro destroyed trees, and uninhabited buildings, he could listen in on their "conversation". More like both of them yelling at eachother and not really hearing. Of course. That stubborn pig.

But then the thoughts stopped. Ichigo was keeping things from him on purpose.

Fine. Let him. Shiro returned the favor. He wanted silence? He'd get it. Nothing. Nothing but a vague burning rage, directionless and dark.

Three empty buildings fell to the Hollow's wrath, covering the dragon in dust and debris that he didn't bother to shake off. Slumping into the building wordlessly, he strips out of his dusty clothes and pulls on a pair of pajamas, throwing the bundle of dirty clothes out into the store. But once he's done with that? He takes one of the blankets (his blanket, a soft sherpa in blue) and leaves the cubicle.

You can sleep alone, Ichigo.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo was not pleased about the rampant destruction. Hell, this whole mess had started over rampant destruction, and Ichigo was still dealing with the fallout from that. Thus, he kept his thoughts to himself, stubbornly trying to internalize things, because he really, really hated feeling like he was being forced to choose between someone who needed help, and the people he loved.

So he refused to make that choice, he decided.

This is what I am. It's how I'm made, and I don't know how to be anything else. They either accept me, as I am, or they reject me.

And as much as the thought hurt in a deep, visceral corner of his heart, Ichigo still clung grimly to the choice. Or rather, the lack of choice.
That pain, the sense of loss, loneliness, and how much he wanted Shiro to understand likely broke past Ichigo's fraying efforts at keeping his thoughts to himself.

Fuck it. Even being yelled at, or fighting is better than hurting.

Sore, but clean of blood, Ichigo left the bottle under his pillow, and got up. He, too, was in pajama pants, and a simple t-shirt, but he quietly padded out into the store. Found Shiro. Crouched next to him.

And waited. For either a punch, a colder shoulder, or something. Either way, he wasn't shutting the hollow out anymore.

[holeheart]

But there was the difference. Shiro had sniffed out the buildings before hand. There had been no one. Not a soul. Just empty offices that would be back in the morning. Hell, even the dust in his hair and on his clothes would probably return to the buildings when the city "reset" itself.

The Hollow wraps his tail around himself and cocoons himself in his favorite blanket, covered in his scent. It's very warm, but it's nothing compared to body heat. But hey, if Ichigo wouldn't listen to words, maybe he'd pay attention to actions.

When Ichigo initially crouches down, Shiro doesn't move at all. In fact, he's seemingly asleep. But after about five minutes, and Ichigo hasn't left, the staring gets uncomfortable. With a sneer, he turns over and glares at Ichigo, eyes narrowed.

"Th'hell do you want? I'm sleepin'."

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo frowned, and his first impulse was to snap off a sarcastic remark...but he didn't. Even Ichigo could reach a point where he just didn't want to fight anymore.

"Just...come to bed. S'cold out here."

And I can't stand this. I hate this stupid silence. I don't know when it happened, but I hate fighting with you, now. You made me love you, and you make me hurt, and I just...I don't know how to make everything work out. I don't know how to change, or be what you think I should be.

This is me. It's what I am.

Only none of that get's said. Not even really thought out as words, not clearly. Just a deep sense of confusion. Of being at an impasse, and not knowing what to do with the emotional attachments involved in all of it.

[holeheart]

Letting out a distorted groan, Shiro sits up, knees to his chest and looking at Ichigo from under his bangs. If it weren't for that confused feeling, he'd just keep right on ignoring Ichigo.

"Tch. After what you pulled today? You're lucky I'm talking to you."

But the venom in his words from earlier is gone. Shiro's worn himself out, and he did it on purpose.

What if you have to make a choice? What will you choose? WHO will you choose?

"Words don't teach you anything, after all."

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo looked at the floor, unsure what to say to that. Because Shiro's idea of 'learning' was not his, and he couldn't afford to second guess himself. Not anymore.

I'll protect everyone. That's what I choose. But I also choose to love YOU, to love Rukia. Nothing, and no one will change that. Even if you think I'm wrong - even if you hate me for it.

I won't leave anyone behind.

"Just come back to bed. You can hit me, or yell at me, or hurt me however you want. But just...come on."

Just don't hurt me this way. I don't know how to handle this kind of hurt. I don't know how to be different, because I can't give up, and my heart won't let me pretend I don't need you, either.

[holeheart]

Shiro rolls his eyes and gathers up the blanket. "Haven't you been enough of a punching bag today? Stupid idiot."

Fine. He'll come to bed. But only because you're well on your way to weaponizing that puppy-dog look.

But when he gets back to the cubicle, it's not much better. Wrapping himself back up into the blanket like a Hollow burrito, Shiro keeps to one side, the side that Ichigo's stuff is not on.

Pain is the only way you'll learn. Learn that it's not ok to go and get yourself beaten up to try and prove a point. So you can make us worry and think get away with it. You just keep running into that electric fence, Ichigo. Shiro thinks you'll learn... eventually. On Shiro's end, it's just bitterness. Bitterness over Ichigo's apparent choice. If you really loved him, you wouldn't make him fucking worry so much.

Then, as a preemptive measure; "Touch me and you lose your hand."

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo almost flinches at the terse statement. He hated himself for stopping mid-reach for the soft, white spikes of Shiro's hair.
His fingers curl into a fist. Shake for a moment with indecision.

Then, his entire body slides across the sheets, and molds itself to Shiro's back; shoulders, to hips slotting against a matching set, hand wrapping to clutch at Shiro's shoulder, preventing the hollow from shoving him away entirely. Warm, and tense, but stubbornly pressing as tight against Shiro as he could, Ichigo clung to the hollow's back, and tucked his head in the crook where Shiro's neck met his shoulder.

Because love is not the absence of pain. Love is a hand to hold through the pain. And you have to either accept Ichigo is the way he is, or don't. The specific person doesn't matter. Because if it wasn't Rinzler, it would be someone else. It always has been. Every close friend Ichigo has? He's tried to 'save' in some form, or another.

This is who he is. What he is.

"Then I guess you'll have to kill me."

It would be better than feeling like I'm being pulled apart a piece at a time.

[holeheart]

He growls, squirming a little in Ichigo's grasp. Dammit... damn him!! He was trying to be MAD! But he stops struggling and just lets it happen... making a mental note that, no matter what happened tonight, Ichigo would get socked in the face for this.

"... I'd rather not die tonight. You sneaky shit."

Shiro knows better than to just give you what you want, Ichigo. You have to work for it. You have to understand why. Shiro is silent, both mentally and physically, for a few moments before he speaks again, his voice easily felt by Ichigo, pressed together as they are.

"Do you even know why we're mad, aibou."

Framed more as a statement than a question, but Shiro still expects an answer. Because it's not about Rinzler. It's not about who you're trying to save. It's about you.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo kept himself pressed, full-length, against Shiro's back. But he nodded just a little, just enough for Shiro to feel...and pressed a warm kiss behind the hollow's ear in silent contrition. He really did get why they were so mad.

"...Worried."

He'd heard it often enough, and at loud volume to understand the anger came from worry for him. But he did know what he was doing, and he'd been hurt way worse, way more often than a couple of fractured ribs, and ( while ugly, still not severely ) broken nose should warrant.

[holeheart]

"Yeah. Worried. And annoyed... because you KNOW it will worry us. Worry ME! But you do it anyway... and for what? How far will you go? How much will you let yourself get hurt to prove a point?"

He shakes his head, pulling his blanket closer and curling his tail around his own ankle, a way to comfort himself.

"... You aren't alone. You can't die to save someone else. You just... you can't do things like this... ok?" Shiro can feel tears burning at the corner of his eyes, and he's not even sure why they're there. Will they lose everything for his ideals? No. They've worked too hard for it... Shiro won't allow it. Not for Rinzler. Not for Chad, or Inoue, or anyone. No.

What if you don't come back one day? Shiro was hardly the waiting type, sitting at home wringing his hands... if something really did happen to Ichigo, something bad... well, he would use his last moments to destroy everything. He literally couldn't survive without Ichigo... and nothing else would either.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo remains quiet. Slow, and subtlety, though, his hand creeps down to run a sword-calloused palm down Shiro's arm, even through the blanket. Call it an almost instinctive drive to comfort Shiro, despite the fact Ichigo was the cause for the hollow's distress.

He did come back, though. He always came back. Why did everyone think he somehow wouldn't? He'd lived through far worse than the likes of Rinzler could dish out, and kept fighting regardless. And anyway, he said it, didn't he? Why couldn't anyone just believe him on this.

The gentle scrap of teeth on the back of a white neck is probably more intimate than a kiss, but Ichigo still presses warm, damp kisses to the spot on Shiro's throat over his sluggish pulse, and gently tugs at the blanket more. Come on, don't push me away.

"M'not gonna die. Wasn't even close to dying, and even still; I'll come back.

I'll always come back."

Maybe Shiro just needed to be reminded, after all.

"No matter how long it takes, or how far I have to go. No matter what tries to stop me, or hurt me, or even kill me. I've got too many people depending on me to stay alive, and to keep fighting.

So that's what I'm gonna do."

The hand settles on Shiro's chin, coaxing the hollow to at least look at him, because Ichigo had pushed himself up onto an elbow to lean over, and nuzzle at a pale temple, and paler hair.

"Promise."

[holeheart]

But what if he didn't? There were too many what ifs here, too many possibilities, and Shiro couldn't imagine losing Ichigo over something so foolish as saving the unsaveable. They didn't believe him because they couldn't. Just like Ichigo couldn't ever give up.

At the touching, the Hollow curls up more, wrapping his tail tightly around his ankle. If he had a normal pulse, he'd probably be cutting off circulation to his foot at this point.

But those eyes stay focused on some point in front of him, half-lidded and dull. Sad. Distraught.

"Why do you always do that."

A pause.

"Make promises you don't know you can keep. Is it the same as the reason why you don't know when to quit?"

You can't just will things into reality, Ichigo. There was a certain amount of truth to mind over matter, but it only went so far. And what would happen to them, the day it failed?

"tch. I can't help but wonder if it's my fault. You can go out and get your stupid ass beat to a pulp and I'll patch you up. Maybe I should stop." Even at home, there was Orihime. There were never any consequences to Ichigo getting himself ripped to pieces.

[savior_n_black]

But, 'mind over matter' was the only real law that exists in this world. Ichigo believed that, because it was what he'd learned through all the pain, the fighting, and the fighting through his own perceived limitations.

He was told it was impossible for a human to become a shinigami. Told it was impossible for a single shinigami to launch an assault on all of Soul Society and win. Told he would never save Rukia. That he would never leave alive.

Then they said a human soul could never bear the burden of being hollow, shinigami, and alive in the Living World at the same time. That he couldn't possibly progress fast enough to make a difference, even if he did manage to harness his vizard's mask.

And later, that Hueco Mundo was a suicide mission. That he would die in the attempt to save Inoue, to save all of his friends, and take them all back home with him.

But somewhere in that bleak, desolate purgatory, even the captains of Soul Society started believing that maybe, just maybe, Ichigo wasn't what they all thought he was, either.
Somehow, more people began to believe. And the more that began to believe, to hold onto tenuous, dangerous, desperate hope, the stronger Ichigo was for it.

When even his own father called him out on his own doubts, Ichigo put aside the last of his innocence, his naivete', and followed Kurosaki Isshin into the dengai.
Shiro, and Zangetsu then called him out, together, on his fears; his own despair in the belief that he, that Ichigo, wouldn't be able to stop Aizen.

Somewhere in that watery world, Ichigo shed his fears. Shed doubts. Shed everything in one explosive, dawning realization; the world was not as he thought. And limitations, for him at least, only existed in his mind.

So he met Aizen on the battlefield at peace with himself. With his decision. And he did not second guess. Not even when Aizen did not die, and was instead imprisoned.
Oh, he had regrets, and who wouldn't? He regretted the necessity of giving up his powers in that way, but when there is no one to blame, and nothing to point to as the clear 'enemy' in the battle with one's self, it took a little longer than he thought it would for the shock of normalcy to settle in. For his thinking to finally emerge from constant 'crisis mode' to blank numbness. And when he did finally feel like he was teetering on the edge of a great, sucking despair once again? There were his friends. All of his friends; the shinigami, the humans ones, and everything in between to give him that little bit of extra belief to carry him through to becoming confident with himself again.

After so long, and so many times proving that he could, and would do the impossible, how could Shiro still, still only be seeing the world through the filter of fear?

A flare of anger, mostly born from that same stubborn will that had been forged in the hell of Hueco Mundo, tempered against the cold shock of realizing that he, Ichigo, was strong enough to stand apart from hollow, and shinigami both, and hammered against the anvil of despair passed through him. You're a part of him, Shiro. But Ichigo shed his own doubts in himself a long time ago. He wasn't about to go wallowing in them again over 'what might happen', or 'what could be'. The unknown was no longer frightening to him anymore.

Tightening his hold on Shiro's chin, Ichigo forced the hollow to look at him. Forced Shiro through the weight of that resolve, that will made of tempered steel, to look at his eyes, more than the hand on the hollow's chin, and scowled.

"I've never broken a promise. Not to you, not to anybody. And you can hang onto your own resentment over how long it took me, or what had to happen to make sure that I could have the power to do what I needed to, but don't you ever, ever tell me that I make promises I can't keep.

I always keep them. No matter how hard it is, or how much it hurts.

And even if you've stopped believing in me, I still believe in myself. If you don't want to heal the damage that happens in the process of keeping those promises, then you go ahead, and stop. I've done without being healed up when I take a beating, and I can do it again.

But if you don't believe in me, if you of all people have stopped trusting that I - that we - can fight through anything, overcome anything, then that's something you need to face, and fight through with yourself.

You're the one who taught me that doubt doesn't have a place in my life anymore."

[holeheart]

Shiro had been strong when Ichigo needed it. He'd been fearless, limitless, unburdened, free. Now those roles had been reversed, though not quite to the same extreme. Shiro was not in the throes of despair. But he did feel fear.

A new emotion, or relatively new. Strange, foreign, and terrible; a shadowy monster with its claws firmly around Shiro's heart. The fear of losing Ichigo, as remote and unlikely as it was, was crippling.

And every time he came home with more scars, bloody, broken, for apparently no reason, that fear raised its ugly head again, dug in a little tighter. The Hollow isn't immune to fear, to worry. How long would that dumb luck hold? Could it hold forever? Being out in the "real" world, and not constantly bathed in Ichigo's thoughts and feelings as deeply as before had negative effects too. Mainly, bringing insecurity to the surface.

Shiro closes his eyes when Ichigo jerks his head. He doesn't want to look, because he knows those eyes will change his mind.

Where does the conquered fear go? It never really dies. It scurries off to dark corners, to wait, and lick its wounds... then pounce where it can.

But Shiro does open his eyes, gold and hurt looking, and he can feel Ichigo's resolve burning through his fear like a brand, banishing it back to the corners of his heart. Then guilt, over feeling worry and resentment in the first place. Eyes avert again, and the Hollow remains silent.

What can he say to that? He won't abandon Ichigo, ever. He wouldn't even if he could. It wasn't that his belief ever faltered... it just shook, sometimes.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo hated that look. He hated it more than he hated it when Shiro wouldn't talk to him - out loud or otherwise. He frowned, because he wasn't looking to hurt Shiro, he never had been. Even though Shiro had looked away, the guilt sat heavily on the hollow's expression, and Ichigo wanted it gone.

So without further ado, he pressed on Shiro's chin, holding the hollow in place to crush his mouth against his pale twin's; hard and soft and wet and hot, claiming every inch of his mouth.

Don't. Don't be afraid. Not for me.

Intent sparks at contact, blazing a smoldering line from lips to chest, to the hand molding to the curve of Shiro's cheek. How fiercely Ichigo fought, he fought to keep as well. He would fight that fear, fight the insecurity, if he had to tear that blanket apart to get rid of the bit of symbolic shroud disconnecting Shiro from him. Loneliness, and want were strung tight through that shared kiss, through the press of mouth, then tongue licking against the seam of Shiro's lips, all but begging to be let in. It's been so long since he really felt Shiro. Warm, and hard, and naked, pressed against him, inside him, and feeling the raw, visceral way the hollow would do everything to physically express that affection, the hard won love that, while completely twisted in it's own way, was very much theirs all the same.

Touch me. Please...I miss you so much. I need you, too, you know.

[holeheart]

Ichigo wasn't looking to hurt him, just like he wasn't looking to make them worry. Ichigo does a lot of things that he doesn't mean, it seems like. Shiro felt like no matter what he felt, it was the wrong thing to feel. Fear, guilt, neither were ok.

The surprise kissing (if you could even call this thing they do kissing) gets a muffled sound from Shiro, who only puts up a fight for a few seconds before giving in. It was sort of sad, how easy it was to make the Hollow melt.

But you make it so easy to be afraid for you.

When you come home bloody and battered for no goddamn reason. Stupid. Stupid, stupid sexy partner.

Following Ichigo's lead, he twists in the other's arms, so that they are no longer back to chest, but face to face. But if you tear up his favorite blanket, Ichigo, you're going to be in deep, deep trouble. Goddammit. He's still angry at you... why do you have to do things like this? Be so... so. He can't even put his finger on it. He growls and puts a hand between their mouths, giving Ichigo a look.

Promise me. You'll stop using your body to make a point. Don't come back bloody unless you have a damn good reason.

Realize how important you are. Then we'll continue.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo easily slid in to press against Shiro with a shivery sigh of part-relief, part-hunger. He was happy to indulge in sucking on the hollow's lower lip, hands pressing into the small of Shiro's back, his shoulder--

And then a muffled grumble from behind the hand pressed against his mouth. Frowning, he blinked his eyes open...and looked at Shiro for a moment, hands going still.
That. Could be difficult. Shiro didn't think any of Ichigo's reasons were good ones, after all. But, going still, he knew that whether Shiro thought it was a good reason, or not, Ichigo really didn't want to make his friends worry about him. And he wasn't that keen on getting his ass kicked, anyway, thanks.

Alright. I promise that I won't come back bloody unless there's a damn good reason.

Making Ichigo realize he was actually important was a tall order. All he could recognize was that by getting hurt, himself, then Shiro must be feeling that pain. That wouldn't do.

Impatiently he turned his head a bit, but kept his eyes locked with Shiro's while he drew a white middle finger between his teeth, then sucked. Tongue curling eagerly around the single digit, Ichigo let the finger pump easily in, and out of damp lips with the same languorous indulgence reserved for extremely tasty deserts.

...Or other, more fun activities involving his tongue.

[holeheart]

Shiro is as serious as the grave, judging by the look he's giving Ichigo around that hand. You're worth it, idiot, and if stuff like this is what it takes to get you to see that? Well. The Hollow was known for his use of "any means necessary".

He makes a small "hmph" noise aloud, seemingly satisfied. Even if Ichigo avoided getting injured just because it hurt Shiro, as well? Well... that wasn't as good as it could be, but it was a starting point. Every journey begins with a single step and all that crap.

Oh god, then he sucks on his finger. Really? Dammit, Ichigo, you make it really hard to stay mad at you when you do things like that. Gold eyes soften to something a little more wanting, lustful. Fine. We'll play it that way. Tickling Ichigo's tongue with the edge of a claw, Shiro pulls himself out of his blanket a bit more.

Drawing his claw over Ichigo's lip and drawing a line of blood, Shiro smashes their lips together once again, tongue licking at the sensitive injury on his other's lower lip.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo hissed at the stinging cut, eyes closing even as his hand tensed to grab one handful of Shiro's t-shirt.

He’s hushed with a mouth sealing over his, lips and tongue insistent. Ichigo leans back onto the bed, dragging Shiro with him, while Shiro slides in between his legs like he’s always meant to be right there. His hands skim over Shiro’s chest and even with the layer of fabric in between Ichigo feels the echo of every press and slide; unlike the direct touch to his skin, this touch is a fast-fading impression like a brilliant spark of energy, making the press on his senses more intense and as tantalizing as the anticipation and the shivering ghostly trail it leaves behind.

Curling his legs, Ichigo uses his heel to press on the back of Shiro's thigh, encouraging the hollow to fit himself against Ichigo's chest. It feels so good, so goddamn good to feel the warmth of solid muscle, and the familiar weight of his hollow's tail wrapping around his calf possessively. Groaning into Shiro's mouth, Ichigo can't help the needy pawing at Shiro's hair, the slick press of tongue, despite the taste of blood mixed up in the kiss, and cinching his thighs tighter around white hips in a bid to encourage Shiro into more.

[holeheart]

Now that they had those issues more or less out of the way, Shiro was ready to let loose, do something. Something fun. Something to let out this tension. The blanket between them was interesting, the soft, fluffy side towards Shiro and the slinkier, almost silky side is towards Ichigo.

Clawed hands reach up from below to cup Ichigo's face, a hand on either cheek, pressing and holding, keeping Ichigo's mouth right against his as their tongues wrestle between their mouths. Over blunt human teeth, and sharp Hollow's fangs.

Scooting closer until they're pressed together like puzzle pieces, Shiro lets out a needy moan, squeezing with his tail and biting into the flesh of Ichigo's leg with the sharp scales. He remembered the last time they did this, when they came back to Abax... when they hadn't seen each other for a year. Hadn't felt each other for so long. He remembered Ichigo's partial Hollowfication, and how fucking amazing that had been.

Memories of burning fire, of claws, of teeth, of gold-on-black eyes. Again. Let's do that again. Please...

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo frowned, and pulled away from kissing Shiro to level a wary look at the hollow.

"...I'm...I dunno."

The flaw ( for lack of a better word ) in their shared Soul Chain jumped right to the forefront of Ichigo's mind, not to mention the fact that it couldn't be safe to have the sliding scales of his soul shoved that far into his darker nature made a frisson of alarm pass through Ichigo's eyes as he watched Shiro.

...It was fun, though. And if that's what Shiro wanted, Ichigo wasn't exactly saying no, he was just...well. A little worried. He liked that feeling of raw anger sometimes, it was true, but he wasn't sure how okay he was with directing that raw anger at the people he loved?

What if something bad happened?

[holeheart]

That wary look makes Shiro frown, tilting his head. He traces his claws around Ichigo's face, humming a little thoughtfully. The idea of the flawed Soul Chain flows into his mind and some part of him agrees that it might be a bad idea. Something bad could happen.

Or nothing could happen.

That was the problem with that kink in the chain. Sometimes it affected things, sometimes it didn't. It was seemingly random. The Hollow gives a growl, annoyed. But then he smiles again, trying to be comforting, running his claws across Ichigo's cheek, careful not to cut him.

If something bad happens, I'll fix it. The smile fades to a frown, though, and Shiro looks down, But if ya really don't wanna... I won't force it.

Not that he could, anyway. Ichigo's will was too strong. He couldn't force the transformation on him even if he wanted to. That was evidenced by all the times Ichigo had come back from the brink, from a dark place that no other soul ever had a chance of returning from. It didn't really matter how strong Shiro was, or weakened Ichigo was... his will was always dominant, in the end.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo frowned for a second...but he did want to do it. He really wanted to do it, in fact. The last problem he was seeing was just how. It wasn't like he could just summon his mask like this, and it didn't work the same at all.

...Okay.

Squirming a little with the lack of continued touching, Ichigo leaned up and drew Shiro back down into a questing, hungry kiss.

Show me how?

[holeheart]

Shiro wasn't sure, either, to be honest. But he wasn't the kind to just give up. No, it wasn't that simple... After all, he could adjust HIS level of Hollowfication as easily as human changed their respiration... surely he could affect Ichigo the same way, as long as the other is willing. Not resisting.

Don't fight this, ok? I need to try something.

And he'll remove every ounce of Hollow energy from Ichigo is something goes wrong. His control might be a little iffy, but he KNEW he could do that. Taking clawed hands and holding Ichigo's face, one hand on each temple, fingers threaded into hair, the Hollow looks into Ichigo's amber eyes.

Just a little... that's all... Even with the flaw in the soul chain, this should work. Slow, even flow. More like an IV drip of hollow through the chain. There. Black creeping into those eyes, like an ink stain spreading. The black reaches his irises, but the color does not change. Shiro narrows his eyes. Damn that leak...

A jolt this time. A syringe squirted into the IV. The eyes go gold, luminescent. No mask. But... oops, are those claws?

... Little too much, maybe.

... Flaw's messin' with my dose.

A nuzzle.

How's that?

[savior_n_black]

It...felt strange. Less like being shoved, unaware, into the red haze that stained everything Ichigo thought, or felt with blinding anger, and more like...well. More like creeping claws. Like Shiro used to feel when the hollow was nameless, and trying to devour Ichigo's soul a piece at a time.

Still pressed together, stomach to stomach, Ichigo had eased the squeezing of his thighs around Shiro's waist to let his hollow sit back a bit, and focus on the task at hand. Fingers in ginger hair got an involuntary shiver, but Ichigo's hands stayed loosely clasped around Shiro's wrists as his hollow tried to focus. It was still feeling strange, and creepy, and decidedly the opposite of sexy as Shiro's slow, incremental pushes of power made Ichigo see black, fulminating shadows at the corners of his eyes, so he frowned up at Shiro, and squirmed in place.

I don't think this is working right, maybe we shoul--

He couldn't even finish the thought.

There was the blinding red haze. There was the red hot forge burning with blackened flame around Ichigo's heart, his soul, making him feel as though he were stradling hellfire. There was his spine stiffening into a tight arch as his eyes flared to black, and gold. And there were claws digging into Shiro's wrists, as Ichigo's grip had tightened suddenly, and the black claws had burst through the ends of his fingers so quickly, his nailbeds bled drops of bright crimson before sealing. The blood scent skipped right over Ichigo's sinuses, and hit his brain like a Mack truck, eliciting a throaty growl in response to Shiro's question.

The growl turned to bared teeth, and Ichigo's expression snapping into raw, half-crazed ferocity. With his knees, he shoved Shiro over, thumping the hollow onto his back, and rising to throw his weight to the side in order to pin Shiro's body, while clawed hands shoved white wrists down into the bedding.
He wanted to hurt this pale reflection. Wanted to fight, rip, tear, and make the hollow bleed for him. But he ( Ichigo, Shiro, Ichigo, Shiro - which am I? ) had the other pinned; vulnerable. And he graced his prey lover with a feral grin.

Straddling Shiro, with the warmth of chest, and stomach laid out against the taut, muscled body beneath, Ichigo's growl turned to a low purr for a moment, and he swooped down to force a kiss on the hollow. Teeth nipped at a flushed lower lip, tongue darting at the seam of Shiro's mouth until it opened under him, and Ichigo was able to both suck Shiro's blue tongue into his mouth, and give a full body flex of his spine in one sinuous drag of chest to stomach, to arching his hips, and pressing back against the burgeoning erection pressed up against him.
The purr throttled down to another growl, and Ichigo used his clawed hands to transfer both of Shiro's wrists into one steel grip. His mouth still worked at Shiro's, sucking the hollow's tongue while flicking the end of his own against the blue tip in an unmistakable imitation of the same things Ichigo would do when giving head. But his newly freed hand dropped to yank on Shiro's waistband - snapping the slim, knotted drawstrings of Shiro's pajama pants in one go - then pushing the pants down enough to rub the pad of his thumb across the slit in Shiro's cock in a teasing caress.

Ichigo was just as impatient in stripping himself, and didn't even bother with his own pants. he only grabbed a handful, growled when they wouldn't come off easily, and felt his claws ( claws, I'm not supposed to have those, those are Shiro's! ) shred the elastic waist apart. Another sharp pull ripped the pants right down the inner, and outer seam of one leg, and Ichigo shed them completely with the second tug. The tail of his t-shirt was drawn up, the collar nicked with a thumb claw, and in his frustration with the hampering cloth, Ichigo tore the shirt open at the collar, all the way down to his shoulder on one side, then stripped that entirely, too.

Naked, and pressing in shuddering thrusts back against Shiro's hips, then forward to drag his scarred, muscled body against a matching one beneath, Ichigo drew back enough to release Shiro's tongue. He twisted his hips in a semi-circle, grinding back again, moaned aloud, and dipped his head to bite Shiro's collarbone hard enough to leave a blue-blushed bruise that smoothed out to pristine white right before his eyes.

That irritated him. This was his, and he wanted to mark it.

But more than that, he was hard, and he wanted. He wanted to fight, to bleed, to bite, and to fuck, and he wanted it now. His free hand left a scratch on his pillow as he claimed Shiro's mouth again, messily probing with his tongue, purring at the sharp fangs parted around the soft, wet intrusion, and withdrew the illicit bottle of lube from beneath his pillow.

He didn't bother talking. Didn't bother asking. Only used his freed hand to press the bottle into Shiro's restrained hands while leaning down to pin the hollow with his weight. A nip to a white ear, and then both sets of claws were dragging down Shiro's arms without breaking the skin, and leaving the hollow's hands free, though one was currently occupied with the bottle. Ichigo paused at Shiro's shoulders, pushing down to keep the hollow pinned under him so there would be no question who was in charge, here.

"You want me? First you gotta fuck me with your fingers."

His voice was oscillating in, and out of hollow-distortion, but Ichigo didn't seem to care. He just arched his spine like a cat, and purposefully pushed the muscled curve of his ass back against Shiro's hips, then pushed forward with a bruising, invasive kiss to pin Shiro's bodyweight under him.

"Better not be any claws involved. And you better make it good."

That's right. Ichigo intended to top, and ride Shiro at the same time, and he didn't care on whit who heard him right now. He also added a little extra incentive by delving one set of claws into Shiro's soft, white hair to lightly scratch over his scalp, while his mouth was busily sucking, and licking a daisy chain of temporary lovebites down the side of Shiro's throat with purring fervor.

[holeheart]

Well, that worked. A bit too well, maybe. The feeling of claws (his claws on Ichigo's fingers, he noted) on his skin made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was a combination of pure, masochistic pleasure and deeply rooted predator/prey instincts. Ichigo thought if he got a little Hollow in him, he could be the boss, huh? Well, Shiro isn't just going to take that lying down.

If Ichigo was going to hold his hands (geez, what a fucking grip!), Shiro would make use of his other limbs. His tail forms from black energy (energy to bone, bone covered in blue muscle, muscle covered by skin and a layer of scales, all too fast to comprehend) and wraps around Ichigo's ankle, tightly. Bare feet stretch and grow, cracking as they go, becoming digitigrade. Toes with claws lengthening, much more tactile and prehensile this way. Those legs go up, holding Ichigo's stomach, digging his claws in. Claws more than capable of completely disemboweling him. Even though he was being held down, there was plenty of fight. The pale Hollow opens his mouth and snarls, showing a mouthful of fangs.

You want to top like this? Earn it.

Kissing ensues. More biting than kissing really. Lick lick bite kiss suck warmth blood. Purring, growling, hissing. Two predators in a different kind of combat. A louder hiss when Ichigo goes down there, and the Hollow arches his back. Urrggh. Too good. It was all too good. No but he couldn't give up! On the bottom… have to control this… No clothes. Only skin. Sweaty skin against skin, warm and hot and ready. C'mon c'mon let's fuck already!

The bruise from the bite blossoms, dark and blue, before vanishing right back into the flesh. Shiro lets out an open-mouthed snarl, digging his toe-claws into Ichigo's belly, snapping at his face with those teeth. He leans up and digs his fangs into Ichigo's shoulders. Mine. Mine.

Finally, his hands were free, and Shiro removes those dagger-like claws from Ichigo's tender stomach. He knows what's in his hand, even without looking at it. It could only be that. With a purr, he licks along Ichigo's jawline in response to his demands. Damn. There was nothing sexier than that voice… Shiro is as hard as he can ever remember being. Fuck!

"Keh, who do you think you are, giving ME orders? I'll do it, but it's because I want to. And because you want it!"

A click of the bottle of lube being opened. Shiro squeezes it out onto his right hand, diving back into a kiss with his Hollowfied other. Petting his hair, kissing him… bastard sure knew how to butter him up. Dangerous claws move down to Ichigo's tight ass, playing dangerous games with the flesh there. No claws. Ha! Of course he's not going to do that. Shiro was cruel, but he wasn't stupid. He wouldn't get a good fuck if Ichigo was all torn up inside! … Didn't mean that he couldn't play a little, though.

"I'll fuck you so good you won't walk straight for a week, whelpling." The claws of his right hand slide back into his finger tips as easily as a sword into a saya, skin and fingernail regrowing over the wounds (he keeps them short). No gentleness. Just a jab of two fingers right in, while his mouth stays busy all the while.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo feels almost bereft when he finally parts his lips and releases Shiro's throat, but he doesn't hesitate to arch his back, and spread his thighs. Ichigo shifts to put his clawed hand around Shiro's opposing bicep, leaning his weight forward to pin the hollow while Shiro's hand dips between his legs, to find that spot and—

"Ahn! Y-You bastard."

Ichigo thinks he might be swearing, but it's hard to be sure through the pounding rush of his own pulse roaring in his ears. His breath comes in a choked gasp, and his spine bows, and claws dig into the blankets next to Shiro's head. Ichigo's hips try to twist, either to escape the sting, or get into it, but Shiro doesn't stop; the pleasure is instant and overwhelming, and in a disconnected corner of his brain Ichigo realizes the hollow is pressing his fingers even deeper. He's stroking Ichigo somewhere deep and intimate, in a way that's curious and clever and making Ichigo's stomach twist tight.

It takes Ichigo another moment to realize his eyes are closed. Opening them requires monumental effort, and when he does he finds mirrored black, and gold staring up at him. Then something glints behind those eyes — something mischievous and dangerous — and Shiro withdraws, pulling his hand back. Then, before Ichigo's snarl can protest his retreat, Shiro reenters with as much smoothly oiled force as before.

Ichigo knows he's swearing now. He's gasping and cursing and hissing Shiro's name as the hollow's fingers work him open. The world has gone blurry and disconnected, held together by nothing but the weight of Shiro's eyes, the weight of his hand on the small of Ichigo's back, keeping him from bucking into the rough touch, the sensation of Shiro's fingers twisting and stroking inside him.

Ichigo shivers, sliding forward again to all but lay out along the hollow's chest, thighs spread with bent knees helping him rock his hips back into each harsh push of fingers, and scratch of claws against his spine. But, even for how much Ichigo was losing himself in the moment, he kept his weight firmly forward, pinning Shiro's arm down with cutting claws of his own. And with a badly swallowed moan, turned into the bite on his shoulder in order to capture Shiro's mouth in a heated kiss. All tongue, and teeth, and as much a battle as the rest. But this one a matter of push, and pull, and reveling in the sheer pleasure of the moment, rather than trying to make the hollow submit.

He couldn't, after all, not when Shiro was touching him - ohhh, touching him like that! Not when his hips were still grinding down against a matching white set beneath, and setting him on fire from his groin to the hot, fizzling sensation behind Ichigo's cheekbones.

[holeheart]

It was so easy. Ichigo was like putty in his fingers. Bitey, clawy putty, but pretty malleable nonetheless. A cruel chuckle, then Shiro shuts Ichigo up with a heavy, violent kiss, all tongue and teeth and no gentleness.

Of course, no amount of kissing will keep those wonderful groans at bay when Shiro touches him just right. That's the sweet spot. It's so much easier to find when you can feel it yourself. Shiro arches his back into the pain, the pleasure, trying to feel the fingers that aren't actually inside him (no, it's Ichigo, but I can feel it…)

"Ahhn..!! Dammit!"

That wonderful sting, that ache, those curses, it was just too much. And his other arm was… captured. No…! He needed that! He could feel himself getting really fucking hard, and he needed to release it… touch it, at least a little!

… Ah. There was an idea. Without missing a beat with his fingers, his tongue, his teeth, his hips, the Hollow slides that tail of his up, snaking it between their thighs, granting that oh so wonderful light touch to his throbbing erection. He wasn't really focused enough to REALLY use the tip of that tail, but just the lightest touch was enough for now.

"Come on you bastard, say my name--! Cry out and say you want more!" With a snarl, the Hollow sinks his teeth into Ichigo's shoulder, drawing blood and filling their nostrils with the wonderful, heady smell of copper and iron.

[savior_n_black]

It took a moment to realize Shiro’s face was right next to his now, his hand sliding down down over his hip. Ichigo bucked his hips forward a little, involuntarily, and Shiro’s touch continued to slide maddeningly in, and out. Ichigo felt on fire now. He gave in and growled, twisting his hips in a desirous thrust across Shiro's, fingers curling to cut at white skin on his shoulder. Shiro's words were lost in Ichigo's groan at it, and he pressed forward to find the hollow's mouth, sucking sharply on his lip. His other hand reached back to slap that damned tail away, pressing his hips backward, grinding his aching erection against Shiro.

Shiro's demanding plea gets entirely ignored, and instead Ichigo snapped his teeth bare inches from the hollow's nose, and lifted himself up completely, breaking the delicious contact of bare skin. Only for a moment, though. And only to reposition himself, reach back to press one rough stroke into the hollow's aching erection, and then hold Shiro steady as Ichigo lowered himself by slow increments.

Entry was slow-going, and the position of holding himself up with his legs, holding Shiro's wrist down with one hand, and guiding all at the same time made Ichigo tremble violently...but it was so very worth it. Moaning under his breath, the stinging pain of being roughly stretched was outweighed by the fantastic sensation coiling through his lower belly at the same time. Shiro slid further in, filling Ichigo, grinding to a halt when his hips pressed against the back of Ichigo’s thighs. He could feel everything, even the gradual twitch of Shiro's cock so deep inside him. Ichigo trembled, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut as he forced both himself, and Shiro to stay still for just a few seconds. Because a different type of heat combating the burn coming off his skin made everything throb, and ache. It was almost too much, just this, just the doubled onslaught of sensation, and Ichigo had to arch his spine, subtly twisting his hips again to bear the painful pleasure. The movement was enough to wring a shuddering groan from him, and finally, finally a small push back with thighs, a rock of hips, and within two more tries? Had a smoothly measured pace going.

Ichigo gasped, opened black, and gold eyes to look down in triumph at his hollow. His lips pulled back in a grin that made him indistinguishable from his hollow, and without warning, let go of Shiro's wrist. Sat all the way back, and braced his clawed hands on Shiro's bent knees. Fully riding Shiro. Not only riding the hollow, but taking his own pleasure, fully aware that Shiro was enjoying the show, too, and acting as wanton, and uninhibited as Ichigo never would act normally.

Rolling his hips forward, Ichigo threw his head back, and growled with the heady rush of sensations; so full, overheated skin damp with moisture, toes curling against Shiro's white thighs, claws slicing into white skin just above his knees, and best of all, the power he held, and wielded mercilessly over his infuriating, intoxicating white twin.

[holeheart]

Being ignored is frustrating, dammit. Shiro wants to HEAR it, hear that rough, warbling voice call his name. Tch… and batting his tail away too! What was he planning? That fucking asshole. Ichigo's snap gets a snap in return, a clacking of sharp teeth and an open-mouthed hiss.

Though, speaking of fucking assholes…

Well then. If that's how it's going to be. Ichigo didn't real have to hold him up too much, seeing as he was as stiff as a board and standing firmly at attention. His formerly occupied hand moves up to Ichigo's shoulder, digging blunted nails into his skin, though they're not blunt for long. Free of Ichigo's earlier restriction, his claws reappear from they fleshy sheath, digging into Ichigo's skin and leaving four parallel marks. And his other hand, now free as well, moves to grab a hold of Ichigo's erection. That hand is used with more care; no unfortunate accidents. Shiro lets out a moan of pleasure as Ichigo closes around his pounding erection. God it felt good. Too good. Fucking Ichigo was an exercise in losing oneself in pure pleasure. It was so easy to do, thanks to the dual sensory experience. The overwhelming feeling of fucking and being fucked, all in the same instant? It was enough to drive anyone completely over the edge. Probably why these sessions were always relatively short…

But this time, at least, they managed to get a rhythm going. For a few thrusts, Shiro just sort of lies there. Then he adds to it, rocking his hips, but missing the beat. After a few misses, they're in sync. In and out, up and down, moving at a steady pace. Shiro's mouth stretches into a matching grin. It's like looking into a mirror, even moreso than usual, and goddamn that was hot. Ichigo acting this way… Shiro loved him either way, to be honest. When he was letting loose, it was just hot, animal fucking. Rough and tumble, bloody and sticky with sweat. When Ichigo was in his right mind, well… then it was more like a game. A game that Shiro played, tempting Ichigo, getting him to blush, to give in, to admit he wanted it. Different experiences.

Both wonderful.

And fucking hell this was nice. Being topped, while being inside? There was something liberating about it. But as far as Shiro's animal instincts were concerned, he wasn't just the bottom. He had to at least be equal partners, and for the blue marks on his own knees, Shiro gives Ichigo another set across the other shoulder. Lets out a hiss and squeezes Ichigo's cock in rhythm with their hips. Something this good wouldn't last much longer.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo gasped sharply when one of Shiro's well-timed thrusts finds its mark inside. His hips stutter, his cock twitches in Shiro's hand, and he breathes a sharp, quiet, "Fuck."

Claw tipped fingers dig deeper gouges in Shiro's legs, the impact of white hips jostling Ichigo, throwing him off tempo enough that those claws drag, opening cuts down inner thighs, and the echo of the stinging pain makes him shudder all over like a plucked harpstring. Another thrust - this one joined by a coaxing grip around Ichigo's aching erection, and he can't help it. Ichigo falls forward, catching himself on hands braced above Shiro's shoulders as his mouth falls open on a delirious moan.

Each thrust of Shiro's hips is mirrored by Ichigo's in reverse. Each push, and pull, each time the hollow slots deep inside him, Ichigo's hips stutter forward, into the stroking hand around him, until his joints feel liquified, and even his arms give out so that his face gets pressed into the crook of Shiro's shoulder. Biting down on white skin to smother the embarrassing, hitching sounds mixed up with little growls, his spine arches, and bucks, meeting those thrusts eagerly, so close--

And then that beautiful, wonderful, damnable hand squeezes carefully around his cock, thumb tracing the slit, and Ichigo is lost. A sound hitches low in his chest, something halfway between a moan and a sob, and then his mouth lets go from the locked bite over Shiro's pulse, and gasps against the shell of the hollow's ear;

"Shiro--!"

Ichigo rocks against him - desperate, wanton, messy and eager and frantic - as he feels the cusp of his own orgasm surging towards him, eagerly meeting the snap of hips with desperate thrusts of his own, no longer caring about 'winning' or 'losing', and chanting unintelligible syllables that might have been Shiro's name mixed with the reverb-laced growling.

A half dozen thrusts, and he comes apart; suddenly, perfectly. Ichigo's whole body arches when he cums; spine taut, head thrown back, face a mess of bliss and release and satisfaction, shuddering all over as he cums messily all over Shiro's hand, and stomach.

[holeheart]

God, it was good to have instant notification of when Shiro hit that sweet spot. It made it so much easier to keep hitting it. Their bond made for intense, albeit short, sex. They were a well oiled machine, in perfect time. Ichigo may have made attempts to stifle his noises, but Shiro did no such thing, happily letting out cries of pleasure and pain, growls and hisses and moans. His own sounds become rhythmic, the only intelligible words being "Oh fuck" and various forms thereof.

And, as usual, one of them cumming? Sets off a wonderfully euphoric, wonderfully sticky chain reaction. Both spines arch into each other as Ichigo's cum explodes over Shiro's hand and stomach, warm and familiar. "Dammit… Ichigo!!" Only a fraction of a second later, Shiro comes, filling Ichigo up and excess spurts out of the edges. Their faces had to be pretty hilarious as they both jolted and let loose a bit more. But who the hell cared. Ichigo was hot as fuck, and they were both ridiculously satisfied. Shiro brings his cum-covered hand up to his mouth and licks some of it off before offering it to Ichigo.

"C'mon. Heh… is that… all we've got?"

Let's go again.