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.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-04-07 05:43 am (UTC)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
preylover 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.