黒崎 一護, Kurosaki Ichigo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savior_n_black) wrote2012-03-03 10:30 pm
savior_n_black) wrote2012-03-03 10:30 pm
A more than fortunate form of torture || For abaxrpg, NSFW BOY LOVE WITHIN!
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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.