.symphonic.
This was the way it had always been: Ikkaku fought and killed, got bloodied up and bruised, and came back with a fierce grin stretching from ear to ear. Yumichika let him into his house and led him to his bedroom, and what happened there could not have been called making love, or even civilized.
At best, it could have been called animalistic. The taller man was on him like a wolf, mouth hot and wet on his jaw, skimming teeth as if he might tear out his neck, pressing him onto his back and yanking away clothes with no care for if the expensive fabric stressed or tore. Yumichika found that it was easiest to lie still, let Ikkaku's rough hands slide over his perfect skin and smear it with blood in a way that made him shiver, with the strangest sensation in his belly. But Ikkaku was rarely inclined to let him savor that sensation, puzzle it out and find out what it was, what it meant -- Ikkaku kept going, pawing Yumichika's cock until the slender man arched and moaned and opened up for him. Then he would be inside in a single thrust, impatient and stinging, and fuck Yumichika like a man driven until he howled a curse and came deep, until raw sensation flung Yumichika into hard climax and he lost track of whatever came after.
It wasn't beautiful. Frankly it was kind of disgusting. But he was beautiful, Ikkaku when he was aglow with the adrenaline and the rush of his victories and the disappointment of being alive. Yumichika had no idea how such a creature could exist.
So every time, he invited Ikkaku inside, until Ikkaku decided to join the 11th division, and that meant that he would stop coming. When he won a fight, he would go back to the barracks, and maybe find some other beautiful thing to fuck senseless -- not more beautiful than Yumichika, he was certain, but it still made him snarl to think of it. It was insufferable and not to be tolerated, and so Yumichika went with him, even though they made him wear an ugly uniform and his fellow teammates mocked his long beautiful hair until he finally cut it just so that Ikkaku would stop laughing when they teased him.
But it hasn't, to his surprise, been all bad.
Since joining the 11th division, Yumichika has discovered that after a good fight, his lips, too, turn up in a pleased grin. And he doesn't mind the blood of an enemy on his hands, or even his own blood -- he likes it, the smell and the taste and the slick feel of it on his skin, the way it makes his stomach tighten with something that, by now, he has learned to identify.
He discovers that he had a new appreciation for Ikkaku's fights; sympathetic adrenaline pumping through his body and lighting him up, making him more beautiful, even though he hasn't done anything.
And he finds that when he and Ikkaku came together after a fight, both of them are fevered and impatient, ripping at clothes and biting at soft flesh.
Somehow, that made it beautiful.