Title: Problems
Synopsis: Ichigo learns that there's a hefty price to be paid, whence you make fun of your lover for being fond of baked goods. A painfully, pleasurable consequence, that is.
Rating: M - [AU, PWP]; Contains bondage, cursing, dirty talky, barely there D/s, perverse use of confectionary toppings, a Teasing Shiro and a not-so virgin Itsygo.
Theme: Romance…and some humor throughout. I try, at least, hah.
Disclaimer: Tite Kubo-sensei owns Bleach and all its characters; I only use them fer writing funtimes.
Author's Note: This was requested by the lovely LyricalSin. For being so supportive, I opted with making Ichi's experience a pleasant Hell. *snort* Ahem, anyhow, I deeply apologize for how long I took; was having too much fun writing it. Better for us Shiro/Ichi fans, but carrot-top is going to kill me…Oh wells. I'll have Shiro whip him back into shape. Reviews and criticism are welcome with open arms~.
Birds loudly chirped outside, nestled in tall, leafy trees. The occasional gust of wind was scarce of freshness, more befitting of an arid desert Savannah setting. Peeking high up over many roofs of vastly towering buildings and homes, the Sun proudly radiated a heat that was immensely hot.
Pedestrians, visitors and residents alike of Karakura town vainly attempted to hide from the scorching climate. Though it was near impossible, many people continued to walk hazily through the shopping districts desperately, in search of a store or any type of abode that maintained a decent, air-conditioned temperature.
However, despite the sweltering warmth that engulfed both living and nonliving objects alike outdoors, deep in the outskirts of the town, one business place remained completely unaffected by the heat wave.
The structure of it, outwardly, is that of a simple bakery. Although, literally hidden underneath that façade, lay rooms that were architecturally designed in semblance to a house.
Past the kitchen of the bakery, to the far left passing the kitchen, there was a long stairwell that led down to the entrance of the secret abode. Although, once one walked down the steps, just like any other living quarters, a key is necessitated to open the door to it.
As it would be, the view introduced was a fork of a hallway, that separately led to a fairly decorated kitchenette, a living-room esque and area, and a slightly bigger than normal wooden door.
Yet another key would be necessary to open this door as well, and once it was unlocked, the first thing to come into view would be the tidy, King-sized bed situated next to the door. To the left side was an armoire, to the right a decent bathroom and to the back of the room a walk-in closet.
Unbeknownst to the ignorant eye, what followed after entering the close was not a larger space to change; rather, it was the entrance to a black room that resembled something of an enlarged prison cell.
The right side of the room was occupied by two large, obsidian tables. Each carefully upholstered various leather, metal and plastic intricately designed sexual toys. They all had a separate space from one another, showing that a few of the objects had been missing.
To the far left, stood a tall, metal but untenanted St. Andrew's cross. A few feet to the side of it hung metal shackles, four in total, each chained against navy-colored walls, also currently not in use.
However, it was the rebelliously bright thatch of orange hair that completely captured one's attention.
Cuffed to the floor by studded leather straps, two on each sun-kissed wrist and bare ankles. A faint rosy blush inhabiting the adolescent's facial cheeks, something a more pink-ish shade vibrated dangerously close to his backside's entrance.
Heavily panting — though out of anticipation, if anything else — the redhead desperately tried to calm his breathing.
"Y'know, I think I can get used ta comin' home from work 'f it's ta the sight a' this."
Sluggishly peeking one of his eye-lid's open, the youth's breathing instantaneously escaped him in one swift exhale, heart-beat going erratic as the pale-haired male before him plunged the dildo in him, unceremoniously.
Eye's going wide at the sudden intrusion, he stared at the ceiling almost helplessly, roughly chafing his bound limbs once he pathetically began writhing against the cold floor.
Tongue hungrily swiping across his contrastingly pale lips, the albino gave a broad, crooked grin.
"Ya make th' most beautiful faces, when something's up yer ass, King."
The carrot-top, in response of the long-term pet-name, gave a breathless swear.
"Bu' ya know what? I like ya better when ya can't even breathe, so here…"
Reaching down towards the youth's visibly trembling arse, the snow-haired male purposely dragged a black finger-nailed hand over his aching arousal, gently combing the curls of orange that wildly framed his sex. Momentarily stopping to idly trace the outlined veins of his balls, he tease the bare skin provided, earning a whiney moan from the adolescent.
"F-fucking…bastard!" The domineered male managed to choke out.
"Tha's a no-no, King. Don't ya remember?" He chimed mocking reprimand.
The redhead gave a throaty cry once the albino reached the part of the vibrator sticking out and raised its speed up a notch.
Hovering over his mate, lust well portrayed in his distinct golden eyes, the elder wolfishly grinning as he ground his clothed erection over the youth's bare arousal.
"Ichigo?" Despite his whimsical complexion, the adolescent recognized the firm tone.
"What's the rule?"
"S-speak…ah! W-when — nngh — s-spoken to!"
The albino softened his feature's slightly, gently fingering the hollow of his bare hip.
"'nd who do ya answer to?" He persisted.
Ichigo began curling his toes, barely coming to the realization that under his current restraints, he was unable to dig his heels against the ground.
"S-Shiro — sah — saki, O-Ogichi!" He mewled.
Contently nodding his head, the albino faintly brushed against the youth's arousal as he abruptly continued his path down.
"Good boy, Ichi-tan." He chimed.
"A-Ahhh…! S-Shiro!" The carrot-top called out, lucidly feeling the difference in power with the mechanism now set to "max."
Pulling back to a crouching position, taking the stance of a frog, the snow-haired male precariously watching the beauty of his handy-work.
Shiny, black cloth preventing Ichigo from making any unwanted movement; the spreader-bar that allowed the youth's entrance to remain in view of his gaze and reach.
Allowing a delicious shiver to course through him, Shiro reached over to the side of him and retrieved a plastic-ring.
Ichigo, unbeknownst to it all, was slowly beginning to buck down against the prosthetic penis, tempo swiftly escalating in proof of his impending release.
Digging his fingers into his palms and flexing his toes, completely ignorant of the strain the thrusting actions he created his pelvis due to the spreader-bar, he harshly rubbed the back of his head against the floor.
"S-Shiro, I-I'm —!" He started, voice tender but withheld a strong fervor nonetheless.
However, much to his dismay, the youth found that he did not experience his climax.
There was no breathless cry on his behalf; no faint ringing in his ears; no release; absolutely nothing to alleviate the current need that was as swollen as his erection.
Blinking away the foggy haze from his brown eyes, he directed his gaze down towards a bemused albino — currently, the essence of his ire.
As if on cue, Shirosaki simply gave him a flippant shrug and a pseudo apologetic look.
"'s yer fault, King; ya called my name out."
Ichigo replied with a dark scowl, chest heaving, exactly the reaction the albino had been hoping to receive.
Briefly thumbing the dripping head of the youth's arousal, he sardonically reveled at the sight of the cock ring he'd placed on the youth not to long ago.
"Bu' yer off the hook, fer now." He explained, both slightly amused yet disappointed at his own words.
Knowing better than to spitefully snort as a response, Ichigo trembled and his voice caught once Shirosaki gave a good, long pump against his aching sex.
Moaning as a reply, rather, the snow-haired male grinned at the carrot-top, obviously pleased.
"Ya like that, huh?"
The youth absentmindedly gave a drawled sigh of agreement, as the snow-haired male slowly pulled away the bar between his legs, situating himself there instead.
"How 'bout…here?"
A hearty groan erupted from his throat, as the albino pleasantly tickled the base all the way up the shaft with his fingers.
Pearly canines bit down onto equally tinted lips as Shirosaki watched, tempted, as the youth craned his neck to the side. Blushing furiously, no less.
Reclining forward, resting his chin atop a tanned shoulder, he purposely pressed their bodies flush together to trap the other's freed arousal.
Swallowing down a cry of the albino's appellation, Ichigo simply scratched at his palms, desperate for some form of release.
Licking his way up along the youth's neck, stopping to nibble on his beautifully defined jaw-line, Shirosaki placed his lips besides a tomato-red ear.
"Well, do ya also like…this?"
The redhead practically cringed, as soon as Shirosaki teased the slit effortlessly with a black-polished fingernail.
Risking his pride rather than receiving another punishment, Ichigo fluttered his eyelids open half-way, mouth gaping as he sent the other a pleading look.
Grinning widely —border-lining maniacal — the albino promptly pulled back. His grin would have broadened, had it been possible, at the displeased scowl Ichigo wore.
Lapping up the white liquid that trailed along his pale hand, Shirosaki then stood up, hands rested on his leather-clad hips. Taking in last glance at the orange-haired youth sprawled on the floor, nude, causing the boy to fluster a dark red.
"Ya look s' fuckin' tempting, Ichi." He confessed, emphasized by a mocking wink.
Knitting his brows together, Ichigo turned his head to the side, attempting to avoid the gaze of those golden, piercing eyes of his at all cost.
Chuckling at how shy, to say the least, his berry was acting, Shirosaki filliped his fingers whence and idea struck him. Purposely pulling out the turned-off vibrator from the adolescent's ass, making the carrot-top cry out and glare at him, he set it aside and suddenly began heading towards the bedroom.
Brown eyes widened, shocked and full of disbelief. Ichigo began to pull and writhed against the trappings, a somewhat desperate look in his complexion.
"W-wait, Shiro!"
Stride set into a condescending manner, much befitting of his current thought's, the snow-haired male made his way behind the jail-cell like bars and flashed a sly grin at his stranded lover.
"Shiro! Wait! Don't —!"
"Jeez, calm down, will ya? 'm jus' gonna' get a few things. So make yerself comfy, alright?"
Ichigo literally growled at his sarcasm.
"You've got to be fucking me, Shiro! I —"
"That's what I plan on doing. Have some patience, King."
Acknowledging that he might not be able to continue holding himself back from fucking the youth whilst he was still in such a lewd position, the albino stuffed his hands into the contrastingly dark pockets of his leather pants and continued on his way.
Ichigo pulled at the restraints, harshly and wildly, much like the trapped anime he felt like, before finally ceasing. Fists clenched and eyelids shut tightly, he tried to calm his breathing and overall temperament once more.
He wanted to ask himself how he'd gotten into that situation — he really, really did —yet, he didn't even have to think about it to begin with. The answer was literally all around him, a physical materialization that was no his surroundings.
Exhaling wearily, Ichigo slumped against the floor, long since giving up on the binds.
Relaxing himself, wearing a more tranquil look than his earlier one of frustration, a thought crossed his mind belatedly.
What the fuck was Shiro planning, and why was he taking so damn long?
Porcelain-hued fingers as smooth as the substance skimmed, hastily, through a cabinet that bore various pastry-related toppings and the like. Abruptly, his hands grasped onto a small, plastic bottle that contained a reddish spice.
"Cinnamon?" Shirosaki asked out loud, giving the inanimate object a thoughtful look, as if it were actually going to respond.
A dark glare marring his once whimsical features, he mercilessly tossed the crimson powder over his shoulder before he continued with his search.
"Nope. Don' want Ichi bitchin' again 'bout no rash or someshit." He reminded himself.
Swiftly muttering a few names of the toppings, a wide, broad grin relieved him of his scowl.
Pulling out a tall, blue can, he flipped the protective capping off and pressed the nozzle for a test-dry.
Beyond pleased when the white, frost cream covered his paired middle and forefinger's, the albino happily licked it off whence the picture on the can captured his attention.
Golden irises dilating, amusement quickly flickering life into them, he couldn't help the mirthful cackle he emitted at the sight.
"'Taste's best on top of strawberries!' huh? Will do, sir." He dryly agreed, saluting the printed-on male figure that was the logo.
Walking over to the over-seized refrigerator, he grabbed a small bowl of strawberries before eagerly heading back downstairs to his own life-size ichigo.
On the descent down the stairwell, he wondered briefly if the youth would hold any qualms towards a new nick-name.
Ichigo gave a restless groan, as an excruciatingly painful, pin-pricking sensation began to swim up from the soles of his feet to his legs.
Arching his bare back off the floor, he hissed as his arse instead made contact with the cold ground.
Wincing as he attempted to wiggle feeling into his numbing body parts, he contemplated the thought that maybe the albino had forgotten that he had a tied carrot-top in his bakery's basement.
The negative thought was fleeting, however, and dissipated soon enough whence he felt an incredibly hot mouth encompass almost half of his toes.
Letting out a whine as the numbing slowly subsided, it finally occurred to the youth to open his eyelids.
— The moment he looked down, however, he could have sworn that he got an erection all over again.
Citrine eyes capturing the gaze of foggy, brown orbs, Ichigo gave an appreciative sigh as Shirosaki switched feet.
Pale, nimble hands gently massaged his once asleep appendages, slick tongue laving its way up along the helix. Nibbling softly at the beautifully sun-kissed ankles, once he made sure they were no longer cold, he set himself between the youth's parted legs.
Had he been in a decent state of mind, Ichigo would have noticed the deviant grin the snow-haired male wore. Be that as it may, the redhead was a lost cause when it came to coherent thought — set into a more fervent stupor anew.
"Sorry ta have kept ya waitin' so long, Ichi. Bu' I'll make it up ta ya." He lightheartedly apologized.
At the pseudo puppy-dog face he pulled, Ichigo scoffed, despite himself.
"Really? You sure about that?" He inquired, voice clearly incredulous.
All incredulity he had vanished, though, as soon as he felt the albino trail deliciously warm hands up and down his thighs and calves.
"Promise." He reassured, voice sultry.
Ichigo pulled at his restraints once more loudly, groaning; if he could have orgasm, there was no doubt he would have at the snow-haired male's promising words.
Sending Shirosaki yet another pleading look, the latter reluctantly complied as he unlatched the leather binds at his lower half.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, the youth all but mewled whence he felt the other hike his ankles into his pale shoulders.
Regarding that there was no longer a need for words, the albino proved himself instead as he placed soft, suckling kisses all along the youth's legs, hands busying themselves as they roamed up to keep the carrot-top's hips in place.
He grinned as the adolescent moaned out of anticipation once he pressed his crotch against his pale chest.
Breathless, but not yet lost of his sight, Ichigo eyed the blue can in the elder male's hand, cocking an eyebrow.
Then, finally catching sight of the bowl of strawberries, realization finally struck him.
"S-Shiro, wait, I —"
"—Jus' chill, King. Yer gonna enjoy this too, trust me." He assured, having the good grace to give a half-smile.
Even so, the youth flustered some more, turning his head to the side and stifled his next words into his upper-arms.
"It's not that."
Curious, Shirosaki leaned forward, chests pressed together as he popped a strawberry into his mouth.
"Wha' ish it?"
Blushing even more, the redhead tried but failed to keep his voice in an even tone.
"I-I want…to…touch you, too."
Shirosaki practically beamed with delight like a schoolgirl, but simply placed a chaste kiss to a sun-kissed forehead.
"I thought ya'd never ask." He playfully conceded, unable to prevent the stupid grin that was slapped onto his face.
Enthusiastically setting his arms free as well, Ichigo instinctively rubbed his visibly bruised wrists.
Suddenly, however, he felt a cool, frost substance sprayed over them.
Dawning on him that it indeed was the whipped-cream the other had brought, he sighed contently as the albino gently rubbed the swelling with a pink tongue.
Noting that he still had part of the strawberry in his mouth, Ichigo pulled the snow-haired male up for a rough, passionate kiss. Sinful tongues freely swirling and tangling amongst and against one another, both male's passionately moaned into their shared kiss.
Pulling away, somewhat reluctantly, panting heavily beside parted lips, a sly smirk suddenly adorned Ichigo's features.
Tanned fingers lightly trailed along smooth, pale skin, palms pressing gingerly against tanned planes of muscle flexing under beautifully pale skin.
Ichigo marveled, evanescently, at how good it felt to feel the other male's velvety skin.
Widely grinning, in response to the look on the youth's face, Shirosaki allowed his own porcelain-hued hands to roam all along his abdomen before stopping at the junction of his thigh.
The carrot-top suddenly began fingering the edges of the albino's leather pants, grin eager.
Chuckling, Shirosaki turned his head away, before pulling of the youth and purposely began his slow strip of the only piece of offensive clothing that caged his own aching arousal.
"Remind me why you're wearing leather again?" The adolescent queried, amused.
Hooking his pale fingers into the belt loops, Shirosaki raised an eyebrow, equally bemused.
"Ya want tha truth?"
Ichigo practically gaped as the snow-haired male sluggishly tugged at the front zipper.
Leaning forward on his forearms, he licked his lips.
"Enlighten me."
Abruptly, the albino turned around, pants barely hanging onto his slim hips, hands firmly gripping his own ass.
"'cause I look damn irresistible, don't I?"
The youth couldn't help the whine that escaped his swollen lips.
— Not that he would concede to have made later on.
"No kidding." Ichigo breathily agreed, tempted to ravage the now nude snow-haired male.
As if he had read his mind, Shirosaki proceeded to stalk his way over to the redhead, pale limbs predatorily pinning the carrot-top down, smirking.
"I don' deserve the praise." He chimed, voice sumptuous.
Gently caressing the sun-kissed legs before him, he suddenly bent them together, neatly folding them against an equally toned chest.
Ichigo immediately opened his mouth in protest, but whipped-cream prevented him from making any coherent sound.
Finding he was no longer capable of self-restraint, Shirosaki crushed a berry in his hands, allowing the syrupy juices to coat his fingers before delving one inside Ichigo.
Head thrown back whilst belatedly trying to rid himself of the white topping sprayed in his mouth, the youth contrastingly was desperate in having something else inside him.
Pale chest making sure his legs remained bent as his upper torso lay on him; Shirosaki hastily added another finger, beginning a slow, scissoring motion to the once puckered entrance.
Harboring a need to hear the redhead's cry's and pleas of ecstasy, the albino took a moment to help clear the frost from the youth's mouth, before pulling away once more as he readied himself, using the strawberries juices as a lubricant.
With only a tug to his colorless locks needed as a sign, Shirosaki thrust into Ichigo, eliciting a breathless curse from both of them.
Tangling his hands into snow-white tresses, the redhead motioned the albino to continue.
Firmly placing his hands beside his thatch of orange hair, the older male began to move again, tempo tentative and slow at first despite his fervent urge to speed up.
"S-Shiro…ah! …G-go faster!"
Enticing the youth to a languid kiss, he grinned against his lips.
"'nd here I was, trying ta enjoy the process." He replied, mocking chastise.
Giving the albino a half-hearted glare, Ichigo groaned at the still slick hand that reminded him of his arousal once more.
"Bu' I can see yer buddy here wants ta get off as soon as possible." He added, voice an octave lower, sensual.
Ichigo nod his head absentmindedly in agreement, bucking into the pale warmth of the other's hand before down into his erection.
Smirking, Shirosaki nibbled along his jaw, his other arm that upheld him beginning to tremble at the teasing rhythm they had.
Swiftly picking up the tempo, he reveled at the stuttering moans the youth gave.
Slowing the pumps his hand made, he leant down once more, pale lips beside a flustered earlobe.
"Jus' say it 'nd I'll make it happen, King." He propositioned.
Taking a moment to acknowledge what the other meant, Ichigo blushed more despite himself, whimpering as he felt Shirosaki brush against the sweet spot inside him that drove him back to his sexually-frustrated, teenage ways.
"D-do I…have to?" He managed to inquire.
Although, a sharp buck of hips from the albino to his prostrate was more than enough of an answer.
Managing to unfurl his legs and cross them behind the other, Ichigo took a shaky breath.
"I-I…want you to…"
Shirosaki growled impatiently, though mockingly.
"—to make me cum."
Earning a log suck at a delicate spot behind his ears, the snow-haired male promptly raised his speed with both his thrusts and his hand.
"Good boy, King."
Unable to think up of a spiteful remark, Ichigo shamelessly allowed the moans and mewls he had been holding back out, more than pleased whence Shirosaki removed the pesky cock-ring.
Quick in losing himself to the overbearing sensations, the youth ushered an incoherent capitulation of the elder's name before his body began to shiver. Wave after deliciously trembling wave tiding over, the carrot-top climaxed in the snow-haired male's equally white hand, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Following shortly thereafter, like in a domino effect, Shirosaki shallowly bit into his shoulder, thrusts now erratic as he released into Ichigo's tight warmth.
Once the two finally recovered from their orgasmic high, Shirosaki planted a chaste kiss to Ichigo's parted lips, before pulling out and sitting himself between sun-kissed legs.
Ichigo chuckled softly, leaning his head against the floor for another moment before tilting forward into an upright positioning in one swift motion.
"Unsatisfied?" He mocked a sensuous voice.
Rolling his golden eyes, the albino gave a scoff before smirking.
"Yea, yea. Can't a man jus' admire his masterpiece?"
The youth flustered, snorting.
"You sure about that?"
Suddenly, he found a frosted strawberry idly waved at his face, before it was neatly placed in his hands.
"Nah. I meant tha' I like watching what my desserts look like once I make 'em." He coolly pointed out.
Quirking an eyebrow, the carrot-top prodded at the iced fruit hesitantly.
"It wasn't my fault, if that's what you're trying to say, bakayarou." He replied defensively.
Shirosaki laughed in response.
"Like Hell it wasn', King! Yer the one who made fun of me fer my "career choices", remember?"
Ichigo sent him a deadpanned look.
"Sure. I'll admit to that, but I bet I'm not the first person ever to have said something about it." He refuted.
Broadly grinning, the albino ruffled the youth's orange hair.
"Nah, yer not. Bu' ya are the first I tied down 'n fucked fer saying that." He ran his thumb over his lower lip, before adding, "Though that's only 'cause yer mine."
Ichigo, despite his slight reluctance to, nuzzled into the touch.
"Well, don't I feel damn special? You know, you sure got some problems to have built something like this in your basement." He remarked, grin turning sly.
Shirosaki smirked.
"Yer not one ta talk, "tie me down 'n whip me"-kun." He answered; pleased with the bright fluster Ichigo wore.
"See! Normal patisseries don't say that kind of kinky shit, Shiro!"