Title: 'Lubricious message'
Pairing: Urahara Ichigo, as requested by Neko. Ichigo is 18 in this fic. And I still think that Urahara is a dirty, dirty old man.
Warnings: Idiocy. Masturbation interrupta. Also, well, slash lime. Don't like same sex relationship? Don't read. One guy getting a 'love letter' from another, a somewhat dirty and unromantic one, gives you the shivers? Don't read.
Betaed by Kelley (strychnon).
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. There is a scene very much like this one in the anime/manga. Pre Soul Society I think.
It was a sunny Sunday morning in early December. Ichigo was snoozing contentedly in his pillow when a loud crashing noise woke him up. His window was reduced to glass slivers and his wall adorned with a viscous faintly pink coloured substance. Said substance was crawling all over the wall space to form words in calligraphy kanji:
'Kurosaki-san, come immediately to the Urahara shop.
P.S. Bring lube.
P.P.S. Make it strawberry flavoured one. It is my
favourite. I really like young nubile Strawberries, if you catch my
drift.
P.P.P.S. The liquid used in
this message is a test sample of what I expect you to find. With it I
will open you up and give you delirious pleasure. Then I will fuck
you so hard you will forget what your name is.'
The redhead left eyebrow had started twitching from its customary frowning position. The writing had now started to bleed onto Ichigo's closet. The description was lurid, graphic and way too "exciting" (was the word supplied by Ichigo's baser instincts)—no, explicit (corrected his higher brain function quickly) for the young man's peace of mind. It actually got worse.
'... I will lick your asshole and open it up with my tongue,' currently read the wall.
Ichigo could visualise it all too easily. Unfortunately he could also recall the sensation of that particular activity from the previous week. He had come so hard he had thought he must have broken something (I.e. all higher brain functions). He had been reduced to whimpering fitfully for two whole hours after the act, for God's sake!
The only thing that kept Ichigo from reaching for the mother of all erections he was currently sporting at the description (which had now gotten on to how Ichigo's prostate would be attacked) was the very real and concrete fear of potential interruptions from a member of his nice little crazy family.
The writing now covered almost all of the three bearing walls and Ichigo's self control was nearing the breaking point.
To Hell with Yuzu's betrayed face, Karin's scowling horror and his father's savage glee at so much great teasing material (those were Ichigo's most employed erection killers) he was going to get some benefit from Urahara's profligate waste of perfectly good lube.
The writing had now bled under the window. Ichigo, more than a bit intrigued and waiting just for a little push into the little Death, read avidly:
'P.P.P.P.S.
Anyone who thinks this is a message left by a sex maniac... Is
probably right.'
The writing promptly disappeared leaving Ichigo with only Mother Thumb and her four daughters. And the unwelcome image of a sex maniac Urahara binding him up and doing unspeakable things to his life chain.
The pervasive scent of strawberries and the increasing cold in the once toasty warm environment of his room were compounding his misery. Ichigo was going to kill the fucking sandal-hat guy this time. No doubts about it.