Title: Arabian Knights

Pairing: Uryuu & Ichigo

Rating: NC-17/M

Warnings: AU, m/m sex, some language, violence

AN: Inspired by the Arabian-style Bleach cover for manga chapter 176, Middle-Eastern culture, and Aladdin. Apologies for the lame title!

Suggested Soundtrack: "Serenity" by Godsmack, "Masters of the Universe" by Juno Reactor, and "Isis: Deep Mix" by Seven Lions

I – The Desert

Sand-spiked wind whips Ichigo's face where his tattered headscarf doesn't cover the skin. His eyes are dry and red despite thick lashes spread wide to catch the abrasive grains between them. They've been trudging nonstop along this desert road since dawn, only once pausing for a meal, in their haste to reach the foreign kingdom before dusk. The leader of their little merchant expedition, his dubiously venerable father, shouts generic phrases of encouragement to his exhausted team over the weather's dull roar. It's far from the first time they've all had to eschew comfort for Isshin's far-reaching goals.

"I think we should stop, Dad," Ichigo yells over a particularly angry gust. "Looks like a sandstorm on the horizon!"

"Don't be silly, my cherished son, that's just a harmless cloud."

Beside him, Renji scoffs and asks, "A dark, billowing cloud raking the ground and frightening all the camels? Listen to Ichigo for a change, Kurosaki-san."

"It's better to waste another night on travel than lose our wares to the desert," agrees Ikkaku. "Makes no sense to risk it."

"The sultan is expecting us bright and early tomorrow morning, not later in the afternoon," Isshin reminds them, tugging an anxious dromedary back into line by its leather reins. "You all don't know him like I do; he doesn't respond kindly to tardiness. Anyway, we can't be more than a couple of miles from the outskirts. We continue."

Unusually quiet, Keigo groans behind Ichigo but holds his comments. More worrying than a foreboding storm, the skittish animals, or his companions' complaining is the number one complainer gone silent from the sheer arduousness of their trip. Ichigo slows his steps to let his friend catch up. The man's longer brown hair is swirling around his face, obscuring the rough grimace Ichigo knows must be there.

"You okay, man?"

"Ugh."

Looking him over as well as he can through the crust cluttering the corners of his eyes, Ichigo digs out his water skin and hands it to him. Keigo shakes his head but Ichigo makes him take it, not satisfied until he drinks half the remainder. They ran out of goat's milk a while back, so they have to be careful with how much pure water they take in. The young man thanks him, looking a little less delirious but no livelier. Ichigo glances up to scowl at his father's back, shrouded in his trademark billowing black cape.

Although he knows why Isshin does things the way he does, Ichigo can't say he always approves of the harsher methods, however much they're softened by cheerfulness. The trek from their native country to this dynasty across the desert isn't easy, no matter how you take it. Isshin has made the trip a handful of times in his life so far, only recently dragging the rest of his team along in efforts to establish a stronger business relationship now that they've expanded enough to meet demand there.

Ichigo has been a merchant's apprentice until this year, when he finally reached the accepted age and expertise of partnership. He will inherit the family business after Isshin now, for what it's worth. Truth be told, Ichigo doesn't know what he wants but he's fairly certain it isn't this life. Making and selling supplies to people who need them has its own rewards, to be sure, but Ichigo has always wondered if there was something more.

His mother told him tales of adventure and intrigue as a child. Stories of warriors and princesses, djinn and demons, gods and magi. Even though he knows these myths are not real, Ichigo still dreams of fighting for a true cause, discovering new lands, and protecting others. He has accepted his fate of contributing to his family and most of the time it's enough that he can help keep his younger sisters safe. Yet, sometimes he still wonders what could be.

Some of the sand clears in a sharp, slanting zephyr and suddenly the city opens up before them. His father gives a hoot of happiness and picks up his pace while spouting told-you-sos for all to hear. Down a shallow hill and across a small barren plain, they finally reach a cluster of taupe tents making up the city's outskirts. In the distance, high stone walls border a vast kingdom encircling an impressive, tri-tiered palace jutting proudly from the center. Its pure white facade gleams in the late evening sunlight and provides stark contrast to the dingier architecture surrounding it.

Just as Ichigo is wondering how the hell they keep that thing so clean, Isshin excitedly hails a nearby townsperson. A boy about the age of Yuzu and Karin, he stumbles to a stop on his way from the well. He sets his full buckets down and gives what must be the customary show of respect in this land. Isshin haphazardly returns it and dons a wide grin to speak to the boy in a halting attempt at their language. Ichigo knows all of three words, none of them useful in this context, but he picks up that the boy's name is Hanatarou.

He leads them to a nicer-looking tent further in and does his best to introduce their group to someone who must be the leader in this little settlement, a scary-looking boulder of a man named Kenpachi. Beside him, Ikkaku narrows calculating eyes at the beast and Ichigo knows it's only a matter of time before a pointless fight breaks out. He exchanges a resigned gaze with Yumichika, even more familiar with Ikkaku's volatile nature.

Losing interest due to lack of conversation comprehension, Ichigo occupies himself by looking around. Unfortunately, there isn't much to see. A bunch of dusty villagers working in and outside of dusty tents while wearing dusty clothes and drinking dusty water. Nothing he hasn't seen before in his own city. He's more interested to see that palace. Equally foreboding and magnetic, it seems to draw Ichigo right into a powerful daydream full of battles and glory. As his father steps into the leader's tent to barter, Ichigo turns to gaze out at the structure with its mighty parapets and gilded domes. There's nothing so majestic where he's from. It reminds him of those childhood legends, makes him think they might not be so impossible after all. In that sort of place, Ichigo wouldn't be surprised to find things like sentient parrots and evil sorcerers.

A quiet voice disturbs his reverie. He turns in mild curiosity and does a double-take. The young man addressing him is a diamond amongst coal. Far from the dingy burlap vestments worn by everyone else here, this guy wears silks dyed in rich azures, vivid golds, and crisp whites under a cream-colored cape shielding most of it from the elements. His night-black hair—where it slips out from a customary turban—is shiny and lush compared with the lank mops of others. Most striking, though, is the bold blue of his eyes unerringly trained on Ichigo's.

"Eh?" he asks. When the man repeats himself in the language Ichigo still doesn't understand, he shakes his head and manages, "Sorry, I'm not from around here."

Which is a damned shame because of all the things Ichigo could be doing right now, talking to a stunning man with eyes like that would be at the top of his list. Ichigo starts muttering something about being stuck trailing his merchant father and their rag-tag employees as he looks the man over more thoroughly. He knows he's being rude but he can't seem to make himself care, given the view before him. By the time he works his way back up to the man's face, he notices a crooked smirk to those full lips.

"Ah, in that case, I'll get some practice speaking your language for a change." Ichigo's mouth falls open at that. He's almost certain he just finished uttering some vague compliment to the man's physique, thinking he wouldn't be understood anyway. "And, thank you. No one has ever called me 'hot' before. I'm assuming from context that's a good thing in your culture?"

"Uh, yeah," he tries not to explode from embarrassment. "It is. I'm Ichigo of the clan Kurosaki."

"Nice to meet you." The man flashes that smirk again but doesn't offer his name in return, which kind of ticks Ichigo off. "So you're here to negotiate for permanent merchant status? What do you offer? That particular hue of fuchsia you're wearing is a rarity here. Do you market clothing as well as dyes?"

Just like that, communications are opened and Ichigo falls into conversation faster than a hidden trapdoor. Ducking into a nearby unoccupied tent to escape the encroaching sandstorm, they talk over howling gusts about everything from commerce to politics to culture. Ichigo is more immersed in sharing and learning than he can ever remember being with anyone outside his family in his entire life. Before it occurs to him to worry about time or wonder where the rest of his group has wandered off to, this stranger has him wishing he didn't have to.

"Of course I'm not saying religion is unnecessary," Ichigo amends his previous statement, "But I don't see why people have to take it so far all the time. We shouldn't be attacking each other over beliefs that don't affect anyone but ourselves."

"I agree, but you have to consider that religion is not uniform among practitioners. It doesn't have the same influence on all those who claim it. Not to mention different sects will hold alternate meanings to the same text and tenants."

"True, but when it comes to battle, there's no need for its interference."

"Oh, do you know much about the art of war, merchant's son?" the man asks with raised eyebrow and trademark smirk. "Seen many battles? Judging by your build, I wouldn't be shocked to hear it."

"Well, I'm not exactly a soldier, but..."

Seeing the way he is being appraised now, Ichigo trails off uncertainly. The man nods as his eyes trail him up and down. Something in his expression tells Ichigo he isn't just sizing him up for physical strength and fighting prowess. An uncomfortable squirming in his stomach has him shifting on his feet.

"How about a demonstration?"

"What!?"

"A mere sparring match. No weapons."

"Are you serious? Is that...legal here?"

"Of course. We're not barbarians," the man snorts disdainfully. Then he adopts a mischievous gleam and a dangerous tone to add, "A private tousle between consenting individuals is no business of anyone else."

Ichigo swallows hard. "Sure, yeah. We can spar a little if you want. Right here or do you have a better arena in mind?"

"Doesn't matter." He takes a long step closer to say, "It won't be my back hitting the dirt."

Fascinated even as he is annoyed at the assertion, Ichigo narrows his eyes and smirks back.

"You're on."

Sweeping their capes back out of the way of swifter movements, they assume practiced fighting stances and start to circle each other. There is little furniture in the primitive hovel, so they have plenty of space to maneuver. Ichigo is confident of a win; he has grown up brawling with rivals and miscreants in addition to formal tutoring, as is the Kurosaki way. Not to mention his rowdy group of friends who love to fight over the slightest issues and Ichigo has more combat experience than most soldiers. This guy seems to have good balance, quick wit, and sharp eyes, but he's too slender to present much of a challenge.

Or so Ichigo thinks until his direct lunge is turned against him and he winds up sprawled on the ground within the first few seconds. He stares up at the man currently careful to hide his smug smile as he helps Ichigo up with a steady arm.

"You weren't ready: my apologies."

Shaking it off, Ichigo ignores the comment and gets back into stance. This time he watches closer and notices how his opponent uses fast, minimal movements to turn Ichigo's momentum back on him, compensating for his lack of bulk. But Ichigo can be fast, too, and he proves this by turning the man's jab into a twist that allows him to lock his arm around a slim throat. Before he can give a warning squeeze, the man slips from the hold and swivels Ichigo's arm behind his back. The leverage becomes painful but a quiet grunt has his partner letting up immediately.

The next punch glances off the man's side and becomes an opportunity for Ichigo to get a knee to the gut. It is softened by a considerate pull, but it still knocks most of the breath from him. Irritated now, Ichigo grabs him by the thigh and yanks to the side. His opponent somehow turns it into a graceful crouch and swipes the other leg out to once again lay Ichigo on the ground. He rotates at the waist to perch just atop Ichigo and blink down at him with a blank expression.

"Is this how people fight in your country? No wonder you're a merchant instead of a warrior."

"Shut up," he snaps, grabbing two handfuls of the man's thick cloak to drag him closer. "Be glad I'm holding back so you won't ruin this fancy outfit."

"I have others," the man murmurs back. "Ruin away."

He's tempted. It's clear this guy has better tactics and speed, but it's also true that Ichigo isn't giving it his all. Usually he either has to be terrified or furious to fight like he means it, too worried he might actually hurt his sparring partner. Especially when they're as attractive and intriguing as this man. But stronger than the urge to show off is the inclination to turn this into something else. The deep blue eyes staring into him aren't those of bloodlust, but another type entirely. Ichigo may not have ample experience in this area, but even he knows desire when he sees it. Besides, he's been throwing innuendo and double-entendres around from the beginning.

Trouble is, Ichigo knows absolutely nothing about this person, and he was never one to act on selfish impulse. Especially when his father is working so hard to expand his business into foreign territory. The last thing Ichigo wants to do is step on some important diplomat's toes by sleeping with their husband or son. The stranger seems to read the decision from Ichigo's face as it is made. He frowns lightly and pushes up to hold out a hand. Ichigo takes it and mirrors his disappointment.

"Rain check? I'm sort of in unknown waters here."

"I understand," he nods, and Ichigo believes him. "I'll put in a good word for your enterprise in town."

"You don't have to do that."

"Don't be absurd, it's my pleasure. I can't remember the last time someone provided such stimulating conversation."

The words are innocent enough, but the way they are said has Ichigo's heart thumping even harder. He thanks the man again and watches him turn to leave, pausing at the entrance to confirm the storm has passed. Just before he steps out, Ichigo reaches for his wrist.

"Wait." He turns to look at Ichigo in silent question. "What's your name?"

Hesitation. A smile. "Uryuu."

Ichigo watches him sweep from the tent and down the winding path towards the city's colossal gates, fine clothes snapping in the persistent breeze. A twinge of regret starts to wriggle in his belly and the ridiculous thought that he should run after Uryuu crosses his mind. With a city this large, it might be next to impossible to find the man again, particularly with just a given name. Maybe it's not meant to be.

"There you are, Ichigo," calls Keigo from a few tents away. "Where have you been this whole time?"

"What're you talking about? I was only gone for..." Checking the time via the sun's position, Ichigo balks. "Two hours?"

"Closer to three. You missed dinner! Aren't you hungry?" Now that he thinks about it, Ichigo is ravenous. His stomach rumbles as if on cue and Keigo laughs as he slings an arm over his shoulders to guide him towards their group. "Come on, I think there were some leftovers. Seems you made it through the storm all right."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Hey, I know that look...Did you meet a girl!? You sly devil! How dare you go hooking up without me—"

"I wasn't hooking up, I was just talking," he grumbles, reddening despite himself. "Forget about it."

"I am officially hurt, Ichigo. How are we friends?"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo tunes him out and focuses on switching back into merchant-mode.

When he meets back up with his dad, Isshin fills him in on the meeting he missed and tomorrow's plan. They spend the rest of the evening talking shop and recuperating from the long travel. There is some light revelry involved, courtesy of Kenpachi's casks. It's not the best wine he's ever had, but after a journey like that anything will do. It's more than enough to encourage Ikkaku to challenge Kenpachi—and lose. Ichigo can't help laughing along with everyone else as his friend dramatically vows to return stronger later so they can fight again.

The long bath he is fortunate enough to take is tepid, but given the chance to finally shed several days' dirt, he isn't about to complain. All said and done, Ichigo is left wandering after dark by himself to find his borrowed tent somewhere among this massive cluster of nondescript structures, equipped solely with obscure, half-muttered directions. Needless to say he gets lost on the way with no one still out and about to stop and ask for help. Just as he is considering turning around to retrace his steps all the way back to the leader's tent, he spots someone sliding through the shadows like spilled ink.

"Are you lost?"

Ichigo starts. Separated by hours of information overload and maybe too much celebration, he still recognizes this new voice. "Uryuu!? I thought you went back to the city."

He shrugs. "I figured this place might be more interesting tonight. Come on, I'll help you find your tent."

"How would you know where—"

Without waiting for permission, Uryuu grabs a handful of his cloak and jerks him in the opposite direction. Too worn-out to put up much of a fight, Ichigo allows himself to be guided further away from the outskirts' epicenter. Standing alone in a shallow depression bordering the makeshift town sits a larger tent. Freshly-pitched and far cleaner than the others. Uryuu pushes in through the narrow entrance and Ichigo cautiously follows, thinking he really should keep his guard up since he still doesn't know this person.

Inside is the deepest darkness and Ichigo goes rigid on instinct. He hears the scrape of something metallic and draws one of his daggers, stooping into a battle-ready position. Then light flares, causing him to blink in its sudden brilliance, and Uryuu is holding a lantern with a teasing smirk for Ichigo's wariness. Feeling sheepish, he sheaths the weapon and watches the man continue to light some candles scattered around the wide enclosure.

Although he expects sparse furnishings and decor, Ichigo is glad to be wrong. The interior is lavishly-decorated with enough creature comforts fit for a king. Silks hang from the ceiling's center and radiate out to connect to the walls in a vibrant starburst. A thick mattress layered in soft bedding and plush pillows makes a nice centerpiece. Crates covered in yet more fabrics serve as tabletops and chairs. A couple of large chests contain what he guesses to be food, eating utensils, and other supplies. Ichigo knows he is gaping but he feels it is very much justified.

"Make yourself comfortable, Ichigo."

"There is no way this is my tent," he feels compelled to point out. "Who are you?"

"No one important, if that's what you're worried about."

"Right..."

Better judgment tells him he should turn tail and flee while he still can. This is so far over his head it's not even funny. He turns to Uryuu to say as much when he notices the man has removed his cloak to drape over a chair and that he is working on the rest of his attire, as well. Noticing the scrutiny, he raises his eyes to Ichigo's and slows his motions to make them more deliberate. The steady reveal of fair skin starts Ichigo's mouth watering.

"I won't hold you prisoner, but you're more than welcome to stay," Uryuu says as he shrugs out of the vest and drops it on top of his cloak. "Although if you do, there is one condition."

"What's that?" he rasps.

He allows the shirt flaps to fall, barely holding onto a shoulder on one side and sliding over a round biceps on the other, before closing the short distance between them. This close, Ichigo notices a thin line of dark kohl ringing his eyes that he's pretty sure wasn't there earlier. It makes the rich blue stand out all the more and momentarily mesmerizes him. Uryuu leans in close, almost exactly Ichigo's height, and stops right before their lips touch. He smells of spicy essential oils and clean silk.

"You'll have to share my bed."

Uryuu leaves the choice up to him, staying in reach but not pressing the issue. A hundred half-thoughts flash through Ichigo's mind but nothing sticks. How is he meant to make a decision when faced with something like this? Offering a starving man a feast but withholding the cost? All he can think is how nice it would be to touch someone for a change, rather than endlessly fighting or working or walking. It's been so long! It seems too good to be true; there must be a catch. Ichigo isn't sure he could survive the fallout.

He also isn't sure he cares.

"Deal."

Ichigo doesn't give Uryuu the chance to smile at that, immediately ducking down the scant inch to connect their lips in a frantic greeting. He grabs and pushes and pulls, tasting and feeling. Uryuu doesn't stop him but he doesn't show the same wild enthusiasm, either. A flickering flame to Ichigo's roaring inferno. Confused, Ichigo leans away to look at him.

"Is this how they make love in your country?" Uryuu whispers between them. "No wonder I had to lure you here to get you to kiss me."

"Huh?" He tries not to be offended, he really does, but it's not quite working. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means: why the rush? We have all night." Stepping away to crack open one of the chests, Uryuu reaches inside and lifts out a small glass vial filled with red-tinged liquid. He uncaps it and Ichigo smells cinnamon. "Let's take our time."

"What is that stuff?"

"They call it massage oil, made for rubbing into the skin." He holds the potion out for Ichigo to examine. "This particular type is my favorite. Tingly."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Take off your clothes and see."

Heart hammering harder than ever, Ichigo yanks at his weapons belt and drops it to the floor with a dull thud. Uryuu takes a step back to watch while he moves on to his shirts. As he settles his hands to the tie of his pants, Uryuu stops him by spreading warm fingers across his chest and over the curves of his shoulders. As promised, the oil pleasantly tingles wherever it touches bare flesh. Uryuu hums and lightly traces along some of the dark, swirling lines of Ichigo's tattoos.

"I've never seen anyone with so many before. You must have an amazing tolerance for pain," Uryuu tilts his face up to praise. He kisses a black curl climbing towards the base of Ichigo's neck, then laps at it with the tip of his tongue. "Tattoos have always fascinated me but I'm forbidden from getting them. Are they a symbol of strength and status in your culture?"

"Depends who you ask. Mostly I just think they look cool," snickers Ichigo, squirming when Uryuu finds a ticklish spot. "My friend Renji has a lot more, believe me. I think he has an obsession."

"Hm, maybe I should meet this 'Renji' person..."

Ichigo kisses the teasing smirk right off the man's face. This time Uryuu matches his energy and then some, pulling Ichigo closer by the loosening knot on his pants. He pushes at the shirt still clinging to Uryuu's arms and fits his palms to the revealed planes of his back. Bodies fitting nicely together, Ichigo groans into the kiss and tightens his hold. The pressure elicits a sharp hiss from Uryuu that can't be mistaken for enjoyment.

"What's wrong?" he draws back to ask, "Did I hurt you?"

"It's nothing, just..."

"Just what?" When Uryuu doesn't immediately answer, he swivels behind the man to see for himself. Shadows blotch at intervals from shoulder blade to hip, varying in size and intensity. Ichigo grazes light fingertips over one and frowns when Uryuu shirks from the touch. "Who did this to you?"

"Ignore it, Ichigo. It's not important."

"Of course it's important: look at you." Uryuu turns soft eyes on him over his shoulder and Ichigo is struck by how stunning he is all over again, painted in shadows, candlelight, and a hint of melancholy. "Look at you."

Sighing in resignation when Uryuu remains silent, he decides to let it go for now. He doesn't exactly know the man well enough to carry out vengeance against his enemies. Yet. Instead, Ichigo sinks to a knee and brushes the gentlest kiss to his hip, the arc of his spine, a shoulder blade, the inner bend of his elbow. Uryuu slides his arm from the loose hold to guide Ichigo's face towards him. He's smiling.

"You know what would make me feel better, Ichigo?"

"I think I can take a guess."

He spots the bottle of oil and snatches it up as he directs Uryuu to sit on the bed. With movements more careful than he thought himself capable, Ichigo spreads the warming stuff over smooth skin. He doesn't like the look of those purpling smudges marring an otherwise ivory canvass, but he loves the sounds Uryuu makes as he smothers them. Once he covers what he can access, Ichigo glances up to ask a silent question at the hemline. Uryuu answers by leaning back on his elbows to lift his hips.

The last layer comes off and Ichigo can't resist the impulse to rush right in. This time Uryuu isn't complaining. His fingers push into orange hair, rubbing in traces of that spicy oil and encouraging a succession of happy hums from Ichigo around his work. Since he has done this a couple of times in the past—and was told he's rather good—it doesn't take long for Uryuu to pull him away from the task, lest they end things too quickly. Ichigo kisses a line up his belly and pauses to lavish attention on the pink points of his chest.

Uryuu drags him up into a deep kiss and attacks the tie of his pants, impressively tugging it loose one-handed. Once he has Ichigo naked at last, Uryuu breaks the feverish kiss to leave him gasping, only to roughly reverse their positions on the bed. He smoothes more of the oil over Ichigo's skin, smiling when his hands find Uryuu's rear in a very forward suggestion.

"You've done this before?"

"I won't hurt you," Ichigo assures him.

"Not even if I ask nicely?"

Leaving Ichigo to gape over that question, he gets up to retrieve a different kind of oil, this one more suited to their intended purpose. When he settles back into Ichigo's lap, he attacks Uryuu's neck and grips powerful thighs to keep him in place. He hears the squeak of a cork tugged free and feels the flex of Uryuu's long torso as he reaches behind himself. The idea of what they will soon be lucky enough to do shifts Ichigo's heart into high gear. Pressing his lips against Uryuu's pulse point proves he's just as excited. His low moans vibrate across Ichigo's tongue, tasting of promised pleasure. Ichigo reaches downward on a whim and Uryuu's motions falter. His grasp is gentle and light, but Uryuu is already close. He drops his forehead to Ichigo's chest and struggles to speak.

"I-Ichigo, if you k...keep doing that, I'll—"

"Well, I can't let you have all the fun," he murmurs back with a teasing nip to his ear, "Although I can't say I wasn't enjoying the show."

"Partic'pation," Uryuu slurs, his natural accent slipping through for the first time, "Is invited."

Given the green light, Ichigo takes the vial he is offered and spills some of its contents onto his palm before leaning in close to use them. It's Uryuu's turn to torture him while he works, but Ichigo doesn't mind one bit. His chin is kissed, earlobes are nibbled, back is massaged, and he is kept at attention as he struggles to stay focused. Right up until the pad of a fingertip brushes over something that has Uryuu tensing and muffling a shout against the swell of Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo leans back to make sure it was the right kind of shout and melts at what he sees: Uryuu blinking in a surprised daze and panting through an open mouth.

"Did you just—?"

"Almost," he huffs, swallowing. "Don't do that again...at least not right away."

"If you say so."

Without warning, Uryuu pushes his hands away and shoves him back against the pile of embroidered pillows. He shifts swiftly forward and then rocks slowly back. Uryuu's eyes slide closed as his lips part on a loud groan. The last thought Ichigo has before all brain functions temporarily cease is that he really has to memorize such a wonderful spot that could cause this kind of behavior with one press. Just as Ichigo's mind goes dark, Uryuu's seems to light right up.

"Aaah, I knew it," he begins in a low, tight voice as he starts up a steady pace. "I knew just by looking at you that you'd be amazing at this. Something in the way your carry yourself, Ichigo, the way you move. You're positively saturated with self-confidence. And your eyes..."

"What about 'em?" Ichigo distractedly breathes after a short moan. Part of him is genuinely interested in the topic but the majority is more fascinated by the sensations, the sounds, the sights Uryuu is creating for him. "They're average. You're the one with—Unh, yeah—gemstones for eyes."

"Oh, no. No, you're wrong there." Bending forward in a way that has Ichigo marveling at his flexibility, Uryuu kisses him hard before explaining. "It's not the color that makes you stand out."

Warm hands frame Ichigo's face and he opens eyes he didn't mean to close, meeting Uryuu's firm gaze. "Then what?"

"When you looked at me, I didn't just see a bored, dirty young man, Ichigo. I saw someone with the spirit of a warrior." As though gaining energy from the memory, Uryuu begins to move faster and they both lose breath with the transition. "Not...not merely an amoral sword-swinging idiot, but a...a champion."

"What? I'm just a merch—"

Pushing upright for more leverage, Uryuu puts his athletic physique to good use and snaps his hips with a purpose. All Ichigo can do for a few moments is hold on for dear life. His body works to match the man's rhythmic movements on its own, and Ichigo mourns the encroaching end even as he revels in it. The half-notion that he should perhaps try for that special button again flashes past but he doesn't have the ability to attempt it. Fortunately, Uryuu doesn't need his help to do just that.

Ichigo watches it crash over his face when he finds it. Uryuu tightens around him and Ichigo jerks upright because he has to kiss him right this instant. And then it's not once but every single thrust. Uryuu's calm poise has been slipping all along, but now he is utterly unraveling in Ichigo's arms. Eyes locked and mouths open, they endure the building pressure before they suddenly burst, and then fall together amid silks and satins. Ichigo's lungs struggle as he recovers from the rush of something more than simple satiety.

"That," Uryuu rasps once he regains enough breath to talk, "That was well worth the effort of seduction."

Laughing, Ichigo turns his head to look at the smirking man. "Good thing you don't give up easily."

Uryuu's only reply comes in the form of a kiss. And Ichigo knows they are far from finished with each other for the night.