I hold no rights over the Bleach franchise nor any of the characters involved.
Note: This is set after the war and Ichigo is currently eighteen.
How it ends.
Ichigo knew how the relationship would end before it had even begun. It was mapped out in his brain like a train line and now he was only waiting for the last stop. His ending call.
Sitting at the slick whiskey smeared bar he watched his future walk towards him. Zaraki Kenpachi, a man whose reputation was way ahead of him. Ichigo sometimes wondered whether the captain personally invented some of the myth surrounding his character. Rumour formed around the man like a shroud and Ichigo had suspicions.
Idly swirling his drink the red-head gave a slight nod of recognition as the man of mystery himself began to saunter towards him at the bar.
Ichigo could see the events of the night unfold.
There would be banter, the usual sort. But as late got later and the drink flowed freely their disjointed conversation would grow into something more, something intimate. Zaraki's voice would become low and seductive, its velvet roughness attracting and repelling Ichigo at the same time, its unspoken promises making him hot.
At first Ichigo would resist. He would use the time old excuses, too fast, too much, too soon, but he wouldn't protest for long. Kenpachi's silver tongue and dexterous hands would make sure of that.
They would drunkenly make their way back to Ichigo's, or Kenpachi's, whichever was closer. Clothes would be shed like petals, or autumn leaves, and each would be completely exposed.
There would be some foreplay, but not much. Zaraki would be impatient for the 'main event' and Ichigo too drunk to care. The red-head would be thrown onto any useable surface, potentially a bed, if Kenpachi was feeling romantic, but the floor or even a kitchen counter were also possible. And there they would begin.
Penetration was undoubtedly going to be painful. In the lusty rush of their coupling any preparation would be an unwelcome delay, so Ichigo would simply have to grit his teeth and endure the slow burn of being filled. After the initial hurt had passed (or at least been overshadowed by pleasure), Kenpachi would work up a rhythm. His smooth thrusts into Ichigo would punctuate their lust filled dance with wanton moans and the crisp slap of flesh hitting upon flesh.
They would frantically continue to make love late into the night, only stopping when Kenpachi was sore and Ichigo raw and bleeding. Zaraki would at last pull out of the flushed and panting red-head, Ichigo's blood and his semen mingling in a pink haze on the smaller's thighs. Throwing an arm around Ichigo the captain would pull him close, inhaling his scent, and like that they would sleep.
The morning after, however, was going to be awkward. After waking and untangling themselves from their sleeping embrace, neither would meet the others eyes and they would, eventually, go their separate ways.
Therefore, their 'liaison' would be a onetime thing.
And that was how it was going to happen.
So Ichigo sat at the bar, watching Kenpachi approach with a wry smile but sad eyes, knowing what would, what will, be.
And he wished he was wrong.
.:.
A little one shot :D. I've had some personal troubles lately so updates have been horrendously neglected, they'll be through soon enough!
Please review!
Extra!
Kenpachi: My secret power! If I hold my sword with TWO HANDS, I'm stronger!
Nnorita: Well DUH...
Yachiru: *Slaps forehead* Stupid Ken-chan.
Kenpachi: ...