I Never
Ichigo was innocent, not ignorant; there was a vast difference between the two.
He'd never desired someone, but he could recognize it in the lingering looks Renji gave him, the heat in that crimson gaze as it wandered over his body in the public baths.
He'd never flirted, but he knew what it was when Renji sat so close to him in the bar, leaned in to whisper things that didn't need to be said so softly, sake sweet on his breath.
He'd never come on to anyone, but he understood when Renji draped an arm over his shoulders, long fingers slipping lightly beneath the collar of his shihakusho to slide over bare skin, tracing scars.
He'd never propositioned someone, but he didn't mistake it for anything else when Renji asked him not to go back to the real world just yet, his voice deepening as he offered his own bed for the night.
There were many things Ichigo had never done, never even considered, but that didn't mean he froze when confronted with them, or didn't know how to respond.
Lying on Renji's futon, Renji sprawled against him lightly snoring, sweat cooling on their skin, Ichigo breathed out slowly. He drew his fingers through long, blood-red strands of hair. A languid movement as he closed his eyes, relishing the new and different ways his body ached.
He was still innocent in some ways, but ignorant about none of them.
Renji's breath warmed the side of his neck; Ichigo smiled.
He'd never been the type to delude himself about what he wanted, but sometimes he didn't have to seek it out himself. It found him first.