Writers block project. Not really a plot, yet a small one at the same time. More love and care, smut implications and heavy scenes. (Not for younger audiences, though it's not full-out intercourse. Though it's implied.) Randomness above all. Enjoy.
-X-
To be honest… There were many things Ishida Uryu knew about Kurosaki Ichigo.
For one, his hair was orange. Despite sounding stalkerish, he also knew the Substitute's height and weight. He had been the first – if not the only one at the time to notice, back in the day when Ichigo's spiritual pressure had changed from that of a human – to that of a Soul Reaper. Not only that, he had been the only one to confront him about it as well.
Even though Ichigo assumed that Ishida knew nothing about him, or little for that matter - that couldn't be farther from the truth. Because – if he were to list all that he knew about Ichigo compared to his assumptions, Ichigo might be pleasantly surprised. Either that, or freaked out. That was why…—
"Kuro…S…Saki…"
Gasping out the name, a sharp intake of breath echoing throughout the small expansion of the dimly lit room – Ishida swallowed. Deft, pale fingertips curled within surprisingly soft spikes – holding there, more so for support rather than anything else. He could feel his legs, however tense with anticipation tighten as their muscles clenched; loosening and contracting as the palms of sword-clad hands slid over his exposed flesh. It was in doing so did Ishida tighten his legs around Ichigo's mid section, his breath ghosting across the soft skin of the teenager's neck as he whispered, "More…"
He was met with an affirmative grunt.
Shuddering, his lips trembling as his chin tilted upwards – the teenager paused for a moment. Catching his breath and releasing the other with one hand; his fingers began to loosen their hold and slide down the back of a surprisingly sensitive neck.
Ichigo had shuddered in response.
Feeling the smallest of smiles grace his features, the corners of his lips turned upwards a fraction. Curling his hand and gliding his knuckles along the bone which jutted from Ichigo's spine, he pressed his mouth against the tanned skin of a heated collar bone; simply keeping his mouth there for a moment before kissing gently. It would seem as though these small, seemingly insignificant actions which he did in return were what set the Substitute off, however. For each time he bestowed upon Ichigo the most simplistic actions of affection – he would return it ten-fold, as if he had been afraid Ishida wouldn't of returned the initial feelings in the first place.
Which would have been an absurd thought. Even though Ishida had originally detested Ichigo, that had nothing to do with now.
Speaking of now, it was wondrous how they had gotten into such a position in the first place. However, after many fights – arguments – disagreements, call them what you will; it had simply… Happened. An abrupt push, an unexpected kiss – a few startled expressions and hurried words. Perhaps they would never know what led them to choose this sort of relationship; for all Ishida could muster up from his understanding was that it didn't matter because such feelings had been harbored within one another for quite some time. It simply took till now to surface.
"Kurosaki…" He whispered, pressing his free hand to the warrior's chest. Ghosting his mouth along a strong, clenched jaw line – his mouth dragged passionately as if he were to kiss the Substitute; however his lips remained hovered above Ichigo's own. "Are you going to…?"
"Y-Yeah…"
Smiling once more, however this one a fractioned half-smile; Ishida closed his eyes. He had long since been rendered blind to the world – his glasses discarded on top of his clothes. However… He supposed he didn't mind, as much as had anything been different – he most certainly would have. It almost felt humorous to admit that he felt safe in Ichigo's arms, and trusted him the most even when the world was nothing more than a mixture of colours to him. Not only that, it seemed as though any hesitations were blown away so easily – discarded as soon as those arms wrapped around his frame; lifting him, caressing him – holding him with a surprising amount of care which he hadn't known the other could do.
Such hatred he bared towards Ichigo almost seemed foolish, now.
"H-Hahh—Kurosaki…"
"I'm sorry—did I hurt you?"
"No…" Shaking his head and pressing his face forward, Ishida's forehead came to rest upon the crook of Ichigo's neck. Tense muscles soon relaxed against his own body, signaling that Ichigo believed him, and begun to slow. Which for that, he was thankful. Though at this point, he was sure that anything would do.
As long as it was Kurosaki.
Pressing his lips to the flesh and dragging his mouth outwards, quick, chaste kisses were placed to a shoulder which rolled in appreciation – or out of reaction, he wasn't sure. Though, his feeble attempts at returning affection were soon cut short. The pressure – the heat, such things became unbearable; yet in an unexplainably good way.
Clenching, tightening, tensing his muscles – a soft whine emitted involuntarily. Manicured brows furrowed, pale fingertips clenched – his hands once more returning to orange hair as soothing hands began to wander over his body.
"Uryu…"
"Again—"
"What?"
"Say that again."
"Uryu."
And that's where reality lost him.
The next thing he knew, the morning after which he recalled – he was wrapped possessively, bound by strong arms. Had it been any other occasion, situation, or anything of the sort – this sort of treatment would anger the Quincy; yet this time, it didn't. In fact, even as he began to muster all the new information which was gathered due to the experiences they newly shared with one another; he couldn't help but ponder over the things which he did not know.
Kurosaki Ichigo, how hard had he fallen for Ishida? How hard had he fallen for someone he originally did not know? Such questions he supposed would never be answered, for he wouldn't voice them – as much as curiosity would protest. Because, even though he knew how his own feelings had changed (however subtle) it didn't really matter, how Ichigo's had. For they had, regardless; that alone, was enough. But the one thing he would want to know, over all questions which followed it was why. The first move, the first shove – the first kiss against the wall. He was thankful for it, no doubt, but curiosity triumph over all other emotions.
Glancing upwards and spotting the familiar orange through the blurs which surround him; it was tranquil for once, such silences within the home.
There would be time for questions later, he supposed, for he had all the time in the world. Regardless of hollow extermination, of enemies to come, of perhaps even mishaps which might happen between them; out of everything they lacked in their daily lives, time was something which would always be there, which he could count on – stand for. So yes, despite the sudden change – despite all he knew – despite the information regarding his own assumptions; there were still questions. Though he supposed, when it came to… this, there always would be – right? After all,
Love comes with its own set of curiosities and examinations, no matter the situation. So definitely, there was much to be added – to what Ishida knew. He just wondered if Kurosaki had known that, on some level. But yet again, his assumptions assumed he would.
Therefore, curling gradually against the embrace which was provided for him; all affections, all motions were returned in full. If there were things which he did not know, and wanted answers for; the same could be said for vise versa. And there would be, of course, no trouble providing answers to questions which he knew.
But little did Ishida know that even though his knowledge would be to Ichigo's surprise – the exact same were true on the opposite end of the scale. Ishida had simply yet to see the hidden feelings which harboured deep over the years; not hidden, just suppressed. So who knows –
when the questions are finally asked, will one be surprised at the answers?