Title: Reflections
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Bleach - however, I do own many of the wrongs :D
Word Count: 461
…
Ichigo had come to know that look well.
There was nothing better than a good fight to stoke the fires that burned so close to the surface in Abarai Renji's eyes. Watching the half-crazed Shinigami dart and thrust, parry and dance his way to defeat an enemy was captivating, and when all was said and done, watching him stand there – sweating, panting, eyes wild and crazy – was all that needed to be said.
As such, Ichigo had come to not just accept what came next, but also secretly enjoy it. Renji was always rough, but never mean, and having fought the death god more than a few times previously, he knew the strength behind those well-defined muscles.
Ichigo marveled at how the seemingly never-ending tattoo appeared to give the impression of the ink dancing across his skin when he moved. He had asked Renji about the tattoos once – why and when – and had just gotten a closely guarded smile in return. While he was forthcoming with some things, with others he was tighter than a clam.
But that was ok, too. As long as he continued to be the way he was, Ichigo wanted nothing else. As long as Renji continued to stalk him after a fight, chasing him as though the devil himself was on his tail - the Shinigami never faltering or giving up until he'd caught his human prey fairly - he would be content. The look of pure predator that flashed in his eyes at that moment gave Ichigo more of a thrill than taking on a hundred Hollow, though the life-or-death feeling he got from a fight was also present when Renji descended on him, all eyes and teeth and hands.
It was like being caught up in a hurricane with no idea of what was going on or when – if – you'd get out alive, but purely caught up in the raw power of it. Sometimes he wondered if he had actually stopped breathing, the dizzying sensation taking him higher and faster than ever before. He wondered belatedly if he was addicted to it, to the feeling of giving up control to someone else and knew the answers before the words even took form. Of course he was, hopelessly addicted to the feeling of wild abandonment, but knowing that he was safe. No matter what Renji did to him – no matter what he allowed Renji to do to him – he always felt safe under those hands.
And he also knew that, no matter what heights he was taken to, he would always return – panting, exhausted, almost to the point of breaking – and brought back with a few whispered words and soft touches, the two of them existing there in that moment, feeling more alive than ever.