When I read the newest (189) chapter of Bleach I couldn't stop squeeling for shock. And then I read it again. And then I wrote this to vent, and then went back and read it again. ; And then went scrolling through the fandom, but it didn't help.
WARNING: Smut ahoy. Beware, thine eyes.
Hopes and Fears by Redex
His hands, his mouth.
"Oh, god, Ichigo..."
My breath hurts my chest, his big hands on my stomach, mouth on my neck.
His hips push down, the frown line between his eyes ever-increasing.
He knows what he's doing, though he'll never admit it. Knows what happens when he pulls my shirt off and starts running his tounge over plains of skin. Knows what happens when he tugs my pants off and cups a bulge in my boxers.
He acts like this is the most normal thing in the world, and only battles are higher on my surreal list.
He knows he can make me come.
He pulls his clothes off and straddles me, and when he kisses me I don't mind that I can't breathe. I just don't want to loose the feeling of his tounge, slithering against my own, invading my mouth, sliding against my teeth...
His hips grind up against mine, wide and possessive, and his eyes look both a little glazed and very intense.
"Uryuu," he breathes, voice low and dark with lust, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as we both find that place where we fit together perfectly. The click is almost audable, it is so intense.
It's just motion and breathing for a few long, quick moments before we get fustrated. The boxers come off, and I feel infinitely better. I want to feel him... Against me. In me.
"Ichi..." I plead, fingers pressing into the taunt, tender flesh of his body.
He obliges me.
"Aaaah... Ah!"
My chest arches upwards as if pulled by an invisible string, his cock fitting, just, just there...
"Ichigo!" I cry, desperate and clinging to his back.
Everything is searing, burning hot.
One hand holds him at just that angle, pressing into his back, while the other drags into his hair, mashing our lips together, taking pleasure in any and every way I can get him inside me.
We find a rhythum, a rocking motion that melts my mind and drives everything else away, nothing but him, great heap of teenage boy-flesh, moaning and driving himself into me.
As if suddenly remembering, his hand jerks up and wrapps around my cock, driving any idea of sanity out of my mind.
This is pleasure that can't be dreamt of, or planned. Just done.
And we do it well.
He climaxes first, three great, shuddering movements that shake my soul and then the look on his face, frozen, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And then I come, languid strokes giving way to frantic movements untill I spend myself in his hand, clinging to his back and screaming into his shoulder.
"Ichigo!"
It's broken, it's messed up, but afterwards, the afterglow doesn't let us down, the time when we lay together, touching and quietly wondering all the things of the future and the universe.
And I fall asleep in his sweaty, musky embrace, firmly enshrined by two heavy arms and legs. He's always scared I'll leave. During these after-moments, it's not even possible in theory.
I'm his. He saved me, saves me. He's mine.
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