IV
So far, dating Ishida is a lot like not dating Ishida. Over two weeks after Ichigo suggested they go out Ishida still hasn't invited him back to his apartment, met Ichigo at his family's place, or agreed to go anywhere else for an actual date. When asked, he claims he is too busy preparing for university exams and that Ichigo should dutifully study on his own for a while. Yet, he has a sneaking suspicion that Ishida is actually trying to avoid being alone with him again, despite Ichigo's promise to go at the pace he sets.
If either of them should feel wary about any potential sexual activities, it's Ichigo! He's the one who read the tantalizing avalanche of X-rated fantasies that fill Ishida's notebook and realized all at once that a bookworm can secretly be a deviant. Who knows how many guys he's been with, the crazy things he's done? Some of the stuff Ishida wrote either intrigued or terrified him, but almost all of it turned him on. Ichigo stayed up most of the night after he stole it uncomfortably aroused but too guilty to do anything about it. Too entranced to stop and too chicken to approach Ishida the next day. There had to be something wrong with lusting after a classmate you've never really thought of like that before, even though Ishida obviously had no issues on that front.
So maybe Ichigo was a little too worked-up when he marched over and knocked on Ishida's door. Maybe he was able to ignore his nerves and the strangeness of the entire situation primarily thanks to this preoccupied mindset. Admittedly, restraining Ishida and demanding a kiss may not have been the best way to start things. He blames Ishida's writing ability and creativity for completely overriding his better judgment. But that doesn't mean Ichigo is going to jump him the instant they're alone!
They still spend time together at school. Between periods, at lunch, and after class during club activities when possible. Their interaction differs now in the ways that they speak to each other, mostly in the fact that they speak to each other at all, but also in the cadence they use. The glances they exchange. The rare laughter they inspire. The familiarity and camaraderie that always seemed strained before is coming easier each day. Ichigo is learning that when he doesn't snort at Ishida and roll his eyes, doesn't snap with sarcasm or dismissal, and doesn't ask stupid questions he can guess the answers to anyway, Ishida is much more receptive.
Ichigo wonders if it could've been like this all along.
But it's not enough to stop at having a genuine friendship with Ishida. If Ichigo only wanted a better friendship he wouldn't have gone so far as to steal his cross and pin him to his chair to get his point across. No, it has to be deeper than that, more substantial. Although Ishida is not making that goal easily obtainable, Ichigo is far from throwing in the towel. He knows he doesn't have the experience or cleverness to get Ishida to let his guard down on his own.
Speaking of easily-obtainable goals, Ichigo agreed to help the soccer team this week and they have a match after school today. Suddenly an amazing idea occurs to him. Stopping by the Student Council room on the way to the field, Ichigo gets Ishida's attention from the doorway. He gives no reaction to Ichigo's gesturing but stands after a moment and excuses himself from the small group of students.
"What is it, Kurosaki?" he asks as soon as he shuts the door behind him to remain unheard. "We're in the middle of an important discussion on school policy."
"Determined to leave your mark on this place, huh?"
"No more than you are with this entire world," Ishida blandly states, folding his arms across his chest. "How many policies have you influenced, I wonder?"
"Only the ones that needed to be changed anyway."
"Soul Society's very first human Prime Minister."
"Hey, I'm a hybrid, remember?" Ichigo replies with the hint of a smirk. It may be the oddest form of flirting ever, but it still counts. "Human, Shinigami, Hollow, and Quincy."
"Who better to manipulate all three worlds, is that it?"
"I don't see why not. Vote Kurosaki."
Then Ishida laughs, a private, indulgent thing that slightly shakes his lean frame. Ichigo's heart throws a fit at the sight. He has to remind himself that grabbing Ishida and dragging him to the nearest empty classroom to declare without words exactly how cute his unguarded smile is right now would not end well for him. The urge passes too slowly and Ishida sobers before he can continue the farce.
"What did you want to say?"
"I have a soccer match in half an hour. Will you watch?"
Ichigo sees the word 'why' forming on his lips, but Ishida reconsiders before it is spoken. He gives Ichigo a long, shrewd look and releases a silent sigh. Arms dropping to his sides, Ishida nods once.
"Yes."
"Cool," Ichigo has to fight down a wide grin, "I'll see you there. Make sure you stay till the end."
He sets off down the hall before Ishida can lodge a complaint about that.
There is something so different about doing an activity when you know someone you like is going to be watching. Ichigo can't remember the last time he felt the least bit nervous playing any kind of sport and he doesn't appreciate the feeling at all. It's beyond stupid, especially when he knows he's the best soccer player on this entire team, maybe in all of Japan. Yet, as he files out onto the field with the rest of the team and spots Ishida perched amongst the spectators, his stomach tightens and his heart jolts.
"Kurosaki, you're on point," calls the captain, laying out his strategy. "Score us some goals, would ya?"
"Yeah," he succinctly agrees. They have no clue.
But his eyes are back on the crowd, his mind settling back into mild anxiety. Ishida looks bored, as usual, but he hasn't pulled out a book yet. This may be one of his dumber plans, but he's determined to try it. So when the ball is dropped and the players scatter, Ichigo goes into warrior-mode. He pretends the ball is Juhabach's fat head. It hits the net so hard it ricochets into the poor goalie's back and knocks him down. An excited roar erupts from the audience and his teammates alike.
"Keep it up, Kurosaki!" someone shouts to him.
"You don't need to tell me that," he mumbles before attacking again.
He plays harder than ever before. Cheering remains more or less constant as Ichigo decimates the opposing team almost single-handedly. Although he eases up after half-time to give his teammates a chance to shine, too. By the end of the match he is dripping with sweat, panting and exhausted but feeling good. His teammates look just as content riding out their Winner's High with grins bright enough to rival the sun.
The final timer sounds and Ichigo makes one more last-minute kick, one more last-minute goal. All said and done, they beat the visitors by an embarrassingly wide margin. Ichigo is bent over leaning hands on his knees when the captain comes over to thank him excitedly. Out of breath, he nods his head and waves a hand to acknowledge the sentiment but he has better things to do right now.
Ishida meets his eyes across a rushing river of jubilant students. They clap him on the back and shout encouragements as he jogs upstream to reach the only one among them standing still. When he gets there, neither of them says a word for a long moment. They wait for the traffic to clear and the ruckus to die down. Ichigo offers a sheepish grin at Ishida's knowing eyebrow. Of course it's blatantly obvious he did all that to impress him, as if Ishida isn't fully aware of his considerable skill set.
"Good game, Kurosaki."
"Yeah."
"Is this the part where you tell me you won the match for me?"
"Nah, nothing that lame. Though I may have imagined the ball as the bad guy and you as the prince-in-distress."
"That's so much worse," Ishida states with a smirk brewing.
"You're probably right."
"I think you might have made a few boys cry today." Ichigo laughs aloud as Ishida indulges in a wry smile. "They'll think twice about playing against Karakura High in the future."
"Good thing I'm only on the team for one week, huh?"
"They'll be counting their blessings, for sure. As soon as they've scraped their egos off the ground."
"Maybe I should've gone easier?" he jokingly asks, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I didn't have to go all-out."
"What, and miss out on the opportunity to grow, facing a stronger opponent?" Shaking his head, Ishida feigns scorn, "You would deny them that?"
"Well, if you put it that way…" Ichigo shrugs and revels in the quiet huff of rare laughter their banter conjures from Ishida. "Hey, I've been wanting to ask you something. If you have time, I was thinking we could—"
"Kurosaki! Hurry up and shower so you can go home," the captain yells near the locker rooms. "Rest up for the next match, you hear?
Rolling his eyes, Ichigo captures Ishida's wrist and heads for the locker room as ordered. Surprisingly, Ishida doesn't resist or complain. He doesn't demand an explanation and he doesn't snatch back his arm as soon as they walk into the small building. Ichigo glances back to note that he doesn't even look pissed. If anything, he seems vaguely curious about where this is leading.
Their time spent meeting up and chatting after the game has given most of his teammates time to clean up and clear out. Only a few boys remain, pulling clothes over damp heads and stuffing smelly gear into gym bags. Ichigo releases his grip and twists out his locker combination as he speaks, too low to be overheard.
"I was thinking we could go to that ramen place near your apartment and talk."
"Why can't we talk here?" Ishida muses, leaning nonchalantly against the locker beside his, hands clasped over the strap of his messenger bag. "Such pleasant scenery."
Ichigo starts to snicker, thinking it's said with sarcasm since Ishida is such a stickler for cleanliness and locker rooms aren't exactly known for their ambience. A glance at his relaxed face proves that theory wrong, however, as Ichigo follows his gaze to the toweled ass of a classmate.
"Hey! Don't do that."
"Do what?"
Ishida darts his eyes to Ichigo's before finding another guy to ogle. Playing innocent, eh? Gritting his teeth in irritation, he has to fight the serious urge to command them all to leave so Ishida has no one else to look at but Ichigo. His plan isn't going to work with them hanging around being distractions.
"It's like, rule-one of team etiquette: don't stare at each other while you change."
"Good thing I'm not on the team, then."
"Ishida," he all but growls. Then Ichigo notices the evil glint in his eye. "Are you messing with me again, you bastard!?"
"You're so easy, Kurosaki," he finally breaks character to crack a smirk. Ishida transfers his attention to Ichigo now, slowly looking him over from muddy sneakers to messy hair. "Weren't you supposed to be showering? You're filthy."
Ichigo's mouth goes dry. This is really unfair! Not only is his plan to get Ishida hot-and-bothered for him failing, but it's totally backfiring because now he's picturing Ishida in the shower with him and—
"Geez, Kurosaki, are you always this slow?" the captain interrupts for the third time. Ichigo breaks the dangerous link with Ishida to glare at the man with all his might. "Whoa! I mean, uh…take your time. I'll leave you to it. See you tomorrow."
With that, he scampers out the door with the last of his team, leaving the two of them alone. Ichigo swallows hard before turning back to Ishida, who is watching him with thinly-veiled amusement.
"Oh, look: now we're alone. What did you want to ask me?"
It's been over a week since he was alone with Ishida long enough to take a breath, much less have a discussion. Ichigo has wanted to understand why he's suddenly banned from spending quality time with the guy he's supposedly dating. All that frustration hits him now and he is fed up with the game.
"Are you afraid of me?"
That shocks most of the humor out of Ishida in one blow. He straightens and drops his hands from his bag, giving him a serious look. Ichigo frowns and kicks off his shoes, toes off his socks, before he answers.
"Of course not! Why would you even ask me that?"
"Don't misunderstand me, Ishida," he instructs in a low, firm voice. They're close enough that taking one step closer would have him practically pinning Ishida to the cold metal. The urge is strong. "I'm not talking about violence or sabotage. I'm not asking if you think I'd hurt you. I'm asking whether you're afraid to be alone with me because you think I'll jump you or something."
"No."
"Then why have you been avoiding me outside of school? Turning me down whenever I invite you to do something with me? Even just studying." Gesturing with his hands, Ichigo lets some of his stress show. "Are you really so worried about me keeping my hands off you even though I promised to go at whatever pace you set? It really ticks me off that you'd think—"
Ishida kisses him. Hard. Ichigo grunts a startled sound and returns it, fingers automatically reaching for him and getting tangled in his belt loops. It only takes thirty seconds before they're both so into it that they're panting into each other's mouths. Ishida shoves him against a locker with a dull clang and steps in between his feet to lean their bodies together, uncaring of the sweat and dirt on Ichigo's uniform. His hands snake under the jersey and drag roughly down both sides of his back. All the while driving Ichigo insane with the pressure of his lips, the roll of his tongue. The heat of his hips.
He pulls away as abruptly as he pushed in and Ichigo bites his lip to stifle a disappointed whimper. His eyes crack open to witness Ishida's still closed tight, brow furrowed and gasping through an open mouth. Cheeks red and hands shaking as he reluctantly lowers them to his sides. It looks like it takes everything he has to step back. When he finally looks at Ichigo, it is with the tortured eyes of someone denied a great prize. Although no one else is stopping him from claiming it but Ishida himself.
"I can't be alone with you, Kurosaki," he murmurs, voice strained, "Because I am afraid I won't be able to keep my hands off you."
Completely gob-smacked, Ichigo can do nothing but stare wide-eyed for a long moment. To think that he had it so backwards! All this time he was picturing Ishida as this shy, blushing virgin—although he's pretty sure that's impossible to begin with—while the reality is that he's hiding a slavering wolf behind the mask of a scared sheep. The thought that Ishida wants him enough to start trembling after one kiss kind of breaks his brain.
Ichigo can see how much Ishida is already aroused. Not only in the erratic jump of his pulse, the deep flush of his skin, or the obvious bulge of his erection, but also in the gleam of his eyes. A richer, glossier blue pinched at the corners by restraint. He thinks about how long Ishida must have been thinking of him like this based on the sheer number of stories he has written. Imagines the countless nights he must have spent twisting in his sheets for desire of Ichigo lodged in his mind.
Now here he is teasing Ishida with flirty banter and physical prowess. Preparing to change in front of him and demanding why Ishida refuses to spend time with him. He feels guilty. So guilty because if it was reversed, if Ichigo was the one haunted by fantasies for months or even years while having to face him every day, he would've gone crazy a long time ago. He always knew Ishida has too much patience for his own good.
In order to make it up to him, Ichigo decides he must be marginally naughty. He still doesn't get why Ishida won't act on his wishes but he doesn't care right now. The only thing he's interested in is taking that unpleasant tension out of Ishida's shoulders. Ichigo tugs his shirt over his head and notes Ishida's startled expression. He preempts the imminent question.
"You said I should shower, right? I might need a little help, Ishida," he attempts his sexiest voice. It seems to work. "I made a mess of myself because of you."
Mouth falling open a fraction, Ishida is at a temporary loss for words. Ichigo takes it a step further by dropping his shorts next, leaving him in just his black boxer-briefs. Those blue eyes fall to a new point of interest before darting back up to his. Ichigo watches his pupils dilate in real-time.
"Kurosaki," is all he manages to choke out.
It might as well have been a desperate 'please' for the effect it has on Ichigo. He grabs Ishida's shoulders and devours his waiting mouth, yanking at his clothes like he can save the boy's life if he gets him naked fast enough. It seems to take an eternity just to get his shirt undone and his pants open. Ishida doesn't resist any of it. Neither does he lend assistance as Ichigo fumbles at his belt buckle. When he has to break the kiss to snatch off Ishida's glasses and bag, the reason becomes clear: the wolf has given way to the sheep. Far from the sexual savant he seems to be, Ishida looks for all the world to be just as lost as Ichigo felt the first night they kissed.
"What's wrong?" Weakly, he shakes his head but keeps quiet. "Ishida, talk to me."
"It's nothing."
"Then why are you making that face?"
"What face?"
Once more taking Ishida's wrist, he leads the way towards the bathroom portion of the room to stand in front of a mirror. Ishida glances at his reflection and curses, turning his head down from it and Ichigo alike. Frowning at this, Ichigo guides him up by his chin.
"I never asked you to hold back. You don't have to worry about that sort of thing with me. Just do whatever you want, Ishida."
"Don't tell me that," he groans and pushes Ichigo's hands away. "You don't know what it means. You read my notebook, all those disgusting things I wrote about doing with you."
"Disgusting? There are a lot of words I would use to describe your stories, but that isn't one of them," Ichigo insists with cocked eyebrow. "There's nothing 'disgusting' about sex with you."
"Not even that one about you…licking my…" Ishida focuses on the tiled floor, unable to continue. Ichigo can't help thinking how attractive he looks with a fine flush spreading down his collar bone to his chest, clearly visible beneath his open shirt. "O-or that one where we're using that thing?"
"Nope. Not even those."
"Then the story where I'm…spanking you?" he almost whispers, hands pulling idly at the fabric of his shirt. "And the scene right after we've been fighting Hollows, covered in blood and sprawled in an alley—"
"Like I said, Ishida, it's impossible to disgust me. I think it's time for another 'lesson'," Ichigo overrides the next complaint to say. "And since I've more or less mastered kissing, it's time for something new."
"Who said you mastered it? And you realize there's not actually a curriculum for this sort of thing, right?"
"Don't pretend you haven't already planned out what I should learn next." Sensing Ishida's uncertainty lessening, Ichigo creeps back into his space just shy of touching him. "I bet you've thought as far as teaching me those 'disgusting' things you figured I'd never really try."
"Contrary to your perception, Kurosaki, I do have other things on my mind than you."
His words are bold but his body language is weakening by the second. It's amusing to note that Ishida still hasn't bothered to fix his gaping pants or shirt. Taking a calculated step back, Ishida is stopped by the counter behind him. He doesn't take his eyes off Ichigo even when he starts to shuffle to the side. Anything to increase the distance between them. Ichigo magnanimously allows this because it's not his intention to make Ishida feel trapped.
"Like exams, club duties, and upcoming university applications, yeah," he nods. These are some of the things they've discussed at lunch and between classes. "Of course those are all important for both of us. With that giant brain of yours, though, I'm sure you have plenty of room left to daydream. I'm happy to make some of those happen for you, Ishida."
"How generous," comes the deadpan response. "I thought I had made it clear that I have better things to do with my time than indulge your whims."
"That would be true if they were only my whims. Since they're yours, too, it's worth spending some time on." Verging on irritated—despite still being aroused—Ichigo sighs and breaks eye contact at last. He walks over to a stall to twist on the water. "But if that's how you really feel, I won't force you to stay. Either way, I do need a shower, so..."
Opening his mouth to retort, Ishida is instantly struck mute as Ichigo abruptly pushes down his underwear and steps under the spray. Whatever biting comment he had prepared transforms into a stricken gasp. Ishida's knuckles go white gripping the counter's edge behind him.
Somehow, Ichigo keeps a straight face. He goes about his shower like he normally would, grabbing some soap to lather up his hair and skin. Unfortunately, the hot water is doing nothing to deter his erection; if anything, it's encouraging.
When he opens his eyes a couple of minutes later, Ishida is standing in the same spot, watching Ichigo with an incredibly hot combination of indecision and outright lust. Bitten lip, half-lidded eyes, heaving chest, the whole nine. He wipes water from his face, pushing his sodden hair back, and strides over to make the decision for him.
"Don't tou—"
"Damn it, Ishida," he growls and grabs him roughly by the arms. Water soaks through and leaves handprints on his shirt. "You think you're the only one suffering here? Don't you see what you're doing to me?"
Ishida makes the fatal mistake of glancing at the sight in question. With a soft groan he goes pliant in Ichigo's grip, eyeing his cock with unmistakable hunger. Ichigo kisses him as if it really is a test; one he must pass to gain rights to the next course. Using every last trick and tactic he has gleaned from their handful of interactions, Ichigo does his very best to erase any lingering reservations Ishida may have on the subject.
"Kurosaki," he breaks free after a blissful handful of minutes. One look and he can tell Ishida has lost all higher brain functions. If that isn't a 'pass', what is? "You...We can't...Fuck!"
"I wasn't thinking we'd get that far all at once anyway," Ichigo breathlessly quips, pretending to misunderstand his stilted fragments. "Let's start with the basics."
Guessing he doesn't have long before Ishida recovers enough to catch up and start yelling, Ichigo races to get him naked and lead him over to the rushing water. His shaking hands don't want to cooperate but he makes it work. Not only that but he keeps getting distracted by the smooth skin he is uncovering.
Ichigo gets his shirt all the way off, his pants pushed down his ankles, and even bends down to tug off his shoes and socks for him. By the time he gets to Ishida's underwear, his mental reboot is apparently complete.
"K-Kurosaki, wait a second!" he cries, halting his wrists before Ichigo can remove the final article. "This is extremely unwise."
"Why?" Ishida doesn't have an answer for him. "If you tell me to stop, I will. Otherwise, tips are good."
And down goes the last barrier between them. Ichigo momentarily revels in the image of a fully-nude Ishida in the fully-aroused state he put him in. And continues to revel for a few seconds more. Now that he finally has Ishida ready to go, he's not sure what he wants to do. Too many things come to mind at once, too many ideas and desires Ichigo has no clue how to do properly.
Clever, clever Ishida figures it all out in an instant. Apparently committing to this rather than keep debating, a change comes over him. Desperation is traded for resolution and Ishida ditches the tension in his shoulders. He steps under the water, dampening his hair, and pushes it back to lie flat curving down the back of his neck. It opens his face in such a striking way that his eyes seem to double in size. Ichigo quickly decides he could so easily get lost in them, unguarded and focused as they are.
"Do you masturbate?"
"What!?"
"It's a simple question," he says with a raised eyebrow. "Do you touch yourself?"
"I...sometimes, yeah."
"Only sometimes?" Ishida's other eyebrow joins the first. "How often is sometimes?"
"I haven't exactly had a lot of spare time—"
"Not even in the bath?"
"I shower right before school. And I spent a while living with Rukia in my fucking closet so I couldn't exactly—"
"Yes, that would be rather inconvenient."
"Plus my sisters have no sense of privacy."
"Curious young minds, as they say."
"And my stupid dad has a habit of breaking the door in if I lock it."
"He seems the type, for sure."
"Hunting Hollows all hours of the night doesn't leave much time for sleep, much less anything extra."
"Poor Kurosaki," snorts Ishida. He lifts a hand to trail light fingertips down one side of his chest. "You work so hard, yet you're denied the simpler things."
"Do you want to do something here or just tease me about my sad life?"
It's supposed to convey annoyance but Ichigo gasps halfway through his question as one of those fingers slips over the ridge of a nipple. Ishida doesn't stop until he passes over stomach, hip, and the top of a thigh. A series of invisible trails set tingling in his wake.
"How do you do it?" As he speaks, Ishida draws closer, tracing more of those lines. The closer he leans, the quieter his voice gets. "Is it rough and fast, short and intense? Or do you take your time when you can, deep in a fantasy on a slow build? Which moves make you bite your lip to keep quiet?"
Ichigo opens his mouth not to reply but to start panting. Lips touch his neck as a hand grips at his waist. Ishida turns him to face the wall and hot water hits his chest to pour down his body. A combination of that heat and the pressure of Ishida's hand taking hold of him forces a hoarse cry.
Now he is catching on. Lesson two is: how to give a hand job. It takes him a minute to get onboard, too busy reigning in his orgasm before it escapes from the first few strokes. Ishida sidles right up to press against his back and he has to brace his arms against the cold wall to compensate for noodle-knees. The hot-smooth-solidity of him is a shock by itself. Add that to the unfairly erotic sensation of Ishida's hard-on fitting against his ass and...Ichigo can practically feel steam coming out of his ears.
The pace starts out slowly enough that he doesn't come, but it is a close thing. Ichigo focuses on regaining his breath so he can speak. He wants to answer Ishida's questions, ask some of his own, and make this last longer than he thinks it can. It takes all of his concentration to turn his next gasp into words rather than a groan.
"Fast and rough. I do it...fast and rough."
"Of course you do," Ishida murmurs against his ear, nipping it for emphasis. "That's the hasty Kurosaki I know. I do it just like this: I take my time because I live alone and I can do that."
"Lucky."
"That's where my stories come from: ideas summoned while making this steady climb to orgasm." Pausing to tease lightly at the head, Ishida licks along his neck in pace with his thumb's subtle motions. "I try to delay it a little longer each time. Guess my record?"
"T-thirty minutes?"
"Seventy-eight."
"Fuck!" Ichigo grunts, because if that number isn't impressive enough to shoot a bolt of lust into him, now Ishida is using his free hand to roll and rub at his nipples in turn. "I'm never...telling you...my record now."
"I think I could make a fair estimate, based on your reaction to this."
'This' being a light scrape of a blunt fingernail across the slit. Ichigo moans and arches against him, previously idle hands finding whatever part of Ishida he can grab. Which turns out to be the nape of his neck and one side of his ass. Ishida hums appreciatively for the friction but keeps his composure.
"So maybe I run sprints," Ichigo huffs after he catches his breath, "And not marathons."
"There are advantages to each method, certainly. Let me show you the prize of a marathon, Kurosaki." His response to that is another moan. Resuming a nice, measured meter, Ishida nibbles at his ear between murmured sentences. "I've gotten very good at predicting that penultimate moment. Right before I come, I'll pause."
"Nnnh," Ichigo whines as he demonstrates this technique.
"I have to wait a few seconds to pull back from the edge. Distract myself by taking deep breaths and trailing fingers across my chest, down my stomach. It's soothing, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
He isn't lying. Although the warm pressure of Ishida's immobile hand on his erection is as pleasant as it is close to agonizing, the almost ticklish trace of his fingertips is kind of relaxing. Ichigo does as suggested and breathes in deeply to let it ease back out. Ishida touches his lips to a pulse point and waits.
"When my heart rate starts to slow, as yours is now, I know I can continue. Pleasure is in the blood, after all." He starts up again with that same pace. Ishida touches and rubs, scratches and sucks, until Ichigo is once again tensing at the precipice a couple of minutes later. Once again he halts all actions. "Oh. Almost missed that one."
"Ishida," he groans as he drops his head to rest on the shoulder behind him. "You're not going to try and make me wait seventy-eight minutes, are you?"
"Of course not. A novice could never hope to match my record on the first try."
"Bastard."
Ichigo would laugh if he wasn't much nearer to tears. As it is, he's struggling to keep from shouting like some idiot in a bad porno. Snickering because he knows exactly what he's doing, Ishida turns his head to the side and kisses him lightly. Then he starts dueling Ichigo's tongue with a vengeance and it's all he can do to match it. When he pulls away, Ichigo frowns at the loss.
"I always reach a point where I know I can't put it off any longer. Oversensitive, aching, and insensible with desire, I take a steadying breath and begin the final wave."
The words hit home. Ichigo couldn't have phrased it more perfectly if he tried for years. Somehow he imagined the 'final wave' to be just as leisurely as the others, but Ishida reaches both arms down and triples his previous rhythm. Going rigid, Ichigo pulls him against his back and clenches his eyes shut. But then Ishida uses one of those hands to squeeze at the base of his cock while the other keeps up a brutal speed.
"Ah, gods, Ishida!" he moans high and plaintive. "I can't take it anymore!"
"Writhing on my bed, my breaths become light and stilted," he tells Ichigo with a voice pinched by this very phenomenon. It must have something to do with the fact that Ichigo is unthinkingly grinding back against Ishida's hips. "I hold it off just a few seconds more. Until I'm leaking all over myself. Making more of a mess than I should. And when I absolutely can't stand it anymore, I reach down and press...right...here."
The fingers halting his climax dart south to nudge firmly just behind his balls and Ichigo's vision doesn't just white out, it strobes through white, black, and every color in between. Ichigo knows he must be yelling but his hearing is momentarily muffled by a roar of rushing blood. Pleasure like nothing he has ever felt rips though him, an energetic beast.
By the time he has recovered enough to blink open his eyes, he discovers that he has slid to his knees with Ishida kneeling behind him to provide support. Warm water is still pouring steadfastly over them; he blearily blinks it out of his eyes. Shakily, he shifts to turn and face Ishida, who is watching him with one-part amusement and three-parts lust.
"That was..."
"I know."
"You're a fucking genius, Ishida."
The little quirk of a smile he flashes Ichigo makes him want to kiss the boy. So he does. He kisses Ishida so hard that they sprawl onto the flooded tiles in a tangle of scrabbling limbs. Ishida avidly moans into it, inky hair swirling in the tide. Then he pushes Ichigo back long enough to gasp out a rushed sentence.
"Show me your sprint, Kurosaki."
Grinning wildly, he happily grants the request. Rough hands close over Ishida and tug as if they're seconds from being caught in the act. As if right this minute is all they have and they have to make it count.
He answers Ishida's earlier questions by showing him how he does it, those few times he can get away with it. Tight fist, harsh strokes, heavy thumb over the top. Ishida bares his neck for him so beautifully that Ichigo must lean down to suck a red mark into it.
"I wondered what you'd look like," Ichigo says against damp skin. Ishida's short, percussive breaths convert into a litany of urgent moans as he is ruthlessly dragged towards his orgasm. "What sounds you'd make. How you'd move your body. Your expression now is better than anything I could ever dream up."
A curious glance below gives Ichigo another idea. Before he can think twice, he is dipping down and parting his lips.
"Wait—Kurosaki, don't," Ishida shocks him by declining what was obviously going to become a blow job. Expressing this confusion in his eyes, Ichigo stops his working hand in concern. "Not yet. Don't get ahead of yourself."
One of these days they are going to have a serious discussion about why Ishida feels he must take everything at a snail's pace. It's beginning to worry Ichigo how unsure he seems about all of this. As if going too fast could summon the apocalypse or something. For now, he really has no choice but to settle for a frown and a shallow sigh.
"Fine. But I'm going to do to your tongue what I was going to do to your dick."
Ishida's persistent flush loses some of its color as he pales at that. Before Ishida can complain, Ichigo carries out his threat while resuming his furious attentions with a tight fist.
A combination of this devastating kiss and prolonged foreplay soon bring even this impressive record-holder to his metaphorical knees. Ishida accidentally nips Ichigo's lip when it hits him, digging his nails into him where they grasp at his shoulders. He licks a drop of blood from the small nick and stares in awe as Ishida writhes as promised. The slinky length of him splashes in the shifting puddle beneath his rolling spine. Quiet but for quick gasps, Ishida barely lets slip wisps of would-be moans. Watching this erotic display brings a hot tingle to his spent groin and Ichigo swallows hard.
"Like I said," Ishida pants as he stills, eyes closed, "Both ways have their benefits."
Huffing a laugh in stunned agreement, Ichigo sits up and carefully pulls Ishida up beside him for a kiss. It is less enthusiastic than the ones they have exchanged so far, but there is even more fire behind it now. Just as Ichigo is wondering if they have enough hot water for round two, Ishida breaks away to stand.
"Where're you going?"
"Home. It's getting late."
"Wait," Ichigo says as Ishida grabs a towel and starts drying off. "I haven't said everything I wanted to talk with you about. Can we meet up later or—"
"I'm busy tonight." Whatever high he'd been riding after that miraculous orgasm dissipates at that. If Ishida is going to go right back to being stoic and cold after all this…As if sensing his thoughts, he turns to Ichigo while he buttons his pants. "Tomorrow. Meet me at the library after school?"
"Yeah."
Nodding too eagerly, Ichigo holds his breath as Ishida suddenly approaches him. He reaches past Ichigo's shoulder to twist off the water and hands him a fresh towel. Ichigo takes it with a grunt of thanks. Holding it idly, he watches Ishida quickly dress, not bothering with his damp hair steadily dripping into his shirt collar. He gives Ichigo a raised eyebrow for his inaction but keeps his comments to himself. Ichigo rips his eyes away at last and puts the towel to use.
Then, right before he turns to leave, Ishida walks right up to him and kisses Ichigo soundly. He curls warm fingers through spiky hair, drags them down the back of Ichigo's neck, and lets them fall away only as they curve over the short swell of his chest. Ishida pulls back and meets his eyes for three solid seconds before striding out the door.
A silly grin rises up to snap Ichigo out of his delirium.