Yes it's back! I pulled this one from the dead and breathed life into my pour story.
Warning: Violence, Language, Lemon
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Happy Reading! ~DanceOfSakura
Ichigo set at a table of his own, wine leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Around him people danced to a soft tango and intimate swaying, bodies pressed closed to share their moment of intimacy. The Montréal lived up to it's expertise of fine dining and exquisite food. Its atmosphere even spoke of high classed romance, for those who could afford it that is. Like the saying goes: love has a price, Ichigo almost raised his glass to that thought, a replay of bright explosions dancing in his guarded eyes.
'It was a fool's game,' he thinks trying to shake the image off again. 'They both just turned out to be the fool in the end.'
The image flashes again: A blazing heat of read and orange, the metal sizzling a good drop down towards earth, plummeting at speeds that shake the very ground work.
"You always had to win, didn't you 'Pachi?" Ichigo murmurs, a bitter laugh really.
"Don't write me off when the game's just startin' Ichi," a rough voice says, large hand grabbing Ichigo's wrist in a warm palm.
Said male smirked in amusement, staring down at the white table cloth. He looks up when his husband sits the bottle of wine; he used to refill his glass, on the table. It's a game of wills as they stare at each other over the short distance, making sure to keep track of the other's move. The tension mounts even when the waiter brings Kenpachi a bottle of Sake at his order. He takes a strong swallow before addressing the other male.
"When I expected to die, it wasn't in a blazin' glory of hot metal," he says casually, almost if the thought didn't even meet his standards.
"I thought it was fitting," Ichigo replies, the wine sloshing around his glass.
"After all the shit you pulled, I didn't expect you to be sentimental," Kenpachi grins. "Or maybe your just that much of a bitch."
"You proposed here so I think it sets the standards," scowl dominates the masculine yet feminine face.
"About us-"
"There is no us," Ichigo interrupts, leaning back in his chair.
"You're still mine Zaraki Ichigo," Kenpachi growls.
"Till death do us part Kenpachi," the fiery male fires back, his waist grabbed roughly when he moves to leave.
"Let's dance sweetheart."
It's a tense moment as the band starts up and they stand still, the swaying bodies moving around them. Kenachi pulls the lithe male close, one hand running up the black silken covered side. Ichigo's body jerks when his leg is hitched to other man's hip, calloused fingers running up the slit. His eyes lock with Kenpachi's when the older male grabs hold of the knife in its sheath and embeds it in a wall behind them.
"Enjoying your self?" Ichigo questions, tilting his head back when warm lips slide up his neck.
"Not yet," Kenpachi let's the short male push him back into a wall, mild interest showing on his face.
Ichigo slides his hands over the white shirt, the muscles clench under his palms. Their forms are pressed close, the tan hands running over the inside of the suit jacket. He drops down suddenly, feeling up the black clothed legs. Kenpachi winks at the couple close to them, reaching down and picking the other male up with ease.
"Satisfied?" he asks when their face to face again.
"Not nearly enough," Ichigo breathes, lips brushing against each other.
They stopped dancing and simply stared at the other, their partner and lover.
"Tell me, was this all a cover?" Kenpachi breaks the silence first, thumbs caressing the tapered waist.
"Was I?" his hand tangled in the black strands, admiring the feel.
"You answer first."
"On three?" Ichigo offers, arm tightening around the others neck.
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
Their on each other like fire, hands digging into tan skin and lips dominating the other. Kenpachi pulls them close together, one hand tugging on the orange locks, muffling the quiet moan. Ichigo rips himself away, blinking as the haze of pleasure clouds his mind. He turns tail and escapes the restroom.
'No where to go Ichigo,' Kenpachi thinks, tasting the sweet wine from Ichigo's lips.
He takes a step towards the stairs when a horde of women start to panic and run for the door. He ducks when the explosion rocks the building, sending the crowd hording towards the door.
'That's my boy,' the taller male grinning, his form looming over the panicked civilians his eye catches sight of the orange hair bobbing in the crowd.
Kenpachi follows after his running lover, pushing people out the way. He catches the hummer peeling down the street, disregarding the other cars on the road. He yanks a man from a black sedan, eyes set on home. A small ticking noise reaches his ear and he screeches to a stop, ripping the suit jacket off. He throws it out the window just as it blows mid-air, scrapes flying in the air. Kenpachi slams the car into gear again, fingers angrily dialing Ichigo's number.
"Hello?"
"Second time Ichigo."
"It was small 'Pachi," Ichigo chuckles easily at the others harden voiced.
"I'm ending this game," Kenpachi says. "See you at home."
"Race you there," the line goes dead, before he finishes the sentence.
Ichigo speeds through the traffic, his focus wavering to keep up the harden façade. His hand hovers over his cell before his fingers redial.
"What?" Kenpachi voice growls down the receiver.
"You asked if it was a cover…" Ichigo's voice wavers, hands clenching around the steering wheel.
"Was it?" a beat, then the other male continues. "Cause it didn't seem like it when you were moanin' like a bitch under me."
Ichigo swallows slowly around the rage that built up in his body before answering, "Well sometimes the mark can be a good fuck."
There's only the sound of screeching tires and honking horns as Kenpachi maneuvers through traffic. His voice is indifferent when he speaks. "Let the best man win, sweetheart."
Then the line goes dead.
They pull in at the same time, the hummer crashing into the sedan before screeching into the drive way. Kenpachi jumps the hedges and eyes the abandoned car; he slides under the window, catching a glimpse of Ichigo loading a gun. He runs to the garage and throws the door open, breaking a wall panel and assembles the pieces into a revolver. He shoots across the drive way and into the kitchen back door, sliding behind the white wood counter.
"Is that you 'Pachi?" Ichigo's voice rings down the hall.
Kenpachi sticks his head out a little to judge Ichigo's location and fly's back when bullets began to rain into the kitchen. He jumps up when the running foot falls get close and dives behind the refrigerator, the bullets bouncing off the steel finish. He takes off into the living room, firing as he jumped over the couch he aims for the chandelier in the front hall. It comes crashing down knocking Ichigo off his feet as he narrowly avoids the cutting glass. Ichigo lunges to his feet and skids into the living room, finding it empty. His gun skids across the floor when he's tackled from behind, bodies flipping over the coffee table.
Ichigo wraps his legs tight around the broad chest and his fist rain down on the scarred face. Kenpachi grins ferociously before flipping them and punches the ground as Ichigo slides from under him. He catches the leg aimed at his face and throws him into the wall where Ichigo rebounds off of and thrust them both back into the glass cabinet. He avoids the right hook and takes off into the kitchen where his gun glints from the floor. He narrowly misses it when a rough hand sends him flying into the dining room table, crashing it into the wall. He rolls when a fist strikes where his head was and stares up at Kenpachi who lunges and Ichigo swipes a chair up and hits the other male. The wood splits apart leaving the two standing, burned, scratched, and bloodied. It's over when one of Kenpachi's large hands pulls the smaller male close.
Ichigo wraps his arms around the straining neck and locks his legs around Kenpachi's waist, the strong hands gripping his thighs. Tongue and teeth clash, Ichigo bites at the split lip tasting copper faintly on his tongue. He grunts when Kenpachi pushes him into the wall, his wounds burning against the kitchen walls. His dress is yanked over his head, orange hair wild and tangled around a calloused hand. A low moan leaves the smaller male as Kenpachi attacks his neck, arching into the other mans hold. He tears open the white dress shirt and buttons clink across the tiled floor. Ichigo digs his nails into the muscular back, teeth nipping at the flushed ear. He feels the growl of approval as Kenpachi traces the lace of his thong, fingers gripping his ass as he moves them to the kitchen counter.
His hands fumble at Kenpachi's belt, biting harshly at one nipple in retaliation when the older male rips the lace. He flings he leather across the room, hearing it land against the bullet ridden fridge. Ichigo scrabbles for purchase when Kenpachi lifts his legs and dives between his cheeks, licking a long stripe across his entrance. His hips stutter up into the hot mouth, panting as the rough tongue slides in and out of his entrance. Ichigo cries out when fingers jab into him, stretching him open. He braces himself when he's pulled to the edge and Kenpachi is pushing in, rough, harsh and fast.
The rushed prep is not enough but just enough for him to take it without a tear. Their fucking is like their fighting as they claw and bite at each other, ensuring that they both leave marks. Ichigo had lolls back as his shoulder blades are bitten and overlapped with crescent marks. His nail drawl small rives of blood as he scratches the tan back. It's like the first night again, the room heavy with moans and slapping skin. Ichigo can't make a utter a sound as he topples over into pleasure and Kenpachi follows, buried deep into his heat.
"Your aim is shit," Kenpachi huffs out, head buried in the crook of Ichigos neck.
Hope you enjoyed! Until next time! ~DanceOfSakura
