Chapter 10 – Turnabout is … Fair Play?

The usual warnings and disclaimers apply. (No, I'm not getting lazy, just wanna post this!) XD

Once again, Ichigo awoke before the alarm clock had the chance to do the job for him, but only by about 15 minutes or so. He switched it off as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, raking his hair with one hand as he stretched. It was dark, of course, but the smell of coffee made him perk up and get up. Quick stop by the bathroom, then into the kitchen for his first cup of the "day". The little night light gave just enough light to pour and doctor up a cup, then he padded into the living room area to pull aside the drapes and blinds to look outside.

It was a calm night, appeared to be a slight breeze blowing if the trees were any indication. Ichigo could see the river from this living room window, a ribbon of black in the near distance. He lifted the cup of fragrant, hot coffee to his lips and drank. It was times like these that were meant for contemplation, reflection, goal-planning – all those things that Ichigo considered markers that distinguished humans from beasts.

The first thing he was going to do was delete the video Tots had sent. He didn't want to look at it anymore, analyzing it and wishing/hoping/fantasizing that he was in Renji's place. (Or in Grimmjow's place? Yikes.) So no more. He'd send a reply to Tatsuki, "Whoa" or "Hot damn!" or something like that, and then send it off to the cyberspace graveyard. He needed to keep his mind on the budding relationship he was entering into with Kuchiki-sensei, not jerking off to a scene he had no business fixating on. In fact … he turned away from the window, letting the black-out drape fall back into place, and went back into the bedroom, picking his phone up and out of the charger. Disciplining himself to keep from watching it again, he selected the video and deleted it before he could change his mind. This was the beginning of a new day in Ichigo's life, a new relationship was blossoming, and he needed to keep his priorities in order.

He walked back into the living room with his phone in hand. As he migrated back to the home screen, he caught sight of the date. In a few hours, at midnight, it would be September X. He stopped mid-step, staring at the screen. How timely. It was a reminder, he thought. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the death of one of Ichigo's beloveds. Hashimoto Hayato, 38-year-old salary man, father of two, divorcee, he'd been one of the "regular guys" you see on the train every day, going to work and getting the job done. But then, of course, Fate had intervened. It had been Springtime when it all started, Autumn when it ended, although two years had gone by in the interim.

Ichigo walked back to the couch, placed his phone on the coffee table, and retrieved the scrapbook from its cubby. He held it in his lap for a moment, stroking the leather cover, thinking about Hayato. Then he opened it and paged through it to Hayato's picture. There he was, in suit and tie, those narrow glasses on his face, a bright smile that reached his eyes, his pale skin a study in contrast to his black hair and dark brown eyes. This was the picture that had been alongside his obituary, of course, taped carefully in place the day after Hayato's funeral. What a horrible day that had been. "Hello, Hayato," Ichigo whispered, touching the photo with one finger. "It's tomorrow, isn't it." He took a deep, shuddering breath and fell into memory.

Hashimoto Hayato had graduated from university and gone into his father's marketing and advertising business. Although he would not inherit (that would be the older son, Daisuke, a pernicious prick that Ichigo still fiercely hated for his ill treatment and involvement in the death of his younger brother), his father took him into the business and put him on the fast track to at least a VP position within the huge organization. Hayato had married two years after he entered the business, to a young lady chosen by his family, and they'd had two children that Hayato had absolutely adored.

But there had been problems in the relationship from the start. Neither had loved the other, and on Hayato's part the growing of a love relationship with his wife was just not in the cards. Hayato was gay, had had several lovers during his college days, and had fought the feelings for years once he had done his familial duty and was married. He'd never been unfaithful to his wife, not in all the years they were married. But suppressing oneself was hard to do – it eroded Hayato's sense of self and caused him incredible unhappiness even as he reveled in being a father. Finally, after all the years of unhappy cohabitation with his wife, Midori, he had come out to her. Apparently the scene was dramatic and tragic, resulting in Hayato being thrown out of their home – and then the rest of the two families had been brought into the picture.

Enter Daisuke, Hayato's older brother and the future shacho of the family business. Straight-laced, firm and unbending in his moral code, he wanted their father to disown Hayato and eject him from the business and the family. This did not happen, much to Daisuke's anger and dismay. Still in the shadow of his father, he made Hayato's life a torment, treating him with scorn and derision unless it benefitted the company for him to pretend otherwise.

But Hayato had a love of life that was bigger than his older brother. He didn't become a 'flamer', but he refused to pretend to be straight when that was obviously /not/ what he was. He had a couple minor relationships, but none that went past a few dates … none that seemed destined to deepen into the life-partnership kind of love that he wanted. Midori didn't hamper his relationship with the children, even though Daisuke tried to alienate Hayato from the entire family, and his life was happier than it had been since his college days … although, something was still missing. A big something. And Hayato-san was beginning to feel the stirrings of despair.

April X, 200X. While waiting for the train that would take him to work, Hayato was falsely accused of feeling up a teenager who was standing near him on the platform. An argument ensued, wherein the teenager (who had actually been attracted to Hayato and was considering hitting on him) tried to save face and turn the attention of the bystanders away from himself. A fight had broken out, accompanied by pushing and shoving – and Hayato had been too close to the edge of the platform when the train entered the station. He'd been clipped by the slowing train, and had thus ended up in Karakura General.

Eventually, he'd ended up in Ichigo's care. Although he'd been seriously injured by the train and was quite a bit older than Ichigo – none of that mattered. He'd cared for the man for 3 months and he'd loved him. When Ichigo had arrived for work the night of the day Hayato woke up, he'd been overjoyed to see the man turn his head and smile. Of course, the next day he'd been moved out of the Coma Care Center, but Ichigo had gone to see him – and a friendship was born. He remembered the memorable day that the friendship had blossomed into something deeper – at least from Hayato's point of view. Ichigo had already fallen for the man while caring for him. It was practically inevitable.

Ichigo had gone over to Hayato's apartment in the afternoon, two movies in the pocket of his hoodie, in order to have a few beers and watch movies. They had spoken about going out later on to Shinjuki Ni-Chome, hit a couple gay bars and see what's what, maybe spend the weekend in Tokyo. With one of the movies playing on ignored in the background, Ichigo had found himself in the role of counselor as Hayato almost-tearfully told about the way Daisuke had treated him at work earlier that day, ridiculing him stridently in the men's room. To see the older man struggling to control himself had awakened all Ichigo's old protective feelings, and he'd taken the man in his arms, patting his back consolingly, murmuring endearments and words of encouragement.

Hayato had pulled away a bit, wiping his face and chuckling weakly. "Poor Ichigo-kun, stuck on a Friday with an old man like me … you should be out with your friends, having a good time and meeting someone who is right for you."

Ichigo held on, smiling tenderly into the older man's face. "I like older guys," he said, using one hand to wipe a tear from his beloved's cheek. "Don't worry about me, I'm happy being here."

"Ha-ha," Hayato had replied, cheeks reddening a bit. "I'm an old man, Ichigo-kun, compared to you. You … you're beautiful, you know. And it shows the beauty of your soul that you take up your time with someone like me." He was abashed, embarrassed, and feeling raw from Daisuke's treatment.

"What do you mean 'someone like you'? You're a good-looking man, Hayato-san … anyone can see that. What does it matter that you're ten years older than me?"

"Fourteen."

"Ten, fourteen, whatever. You don't understand how attractive you are." Ichigo nodded firmly when he said this, bumped his forehead against Hayato's cheek, and gave him a one-armed squeeze. That's when he'd noticed the bulge in his beloved's pants and looked up to see hot spots of color in his cheeks as he kept his eyes lowered. Ahh, he thought. Hayato is an older uke, no wonder he's having trouble hooking up and is feeling despair. It wasn't easy to find a younger guy that wanted to take on an older uke. But if there was one willing man for the job – it was Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Hey," he said, placing a finger under Hayato's chin. "Look at me, please, Hayato-san," he said gently. The older man looked up. Ichigo took off his glasses. "You are amazing, Hayato-san. Attractive, handsome … do not despair, okay? Good things come to those who wait." He smiled at Hayato, put a hand on his cheek, and leaned in to kiss his lips.

Hayato straightened up in shock, his eyes opening wide. He pulled back, put a hand to his mouth. "I-Ichigo-kun … w-what … what are you doing?" His face had blanched … now it bloomed with a rosy blush.

"Kissing you, Hayato-san," Ichigo had said, in order to let Hayato know that it hadn't been a mistake or something done on impulse. "I would like to do it again."

"I … I …" Hayato stopped, his hand still to his mouth. "Are … you feeling sorry for me?" Tears glistened in his eyes.

"Never. In all the feelings I have for you, Hayato-san, 'sorry' is nowhere in sight."

"Feelings? For me?" He looked up into Ichigo's eyes, then dropped his gaze again.

"Of course. You don't remember, but I have been telling you how I felt about you for months."

"While … while I was sleeping."

"Yes, Hayato-san." Ichigo tilted his head up again with a finger under the chin. "I would like to kiss you again. Is that all right?"

An almost-unnoticeable nod of the head was all the answer he received, but it was all he needed. They hadn't gone to Ni-Chome, hadn't gone to Tokyo at all, hadn't left Hayato-san's apartment even, the whole weekend. But they hadn't "done it" either … Ichigo read the signs: Hayato's crushed ego and self-esteem needed boosting before anything further could happen. So they'd kissed and cuddled and slept in each other's arms, shared cooking their meals, held hands while they watched TV, Ichigo had fallen asleep with his head in Hayato's lap, his fingers combing through the unruly orange spikes. It was what Hayato had needed, more than sexual release – he'd needed to know that he was lovable. He'd needed tenderness and loving caresses. The older man needed to be wooed.

The next weekend was similar … although they spent it at Ichigo's apartment and did venture out at different times. But the weekend after that was another story. Still reading the signs, Ichigo perceived that Hayato had begun to wonder if Ichigo was really attracted to him physically, or if he was merely catering to the emotional needs of an aged former patient. So Ichigo cleared up the mystery for him. Definitively.

"Hayato-san," he'd breathed while they kissed, "I want you. Please say you feel the same way." His voice was raw and slightly rough.

The panting older man was practically beside himself with desire, but his inhibitions reared their ugly heads once again. "I … I'm too old for you, Ichigo-kun … you don't have to … pretend—"

Ichigo took his hand and placed it on his (Ichigo's) crotch. "What part of this is pretense, Hayato-san?" he asked as he held the older man's hand there. Ichigo's dick throbbed against Hayato's palm, who gasped and shuddered lightly with the sensation.

"I-Ichigo-kun," he'd moaned, and Ichigo hadn't needed to be a mind-reader to know what to do next. Taking on the role of seme wasn't his first choice maybe, but he didn't mind it and had enjoyed Hayato-san's reactions. In fact, the sex had been amazing. That weekend, Hayato had blossomed … the boost in self-confidence had brought out his natural good humor and sweetness, his maturity had a tinge of innocence to it that was very attractive.

He met someone through work … an artist, 26 years old, who was tall and bold and handsome. His interest in Hayato-san was immediate and he left no doubt as to what he wanted. Hayato was understandably flattered … and something more. Ichigo encouraged him to see the man, saying that he had no ties or chains on him – that was not how things worked. So Ichigo became friends with the artist – Takano Yoshi – and gradually handed over the older man to him. It was done so skillfully and tenderly that Hayato-san didn't feel as though he'd broken Ichigo's heart … or that he'd been given away because Ichigo was tired of him, nothing of the kind. Hayato and Yoshi were on the fast track to a loving long-term relationship, aided and watched over by their good friend Ichigo, when tragedy struck.

Ichigo had to hear about it on the news. Murder most foul on a cool September evening. Hayato and Yoshi were both shot and killed outside Yoshi's penthouse, gunned down in what looked like a hit, yakuza-style. It was only after months that the story came out in its entirety – that Daisuke had been behind the whole thing, murder bought and paid for by a jealous bitter older brother. He'd been sent to prison and his family had almost not weathered the scandal in one piece. Things were better now, Ichigo knew, and the company – although smaller – was still in business. Hayato's son and daughter both worked for the family. In the public, the murder was mostly forgotten.

But not by Ichigo. Not for one day.

Hayato-san, he thought. I love you. I miss you. Every day. Are you happy with Yoshi in your afterlife? Tell him I said hello. He'd go and visit the grave in the morning, after work. Ichigo thought about Daisuke, in prison for life, and was glad. I'm sorry, beloved, he thought to Hayato-san, I'm sorry that I still hate your brother, even though you are beyond such things as hatred. I'll never forgive him for taking the both of you away. He looked at the sweetly handsome face, stroked it again with one finger, and then closed the scrapbook. Ichigo sighed, rubbing his eyes. It would be a long day. He'd best get ready for work and get started on it.

XXX

The day started off quite differently for two men who had spent a rough raucous night in Szayel's house. Ichigo had long been at work and had left again before Renji woke up. He awakened first, stretching carefully and wincing when pain shot through his lower back. Yeah, it had been that kind of night! Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a prodigious lover, insatiable and skilled – he'd hit just the right tone for what Renji wanted and needed: a rough-and-tumble night with someone who'd knock down his defenses and take advantage, sail through his limits and drain Renji dry. Which he did, all of the above.

Renji grinned as he recalled getting fucked in the shower, bent over to hang onto the door's hand rail, Grimmjow standing behind him, hands gripping Renji's hips tightly, their flesh smacking wetly as he drove it home. Grimm's growling voice had echoed in the shower stall, issuing commands and compliments in the same salacious tone. He'd grabbed Renji's hair and held onto it, pulling Renji's head back and arching his back – so that he could hit a bruised and battered prostate gland over and over again. It had been … totally fucking amazing. Then they'd fallen into bed and into an exhausted but satisfied sleep.

Renji sighed with a satiated smile, then gently pulled back the covers, careful to not disturb the sleeping man beside him. It was time to go.

…

Now when Grimmjow woke up, he also stretched. And yawned, his jaw cracking. He rubbed his stomach and slitted one eye open to look beside him. An empty side of the bed met his gaze. He frowned and looked at the alarm clock. It was only 10 a.m. – Renji worked the afternoon shift so he wouldn't have really needed to leave so early, he wasn't due at the hospital until 3 p.m.

When he sat up and rubbed a rough hand through his hair, Grimmjow had already come to the realization that he didn't really have any reason to get ticked off or even concerned. The night with Renji Abari had every indication of being a one-night-stand, and actually? That was all right with Grimm. The redhead was a good-looking motherfucker, but he wasn't really what Grimmjow would call his 'type'. Renji's submissiveness had been something he'd 'put on' for the evening, and although that was just fine (Grimmjow couldn't have cared less what the man's inner motivations were as long as he got to get his rocks off seme-style) he still couldn't help but think of Ichigo. Ichigo, whose submissiveness came out despite himself. Grimmjow felt a hot slippery feeling deep in his groin when he remembered being at the park with the younger man. Uh-huh. It didn't matter how many Renjis entered the picture, there was only one Ichigo.

Grimm got up and stretched again, his long muscular body all planes and angles in the slanted light peeking in through the slit in Szayel's drapes. Nude, he ambled to the kitchen to start some coffee, then went back into the bedroom, stripped the bed and threw the linens into the washing machine, then hit the bathroom. After a quick shower, he shook the water from his hair, toweled dry, and walked – naked once again – back into the kitchen to get a cup of fresh hot coffee.

He drank it black, sighing with pleasure when the bold taste bit into his tongue. Good stuff. He walked through the living room to the foyer and cracked open the door, warily retrieved the newspaper, then shut and locked the door behind him. It was then that he noticed a note laying on the table in the foyer. "Thanks for the … hospitality – R." with a funny little crooked heart kind of thing after his name. Grimmjow snorted, but he was smiling when he went out the patio doors to sit next to the pool (fully fenced, thank you very much) and read the morning's paper.

XXX

When Ichigo got off shift and reported to Chad, he was very excited about Shinji's condition. The young man gave every indication that he would be waking soon. In fact, Kuchiki-sensei had ordered that Shin be taken off the respirator – he hadn't needed the assist from the machine at all since the first day when he'd fought the vent. Now Shinji still had the trach, but it was no longer hooked up to the respirator. If this continued, soon they'd be discussing reversing his tracheostomy! And that, folks, would be absolutely awesome.

He got to the locker room in time to see Kuchiki-sensei – Byakuya, he told himself – changing into street clothes. The man would have office hours today in the afternoon, but this morning he was free now that he'd finished his rounds. Ichigo's face lit up as he smiled at the older man. Sensei eyed the oranget and let the corner of his mouth quirk upwards a bit as he nodded. They were not alone in the locker room, though, so Ichigo went to his locker and opened it, took out his street clothes, and began to change.

Since he was planning on visiting Hayato's grave this morning, he was dressing up a bit. It wasn't respectful to his beloved to show up in shorts or torn jeans. He had a pair of dark blue dress pants, a pale blue dress shirt, and black ankle boots with a matching belt. He was threading the belt through the loops when the night-shift respiratory therapist left and he and Sens—Byakuya were alone.

"You look nice, Ichigo-kun," Byakuya said softly. "Big day today?"

What could he tell him. Might as well make it the truth but not the whole truth. "I go today to visit a grave … someone I used to be very close to." Still am, but that's not for telling.

"I see. Anyone I might have known?" Byakuya was slipping his shirt on, his chest muscles rippling as he raised his arms and slid into the sleeves.

"Yes, I think so. Do you remember Hashimoto Hayato? He was a patient here –"

"Yes, of course," Byakuya murmured. He was buttoning up the shirt. "He awakened. And then …."

"Yes."

"Ah." Byakuya tucked his shirt into his pants and picked up his wallet, sliding it into a back pocket. "You knew Hashimoto-san? Outside of the hospital, I mean."

"He … he was my patient," Ichigo said, shutting his locker door and turning back around to face Byakuya over the low bench seat between them. "And then after he woke up, we became friends."

"An older man, as I recall," Byakuya said, slipping into his suit jacket, shooting the cuffs. Then he, too, stood still and looked at Ichigo.

"Yes," Ichigo said, feeling his traitorous cheeks begin to redden. "He was only 38 when he … died." He bent over to pick up his bento box off the bench, hoping his blush would die quickly.

"I remember." Byakuya bent over too, picking up his briefcase. "May I ask you, Ichigo-kun … do you visit the graves of all your patients?" He was looking curiously at Ichigo, his head cocked to one side, but still held high in an imperious manner.

Here we go. "Yes. Yes, I do," Ichigo replied, holding his own head high, chin out defensively. His mouth opened and the words poured out. "They were my patients … I cared for them … even though some of them never spoke a word to me, I knew them well. I … it's hard to explain, Sensei." Ichigo cut himself off before he started saying things that the doctor probably would not understand.

"I see," Byakuya said. His gaze was pensive.

Ichigo wanted to be held. He wanted to kiss that tall man's beautiful mouth, to feel his arms come around him tightly. But Sensei appeared so aloof … he couldn't make himself step forward and make a move, for fear he'd be rejected or at the very least, deflected. Instead, he looked at the black-haired man, clutching his wrapped bento box in both fists, cheeks flaming.

Byakuya came to him. The next thing Ichigo knew, his lips were being coaxed open by a warm wet tongue. He returned the kiss gratefully, needing the close contact, the caring implied by the shared intimacy of a kiss. Sensei's arms came around him, pulling him close – in order to rub his hardness against Ichigo's crotch. "I want you, Ichigo-kun," he whispered, then kissed him again, longer and more desirous.

Ichigo wanted Byakuya, too … but his emotions were all tangled up on this day, and he could have just used some comfort instead of a sexual come-on. It was slightly disappointing that Byakuya could not sense that … but that wasn't fair, really. On top of the disappointment, he was feeling scandalized about Hayato-san's day turning into a sex romp. He couldn't let that happen.

So he kissed the older man back, but held back his ardor and kept his responses cool. He kept his head even when Byakuya moaned his name and began dry-fucking him through their clothes. It was only the noisy arrival of last night's orderlies that had them springing apart like a couple of guilty kids, each one suddenly very interested in their prospective briefcase/bento box. The orderlies were only stopping off to grab the car keys that the carpool driver had forgotten in his locker, and when they left again it was a different atmosphere in the locker room.

"I sense that my … advances are slightly unwelcome today," Byakuya said softly, never one to beat around the bush in any situation.

"N-no," Ichigo said, slightly horrified. "Sensei, I … I'm sorry, I'm just a little distracted today. I'm sorry." He snapped his mouth shut before he began apologizing too much, like a pathetic broken record. The last thing Ichigo wanted was to alienate Sensei - dammit BYAKUYA … but his hands were tied. Today was Hayato-san's day.

"You are making a cemetery visit," Byakuya said smoothly. "I understand that you may not feel very … amorous. I apologize for intruding into your grief." Now he sounded slightly affronted. His face was stony, his eyes a bit cold when he looked down into Ichigo's, although the tone of his words was conciliatory.

"Sensei, I'm very sorry. And I certainly don't mean to make you think that I don't want you. I do. But today … as you said, it's a solemn day for me. Please forgive me if I have made you feel uncomfortable in any way," Ichigo said seriously as he bowed. "It was not my intention. I apologize."

A hand patted him softly on the head. "Ichigo-kun," Byakuya began, "we have much to learn about each other. It will take time. I will try to remain patient and will work on becoming more … understanding." When Ichigo raised his head, Byakuya leaned forward and kissed him again, but this time it was sweet and calm, not the sensual onslaught of the first one.

Ichigo's heart melted as he returned the kiss. This would work. It would.

Byakuya's hand patted his cheek softly. "If you find yourself with free time today, chibi-tan, do not hesitate to contact me. Office hours end at 5. I would very much appreciate the opportunity to make it up to you, and perhaps … to make you feel better." His hand caressed and stroked Ichigo's cheek, then slid down his neck and rested on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Sensei," Ichigo said, relief saturating his voice. "I will do so if I can. Thank you." He lifted his face and received another soft kiss in return.

"Good. And you do not need to thank me. I will be thinking about you today. I hope you will do me the honor of doing the same." Byakuya was holding himself back. Now that he'd re-experienced what he called 'the strength and fire of a man', he wanted to immerse himself in it. He'd been spoiled all his life and was used to getting what he wanted with a minimum of fuss and energy on his part … so it rankled that a dead man was coming between him and what he wanted. He wanted Ichigo to want him just as badly, more actually. Being 'turned down' was not something that Byakuya ever suspected would happen this morning … if at all.

The over-confident Kuchiki-sensei had even already booked a hotel room for himself and Ichigo. So now, yes … he was slightly ticked off that his plans were being curtailed – cancelled? – by a dead man. Was this for real? He endeavored not to show any of this to Ichigo, and for the most part, he was successful. But his pride had taken a hit, however slight, and so perhaps his actions when he left the locker room could be excused if one took all this into consideration.

Or, perhaps not.

XXX

Ichigo knelt in front of the small shrine, clapped his hands together, then placed them palms-together to pray. His eyes were closed, his back straight. The incense he'd lit softly scented the area around the grave, and the white calla lilies glowed, fleshy and fresh, where he'd laid them down on the small altar.

The mausoleum was grand, befitting the Hashimoto family's name, their esteem in the community (and in the country) for many generations. Hayato-san's grave wasn't the newest, but it was certainly close. His picture was long since gone, removed by either Hayato's wife or perhaps his children. But Ichigo felt his presence … and Yoshi's, too … as he knelt there and spoke to his beloved.

He didn't dwell on the accident or Hayato-san's murder … instead he relived the times they'd had together, the laughter and the fun, moments of shared life that becomes the history that binds two people together. The time that Ichigo had attempted to make curry and caught the stove on fire – something that could have turned tragic but instead had been like something out of the 3 Stooges. The time that he, Hayato-san, and Yoshi had gone skiing and had instead spent the whole time drinking and telling stories in front of the huge fireplace at the resort. The time Ichigo had burst in on Hayato-san and Yoshi in flagrante delicto … and instead of freaking out Yoshi had tried to get Ichigo to join in … but they'd all ended up laughing so hard as they tried to work out the logistics that they'd gone out for ramen instead.

He spent two hours there on his knees, talking to his beloved. Near the end of the visit, the tears couldn't be held back. He'd been thinking about the last time he'd seen Hayato-san, they'd had coffee together and did a crossword puzzle. Ichigo had sat between Hayato-san's legs, on the floor, and the older man had played with his hair while Ichigo filled in the puzzle. It had been low-key, non-demanding … not much had happened, but the scene was filled with such gentle happiness that it seemed to define Ichigo's relationship with the older man. Gentle happiness. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I miss you, Hayato-san," he said again. "I miss you so much." He leaned forward, placed his hands palm-down on the marble flooring, and bowed until his forehead touched the ground. He stayed that way for a while, reaffirming his ever-lasting love to one of his beloveds.

When he got up to leave, his joints were stiff. His knees would have red marks from kneeling for hours afterward. He caught the train back to south Karakura, his gaze distant and his manner discouraging small talk. He arrived home at about 11 a.m., took a shower, and fell into bed. After saying goodnight to his beloveds, he was asleep in moments.

XXX

"Good morning, Sensei," Luppi said as he gazed up at masculine perfection. Byakuya Kuchiki was riding down to the parking garage in the elevator with him. A visual bonus for sure. He smiled his sweetest, cutest smile as he looked up at the sexy doctor.

"Atenor-san," Byakuya said, his ticked-offedness coming out as extra coolness. He was still smarting from his encounter with Ichigo in the locker room. No, it wasn't a huge hit to his ego, that would be silly … but still. He wasn't happy.

"It's going to be a beautiful day, I think, Kuchiki-sama," Luppi said. He was a smart-ass little guy, but he was also a smart little guy. And as has been previously disclosed – Luppi was cute. You had to admit it: he was small and slight, but still sexy in a young teenaged-boy way, with a pretty face and violet-blue eyes. There were many many men who liked that look. Luppi was hoping that today, Byakuya was one of them!

"Do you?" Byakuya replied, already tired of the conversation. He just wanted to get home and forget about the morning. Oh, and he had to call and cancel that reservation at the hotel. Or should he? Perhaps Ichigo would want to spend the evening later, and Byakuya could spend the night after Ichigo left for work? Hmm. He was considering it when, out of nowhere, Luppi Atenor was standing right in front of him.

"Did you hear me, Sensei?" Luppi was saying, his little face concerned as he gazed up into Byakuya's eyes.

Byakuya looked down into wide blue eyes, noting that Luppi had a facial tattoo that was really quite exquisite when you took in his whole heart-shaped little face. Adoration. That was what was shining in the almost-purple eyes staring up at him. "Sensei?" he whispered, putting a hand on Byakuya's arm, the small fingers a distinct contradiction to Byakuya's muscled forearm in the dark blue pinstriped suit jacket. "Are you all right, Kuchiki-sama?"

Sama. The honorific spoke volumes. Byakuya looked down and did not move back away from Luppi. "I am well, Atenor-kun. Yourself?"

I could be better, Luppi thought, but out loud he said, sweetly (and I really mean sweetly, not fake sugary sweetness, really and truly sweetly) "Oh, I'm sorry, Sensei … you seemed a little distracted or something … I was concerned." He was still standing close, looking up.

Byakuya heard the ding of the elevator bell as the doors opened into the parking garage. "We're here," he said unnecessarily, and for some reason, he motioned for Luppi to precede him. "But Atenor-kun, why are you here? This is not your shift, surely."

Which had Luppi giggling internally. Perfect. He knows things about me, that means there's interest. He walked out, looking over his shoulder at Sensei, saying carefully, "I had to come in to do some paperwork, Kuchiki-sama," but then he stopped – and stopped walking abruptly, too, putting a hand to his forehead.

Delicate fingers. Delicate slender wrist. Girlish but definitely male. Byakuya saw all this even as he said, "Atenor-kun? Are you all right?"

"I … I feel faint … or I don't know …" Luppi said, acting for all he was worth. "S-Sensei? I don't feel so good." He swayed on his feet, rejoicing inside when he felt two strong arms come around him from behind.

"Atenor-kun?" Byakuya knelt down on one knee, still holding Luppi firmly, and sat Luppi on his thigh. "Atenor-kun, can you hear me?" He looked up to see if anyone was around to help, but there was no-one. Day shift had come in, night shift had gone home.

"Sensei?" The little voice pulled his attention back to the vision of cuteness that looked up at him. Eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted to show pearly teeth, leaning back against Byakuya's arm weakly. A delicate pink tongue came out to lightly lick the full bottom lip. Byakuya's attention was caught and held. "Sensei …."

"I'm right here," Byakuya murmured, his abdominal muscles clenching as his cock stirred in his pants. When the small brunet slid both arms around Byakuya's waist and pressed his hot little face to Byakuya's chest, blood roared into his penis, and he knew Atenor-kun had to feel it, he had to, his hip was pressed right up against it. "Are—" his voice was raspy, so he cleared his throat, "are you feeling better now, Atenor-kun?"

"I think so," he said, his voice muffled as he still had his face pressed against that muscular chest, and Byakuya could feel those lips moving against him when he spoke. He shuddered in response. Luppi raised his head again and looked up into Byakuya's face. He said, "Sensei … I want … I … I want ..." and sighed, eyelashes fluttering slightly as his eyes half-closed, moist lips parted and ready.

…

Any red-blooded seme would have done the same thing, Byakuya told himself later. Especially one who'd just been coldly turned down by his new 'lover'. Well, maybe 'coldly' was putting it too harshly, but the turning down part was irrefutable. He'd leaned down and kissed those little lips and they'd responded, warmly and instantly. That's how they'd ended up in Byakuya's car for an hour, first while Luppi Atenor had given him an extremely skilled blowjob … and then while he'd sat on Byakuya's lap, facing him, pants off, shirt unbuttoned, reveling in sensation as he rode Byakuya's dick.

Sure they could have been caught. But they weren't. It had been exciting as all hell, getting a blowjob while he sat there, keeping an eye on the parking garage for anyone who might come near. It felt like he'd come buckets as the little brunet lapped it all up, cooing and giggling in delight. He was cute as could be, that was for damn sure. How had he not noticed it all this time? To excuse himself he reminded himself that he'd been repressing his inner nature for a very long time.

Then the little scamp had slid sexily onto his lap, kissing him, offering his nipples for play, his small but well-formed and hard-as-a-rock dick poking straight out from his crotch. He was hairless, which reinforced the youthful package he presented. But he was by no means virginal or unskilled. He'd sat down on Byakuya's cock and taken it all in, and Byakuya had watched for as long as he could, still with that exciting feeling of 'we could get caught!', until he'd fired off inside the young man, groaning with pleasure and thrusting upward into him.

Luppi Atenor had come, too, oh you damn skippy he did. He'd been wanting a onesie with Byakuya Kuchiki for a long LONG time, and now here it was. He didn't know what had changed to make it possible, but he wasn't going to question it. Sah-weet! Afterwards, he'd cleaned up the big handsome sensei and put his clothes back on, with lots of kisses and giggles and shy touches (might as well leave the door open for future trysts, eh?) and then practically danced his way to his own car. Awesome!

…

Byakuya Kuchiki drove home, feeling much better about himself and his entire situation. He took a shower and changed, had lunch with Rukia, and then went in and saw patients at his office. Afterward, he took the office staff out for supper and drinks, demurring when they suggested an after-party that included karaoke, and was driven home by his driver. He arrived at approximately 9 p.m., did some paperwork and progress notes on the patients he'd seen that day, and had a late snack. Not once did he consider Ichigo … how his day had gone, how the oranget might be feeling now after going to commune with the dead, or that he should feel guilty about what he'd done with Luppi-kun. In fact, when he took another shower before going to bed, he'd cranked one off in the hot spray, thinking of that lithe little body in his lap that morning.

When he laid down to sleep, Ichigo did cross his mind, but he pushed the thoughts away before they could even turn into something disparaging. He refused to feel guilt about something so minor. Something that, if you thought about it, Kurosaki had almost caused – by refusing Byakuya's advances, no matter the reason. And had the orange-haired man called today to accept Byakuya's offer of comfort and care? No. So Byakuya Kuchiki went to sleep feeling just fine, thank you very much. Sated, righteous, pride back in place, and just fine.

XXX

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques wasn't feeling all that fine. He had read the paper, got dressed, cleaned house, went shopping, and then went to see Szayel. No change. Not one fucking bit. He was getting distressed, no matter what Renji or Ichigo said, that it could take time to get Zay's hormones back in order, that his coma was more than likely temporary, that his brother wasn't suffering and would be just fine. He was going to have it out with that Kuchiki prick in the morning when the man came in for rounds. He wanted some definitive answers.

He was sitting on the couch when Ichigo came through the door to start his shift. Grimmjow stood up, ready to do battle … but then he caught sight of Ichigo's face. The guy's eyes were red and his lids were a little swollen-looking. Like he had one vicious cold or … had been crying? "Ichigo?" he asked gently as he approached him, one hand out unconsciously. "Are you okay?"

Ichigo looked up into blue-blue eyes and straightened his shoulders. "Yeah. I'm okay. Thanks, Jaegerjaques-san," he said, subdued.

"I don't think so," Grimmjow said, his deep voice still soft. "C'mere, siddown, I gotcha a coffee not a half-hour ago 'cause I knew you were comin' in. It's just how ya like it." He caught Ichigo's hand and pulled him toward the couch. "C'mon, the guys are okay, Renji took good care of 'em today."

Renji. Calling Renji by his first name. Ichigo squashed a sharp painful feeling in his gut and accepted the coffee. He took a taste to gauge the temperature, then took a larger swallow. It was good. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem." Grimm looked at the orange-haired male, critically noting his subdued demeanor and his exhausted aura. "Bad day?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I … I have to get to work," Ichigo said, but feeling the pull because of the gentle tone and the concern evident on the other man's face.

"Okay, I understand that. You get to work … and I'll buy lunch for ya at midnight. Then you can talk my ear off. Deal?" His grin was a pleasure to look at. "Now go say hi to my brother … I think he missed ya today."

Ichigo, for some unknown reason, felt better already. He smiled, got to his feet, and went to say hello to his patients … two of his beloveds.

XXX

End Chapter 10

Hope y'all enjoyed it … bit subdued this time, but moving the story along.

Thanks to all who review and mark the story (and/or me!) as a favorite! It's a compliment! XD

More coming soon ….

Ahvienda