I wanna love you, but I'd better not touch. I wanna' hold you, but my senses tell me to stop.
. . .
Ichigo was ready to kill his boyfriend.
Which sucks, you know, because he hasn't had him for that long.
The reason for this plotted murder? You'd think that after Renji had stopped with his stupid 'no hugging, no kissing, and absolutely no sex' policy, Ichigo would feel much improved. I mean, they'd kissed recently – actually for the first time since Ichigo had been seventeen and struck dumb in Urahara's basement by Renji's lip-punch.
They… Ichigo didn't like to call it cuddling, but he didn't see what else to call lying together and hugging and being all mushy. They did a lot of that in the evenings and Renji's free afternoons, and they kissed – lightly, no more than small pecks – several times a week. It'd be a logical assumption to think that they were making progress, right?
Well not exactly, no, because Renji was an illogical weird-ass dude.
Renji still wouldn't get hanky panky with him or anything. They did kiss in private sometimes now, and held hands, and would be nice to each other when no one was there to know, but that almost made it worse. Because now Ichigo had gotten a taste of what he was missing out on.
Don't get him wrong. There had been a slight improvement. Ever since he'd taken Grimmjow's crazy-ass advice to finger-fuck Renji in the heart until he gave in, things have been better. It had gotten them dating again and it had gotten Renji to start kissing him again. He figured he'd just have to keep pushing.
Revisiting that advice of Grimmjow's for a facet he hadn't yet explored, he decided his next plan of attack was laying an ambush. Yeah, so, he planned to ambush Renji the next time they train, afterwards, which was when Renji's forces of resistance were the weakest.
Yeah, Jaegerjaquez has turned him into an evil little shit.
Anyway, Ichigo had chosen after training because that was the best time to throw a wrench in Renji's plans to save room for the holy spirit or keep Ichigo pure until marriage or whatever the fuck they were doing this dumbass waiting thing for. It was the moment of opportunity in which he had the best possible chance of breaking Renji's fiercely held control.
They were always both exhausted and horny and tense and ready to go at it, after their sparring had long since turned into something like foreplay - and the at the point when neither of them could breathe easily or stand straight, they'd stumble their sweaty glistening asses into the communal locker room and shower there. Really, how much willpower could a poor nineteen year old boy be expected to have when his mega-hot boyfriend's dick was out, along with every wet, gorgeous, bulging-
Okay, not a good strategy. Focus.
He didn't know how Renji did it. He seemed to resist so flawlessly, with so little effort; it drove Ichigo crazy that Renji didn't seem to suffer for it as much as Ichigo did. He wanted to give Renji a taste of his own medicine. So next time after they got done training and they were all stinky and shit and were heading to the locker rooms together, Ichigo tried to be flirty.
Or as flirty as he could get, which was mildly awkward and completely experimental.
He watched Renji undress a few paces away from him, and swallowed. Renji pulled his two-layered kosode out, minding his own business and bumbling around completely innocently, as if they both weren't still majorly turned on. He folded up his tops and tossed them onto the bench near his legs, then bent down to untie his waraji.
"Man, I'm starving," Renji muttered obliviously.
"Yeah…"
Ichigo took a breath. Here he goes.
He shifted a bit, bit his lip, and ran a deliberate hand down Renji's sticky sweat-percolated back, from his neck down one muscled side of his spine. By the time his fingers reach Renji's hip, Renji had straightened up, sandals forgotten, sufficiently distracted.
Ichigo let his hand fall away and waited to see what would happen, what Renji would say about being felt up – well, as close as a chicken like Ichigo could get to feeling him up. Renji didn't speak, but he seemed surprised, and they ended up staring at each other for some time, their chests no further than a few inches apart, rising and falling with lingering exertion from the recent exercise.
Ichigo could see the baby fine hairs on Renji's neck and shoulders standing up, like he'd gotten a chill or charged by static. He watched a bead of sweat roll down between Renji's heaving pectorals, and then flicked his eyes back to Renji's. Ichigo licked his lip, and immediately, Renji swallowed heavily, his fingers twitching.
He started to get really excited by the signals he was pretty sure he was reading correctly, and emboldened by the positive feedback, Ichigo put a hand around Renji's neck, curling it down the back of his head. Renji shook his head, seeming aghast and helpless, and Ichigo knew he had him wrapped around his finger, dangling by a thread. "No," he muttered, swallowing around the word, a deep guttural sound, but he did nothing to stop Ichigo. In fact, he leaned in minutely, his motion stuttered and halting, longing. Ichigo curled his fingers into the hair at the base of Renji's skull, the strands tightly bound against his head where it was tied up. He watched Renji squirm, struggle, he watched him visibly ache to touch him, and Ichigo knew he could do anything, he could do fucking anything to him. It had taken so little – not even a practiced or particularly 'sexy' motion – and Renji was syrup in his hands, warm and pliable and sappy. The surge of power that came with the realization was immensely thrilling.
His first act as the tyrant over Renji's heart and soul was to bring in his other hand to capture Renji's face, lean in deliberately, and tilt his head up the inch and a half difference in height to kiss him firmly on the mouth.
Renji responded like he knew he was doing something bad, but couldn't help himself – slow, hesitant, indulgently, as if he would break at any moment and seize Ichigo like a wild man and ravish him on the floor. Ichigo tested his resistance a bit more, poking and prodding and seeing how much he could take before he fell apart. He wanted Renji to snap, to scare him with how much he wanted him, to give him a thrill he'd never forget. He wanted to see all the passion and desire Renji held underneath the surface, an unstoppable force that had been just barely contained for far too long. Ichigo wanted to be dragged out into the riptide and pulled under, half-drowned, terrified enough that his reserve oxygen would slip out his panicked mouth. And then, just as he was about to lose consciousness… the earth-shattering euphoria.
Renji's hands instinctively came to Ichigo's waist in a slow measured movement, resting there, squeezing as if to keep from roving. His body seemed to strain against the small bit of space keeping their chests from crashing together, and his mouth against Ichigo's was becoming desperate, almost frantic, pressing back as if to savor every moment, in fear that Ichigo would pull away before he could properly commit this into the deepest annals of his memory. His lips were soft and pliant; his hands, guilty.
Ichigo – half in a last ditch effort to rip him to shreds, and half swept away by the comfort and the relief kissing Renji always gave him – dug his nails into the back of Renji's head and wormed one arm around his shoulders, gripping onto him with an uncoordinated tilt of his head in an effort to kiss him more fully on the mouth.
Whatever the sound of a carefully balanced sense of control snapping was, whether it be the monumentally noisy bursting of a dam, or the whispered note of a string splitting beneath the pluck of a sharp fingernail, that's what Ichigo heard. One moment he was embracing Renji and sighing contentedly through his nose, and the next, Renji was on him like an animal, kissing him roughly and groaning. His arms came up around Ichigo's back and encircled him, squeezing like the coils of a python, and he pressed against Ichigo so hard that he had to take a few staggering steps back, until they hit the wall.
Renji's hands scrabbled for purchase, blunt nails digging into his back as if he were trying to take out handfuls of his flesh, grip him harder, pull him inside of him. Ichigo gasped in surprise and moaned in response to Renji's strained hum, opening his mouth when Renji's tongue tentatively stroked against his lower lip, the last vestiges of his control turning the request into something like begging of a thrall.
Ichigo easily granted him access, and Renji was mad for it. His breath heaved from him in sharp bursts, and he was holding onto Ichigo so tightly, so roughly that Ichigo didn't know if they could ever unwind again. A stuttered sound escaped him as Renji's tongue stroked his, ravishing his mouth.
"Oh god," he gasped against Renji's lips, the words muffled beyond comprehension. Renji pinned Ichigo's back to the wall, groaning deep in his throat, low like a wild beast. The frantic voraciousness of Renji's hands against his body, along with his unhinged demeanor spooked Ichigo enough that a thrill of pleasure shot through him like a New Year's sparkler had been lit in his belly.
Ichigo felt helpless to his curiosity and his relief and the fright of the force of Renji's passion. What would Renji do? Oh god, what would Renji do to him? What was going to happen? Ichigo almost couldn't stand it.
A low rumble crawled through Renji's chest, deep and threatening, coinciding with the tightening of his hands along Ichigo's back. Ichigo was sure his hair was standing up all over his head like a porcupine – he sweat and shivered, chest sticking to Renji's. He didn't think they'd ever kissed like this. Renji seemed to have thrown all boundaries to the wind, completely having forgotten himself in favor of kissing Ichigo so senseless that he thought their tongues might be knotted, their lips grafted together.
Excited that Renji was giving in a little, that his reluctance to do anything too risqué was melting, crumbling away, Ichigo seized him back with just as much fervor, sighing and humming back against Renji's mouth, and when the prickles of elation and nervous terror died down a bit, he surged his body against Renji's. Uncertain on this count, he was ready for Renji to startle like a cow from a corpse, to release him and fling them apart, but still Ichigo would rather try than kick himself later for not taking the chance. He's harder, more turned on, more electrified than he thinks he's ever been in his entire life. He knew he was taking advantage of Renji's slip of control, but he couldn't help himself. Ichigo had wanted this so badly for so long now, and though he was uncertain and clumsy, he was hopeful that yes… maybe-
He hooked one foot behind Renji's leg and used the leverage to press himself against Renji's thigh, against the hard flat plane of his hips, his broad rippled stomach – trying, trying to stimulate this goddamn boner a little.
To his great relief, Renji responded enthusiastically, practically attacking him in his eagerness. His hands slide downwards in a purposeful motion that had goosebumps rising all over Ichigo's bare flesh, coming to a sudden stop at his bottom, squeezing, gripping, giving him a better leverage to grind against him – and when he said grind, it was more like Renji was manipulating his whole body like putty, like he weighed nothing. Renji rut against him, holding him still by the hips and grunting into Ichigo's mouth, kissing him with all the dedication and fixation of a vampire drawing out the last drop of blood. Ichigo's eyes flew open at the feel of it, Renji's raw desire for him, the rough impacts of Renji's body against his, the hard slide of their flesh pressing together. He didn't breathe, plastered against the wall in a cold sweat. Any air left in his lungs seeped out into Renji's mouth, every muscle seizing tight from surprise. Oh god, Renji's cock was so hard.
It was scary and wonderful and Ichigo couldn't believe this was happening! Just a little more…
This noise that would've embarrassed him in any other situation escaped as their tongues moved together and Renji's fingers sank into the muscle of his ass on either side. Pushing his luck – since it had served him pretty well thus far – Ichigo let his hands wander while Renji was hopefully distracted.
His fingers moved down Renji's side, resting on his hip for the length of several kisses, before bravely sliding down between them. Fuck, he can feel Renji's erection. He let his hand close around it, his heart pounding like crazy, his fingers shaking, and he paused for a reaction. Renji slowed and sucked on Ichigo's tongue, drawing a shaky groan from within him; he slowed down, the blind rage of his passion quelling somewhat, as if to make room in his brain to ascertain what Ichigo was doing – but he didn't stop.
What he did do was release Ichigo's ass on one side and take his wrist. Their lips broke apart, wet and quivering, connected by a warm strand of saliva that seemed to beg them to join again. Ichigo's breath rasped between them for a few solid puffs, and then stalled as Renji moved his hand away and returned it to his shoulder.
And Ichigo can't…
He breathed heavily for a few more moments, brow scrunching in disbelief, the small moment of plateau before nosediving.
He can't. . . can't fucking believe this!
Renji tried to lean back in to kiss Ichigo again, to pick up where they'd left off, but it was too late. Ichigo's heart had plummeted into his stomach like a safe dropped from an airplane, and he shoved Renji back. A confused disappointed noise escaped Renji as the breath was punched out of his lungs, and Ichigo threw himself away from him and furiously began ripping his clothes off.
"Ichigo," Renji tried, his voice scratchy and low. Ichigo ignored him, yanking his tabi off and hurling them to the ground. "Hey, c'mon," he implored sadly.
Ichigo ignored him still, kicking his clothes into a pile and heading into the showers. Renji followed him closely and tried to get a response out of him again, but Ichigo didn't acknowledge him other than to snarl wordlessly and turn the water on.
Renji sighed and shucked the rest of his clothes off, moving to a showerhead not far away. Ichigo, further enraged by the sight of water cascading down Renji's tattooed back and ass, his muscled thighs – fuck, even his ankles look good – leaned his arm against the wall slightly above his line of sight and set his forehead against it, digging it into the wet flesh as he angrily beat off under the shower stream with the other hand.
Renji took a few moments to realize what was going on – maybe he didn't hear right away because of the running water – but when he did, he startled badly and gasped, whirling around towards him. Ichigo watched his cock twitch before Renji slapped a hand over it. Ichigo grit his teeth, furious, and went back to rubbing one out with renewed vigor.
The intention of this orgasm was a resounding: 'Renji's such a fucking asshole, hate his sadist ass, he's such a dick, GAH!-'
"Are you serious?!" Renji snapped, after recovering his shock and apparently mortification. His cheeks were red, and he couldn't look at Ichigo directly – although his eyes seemed to try to keep shifting back despite his face being carefully angled away.
"Just shut up," Ichigo grumbled back, grunting as he took his frustration out.
Renji, seeing no alternative, put a hand up to the corner of his eyes to block his view, trying his hardest to turn back towards the wall, but unable to do it completely. "Ichigo, c'mon, don't do this," he pleaded, voice obviously first intended to be a dark threat, but failing horribly.
Ichigo kept going, his breath getting heavier, and maybe because he was fucking pissed at Renji and wanted to hurt him, to really stick it to him and make him suffer, he laid it on a little thick. If Renji was going to- to just- fucking do that, then Ichigo was going to make him fucking sorry!
"Ichigo, what're you tryin'a' do ta' me?" Renji rasped brokenly, and Ichigo felt a small pang of guilt, but not enough to override the overwhelming wave of frustration and betrayal and anger and spite-
"Nothing ," he spat petulantly, "Same as you."
Renji seemed struck dumb by that for a time, and then in a few hesitant jerky motions, he looked away, his forehead against the wall and his fist clenched there near his ear as he pointedly didn't look at Ichigo. Ichigo could see that Renji's eyes were open and that his other hand was around his cock, not moving, but clenched tightly, as if the every last ounce of strength in his body was being used to keep him from, from-
And Ichigo can't fucking stand it, it makes him so fucking angry!
A sound escaped his throat, strangled and wounded, and Ichigo shoved his eyes against his forearm, his mouth falling open as he jerked his hand faster against his inflamed and turgid flesh. His skin was still tingling, fresh from the hot passion of Renji's hands sliding over it; his mouth was still wet and sweet. He bit his own lips as if he could recreate some of the spark, but it fell short. Another needy noise broke free, explosive, like a bit of debris off a building after the wrecking ball blasted through its foundation, crumbling, doomed, destroyed- Renji, why couldn't Renji have just- just for a little longer- Oh, fuck, he's going to cum-
Every muscle seizes, every second of frustration and fury and desperation comes to a hot burning head, and bursts – and it feels like an atom splitting.
…!
"God damnit!" Renji shouted, pounding his fist against the wall, digging his nails into his scalp and yanking his hair tie out and letting his hair soak under the high-pressure spray. His head hung, just touching the wall as if ready to bash his skull open there at any moment; his hands were pressed to the tile, white at every knuckle.
When the intense rush of endorphins started to calm down, when everything seemed a little easier, a little better, not as bad, not as tight – after that sweet release – Ichigo moved.
He sagged and sighed, his breath coming to him in painful gasps, burning in his lungs like dry ice on bare flesh. He sagged there against his arm for a moment, maybe two, before he stood straight and rinsed his hand under the shower spray. He was keenly aware of Renji's scowl, but simply stared at the wall in front of him and breathed, washing his own hair and armpits and refusing to be embarrassed that he'd just whacked off in front of Renji.
Renji rocked on his toes for a moment, taking a breath as if to give him a piece of his mind, but then he stomped out. Ichigo followed not long after, every muscle loose and jellified, wobbly, burning as if after a thorough stretch. Renji sat there on the bench, having dried off – he was trying to put his fundoshi on, which wasn't working out for him.
Ichigo felt like saying something, because post-orgasm he didn't care about shit, he'd say anything to anybody, everything is cool - he wanted to say something, because it was a little funny that a guy couldn't get his dick into his own underwear, but Renji is so obviously unimpressed with him right now that it's not that funny after all.
Renji gave up for the time being, slapping his hands to his thighs, and gave Ichigo a murderous glare. Ichigo mildly grimaced and glanced from Renji's penis to his face, then raised his eyebrows as if to sarcastically prod, 'you mad?'
Yeah, he was. Furious, in fact.
Remarkably restrained, Renji snapped quietly, "Just so you know, I don't wanna' see your fucking face right now-" Ichigo, already having heard enough, rolled his eyes so hard that his head went with it, and he headed for Renji's used towel, drying off with it and reaching for his scattered pile of clothes. "So once we walk outta' here, your ass is toast."
Ichigo paused in tying up his hakama, and he and Renji glared at each other for a long time. His dick was away now, so it was easier for him to be intimidating, but honestly, Ichigo was still mad at him too; more bitter, actually. If Renji was ticked about being horny, it was his own fucking fault. Ichigo had nothing to do with it. Renji was the one who- Ugh, it was making him mad again just thinking about it.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the straining bulge in Renji's underwear and sassed, "You're a martyr to your cause."
That must've just been it, because Renji's cheeks puffed up with a held-in scream and he threw himself off the bench, lunging for him in an impressive leap. Ichigo dodged and bolted, ducking and running around corners and wet patches, trying to keep space between them as Renji chased him wildly and threatened to kick his ass once he caught him. Ichigo hurtled down another row of lockers, and, looking back for a moment, was startled when he ran headlong into Renji as he rounded the next corner and sent them to the cracked ground, getting several cuts and scrapes for it.
He tried to scramble away, but Renji nabbed him by the leg and held him down and hit him for a while. Ichigo, not one to be beat, wrapped his legs around Renji's chest and threw his weight against him, and they rolled around on the wet ground, pulling hair and grappling and hitting each other halfheartedly. Variations of "You make me so fucking mad!" were shouted several times on both sides, and they exchanged a few blows that ended in them sitting sulkily back to back as they finished getting dressed.
They were quiet for a long time, and Ichigo pouted unabashedly, resting his temple on his knee once he was done putting his clothes on. He picked at his toes, and despite how angry he was, he was overcome with a strange urge to reach for Renji's hand. Not that he'd do it, of course. He was still mad at him, that fucker.
… Renji's back was slightly damp against his bony spine. He wondered if there were any nail marks there from… you know, when they'd been loving on each other.
Ichigo miserably dug his brow into his patella and mourned a lost opportunity.
Renji, considerably more angry than Ichigo had expected him to stay, finally broke the tense silence with a warning of, "If you ever pull something like that again-"
Ichigo, not done pushing Renji's buttons and protecting his title as the sassmaster, mumbled childishly, "What're you gonna' do about it, huh?" Before Renji could answer, he asserted, "Oh right - nothing, that's what."
Renji's back swelled against his, a deep infuriated intake of breath expanding his ribcage. "Ichigo, I swear to god-"
"Ehh, just fuck off."
There was a punctuated moment of silence and Renji's muscles going tense against his back, jostling him slightly, before he burst out with, "You're such a fucking brat!"
Ichigo turned his head the other way, resting his cheek on his leg, picking at his feet with a single finger. He listened as Renji put his sandals on in an extremely angry fashion – if such an action could ever be described as such.
Finally – because Renji always got kind of antsy when Ichigo went quiet for too long – he muttered, "Don't." He took another breath, as if to calm himself and refrain from spitting out what he might really want to say instead. "Don't you ever do that again," he finished quietly, sourly.
Ichigo gave a long noncommittal sigh that reeked of exasperation, but privately, he resolved not to do something like that again. It had been kinda' mean, yanking Renji's chain like that… He'd just gotten so mad when Renji had- Ugh, whatever.
"Renji?" Ichigo hummed after a few more quiet minutes in which Renji seemed to have stopped being so mad. His hard-on had probably gone away, which would explain his more forgiving attitude.
Renji grunted in response, tilting his head to the side a bit so that if Ichigo looked over his shoulder, he could see his sideburn, the tip of his nose.
"Are we ever gonna' do it?" he mumbled, a bit vulnerably. He held onto his toes tightly, practically pinching them. "How long are you gonna' drag this out?"
Renji turned back around, straightening up for a moment so he could tuck his yukata in a bit better, breaking contact between their backs. He let some air seep out of his nose in a slow measured amount, like he did when he knew the answer to Ichigo's question, but didn't want to say so because he knew it would tick him off or otherwise upset him. He hated when Renji did that. Fuck, would he answer?
Forever? Tomorrow? A million jillion years?
"You know how long," he finally answered, when Ichigo thought the resounding silence would swallow him.
"Yeah, I do," he muttered. Renji looked back over his shoulder with a frown, brows scrunched, and Ichigo crudely held his hands apart. Renji stared for a moment, and then suddenly jolted.
"Aw! That's disgusting!" He shoved Ichigo on the head hard enough that he almost fell on the ground, and Ichigo just scowled, readjusting so that his elbow rested on his knee, his chin in his palm. He stuck his lip out and glared at Renji, who jutted his chin out right back.
"You've gotta' learn some goddamn patience, Ichigo, some restraint." Ichigo wanted to roll his eyes, but Renji went on before he could, and he got to thinking. "What would you do, eh? If you were me!" Renji pounded his chest, giving him a frustrated look, grimacing.
"If I were an old man who forgot what being young and horny was like?"
Renji sighed then, long and exhausted. "I'm serious."
Ichigo thought for a moment to satisfy Renji's insistence that his answer be a sincere one, and then he shrugged. "I think nineteen's plenty old enough."
"Don'tcha' think that's a biased answer?"
"You asked what I thought."
Renji closed his eyes and rubbed his brow with his thumb. "It's only a few months longer," he practically whispered, then letting his hand fall with a slap and giving Ichigo a flat tired look.
"A few months won't make me that much older, you know," Ichigo noted, somewhat gently, because Renji was starting to get that guilty sad look around the edges of his eyes again. He hated that, he really did. Not just because it was an inconvenience and caused them to fight a lot more than was necessary, but because he really didn't like when Renji felt like shit about himself.
"I don't see the point," Ichigo said honestly. "You just wanna' have something to tell yourself that you're not a hentai."
'It won't change how you feel,' is what he wanted to say. If Renji really thought that way about himself, if that guilt was real, Ichigo didn't really think that him turning twenty would take that feeling away. Renji would find something else to beat himself up over, he'd still have that inside him. Kinda' sucky really. He wanted to say all that, talk about it to see if maybe Renji would agree or mull it over and maybe be able to get past it on his own, but Renji spoke too soon for Ichigo to work out how to say so.
"Pff', so?" he shot back defensively, bristling at Ichigo calling him a pervert, even if indirectly.
"So," Ichigo retorted rather exasperatedly, scratching at his hair, "You're doing mental gymnastics about something dumb."
"I'm not dumb." Renji stuck his lip out and narrowed his eyes like he did when he was mad that Ichigo had said something smart sounding, or had been generally correct.
"Renji," Ichigo huffed, throwing his leg over the side of the bench to join his other one, spinning on his butt so that they faced each other. He put the heels of his hands to his temples and let his eyes close for a moment as he shook his head. "I'm losing my fucking mind here," he mumbled honestly. Sharing in his woes, Renji turned towards him too, his knee bumping against Ichigo's. One hand crept between them, searching, as if waiting for a partner. "If we don't shack up soon, I swear to god I'm gonna' kill something."
"You know?" Renji said seriously, and Ichigo immediately knew he was bullshitting him, because the corner of his lip was twitching no matter how he tried to sound sincere. "That really gets me, Ichigo. Right here," he slapped at his heart heavily.
"Oh shut up," Ichigo grumbled, "Like you don't wanna' do it too." He scuffed his foot a bit, because he was uncertain on that point. It had always seemed like Renji had an easier time of being patient than Ichigo did. Maybe… maybe he didn't… y'know, wanna' – not as much as Ichigo, at least.
Renji laughed at that, just a little, a quick burst of air through his nose accompanied by a flash of his teeth in the ghost of his winning smirk. "You make it sound like the basis of this relationship is sex," he teased halfheartedly, some of their collective stress easing at the sound of the hilarity in his voice.
Ichigo smirked right back, maybe a little bit. "How can it be, we haven't had sex."
"Well thanks a lot," Renji snorted, crossing his arms as if offended. He raised a thick eyebrow and picked his teeth with his tongue, turning his head to the side in a sulk. "For your information, I started liking you because I admire you an' I respect you a lot," he mumbled, peeking an eye at Ichigo, unable to keep up with the fake grumpiness, a smile slipping through. "Not like it's a big deal or anything though," he teased.
Ichigo turned his face completely away, overcome with smiles to the point that fighting it off or hiding it with his hand wouldn't have worked.
He thinks he'd liked Renji when he'd spat out his coffee. Maybe that was the first time he'd known, that he'd felt a little something.
Ichigo smiled and smiled. He felt Renji's hand by his leg, and let his hand sneak back behind him blindly to brush against it, prod and poke his way underneath into its grasp.
And what he'd said about the Rukia thing, before. You know, about always being by his side, through whatever troubles might come, seeing things through to the end, together, a promise- He might have known then too.
"An' yanno', I guess you're right," Renji sighed with a clear smile in his voice. Ichigo let his head pop up, his eyes glancing furtively to try to catch his expression without letting his curiosity be too conspicuous. Renji's face stretched in a fond grin, his eyes hooded and warm. "You're not kid enough to be called a kid, really."
Ichigo's heart did this stupid thing; Renji had never verbally acknowledged how he'd matured until just then.
Renji's brow furrowed then, a troubled frown crossing his face as he accepted Ichigo's hand in his and rubbed his thumb across his knuckles. "But," he mumbled, distressed, "Ichigo, I feel weird, okay?" He clenched his eyes shut and scrubbed the heel of his free hand across them, as if to reset his vision by pushing the blood out of his optic tissues. Feeling sufficiently guilted, Ichigo had the good grace to duck his head when Renji muttered tiredly and almost pleadingly, "Shouldn't that be reason enough for you to just say, 'okay, cool?'"
"Okay, okay, quit with the guilt trip," Ichigo shot through quickly, pouting a bit, playing with Renji's fingers. "It just feels like it's still such a long way to go."
Renji was quiet for a second, but Ichigo could feel him watching him, the gaze hot against the top of his head. "Hey." A hand at his cheek convinced him to peek an eye up, maybe for a second. Renji was smiling, that weary but assured smile that he did when Ichigo's youth and impatience made him feel old. "If we can make it through all the crazy shit that's happened to us, I think we can survive blue-balls until you're not underage- Oh god, I feel gross just saying that," Renji segued, wiping a hand over his face with a squeamish huff.
"Come off it," Ichigo ordered flatly, giving him an unimpressed look. "I've had so much time to think about it, don't you think that by now I'm sure?"
Renji closed his eyes and shook his head, resting his brow on his knuckles. "Look, I dunno' anymore. Just indulge me." Ichigo frowned, sighing. "I need this so that I can feel okay about this whole thing."
"You just wanna' be able to tell yourself-"
"I have to tell myself something, Ichigo," Renji said harshly, eyeing him and shutting him up. "Can't I just have this? Can't you just fucking listen to me for once?"
"Fine!" Ichigo snapped back, "fine…" He moped a bit more after his outburst. "It feels like such a long time," he bemoaned quietly.
"I know," Renji replied steadily, understanding. "I know." He brought Ichigo's hand up to his mouth and kissed on it a bit, flicking his eyes up to Ichigo's and smiling with them when he saw Ichigo's mouth had opened to say something and then stayed ajar even after the words had died. Ichigo's cheeks flushed, his eyebrows raising as he shut his jaw. "Once you're hatachi…" Renji hummed, the words vibrating against the back of his hands through Renji's warm lips, "I'll make it up to you."
Ichigo tried not to smile, twisting his lips and looking away a little to try to recover from the sudden sugary heat sapping his bones. Renji gave one last kiss to his knuckles before moving their connected hands back down between them with a sigh. "We'll fuck until we never wanna' fuck again." He smiled as Ichigo sharply cleared his throat and scratched his neck.
"I'll say I told you so that it was a waste of time to wait," Ichigo mumbled, cheeks still a bit warm.
Renji smiled wider, scootching closer to him and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling Ichigo towards his warm chest. Renji's leg being up on the bench kept them from getting too close, but it was enough. Ichigo stubbornly didn't participate in the hug, giving Renji the evil eye, which caused him to laugh. "You can rat on me for the rest of forever, that it was dumb, that it was a waste, whatever." Renji nuzzled behind his ear, kissing him there once, then breathing jokingly, "We'll be hookin' up so much that it won't be skin off my back." Ichigo snorted, his mouth contorting in a grin as he leaned back. Renji let him out of the hug, his hands still lingering at Ichigo's shoulders as he smiled at him, eyes on his face.
"Watch me die before then," Ichigo muttered with another snort. That'd be his luck.
"What?" Renji shook from a burst of incredulous laughter, his eyebrows doing gymnastics. "From what?" He laughed a little more, pulling on a piece of Ichigo's hair and then blocking with his forearm as Ichigo slapped at his hand. He gave a large grin, teasing. "A freak accident with a puny Menos?"
"Uhh, my money's on Grimmjow or Kenpachi."
"Hah!" Renji blurted, completely losing it for a second in imagination. He snickered for a minute, clapping once and flopping forward, then sighing and shaking his head. "You're ridiculous." He slung his arm around Ichigo's neck and pulled him in. Ichigo was surprised for less than a second before leaning into Renji's chest, lying atop him and kissing him with a long sigh, ignoring Renji's continued occasional smiles and bursts of laughter.
When they walked out of the shower house, feeling a million times less frustrated, Ichigo suggested, "So hey, do you wanna' go an'- Ow!" A hand flew to his ass and he whirled around to glare at Renji in mortification. Had he just-?!
"What the fuck?!"
"Hm?"
"Hey! What did you do that for?" Ichigo hollered, face blazing, eyes wide. Renji didn't seem to think slapping him on the butt like that was a big deal. That hadn't even been like a love spank, that had really hurt! What the hell was wrong with him?
"What?" Renji replied, raising an eyebrow. "I said when we walked outta' here, your ass is toast." Toast, maybe; that had kind of burned. Shit, it was still stinging.
"That was a really long time ago," Ichigo muttered – some might've classified it as whining – as he rubbed his asscheek and followed Renji with hunched shoulders.
"Teach you ta' tease me," Renji muttered back, and Ichigo shoved him with a growl of protest.
"Geez, fine! Just don't-" he sputtered, "do that again!"
"I don't see why you're so embarrassed. You didn't turn red like that when-"
"Oh my god, stop talking!"
. . .
I wanna' love you, but I'd better not touch- not touch!