I'm light as a feather.
I'm bright as the Oregon breeze
My black shroud,
frightened by my feelings.
I only wanna be a relief
No, I'm not a go-getter.
The demon had a spell on me.
My black shroud.
Captain of my feelings,
The only thing I wanna believe. -Sufjan Stevens "I should have know."
xXx
We're A House On Fire
xXx
Running a strand of silky chestnut hair through his lithe fingers, Byakuya picked up a bobby pin he'd been fumbling with before trying to wrestle an unruly curl into submission. Ichigo was much better at such things, but at the moment, he was packing a lunch for Milly. Since Ichigo had sisters and his mom wasn't around, the girls had had to suffer through an uncountable amount of questionable dad-do's, but after much practice and many ramshackle coiffures, Ichigo was better at doing little girl hair than anyone would have guessed.
It was only Byakuya who got to see these peculiar facets of the dynamic man.
Still, despite practice and guidance from his lover, the new dad was merely an amateur. These were the times he truly wished he had Rukia or Yourichi around or perhaps Ichigo's sisters, the times it would hit him just how much he missed his home. Milly hadn't any female influences who could help her with all the things males tended to be inept to. Growing up in an orphanage and the obvious fact that she'd gone through chemotherapy, she'd never been taught how to do her own hair or any of the other tricks of the trade that every female had to learn. The two dads could only imagine the train wreck that would ensue when they had to talk to her about tampons and bras. Both would be more than happy to pass that torch off to one of the many women role models Milly would have upon returning to Japan.
The fidgety girl bounced back and forth in her school uniform, her hair pulling with every buoyant motion. As she messed up the strand that Byakuya had finally tamed, he huffed slightly and chided sternly, "Milliana, you must quit moving so much."
Holding her hands together to stop her habitually nervous and energetic movements, Milly apologized. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm just nervous for my game." Turning her head slightly to look up at her dad, she got shooed, Byakuya telling her to keep her head straight. Somewhat demurely, she asked, "Will you be there?"
Mulling over his day's schedule while pinning back another strand of hair, he concluded, "I will try my hardest. I can't promise one way or the other." At the girl's energy becoming more crestfallen and her going silent, an oddity for Milly, Byakuya added, "But let's not worry about things we can't control. Let's worry about your vocabulary words."
The girl's face lit up like a firefly. More than anything, she loved to impress Byakuya with her always improving English vernacular. "Oi! Oi! Throw 'em at me, I'll get every single one!"
Byakuya smirked slightly at the girls self-assurance, something she surely was picking up from her dads, two of the cockiest reapers ever produced by the Soul Society. "Hm, since you're so confident, I won't hold back. Define cynosure."
With ease, she responded, "Cynosure: It has a few different meanings, a focal point, an outstanding example, an important person!" catching herself before she started flailing with excitement and messed up Byakuya's progress.
Nodding slightly, he complimented, "Very nice. Define vanguard."
With a flippant laugh, Milly boasted, "C'mon dad, these are too easy. Vanguard: a noun, meaning forefront." Giving an aslant glance, she said, "You're not going easy on me, are you?"
Byakuya gave a haughty scoff before reassuring, "I would never insult you in such a way. You know pity is not one of my traits." Pondering momentarily, putting the finishing touches on Milly hair, he countered, "Since you're such the walking dictionary, how about supercilious."
For a brief moment, Milly's eyes lit up once more, only to dim slightly as she realized the word's meaning eluded her. "Urmmm," she muttered out, "Supercilious: someone who is super silly."
Byakuya couldn't help but give a light chuckle as he turned the girl around, running this hands over her uniform once to work out any wrinkles in the finally creased garments. He gave his daughter the slightest of smiles. "I believe that would be the definition of Milly," he countered, bending down and giving the girl's cheek a raspberry which caused a fart type sound, an oddly whimsical and uncouth gesture for a man like Byakuya, but one his family had grown accustomed to.
Wiping away the feeling of wet lips, Milly protested with a groan, "Grosssss, Daaad."
A smile tickled his lips as he merely handed the girl her school bag. "Come now, finish getting ready. Your father is making breakfast." Lowering his voice slightly, he teased, "We must make sure he hasn't burnt the food, or worse, himself."
Byakuya wandered into the kitchen and poured himself some freshly brewed coffee while observing Ichigo discreetly. He seemingly flipped through a book that housed his lesson plan for that day while in actuality, he was practicing his espionage, watching Ichigo's cooking from a far.
At the feeling of the circumspect eyes flickering back and forth, trying and failing at being discreet, Ichigo griped, "Why are you watching me? What, you don't trust me?" His eyes dehisced slightly, looking almost surprised that he had been caught in his low key voyeurism. Before he could respond, Ichigo warned, "You better have been checking out my butt or something."
With a soft smirk, Byakuya walked beside Ichigo and teased flatly, "I'm always doing that. I'm merely checking on your progress. We don't have much time before we have to go and I wanted to make sure you didn't burn anything."
Sneering at the comment despite the validity behind Byakuya's concerns, Ichigo countered, "I got this! When yours comes out burnt, it won't be no accident."
The half-baked threat prompted Byakuya to wrap his arms around his spouse's waist, giving him an affectionate hug from behind. How endearing he found Ichigo's valiant attempts to learn new skills; they both were like that. Both men were teaching themselves to be good at things they had never known they'd have to be good at. Who would have known that Byakuya could salvage a raggedy, torn, stuffed dinosaur with a simple sewing needle? He sure didn't.
"I trust in your abilities," he comforted, kissing at Ichigo's ear slightly. "I am the one who taught you everything you know, after all."
"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo smirked, enjoying the feeling of his husband's lips on his lobe. "Don't go kissing up just because I threatened to burn your breakfast."
"I would never," he muttered, more concerned with the sweet taste of Ichigo's skin as he feathered kisses on his neck. After indulging in his pre-breakfast dessert, he said, "Milly is doing a wonderful job at mastering her vocabulary."
Turning around, Ichigo stood face to face with his husband, now wrapping his arms around the Prada-clad waist. "Of course, she has you as a tutor. I'm surprised she hasn't learned the whole dictionary by now."
Huffing at the quip, Byakuya countered, "You make me sound like such a tyrant."
"I only call it as I see it." Whispering in Byakuya's ear, he flirted, "But you're a tyrant with a cute butt."
Purring at the flirtation - that had become somewhat of a morning ritual for the two - Byakuya rebutted, "I don't think such a virtue helps with my teaching skills."
Before turning to pull out some plates from the cabinet, Ichigo said, "It probably deters it. I bet all of your students get distracted by you. They're probably gushing like helpless fan girls, Professor Tanako."
After Ichigo set down the plates, finding the sound of his new name falling from Ichigo's perfectly kissable lips exceedingly heady, Byakuya pulled the man back into his grasp. Before planting a kiss on Ichigo's lips, he corrected, "That's Professor Kuchiki to you." The new dads were the exemplification of embarrassingly lovey-dovey parents. Though neither practiced public displays of affection all too often, they both agreed that it was good for Milly to have an example of parents who shared an authentic love towards each other. So many parents stayed together because of responsibilities or convenience instead of actual love, and as a result, those kids would grow up thinking that skewed perspective was what real love looked and acted like.
Breaking from the kiss, Byakuya offered, "You know, I don't mind cooking breakfast. You already do all the cleaning and most of the household responsibilities."
Placing the food on plates, Ichigo reminded, "Because I work from home. It's the least I can do when you're always so busy. I mean, you work two jobs and then come home and grade papers all night." Ichigo was truly a stay at home dad. Though he had a job, it took up such a trifling amount of his time. He even handled the finances, seeing as Byakuya was so inept when it came to money from living a life with a silver spoon. He didn't mind though; it kept him busy and gave his mind something to think about other than his newly acquired melancholy.
Ichigo had been feeling unusually cranky that morning, though in his humble opinion, he hid it well. Kisses from his hunk of a husband helped alleviate some of the unsolicited illogical agitation. Of course, he had no reason to feel this way. This was just a part of the new affliction that he had to deal with, being an inwardly irate brat, only hoping it wouldn't mistakenly slip out in the form of passive aggressive comments or straight-up aggressiveness. After his panic attack, he had looked up the symptoms of depression and anxiety, irritability and mood swings being the most common symptoms of both. Mood swings made it sound like he would turn into some hormone-filled nut case. He had that to look forward to, becoming more like Byakuya's whiny teenage son than his capable partner.
When he finally remembered that today was Milly's parent-teacher conference, he had to swallow down one of those chemically-induced mood swings. In fact, he actually almost cried when he remembered his last conversation with Milly's teacher. Literally, he almost cried just from the thought of the conference. Ichigo knew there was something profoundly wrong with him. Catching himself before the water accumulating in his cornea could turn into actual tears, he avoided Byakuya's gaze while finishing breakfast.
"Um- are you making it to Milly's ice hockey game and the conference afterwards?" Ichigo asked, clearing his throat to hide his fragility.
Looking over his lesson plan, Byakuya glanced up at the odd inflection of Ichigo's voice. He responded honestly, "I will try my hardest."
Despite understanding that it wasn't within Byakuya's control and that he'd be there if it wasn't for the sake of keeping a roof over their heads, something about his declaration made a daunting anger blister in his chest. Quickly, he tried to suffocate the irrational anger with a deep sigh, knowing anything he said at the moment he'd regret. After a brief silence, he responded, "They really want you there, Byakuya." Mocking the voice of Milly's science teacher, Ichigo twisted his face and griped, "They want her real father there."
Ichigo had vaguely brought up the subject to Byakuya the night before, but acted as if it didn't trouble him as much as Byakuya knew it did. His husband was much more readable than he thought he was. Once again grasping onto his partner, Byakuya turned Ichigo around and wrapped him tightly in his arms. "You're just as much her father as I am. Never doubt that."
That daunting irritation was dampened by the comforting presence of Byakuya, as it usually was. No matter how upset he could get, his heart would always swell with warmness when the raven-haired beauty acted so tenderly towards him. Averting his eyes slightly, he resigned to show a scintilla of his true anguish, for even though he was trying hide his disparaging mental status, he felt so comfortable and loved around Byakuya that he couldn't help but share some of his troubles, and since Byakuya told him every time one of his incompetent students got on his nerves or whenever he had a bad day, Ichigo felt guilty for trying to hide away some of his fallibilities.
Demurely, he muttered, "Yeah, well not according to them."
This caused Byakuya to pull him in closer, placing soft kisses on his lover's opalescent and twisted features. "Well they're completely asinine." Kissing from his cheek to his neck, he added, "Absolutely incompetent. Would you like me to go inform them of how utterly sophomoric they're being? I'll intimidate them for you."
Ichigo chuckled inwardly, Byakuya had been using more advanced vernacular than usual since he'd been helping Milly with her English classes. He couldn't help but think he'd never heard a vocabulary word sound so sexy.
Smirking, he reasoned, "I don't want her to get kicked out. Geez."
Trading the sultry kissing for a reprimanding glare, Byakuya chide softly, "If you actually believe anything they're saying, then you're the asinine one, and Byakuya Kuchiki doesn't associate with the senseless."
Though his words seemed somewhat harsh, they were varnished with affection. Byakuya knew when Ichigo was pitying himself, and also knew just how to pull him out of it. Overall, he knew Ichigo better than anyone, maybe even better than he knew himself.
At the tough love, Ichigo huffed, but pressed his forehead against his husband's, allowing ebony strands of hair to grace his now relaxed face. With a more halcyon disposition, Ichigo thanked, "You always know how to get me out of my feelings. I love you."
Feeling mirthful at Ichigo's returned calmness, Byakuya said, "That's only because we match together so perfectly." Before meeting their lips for a brief yet sensual kiss, he said, "You can always come to me with anything you're feeling."
'You're such a fucking pain in the ass. Poor Byakuya, he's practically perfect and just wants you to open up to him, but you won't! Some husband," Zangetsu groused. This had become an unavoidable nuisance ever since the attack. Ichigo just didn't hold the mental strength to keep him at bay, this in itself made him realize just how brittle he'd become. Still Ichigo just pushed out the annoying voice that had become like static, background noise to his train of thought.
Milly finally found her way out of her room, giving her customary 'ew' at the affection.
Smirking at the girl's exclamation, Ichigo announced, "It's about time for breakfast, Milly." Bringing a plate over to the small dining table that lay adjacent to the kitchen, he turned back quickly to grab the girl's lunch. Walking over to his daughter, who was just as loquacious as ever, telling Byakuya about her game and her end of the semester science project, he held out the bag. "Here, put this is your bag, kid." He smiled.
She returned the smile brilliantly, exclaiming, "Thank's o-nii-chan," before she blithely skipped back to her room, leaving Ichigo with his hand still dangling, addled by confusion.
Byakuya shared the same look of bewilderment. Looking back in the direction of the galloping child, he asked with the slightest of inflections, "When did she start calling you brother?"
Ichigo's hand finally dropped as his face simultaneously melted into a more resigned glare. Giving a rather equitable shrug of the shoulders, "Now, I guess," he speculated, his voice sounding rather passive aggressive.
Placing down his messenger bag, Byakuya's voice was more provoked than usual as he moved towards her room. "Well, I'm going to say something to her. I won't let her dishonor you in such a manner."
Ichigo place a hand on the man's midsection while grasping his wrist slightly. "Don't Byakuya, I'm sure she's just going through some phase," he deterred.
This only intensified his look of bafflement. Flatly yet irately, he chided, "Your hands-off approach to parenting is why she believes she can address you in such a way."
There was a moment of cringe-worthy silence as Ichigo's features gaped slightly at his husband's deceleration. All of that unexplainable anger turned into genuine anger. Did Byakuya really feel that way? Did he think Ichigo was a bad parent? Though lately it was becoming harder and harder to differentiate between his undeserved and true anger, he knew this heat building inside of him was as authentic as it got. Still, knowing he was now a dad and a husband, he did try to hold back his more brash side, curbing his hotheaded tendencies.
Byakuya was rarely a man to say what he didn't mean, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take it all back. Even a logical and cool headed man as himself could fall victim to irrationality at times. He had merely been offended for Ichigo's sake and was addled by how casual the man seemed towards it. Far more than anything, Ichigo had been his safety net, his lighthouse in the dark, always lifting him up when he stumbled. He never wanted to make Ichigo feel inferior or as if he didn't appreciate his comforting presence in his life.
A huge scowl twisted Ichigo's stricken face and his efforts to calm himself failing. "That's not fair, Byakuya!" he whisper-yelled at the man, trying to not let Milly hear but still obviously irascible towards the subject. "If we bombard her, she'll feel attacked and it will discourage her to actually talk to us. If you go in there waving around your authority, she may just clam up or lie!" he reasoned, not even close to finished with his diatribe. "It's better if we approach her more subtly or come at it from a different perspective. We get her to talk without making her feel attacked." Ichigo's eyes narrowed at the man in disbelief, shaking his head slightly before he gave a bemused scoff. "I can't believe you. What? Just because I think we should do things differently you think I don't care?"
The question must have been rhetorical or Ichigo just didn't care to hear the answer, because he turned without haste, making his way back towards the kitchen. His heedless and miffed movements were cut short by his wrist being grabbed by Byakuya. Being pulled back in, his face was huffing as he averted his eyes. He was still too heated to even look the man in the face without the possibility of spewing venom.
Ignoring his husband's obvious boundaries and need for space, Byakuya cupped Ichigo's brimstone-colored cheeks in his hand and brought his snide honey orbs to meet his apologetic world pool of grey. "Ichigo…" His calming severe voice seemed to pacify Ichigo to a point where he'd listen. Still, he yanked his face rather viciously, showing his teeth slightly like an angry animal. "Please forgive my obtuse behavior. I-" He cut himself off, trying to figure the most authentic way of conveying his feelings. "I could not do any of this without you. Your presence in my and Milly's life is more important and meaningful than I could ever convoy with words. I was just taken aback by how she addressed you. I was rather offended for you and let my own feelings dictate my words." Dipping his head slightly to signify his humbleness, he grasped Ichigo's hand and kissed it gently. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm not perfect. I too make mistakes."
God, Ichigo could have imploded right there, because he wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell Byakuya where he could stick it and then storm off like a bratty child, but how could he? How could he be so unforgiving when Byakuya stood there, so humbled and sincere, calm yet tender, overflowing with affection? It just wasn't in him. He couldn't stay mad at this man.
Ichigo face was still stuck in a snarl but it was obvious to see that his features were softening, placating at the atonement. "Yeah, well trust me, I know ya' ain't perfect." He yanked his hand away and crossed his arms. "I live with you every day, so I know, but…" Now he let his heavy languid arms droop by his side passively, his voice mitigating as he continued. "Even your flaws come from a good place. That's why I still like them… even if things like this happen every once in a while." Ichigo sighed in defeat, realizing he would rather have his arms around his lover than trying to avoid his gaze all together. Letting go of all of his anger, he once again returned to the man's arms, a place that always felt like home. After a moment of conforming yet haunting silence, Ichigo finally said, "I know you didn't mean what you said. It's just unlike you to let your emotions get the better of you. That's more my thing, ya' know… but…" He smiled softly, looking up to his husband's curious orbs, "It's actually kind of nice to see… it makes you seem all the more human…" Speaking softer now, he barely grazed his lips against Byakuya's as continued, "I'm glad I'm the person you show those parts to…"
"I want to give you all of my parts, Ichigo. They're only for you and you alone." Unable to contain his wanton love and desire, he pulled Ichigo back in for a kiss, to which he silently complied. The professor couldn't believe that there was once a time where this was so out of his grasp. Now he had free range to shower Ichigo with his full affection. It was almost overwhelming at times. Being able to share these moments and share his feeling with his companion, his life partner, it was all he ever wished for and never thought he could obtain. Now that he had it, how could he not overindulge, fill his stagnate voracity that sat unquenched for decades upon decades?
"We'll deal with this Milly situation tonight, yes?" Byakuya questioned, pulling out of the embrace.
"Yeah," Ichigo agreed. "Try to make it tonight, will ya'? Don't leave me alone with those vultures." He scowled slightly, showing his obvious distaste at the idea of facing off against those know-nothing teachers. Byakuya was a lot better at diplomacy than he, and bounds above him in decorum.
Earnestly, Byakuya reassured, "I'll do anything that's within my power."
xXx
It was still rather early in the day when Ichigo had finished most of the household chores he'd set aside to do. It was tedious overall, but he really didn't mind since it was a great way to pass his newly acquired time. Ichigo had to push himself to go for a run; it seemed a lot of things were forced these days. It was as if finding the motivation for normal daily actives was like a fight against gravity. Still, he never let the pull overtake him. He never resigned to the daunting apathy that had become his constant companion, like a friend that just didn't know when to leave. He did this because it was what he had to do; it's what he did. Kurosaki Ichigo overcame and he refused to be torpedoed like this. More so, he did it because underneath that apathy and agitation, that malaise and the nerves, was something much greater.
That's how he knew this wasn't him, because at his crux, his urge to be a good husband and father was overwhelming. His reservoir for affection for those two was infinite, absorbing any doubts to give in to his crippling state of mind. It was his brain and he was in control; at least, that's what he had been telling himself.
Their apartment had quite the large patio, about three times the size of a normal one, and was surrounded by glass windows that could be opened on a sunny and breezy day. When Ichigo had first moved here, he'd often spent a lot of time on the patio with his bare feet against the red hued wood of the floorboards and his disheveled hair swaying against the breeze. For the longest time, he'd worked on his art, seeming to thrive in the solitude by turning any pain he felt into creative energy. After he'd finished his professional work and house work, he'd spend hours amongst the frayed bristles of the bamboo paint brushes, the acrylic smell of water-filled mason jars, muddied by the hodgepodge of maroons, emeralds, and the perfectly mixed turquoises that would take multiple tries to perfect. In these simplicities, he found solace, and more so, he found gratification.
However, now the whole ambience seemed to just taunt him. His art utensils sat idly on a plastic-covered table just mocking him, a constant monument to his fragile identity that seemed to be slipping through his fingers. Something he loved had turned into just another hassle, another push, and what scared him was he wasn't pushing back this time. He couldn't find the mental wellness to even look at his blank canvas. It made him wonder, would other things he loved become just another pain, his chemically unbalanced mind unable to push pass the mounds of abjection filled bridle?
What caused him the most dejection was that he wanted to paint or perhaps, he wanted to want to paint, but instead felt numb and indifferent towards his once beloved passion. There was a wall in the way. It was that want to want, those parts of him that shone through yet seemed to become more and more infinitesimal by the day that gave him hope. He knew his true self and his real wants. This alien invader imposing as him, controlling his emotions, he wouldn't let him take over. This wasn't him.
Still as much as he missed the feeling of calluses caused by hours of holding bamboo in his paint-varnished grasp, he knew that longing wasn't enough. The other him won out again. He knew it, even his paint brushes knew it. They sat there representing all of his inadequacy, the first of who knows how many losses he would lose to this 'other self.' When he looked at them, he just felt his true self judging him, and he had to walk away. They both knew today wasn't the day.
For a while, he fumbled around awkwardly, avoiding the patio while trying to find a way to preoccupy his time. When he was younger, from time to time, he would just sit around a do nothing, watching TV, but now that such inertia felt like an impulse instead of a want, he wouldn't do it. He just couldn't, not when all he felt like doing was lying down and not getting up; it felt too much like defeat.
After aimlessly walking through his apartment for a moment, Ichigo found himself in his and Byakuya's bedroom. On a bedside table lay the novel, 'The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao', a book one of Byakuya's coworkers insisted he read to get a good grasp on modern American literature- opened and flat where he had stopped reading. Often the couple would read together. Ichigo would sit on his husband's lap and wrap his arms around his neck, following along. Byakuya even took pity on his lackluster English skills and read slower; if not for that, the book would have been finished in the course of the night. The man was a veritable softy inside, whether he admitted it or not. It was something special they did for just the two of them, and though it was simple, it was Ichigo's favorite simplicity. At some point last night, Ichigo had fallen asleep while he'd been perched on Byakuya's lap and his head buried within his palatial strands of hair. Byakuya must had stopped reading so the two could finish together. He could tell from the page the book was opened at.
Ichigo smiled nostalgically at the thought, running his fingers across the crisp ink-stained pages. It was then he caught the strong whiff of Byakuya's scent: sakura blossoms. At the tantalizing smell, he thought back to this morning and the gentle kisses his husband had besieged him with. The thought made the kissed areas tingle as a warm frothy heat filled his stomach and worked its way through the rest of his extremities. Just the thought was enough to get him hot and heavy.
When he was reading, he found that depression often depletes a person's sex drive. However, as of right now, that was a non-issue, for he became lambent from his own stifling attraction at merely the thought of his husband. Oddly enough, when he was younger, sex was trifling, if not completely off his radar. Now he seemed to gain hard-on's like an inexperienced teenage boy, the simplest things sending him over the edge. Just an aslant glare or a rubbing of the thigh could cause an unsolicited interruption. Half the time, his reading time with Byakuya would be cut short because he could simply not be horny while sitting on the man's lap. The professor would always just smirk at his lascivious husband, enjoying the earnestness of Ichigo's body.
Though his raging desire often caused him embarrassment, it was always fugaciously so. Even if it was met with a scowl or a huff, Ichigo always gave in to his own voracity. Not to mention, being in such a comfortable and trusting relationship gave him the opportunity to explore what he enjoyed sexually, whereas before he hadn't even wanted sex, let alone was he interested in exploring his inner hedonic hang-ups.
Yes, despite the humiliation caused by the newness of all this, life was too short to pretend he wasn't as kinky as he was, especially with such a sybaritic husband as Byakuya Kuchiki. That man was a sexual carnivore whose diet consisted of only Ichigo. It was because of him that Ichigo knew he liked it rough, hair-pulling, ass-slapping, neck-squeezing rough. He thrived in the sensation of being dominated by someone who he trusted so fervently, which was so opposite from his normal self.
Although they both seemed to have unquenchable sexual gluttony, it wasn't as if they were doing it like bunnies. More often than not, after Byakuya returned from work, he stayed up late into the evening while grading schoolwork. When he finally crawled into bed, he found himself too drained to wake his sleeping partner and indulge his late night cravings. This was just the consequence of their lives. Once a couple had a family and adult lives to maintain, even if they'd rather hide away under the sheets for the rest of time, there would always be things in the way. It's said that couple's sex lives, after being together so long, would often burn out
Though Ichigo didn't think he'd have to worry about such a thing. Not because he thought of himself as some special fucking snowflake who defied the rules, but because he felt many people became complacent because they settled from the get go. They deemed their partner 'good enough,' maybe even convincing themselves that it was some deep passion, but eventually the truth would always surface. True love wasn't something you could find at the bottom of a crackerjack box, it was rare and more times than not, out of reach. Because he and Byakuya had been so rarely enticed by anyone, such a strong connection was bounds beyond 'good enough.' It was an ineffable experience really, to meet someone and know they were it, to have absolutely no doubts clouding your mind. It was scarce, but it was out there, and the two had found it in each other.
More so, even if it was true love, if the flame burnt out it was probably because someone had stopped stoking it. That was Ichigo's fear: that one day this menacing presence would seep into that part of his life to. The thought that it would stop him from desiring the man he thirsted for more than anything was agonizing. Though it seemed impossible, just two weeks ago, he would have said the same thing about his painting hiatus. If something like that were to happen, how could he keep in from Byakuya? Even if he pushed himself, what if he didn't get erect? What if Byakuya thought it was him? He'd be forced to be forthright with his new brittleness, and that was the last thing he wanted.
Ichigo abrogated the negative thought, seeing as it wasn't a problem in the slightest as of now, if the half hard erection filling his pants meant anything. As his thoughts went back to his husband's exquisitely crafted physique, Ichigo felt a visceral need to touch himself.
Unbuttoning his trousers and lying back on the bed, Ichigo grasped his length firmly and began tugging at himself with gentle yet consistent motions. He softly squeezed at his head, thumbing his slit in-between circumnavigating the nerve-riddled pleasure spot. As he thought about how much he loved when Byakuya would tease him with a twirl of his tongue, flicking the head at pain-staking rates until Ichigo was begging for relief, a soft moan was drawn from his parted lips. With his lips limp and aquiver, Ichigo used all of his senses to recall his lover. As he counted down the alluring touches, sounds, smells, feelings, and sights of his potent Byakuya, it seemed to only quicken his movements. Each lewd thought increased the velocity of his frantic and sloppy pulling.
Memories came and went, zooming by like a high-speed summary of their lives together.
The feeling of Byakuya's soft lips pressing into his writhing and flushed skin over and over. 'Faster.'
The sound of a sultry yet stern baritone huffing and moaning in Ichigo's ear as he was taken from behind. 'Please.'
The disheveled look of Byakuya as he loosened his tie after work, showing off his defined collar bones and ruddy skin. 'More, Byakuya.'
Working his way to climax was daunting by himself, for it was now near to impossible to get there without probing his entrance. He was just too used to the feeling of Byakuya that his mere touch was nothing more than a half-cocked stand in. Still his thoughts of the man were a radical stimulus, heaving him towards the zenith of his sexual pleasure.
Now jerking wildly, his cock twitched as he bucked his hips into his own grasp. He was teetering on a gossamer string of cupidity, a few bumbling movements away from falling off. "Byakuya," the wanton voice rasped wistfully, biting his lip and tightening his eyelids at the feeling he got when the man's name left his mouth.
To his utter shock, his call was answered. "Yes?" an oppressive contralto asked, so obviously filled with lustful curiosity.
Without haste, Ichigo shot up and stuffed himself back into his pants like he was a teenager who'd gotten caught by their parents. He left his pants undone while leaning back on his palms, huffing and grunting slightly from the aching pain radiating from his confined member. He took a moment to eye Byakuya meticulously, for he looked just as he had in his fantasy. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands slung in his pockets. The tie noosed around his neck was loosened, making the man look somehow refined yet bedraggled at the same time. The well-pressed blazer he usually donned had been abandoned, leaving only his pristinely fitted button-up clinging to his body with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the man's robust alabaster forearms. The stillness of his normal face remained, almost eerily so. His eyelids were heavy, as if they were being weighed down by his lust. Ash eyes burned with severity, staring down the man almost predatorily while his lips twitched to form the slightest of smirks, one so unrecognizable that anyone else would have missed it. The peek-a-boo of florid flesh colored the protruding bones of his pectorals, signaling a heat radiating within him.
The man let out a loaded huff, practically slicing the humid milieu with his heady sharp breaths. It was obvious Byakuya had walked in at some point and caught Ichigo in this compromising position, choosing to remain silent and admire from a distance. Even more apparent, the man was helplessly turned on, his pants button seemingly working overtime to contain that behemoth Byakuya liked to called a dick. Yes, he was Ichigo's little voyeur.
"Byakuya," Ichigo said, his voice somewhere between a moan and normal. His fingers were twitching with impatience, now needing climax more than he could stand. "I didn't think you'd be home so early…"
For a brief moment, Byakuya stayed silent, his biting glare vacillating to Ichigo's bulging nether regions as he bit his lip, seemingly lost to all other on-goings. Still glaring, with a flat voice yet a tonality smothered with avidity, the man said, "Obviously." Now licking his lips slightly, he finally looked Ichigo in the eyes as he said, "Please, don't let me stop you," with a cock of the eyebrows and a flicker of a smile.
The blond sneered and said, "I know what you want," before his lips twisted into a knowing smirk.
Byakuya sauntered to the edge of the bed, looking down at his lover almost impishly. This prompted Ichigo to move to the end up the bed, getting on his knees to make himself eye level with Byakuya. The opulent man's voice was authoritative mixed with a hint of playfulness and a dash of disappointment as he let his humid breath float over Ichigo's ear, whispering, "And? Do you not want to put on a show for me?" His tonality became more playful as he griped, "and after I jumped through hoops to get off especially early. How disappointing."
The sweltering voice made Ichigo shiver a bit, his whole body warmed up with an overwhelming desire towards the playful man. If Byakuya wanted to play, Ichigo could be just as frisky. Slowly unbuttoning his own shirt, Ichigo perked an eyebrow, teasing casually, "That's not how life works, Byakuya. Your golden star is making your family happy." He gave a crooked smirk, adding, "But I guess since you tried so hard, I can reward you."
With their lips millimeters apart, both feeding off of the suffocating energy of each other's tepid breath, Ichigo crept his flat hand down his defined breast muscles and trailed his nimble fingers down his perfectly crafted core. He let his digits hover above his pelvis for a moment, feathering and teasing the sensitive area. He continued to his trajectory while keeping his severe honey orbs on Byakuya, running his leathery grasp to the denim-clad bulge before he palmed the aching appendage.
Coal orbs traversed Ichigo's perfectly contrived body as slowly and painstakingly as his own hand did, following along to his intimate destination, watching as the man teased himself for the pleasure of his lover. "You're so bad, Ichigo. You want me so badly you couldn't even hold out until tonight." His voice was pointedly facetious in an attempt to rile him up. "Where's all of that stubborn willpower?"
As if they were having a contest to who could stay anchored the longest, they both were situated with merely the most minute amount of space between their quivering bodies, only letting their flushed skin graze each other every once in a while, just enough to tickle in all the right ways. The susurration of Ichigo's libertine voice rang in Byakuya eardrum. "I bet I have more willpower than you," he challenged.
"And how do you plan to test that theory?" purred Byakuya as he eyed the man curiously.
"Watch me, but no touching yourself… or me," he growled slightly. "I give you ten minutes before you want to explode… Unless of course, you don't think ya' can hold out."
Smirking slightly, Byakuya countered smugly, "And when I win?"
"Then you can have me whichever way you want, but when I win," Ichigo muttered while nibbling on Byakuya's ear lobe, "I get to take you this time."
This elicited an animalistic growl from the raven-haired man. "It seems like a win-win situation from my perspective, but you know I've never been one to turn away from a challenge. I'll even give you fifteen minutes." With that, Byakuya turned on his heels and sat in a lounging chair situated in the corner of the room. Propping an elbow on the arm of the chair, he rested his cheek slightly against his hand, trading his usually refined stature for a more lackadaisical potion while looking at Ichigo with a smug intrigue.
This wasn't the first time Byakuya had wanted a 'show' and it wasn't Ichigo's first performance. The first time he'd suggested it, Ichigo was irascible and abashed, more ready to fight his husband than flaunt for him. Still, eventually Ichigo had given in; he credited that to those hypnotic coal oculus that could will him into anything. He sure didn't mind challenging the man sexually, helping him discover his body's true vagaries. Though the first few times Ichigo was rather self-conscious, bumbling around awkwardly, feeling like an idiot, now he was more confident in his abilities.
More often than not, Byakuya was the dominant one in their tryst, as he had such a confidence and such a sexual artistry behind that reserved demeanor, and that was just the way Ichigo liked it. Still the nature of their relationship had always been to challenge each other, and it wasn't in Ichigo's makeup to make such dominance easy. Especially when he was growing more and more comfortable with his erotic and playful side every day. He loved to make Byakuya fight for it.
Though it wasn't very often Ichigo topped his husband, he was feeling more raptorial today than usual, so he needed to make this good.
Standing on his knees facing towards Byakuya, there was no blushing or sneering, not this time. Ichigo ran his thumb down his parted lips and trailed it down his neck leisurely. With one hand he grasped the sensitive parts of his neck, feeling the thumping heat of his coursing blood. With the other, he laid his coarsen hands flat on his torso, running the tough skin over the velvety taupe sides, the difference of the textures only augmenting the sensitivity. He continued to use his hand to work over his body attentively, working his way down lower and lower. He'd viciously pull at his most sensitive areas, every so often teasing his boxer-clad erection while letting out a manly resonant moan. Above the definition of his hip bone, Ichigo took each individual finger and pressed the pads into the hypersensitive inflamed tendons, causing him to bite his lip hard and brace his trembling knees.
Byakuya licked his lips at the man's honest reaction to taunting one of his most sensitive areas. His fingers twitched in desire and caused him to clench his hand shut, resisting the urge to stroke himself.
Ichigo's fingers titillated the light-toned orange bristles that trailed down from his naval before he'd crept his fingers across the fray of soft pubic hair peeking from his boxer briefs. For a brief moment, Ichigo let his digits tickle the strands as he used his other hand to grasp his own ass. His jeans and boxers were sagging off of his trimmed figure, making him look carelessly disheveled, but it the sexiest way. Finally, Ichigo's firm grip began yanking at his own member in rhythmic yet fierce motions, still veiling his hardened length within the fabric.
"Show me," Byakuya growled, his statement yielding very little room for opposition.
Ichigo just smirked smugly and used his free hand to shimmy his briefs down slightly, leaving his whole length exposed, rutilant and pulsating.
On the bedside table lay a glass of ice water, right beside the book Byakuya had been reading. Never relinquishing his hold on his member, he leaned over, grabbed the cup, and drank from it. As he set the cup back down, a half-melted piece of ice was situated between his teeth. Byakuya let out a breathy chuckle at Ichigo, thinking he'd never seen him so sexually flagrant. Such an unrestrained Ichigo was hard to keep his hands off of. He watched as the ice melted, the frigid water dripping down his chin and rolling past his chest and stomach, making him glisten slightly. The man took the ice with his free hand and strolled the tip of it across his calescent skin, the extreme temperature difference stimulating his most tender areas to their apex.
With eleven minutes left and Byakuya still looking unflappable, Ichigo shimmed from his pants, leaving himself fully exposed. He rolled onto his hands and knees, leaving his finest asset facing the man. Byakuya let out a contained and frustrated huff, his mouth watering at the sight Ichigo's succulent and shapely ass as he began to finger his entrance, exhibiting his salaciousness for his husband. Oh, how Byakuya envied those fingers. While holding his body up with one hand, Ichigo's back arched as he let out a much more potent gritty moan. He began thrusting into his own finger, quickly moving from one to two.
Still, Byakuya didn't move; he merely watched with his full captivation. With only seven minutes left of their little game, Ichigo decided to make every second count. He was feeling unusually frisky and was determined to win their bet. Besides, the way Ichigo saw it, who knew if one day his desire for this would plateau against his own will. The frightening notion only made him want to please his partner more.
Ichigo got off the bed and grabbed some lube out of the top drawer and the cup of ice water off the dresser before he swaggered over to his husband. He loomed over him for a moment, merely smirking wolfishly. It intrigued the audience, making him wonder what exactly Ichigo's final act was going to be. After unbuttoning Byakuya's shirt and loosening his belt, Ichigo once again placed a piece of ice between his teeth. Starting from the veiny girth of the man's neck and working his way down past the exquisitely crimson thorax, to the perked nipples, and through the valley of muscles solidifying his obliques, Ichigo teased the most sensitive areas with the cube before he wantonly tugged at the skin with his warm hands, offering a stinging sensation of pain and pleasure.
Byakuya fought his muscles' natural inclination to spasm and arch at the sensation, for the taunting was almost maddening. Still he fought against it. What kind of man would he be if he couldn't even hold out another five minutes? Byakuya huffed and looked at his husband, who was now down on his knees unfastening his pants and pulling them down slightly. "You're pulling out all the stops, I see," he said with a smirk, "but your time is running out. I suppose I'll start considering which way I'll be taking you."
Ichigo just grinned at the man and countered confidently, "I'll make you eat those words, Byakuya. Five minutes is plenty." Cocking an eyebrow at the man, he mused, "I know your weakness."
This only seemed to amuse Byakuya more. He gave an arrogant chortle and bragged, "I didn't believe I had any of those in regards to our love making. Please, educate me."
With this, Ichigo wrapped his hands around Byakuya's thighs and jolted him quickly, much to the man's surprise. He was situated with his ass hanging half off the seat and his head slumped down to the middle of the chair. It was a rather awkward position, but interest and thirst threw all care aside.
As Ichigo pulled down his pants and boxers slightly, exposing his hardened length, he informed, "Its pride." The man feathered the appendage with gentle frosty kisses up and down while simultaneously rubbing lube between his hands.
At the man teasing him with the breathy kisses and flicks of the tongue, Byakuya sneered slightly, pondering, "What do you mean?"
"Ya' know," Ichigo growled with an airy tenor while rubbing his lubed finger against Byakuya's entrance. "The few times I've done this to you, you've always stopped me and changed positions." Now pressing the finger slightly into the tensed passageway, Ichigo bit his lip and speculated, "I don't think it's because you don't like it, but because you like it a little too much."
Byakuya took a sharp breath at the feeling of being probed by Ichigo's adept fingers, feeling him slowly yet consistently loosen him up. His face was somewhere between aroused and irked as he watched the man once again start lapping at his shaft while he still delved into him.
Ichigo already knew he'd won at the first whimper he'd heard leave Byakuya's lips, but he felt the need to press the point, flaunt his victory. Between licks, Ichigo muttered, "Because you barely let me take you, your body's so sensitive to this." He was now playing with Byakuya's prostate, yielding deep moans that Byakuya tried to stifle. "So sensitive that when I do it, you cum really," he dragged out his words, making them exceedingly heady, "reaaally quickly. Byakuya Kuchiki, coming in five minutes like some horn-dog teen - that's worse than how I was," he mocked, stroking the man as he simultaneously stroked his autocratic nature. "That must really hurt your pride, not being able to control yourself like that, and if you're not quick." He was then making room for a second finger, massaging the man's bundle of nerves with metrical motions, causing an uncontrollable moan from the receiver. "all that pride won't mean anything while I'm making you get off in my mouth… You could always stop me, if you wanted," he offered before focusing his mouth's full attention on Byakuya's flushed cock, wrapping it up in his toasty and wet mouth.
He effortlessly and zealously worked over the man's most sensitive areas, forcing his body into complete submission. Ichigo was well versed in the kinks of Byakuya, fluent in how to play with his body in such a way that he'd elicited only the most pleasure. It was as if his mouth and fingers were forcing him into pliability, sucking away the last bit of arrogant willpower Byakuya thought he had. As Ichigo's pursed lips hastened and he'd opened up his throat, filling his airways until his lips pressed against the base of Byakuya's member, he would frantically twirl his tongue along the shaft. Though his moves were rapid, they were equally meticulous, thrusting Byakuya closer and closer to capstone of sexual pleasure and crumbling away all of his resolution.
The blond was drenched with his own saliva, his mouth helplessly frothing from the sucking. Byakuya's deep moans filled his ears as he felt his whole body tighten. Knowing his husband was close only made him moan in suit, hurrying his motions even more.
This was Byakuya's comeuppance. It was obvious that he'd always loved when Ichigo did this to him; he only allowed it so sparingly out of some frivolous shame he'd felt for being so utterly out of control of his own body. To him, that equated to lacking self-discipline and made him feel like an incompetent lover. It was childish really, but still, he'd had hoped he could last past the five minute mark, concreting his own foolish pride. It was futile. His body was moments away from crumbling into a puddle of pure afterglow. Either decision he made would be a mark on his own personal willpower, but that was the point. Around Ichigo, silly pride meant nothing. Ichigo had always been forcing him into humbling himself, and that's just the way he liked it.
Still, he had rather taken the path to defeat that was chosen rather than involuntary. Feeling his body quaking, all but seconds away from peaking, he grabbed the scruff of Ichigo's hair and pulled him rather roughly from his current task. Ichigo just gave a knowing smirked as Byakuya looked down at him and growled, "You don't play fair."
Before any response could be yielded, Byakuya stood and lifted up Ichigo with him, still pulling him by his scruff, knowing his husband enjoyed the little bit of pain that came with it. They both fell into a tug-o-war with each other's limbs, pulling at each other's skin so wildly. All of that agitated desire pouring out in the form of helter-skelter like kissing and uncontrollable touching. Their hands moved expeditiously and without thought, as if they were junkies getting high off of the chemical reactions induced from skin to skin contact, only desiring to get just one more taste.
Byakuya was cupping Ichigo's ass, fondling it as Ichigo's arms intertwined through the spider-hued tresses. He carelessly stumbled back onto the bed, never breaking his vacuum-sealed osculation while Ichigo fell back with him. It didn't take long before Ichigo's fingers found their way to Byakuya's loosened access, quickly yet pleasurably fingering his husband until Byakuya started thrusting back, signaling he was ready for more.
Lining himself up with Byakuya, he never broke the magnetic collision of kisses. "I want inside of you," Ichigo moaned barely over a whisper, his words stifled by their lip tugging.
At this point, Byakuya was just able to let out a gravelly freight-train type growl. Ichigo had propelled him towards an orgasm and back again twice, and his body was frail from the sexual red-light green-light. Hearing the growl, Ichigo buried his face in the plush hair and spoke in a spine-chilling whisper. "Don't worry, Bya'. I'll make this last a long time." Filling the man with his trembling phallus, he rumbled, "I'll go really slow."
Byakuya inhaled sharply, almost forgetting to breathe at the oxygen-seizing sensation of Ichigo impaling him while kneading at his prostate with his painstaking slow rotations of the hips. Upon the feeling of Byakuya's aperture vicing the confines of his manhood, Ichigo held back his own climax. Though he preferred to be the one being invaded, it wasn't hard to understand why Byakuya loved doing this to him so much, for the tightness made it seem like Byakuya's whole's essence was trying to squeeze him dry, silently begging for his surging virility to saturate him.
The submissive man rolled his hips, inviting, if not pleading for the man to railroad him. Yet Ichigo kept with his almost sadistically gradual infiltration, all while suckling at the man's kindled nipples and imprisoning his wrist above his head, leaving the state of Byakuya's body under his control. "Damn, baby," Ichigo huffed, anchoring a hand to Byakuya's hip in order to help deepen his stabs, "You feel amazing." His words were barely heard through his parched voice. If someone had told Ichigo five years ago that he'd be saying something so lewd and bared face or calling anyone baby, he'd probably tell them they were delusional. Then again, he would have said the same thing if someone had told him he'd be married to one of the most beautiful men in the Soul Society, fucking him on the bed they shared together.
The whole experience was beautifully torturous. Byakuya felt like an active volcano constantly suspended between sputtering and eruption. Over and over again, Ichigo brought him to the brim of his pleasure limits, just a twitch away from his body releasing all of the agonizing tension building inside of him, but as if he could read his body's intentions clearly, he'd always draw back, pulling him away from the edge. It was the definition of torture, but from Ichigo, Byakuya was a pain-seeking sadist, imploring the man for more genitive lacerations. The only sounds that could be drawn from the quaking lips were beastly moans beseeching him to ram him harder because this mind-altering samba Ichigo was doing to his body sent him flying. Ichigo's lust was an opiate, it was influenza encompassing his core. Yes, if sharing in this bliss with Ichigo was the cause, Byakuya would gladly be a martyr. If Ichigo was his capture, he didn't mind being tyrannized. At least, not this once anyway.
They continued like this for a while, and for a while, neither noticed Byakuya's cellphone ringing. Even when they did, Byakuya told for him to ignore it and to keep pounding into him. It wasn't until the intruder called for the third time that Ichigo let out a frustrated huff. "You better check that," he reasoned, still not relinquishing his lips from the dulcet skin of his husband. "They've called a lot; it could be Milly's school."
With that, he rolled off the man, lying beside him. The now irritable Byakuya threatened, "For the sake of whoever's on the other line, this had better be worth the interruption."
Ichigo just planted a kiss on the man's shoulder and chuckled, "Don't worry, it's not like I'm going anywhere."
Byakuya stood up and retrieved the pants he had carelessly marooned and took the phone from the pocket. He didn't even try to sound cordial or the least bit formal as he answered the phone. "What?" he bit. There was a brief silence where Byakuya's face gaped slightly before it settled back into its usual stoicism. "We were informed th-" He went silent for a moment. Ichigo saw his hand twitch in frustration. He was not the type of man who took well to being cut off, but he had always been the type to know when and when not to speak out. "I have previous priorities with my family," he continued finally. After another silent moment, Byakuya huffed and complied, "Yes, yes, I understand. Very well."
After he got off the phone, he took his spot back beside Ichigo, who was lying on his side, and pressed his forehead softly against his chest. It actually looked as if he was moping slightly, which was something he never did. Though Ichigo could be dense at times, he wasn't completely oblivious.
Sneering slightly, Ichigo asked, "I guess I'm flying solo tonight?" Though he tried to not come off as bitter, he was sure it showed through in his tone.
"Yes," Byakuya huffed once more. "The end of the semester is coming up soon and the literature department has to gather and form the final exams for the students to take. It's for the purpose of keeping all of the tests at a similar level of difficulty and secures that the questions are the best for analyzing a student's overall knowledge. All departments have to do it. Our meeting was supposed to be next week, but there's been a rather impromptu schedule change." Giving the man a genuine look of apology, he avowed, "If it was within my ability, I would much rather deal with the stupidity of the teachers at Milly's school than the ones at mine. I know this was important, I'm sor-"
"You don't have any reason to be sorry," Ichigo said with a fraudulent smile, one he was sure looked awkward because how much it contrasted his actual feelings. In actuality, Ichigo felt an unexplainable ball of disappointment and frustration sitting in the pit of his stomach.
"Duty calls, I get it." What was he going to say? 'I know you're supporting our family, but poor me?' More so, he felt completely irrational. Why was he feeling this way? Why couldn't he get a grasp on this? If this was before, he'd probably be upset, but not in the hit by a truck way, because it seemed really insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Before, he'd most likely not even try to hide that he was pissed. He'd make a few half-hearted impassioned comments about how stupid Byakuya's work was, and that would be the end of his frustration towards the matter. Their tryst would have continued with nothing but a brief interruption and a slight ting of disappointment.
In Ichigo's defense, he had a moxie of new and convoluted emotions stewing inside of him, none of which he was allowing to surface. It was starting to bubble over in the form of inner dread and disappointment, an irrational mood swing. Despite any concessions, he felt selfish for even thinking this way and resorted back to clumsily concealing his true feelings. He was sure that there were cracks forming in the mask he donned, and it was only a matter of time before the whole thing crumbled off.
The worst of Ichigo's degradation came from the feeling of his desire being stolen from him. As if to add insult to injury, his new shadowy companion had extinguished all of that pyre till not a single ember was left. He didn't grasp how that could be in the realm of possibility when just moments ago, if they weren't wearing their rings, they could have asphyxiated a whole town with their inexhaustible inferno of spiritual energy. Yet, somehow, that blinding sphere of combusting rapid oxidation had been put out. No, not put out, stolen, poached from his very being. Ichigo was able to contain Hichigo. A mask-wielding, Soul Reaper-Hollow hybrid look alike was less invasive than this squatter. It didn't even have a body or any manifestation at all, yet it still seemed to look more and more like Ichigo every day. It seemed more like him every passing moment, and truthfully, he was losing sight of the differences.
It wasn't fair, and he it hated it. There were no words to articulate his dissidence. More than anything, he wished this was some physical animate presence so he could rip it apart with his Zanpakutou, erode the chain connecting them. He wanted the feeling of Byakuya's skin. He wanted to love him the way he deserved, every single moment of the day, and to be able to express that love in every sense of the word. A man that beautiful deserved to be touched, and Ichigo wanted nothing more than to touch him. He wanted it fervently. Though that's what he didn't understand, how could he want something and not at the same time? How could he ache and tremble for those quenching lips and the miles of porcelain skin stretched like a canvas over his amorous limbs, and somehow not find the motivation to reach out and take them? Most quintessential was, how could he look the man he loved in the eyes and tell him he didn't want to put his hands on him for reasons unknown, and that this probably wouldn't be the last time?
Easy - he couldn't. Ichigo started to move to the edge of the bed, wearing a rather blank face as he did so. Before he could stand up, Byakuya sat up in suit, and from behind, he placed soft kissed on Ichigo's neck, making the man grit his teeth slightly as he awkwardly rolled his neck.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing was rekindled from those sweet sakura hued lips. They felt so warm and comforting, but that just morphed into ugly guilt. He wished those lips could be a defibrillator to his deadened desire, but alas, nothing could break the skin.
"You don't need to pretend like it doesn't bothers you," Byakuya asserted knowingly between his leisurely planting of kisses.
Ichigo cringed slightly, the rain from his inner world wanting to seep out of him. He bit it back and swallowed it. As he spoke, his voice was gritty and out of place, one Byakuya took notice off. "I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks, but it's no big deal. I get it."
As he went to push himself off the bed, he felt the soft grasp of Byakuya's fingers on his wrist. He could practically feel them imploring him, the nerve-painted fingertips pulsating, almost searching, wanting him to stay. Those fingers were starting to taunt him too now. Wantonly, Byakuya pondered, "We're not done here, are we?"
"Uhh," Ichigo searched desperately for words, the gentle baritone of his husband making it so much harder. He voice was like salt-covered glass stabbing into his wounds because he found that voice to be the most beautiful voice he ever heard. That was the voice of his Byakuya, his captivating, prideful, sardonic, gentle, sometimes silly, stuffed-animal sewing father to his daughter. Byakuya was the other half to his moiety, his biggest fan and his greatest inspiration. He was the voice who he wanted to hear every day for his whole life, the voice he wanted to say 'no, were not done here' to, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Well, I figured, ya' got that meeting so I'd give you some time to get ready and shower and everything."
"Ichigo, I-" Byakuya was about to tell Ichigo that he was misunderstanding, that he had plenty of time before he had to leave for work, but he cut himself off. The man was far shrewder than his husband was giving him credit for. He knew a poorly constructed lie when he heard it, especially from the mouth of Ichigo. Did he think he didn't notice, that he didn't know his own husband? Did he believe he hadn't seen the unused paint materials, the increasingly vacant stares, or the inflection of stifled tears? Why did Ichigo think he'd been so adamant lately to constantly reiterate that he didn't have to hide anything from him, that he could come to him with everything and anything? He wasn't sure what exactly was the essence of Ichigo's pain, but he felt it, he felt it ringing inside of him. It was obvious to him the real reason Ichigo was ending their tryst: he'd lost his desire.
Trying to save his lover some pride, he narrowed his eyes and put on a more austere expression. Standing up, he went to retrieve his clothes and affirmed, "Yes, you're probably right."
As Byakuya gathered his clothes and Ichigo dressed, there was a haunting silence that made the mere feet of separation stretch on for miles. A tension so dense filled the atmosphere that Ichigo could feel it sticking to his skin, sullying his soul. There was a wedge, one Ichigo had placed between them. He knew it and couldn't stand it, but still, he couldn't and wouldn't change it. He wouldn't fill that silence with the explanation Byakuya deserved.
They were a house on fire, but the rain was starting to pour.
xXx
Jazzybella: I'm glade you're liking it. Ikkaku and Yumichika are amazing characters and a lot of people don't give them enough credit. I hope I can keep doing well by them.
Siwon611: That mean's so much because I really put a lot of effort into the words I pick. Your comment made me smile! :)
.havens: Thanks girly, I hope you keep with this story.