Requested by itazura- thank you disappointment
Ichigo x Yylfordt
Simultaneous
The power shortage had blacked out Karakura just as Ichigo's window had silently opened, and a figure had slipped in from behind the curtain. Ichigo sighed, at the intrusion and the darkness but particularly at the idiotic comment that was soon forthcoming.
"Damn, I can't see anything."
Ichigo rolled his eyes.
"What, you think you're fucking blind? My torch is on my desk somewhere."
"Ichigo, I can't see anything!"
"Will you shut the hell up and help me find the torch? I fucking know its dark, idiot."
"Stop your bitching, you-"
Simultaneously, their hands found the torch, Ichigo's thumb switching it on. It lit up the back wall, and Yylfordt's grinning face. Ichigo dropped it as if it were red hot, and it rolled on the floor illuminating them from below, eerily. There was a wail from a siren outside, and the room was lit with sudden, flashing blue.
"Yo, Ichigo. Missed me?"
The light cast shadows across their faces, making them both look strangely angular, their cheekbones deeply hollowed and their eyes nearly black, looking as if no emotion flickered through them, although Ichigo knew full well that Yylfordt let everything show.
"Fuck off."
Yylfordt leant against the table, head to one side. He ruffled his hair with one hand, the other moving to Ichigo's collar, slipping his finger-tips inside to stroke the lower hollow of his throat.
Their eyes met at the same time, and Yylfordt pressed himself against the shinigami, moving with a sinuous grace, as if every part of him were synchronised liquid. He purred Ichigo's name, moving with the shinigami completely in time with the other's movements, moving them away from the desk and the yellow light. The torch flickered, batteries dying, so now they moved in and out of darkness, still in perfect step, a well rehearsed pattern, in concord, a matched pace.
"You're so mean, Ichigo."
"Shut up."
He pressed their mouths together, winning dominance over the kiss as the back of Yylfordt's knees hit the side of the bed. Ichigo felt hungry for the taste of him, hungry for the feel of the lithe body that was currently keeping pace with his, that was currently taking both of their clothes off with pace and skill. He knew that if he had been trying to do it, it would have been flurried and awkward.
Yylfordt pulled him down onto the covers, rolling his hips upwards, pressing every inch of himself against Ichigo, not letting any gap grow between them.
His breath was rushed, effeminate, panting and still a little insulting.
"Bite me, Ichigo."
Ichigo complied.