What an unpleasant awakening this is. Ichigo doesn't have to lift the blanket and look down to know he is harder than differential equations right now because Ishida is pressed against him in all the best ways. Wiggling in his sleep like he is dreaming of becoming a belly dancer. He can't stop a heavy moan at the glorious friction. Ishida's hips cease their circular grind when the sound wakes him.
"Kurosaki, that had better be the remote poking into my back."
"Well, it's not my fault you were rubbing all over me like some kind of amorous octopus! How was I supposed to react? I'm a healthy young man, Ishida!"
"So you're not turned-on because it's me?" Ishida rolls over to earnestly ask with a hint of sadness. His lower lip juts in a cute pout. "Anyone could put you in this mood just by rubbing here?"
His hand touches lightly against Ichigo's erection and he hisses at the jolt of pleasure. There is no point in lying, especially when Ishida is making that adorable face at him. Ichigo pulls him into a deep kiss that steals their breath.
"Only you, Ishida. No one else does it for me. You make me so hot..."
"Mmmn, touch me, Kurosaki. I want you. I need to feel you inside me."
Ichigo hits the floor with a painful thud as he slides off the bed. He deserves much, much worse for dreaming what he just did. If he thought his conscious thoughts were bad, his subconscious is a raving lunatic. He would easily bet his life savings that Ishida has never pouted once in all his twenty years on this earth. Much less uttered blasphemies like 'I need to feel you inside me'. Even if the memory of those dream-words instantly reminds Ichigo that he is still very much aroused by the stupid scenario.
Expecting a vindictive peal of laughter at his tumble any second now, Ichigo glances around the space to find he is alone. But he spots a sheet of folded paper underneath his phone. It's Ishida's handwriting, of course, telling him to lock up before he leaves and that he will meet up with Ichigo later. A spare key is enclosed. Marveling at Ishida's trust in him, he squeezes the cold metal into a fist and laments his life for the hundredth time.
It is Friday and Ichigo only has two classes, neither of which require a test. He attends them anyway. Around lunch time, he gets a crazy idea that he has had and vetoed several times before. Ichigo can't afford to avoid potentially uncomfortable situations anymore, though, so he follows through for a change. Even after all these years, Inoue is speed-dial number six on his phone. She answers on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Inoue. How's it going?"
"Pretty good, Kurosaki-kun!" she chirps, in good spirits as usual. "How about you?"
"Not too bad." A brief pause precedes a more serious subject, "Feel free to tell me never to ask you this again, but..."
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling me a bit about the graduation party."
"Uh...sure?"
"I know it was a long time ago but this is about something that was never clarified between Ishida and me."
"Oh. I'm not sure I should—"
"I've heard his side of the story," Ichigo half-lies for the sake of finding a much-needed resolution. "But I was hoping you could confirm something for me."
"I'll do my best," she half-heartedly offers. "What did you want to ask?"
"I don't know if he ever told you this, but I was at the same party and I sort of...walked in on you two." He deliberately falls silent for a few beats to see if she will volunteer anything. She doesn't. "So, my question is if what I saw was what I think it was. Were you and Ishida really...Um. Y'know. Making out?" The phone is mute for so long that he pulls it away from his ear to check the connection. "Inoue?"
"I'm here," she hesitantly confirms. "Are you sure you asked Ishida-kun about this?"
"Well, he kinda shut me down pretty fast, but yeah. I did ask."
"I guess it couldn't hurt since it was so long ago," Inoue anxiously vacillates, "And it's not like it was that important in the first place."
"Yeah?"
"If you're asking whether you saw correctly, the answer is: yes. Ishida-kun and I did kiss at that party."
"I see."
Maybe it is something in his voice, but Inoue seems to pick up on his distress. She falls right into her old pattern of high-pitched rambling like their schooldays were only yesterday.
"But that doesn't mean anything. It was just once, Kurosaki-kun, I swear! I really think you should ask him directly before jumping to any conclusions—"
"Thanks, Inoue, that's all I wanted to know. I'll talk to you later," he says before ending the call.
In truth, he already knew it went down the way he thought it did. Ichigo had held out hope all these years that maybe he was wrong, maybe he had a shot with Ishida in some small way. But it is beyond time to let foolish notions about a potential relationship with his friend rest for good. Rather than trying to 'put the moves' on Ishida this weekend, he should appreciate it for what it is and then do his best to respectfully withdraw from his life as much as possible.
Although it may already be far too late for that.
"So, we'll arrive in the afternoon with plenty of time for a long soak before dinner and there will even be a special show tomorrow since it's so close to a holiday. I hear the food is fantastic there. Maybe we can go for a hike in the mountains or just spend extra time in the onsen. They offer massages but I think it might be extra. Although I have heard from a few classmates that it's well worth it."
Listening to Ishida excitedly rattle off their itinerary on the train to the hot springs is as endearing as it is foreboding. Ichigo wasn't in his right mind when he agreed to spend the weekend alone with him. Wasn't it just earlier this week he was reproaching himself for wanting to do something like this with despicable motives? There is no way he won't get caught doing or saying something totally perverted.
"Are you sure we can't just leave early tomorrow morning?"
"And waste the chance to spend more time there for free? Why would we do that? You're not still hung up on the nudity part, are you? Geez, Kurosaki, I promise I will do everything in my power to preserve your newfound modesty."
"It's not that," he grumps, sinking further into his seat and pulling his hood over his head. "I just don't see the point in staying longer."
"You'll see the point when you're getting the best massage of your life."
"Only if you're giving it to me, Ishida."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I want your hands all over my body. No one else gets to touch me but you."
"That is deplorable! Never speak to me again."
To escape the perils of his cruelly overactive imagination on a boring train ride, Ichigo pulls out his MP3 player and wedges the headphones over his ears. He closes his eyes and tunes reality out. Only the rough beat of angry rock music penetrates his shell for the next half hour. It is all too easy to fall into a brooding pattern, regardless of the fun he may or may not be having soon.
Feeling Ishida shift via the armrest, he cracks his eyes open to see a phone aimed at him. Then he leans back against his seat and starts texting without explaining why he just took a picture of Ichigo. Lifting one side of his headphones so he can hear, he nudges Ishida's arm to get his attention.
"Did you just take my picture?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Sado-kun asked why I was messaging him instead of talking to you after I told him we were on the train together."
"If you want to talk, let's talk. Why are you messaging him?"
Ishida shows him the image on his phone. It features Ichigo curled in on himself and scowling like a moody teenager. He appears as if he might be making silent threats of violence to everyone in his immediate vicinity.
"Shit, is that what I look like when I make that face?"
"Usually," snickers Ishida at his surprise. "I don't take it personally."
Ichigo straightens in his seat, drops his hood, and tries to relax his expression into something less perturbed. Glancing at Ishida's approving smile does wonders. The music gets switched off and the headphones go back into his bag. Likewise, Ishida's phone is pushed into his pocket.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I've been doing most of the talking lately," he says in a thoughtful tone. His eyes lower and all humor drains from his countenance. "Sometimes it is clear you aren't even listening. I have been the only one asking to meet up. It's starting to feel lonely, Kurosaki. Do I bore you?"
His first inclination is to grab the man and kiss such antithetical thoughts right out of him. Ichigo could never grow bored of him and the fact that Ishida would ask that means he is failing as a friend. Seeing Ishida suffer even the tiniest bit sets his insides squirming. Knowing it is his fault makes it that much worse. It's just so difficult trying to act normally around him when all Ichigo wants to do is proclaim his inappropriate affections.
This is it. Ichigo has to say it right now or he'll lose his chance forever. He takes a shaky breath and turns to gaze right into his eyes.
"Ishida, I lo—"
"Wow, I wasn't expecting you to be so serious," he interrupts with raised eyebrows. "It was just a joke."
"It—what?"
"In an attempt to break you out of your funk, though I guess it had the opposite effect. I was never very good with comedy but I didn't take you for the sentimental type. Do we need to discuss this?"
"Well, you do have valid points," Ichigo sighs and rests his head on the chair behind him. "I have been distracted and distant. I know you're worried about me and I keep blaming it on stress, but..."
"But what?"
While Ichigo struggles for the right words, the train draws to a stop. Passengers begin chattering animatedly as they prepare to disembark. An announcement over the intercom reports their arrival at the station and provides instructions.
"Never mind. We can talk later. Let's just enjoy the resort for now, okay?"
Evidently concerned, Ishida respects his wish and consents to put it on the back-burner. He leads them off the train and all the way to the onsen down the street. Since Ishida has been there before, they arrive faster than many of the other passengers and get first pick of the available rooms. They decide on the one closest to the hot spring pools. Unpacking doesn't take long; they didn't bring much with them.
"Do you want to start with a bath? A welcome ceremony will be starting soon but it's nothing impressive."
"Sure." He watches Ishida reach for the provided kimono and head for the door. "Where are you going?"
"To change in the restroom."
"Why?" His answer is a pointed look. "You don't have to do that. Just change here."
Ishida slings the kimono over his shoulder and starts unbuckling his belt without further ado. Ichigo gasps and whips around to keep from watching.
"See? If it makes you so uncomfortable, it's better that I—"
"No!" he rushes over to slam a hand against the door before Ishida can leave. "You having to change in the restroom is too awkward, isn't it? This is your room more than it is mine. Anyway, I'm not uncomfortable, that was a reflex."
"I don't know, Kurosaki, I would hate to exacerbate your frenetic state of mind with something so inconsequential as subjecting you to unnecessary horrors."
Offended without being sure what part of that statement he is specifically offended about, Ichigo perplexedly mouths the words 'frenetic' and 'horrors' as Ishida reaches for the doorknob. This is no longer about propriety and politeness, however, and Ichigo leans on the door to keep it shut.
"You think I'm disgusted by you?"
"That would be the simplest explanation, and you know how I feel about Ockham's Razor."
"You do not disgust me, Ishida." It's such an understatement that he can't help huffing a strained laugh at the very idea. "This time Ockham is dead wrong."
"Thanks for that, but I would still prefer avoiding extra tension."
His fingers don't get a chance to touch the handle before Ichigo is swatting him away from it. Ishida glares in exasperation.
"Well now you're causing tension by being stubborn," he grumbles. "I said it's fine so just change here."
"I'm not the one who is being stubborn," Ishida snarks without missing a beat. "Maybe I'm sick of you cringing every time my shirt shifts."
"I don't cringe!"
"Prove it."
"Huh?"
Standing close with a challenging gaze, Ishida lifts his hands with deliberate slowness and brings them to the front of his shirt. Fingers pinch the zipper and drag it down. That shirt hits the floor but he has a tank on underneath. Ichigo's heart rate doubles as his eyes follow the path of his undershirt rising, revealing smooth skin. A neat navel bracketed by a shallow V. He takes a half-step away from Ishida and his back hits the door.
The second he sees nipples, Ichigo cringes.
"I knew it," snorts Ishida, dropping the tank beside his overshirt.
"Keep going."
Pausing at that, he frowns but doesn't argue. The belt clinks as it unclasps. Pants snap open. Fabric whispers against flesh. He keeps his eyes locked on Ishida's, not daring to glance down. Not knowing if Ishida is wearing underwear or not wreaks havoc in Ichigo's overheating brain. Measured breaths mark the passage of too much time as they linger in this moment.
"What are you waiting for? Do I have to spell it out for you? I want you to look at my body, Kurosaki. Like what you see?"
"...Yes."
"Prove it."
The kimono drapes across his shoulders and Ishida finally breaks eye contact to pull it closed in the front, knotting it with practiced motions. The spell is broken and Ichigo moves at the same time as Ishida. They separate to opposite ends of the room. Ishida clears his throat and picks up his clothes to neatly fold.
"I guess I was wrong. That was certainly less troubling for both of us than changing in the restroom would have been." Sarcasm tints his voice dark. "Now that's been established, the rest of our weekend should be a breeze."
Ichigo doesn't trust himself to reply. He watches Ishida snatch up a towel, slip on his sandals, and head out the door without another word. Minutes later, he dares to move. Hitting the wall with both fists, Ichigo pushes against it and groans in frustration. His lungs heave and his jaw clenches. He feels another sordid episode of the "Ichigo Loves Ishida" show coming on but he resolutely tunes it out.
Only echoes of imagined moans break through.
A pair of half-naked samurai are grappling against each other in the hallway. They wear identical grimaces of Herculean effort in an eternally impassioned stalemate. Although their eyes are swiveled only on the opponent, they almost seem to be full of superiority for anyone who doesn't match their dedication and vigor.
Ichigo scowls at the fanciful tapestry for implying his cowardice.
Okay, so he didn't have the guts to join Ishida in the hot spring for the better part of an hour, but...late isn't the same thing as not going at all. He pushes open the doors leading outside to the men's bath and takes a deep draught of the late afternoon air. The sun is warm through the thin cotton of his borrowed kimono. He focuses on these sensations instead of listening to the agitated voice in his head telling Ichigo he is about to be completely naked in the same vicinity as his friend. He wasn't nearly this nervous in the fantasy!
Spotting Ishida is easy since there are only two people in the pool. Ichigo freezes as he realizes the other guy is right next to Ishida, sitting too close and chatting his ear off. The bastard is good-looking with longish dark hair tied back off his neck, a wide smile, and ample musculature. Ishida turns to make some comment that sends the guy howling with laughter. The worst part is Ishida seems to be enjoying the attention.
Ichigo quickly discards his clothes and wades into the water with purpose. He makes his way towards them, dialing down the hostile glower as much as possible because it's none of his business. Ishida has talked with plenty of other people in front of him before. He knows the man has other friends, especially once they started university and Ishida found a niche in classes and clubs that just wasn't there in high school. This is really nothing unprecedented.
Ishida loses his small smile when he notices the approach. He introduces the new friend but Ichigo doesn't bother remembering the name or returning the guy's little wave of greeting. They go back to their conversation when Ichigo stays quiet.
"I can't believe you've never read Shelley's 'Frankenstein', Ishida-kun. It's such a classic!"
"Actually, I just meant I've never read the Japanese translation. The English version was available through my school's library."
"Oh-ho, you must be pretty smart reading at that level in a foreign language," praises the goon with simpering admiration. "I barely passed my middle school courses in English."
"It's easy for someone with no social life."
"Well, I'd be happy to change that! What prefecture do you live in?"
"I attend the university in—"
"You have friends," Ichigo interjects with a sharp look that Ishida returns. "We hang out all the time."
"One can never have too many friends, right, Ishida-kun? Is it too forward to ask for your email address?"
"Ugh, give it a rest, man. You're not Ishida's type."
"Kurosaki!"
"Hey, no problem," he says with hands raised in surrender. "Sorry if I over-stepped. I have to head out anyway; my pals are probably waiting on me to grab some grub. It was nice meeting you, Ishida-kun. See you later?"
"Absolutely." With that, he sloshes off towards the building. As soon as he goes inside, Ishida rounds on Ichigo with a chilly stare. "What the hell is your problem, Kurosaki?"
"I was just doing you a favor. That guy was all over you!"
"It's not your call," Ishida counters. "I didn't ask for your help."
"Fine, next time I'll let him flirt with you all night."
Ishida mutters something while turning away, but there's no way he heard that right. Ichigo grabs his arm to tug him back. "Let go!"
"What did you say?"
"I said 'let go' of me, Kurosaki," he growls so fiercely that Ichigo does so immediately.
Ishida puts space between them but he doesn't move far. Appraising Ichigo like he isn't sure what to make of him, he tucks loosened hair back behind his left ear and leans elbows against the stone edge. His glasses are missing in action, probably left in the room. And now that all the other distractions are gone, Ichigo becomes aware of the most important aspect of this situation: Ishida soaking wet and unguarded right in front of him. It's so much better than he anticipated. Ichigo mentally switches gears before his thoughts spin out of control.
"No, what did you say before that?"
"What has gotten into you?"
"Nothing. Just tell me what you said, Ishida."
Realizing that he isn't about to let this one pass, Ishida frowns and angrily repeats, "Maybe I wanted him to flirt with me."
So he did hear it right the first time. "Is that supposed to be another lame joke?"
"You would probably think so."
"What?"
The word falls out of him like a single rain drop, gentle and ominous. Full of impossible implications, it begs an explanation that Ichigo isn't sure he is ready to have. It sends his thoughts in all sorts of crazy directions. As if he isn't bewildered enough as it is.
"I'm going to get some dinner. I've had enough of this atmosphere."
The double meaning of the latter sentence is not lost on Ichigo. He lets Ishida leave without complaint, but Ichigo is not quite ready to follow him yet. Sinking into the water up to his nose, Ichigo stares out at the surrounding landscape without seeing.
Despite his rumbling stomach, Ichigo winds up missing dinner. He stays too long in the bath and gets kicked out by one of the attendants. His skin feels extra sensitive from prolonged exposure to the hot water so he decides to keep the soft kimono instead of his own stiffer clothing.
Ishida still isn't back in their room by the time he returns. Probably out yucking it up with that funny-guy who has never heard of subtlety. It was fine when he thought Ishida was straight and just didn't have time to date, but if he was unforgivably mistaken...If he gets with another dude Ichigo won't be able to hold back. Even if Ishida supposedly wants to be flirted with.
What is he even thinking? Obviously, he only said that to antagonize Ichigo for being rude to his new bestest pal! Ishida isn't into men; Inoue just confirmed that a few days ago.
Exhausted from battling his own inner monologue all week, Ichigo collapses face-down on the futon and promptly passes out.
The lamp flicking on wakes him. Groggily blinking in its sudden flare, Ichigo lifts his head to see Ishida standing beside him as his vision adjusts. Blue eyes dark in the dim light, Ishida watches him with an inscrutable expression. He gracefully folds into a formal kneel at Ichigo's left side.
"Time 's it?" Ichigo slurs.
"Past two in the morning. Everyone else is asleep."
"Yeah, I bet. Why aren't you?"
When Ishida doesn't answer him, he starts to sit up. An insistent pressure asserts itself around Ichigo's arms on the way up. He looks down. A symmetrical pattern of white rope looping intricately from his neck to his ankles renders him mute for several beats. Then he opens his mouth to start yelling, but Ishida clamps a hand to it in keen foresight.
Ichigo rebels. Not only because this is disorienting and fucking nuts but also...His body's first reaction to being tied up in a room alone with Ishida is not exactly fear or even anger. No, it firmly decides this isn't such a heinous idea at all. The unexpected—and unappreciated, damn it!—surge of arousal is what has him fighting against the restraints more than anything. He flops and rolls and flexes but the movements only seem to tighten his bindings.
Ishida holds him steady with the weight of his body bearing down and grunts for him to stay still, to 'stop being so unreasonable, Kurosaki, it isn't painful'. But he's not listening because Ishida's thigh is dangerously close to coming into contact with his erection. And wouldn't that just be the end of the entire world?
"You scared me, Kurosaki!" The urgent words halt Ichigo's struggling. "On the train, I expected you to laugh at me playing the neglected sap but you took it so hard. You were devastated thinking I felt lonely around you. I had to do it this way, don't you see? Getting you to talk openly about your feelings is like pulling teeth."
"So you made me into a human inchworm thinking that would help anything?" he snaps when Ishida retracts his silencing palm. "Where did you get this rope? Is this kinbaku? Since when do you know how to do stuff like this, Ishida?"
"Stick to the topic at hand, Kurosaki. Tell me why you've been acting increasingly more like a lunatic in my presence for the past couple of months. We're not leaving this room until you answer me honestly once and for all. I'm too fed up with your brooding to endure it any longer."
"Did you plan all of this? How long have you been plotting to force me to talk?"
"You remember that day I accidentally fell against you in the library trying to reach a book on the top shelf? How you shouted like I attacked you and dropped me like a hot potato? Then you avoided me for five days while pretending you weren't getting my calls."
"Vaguely..."
"Since then."
"That was three weeks ago!"
"It tends to leave an impression on you when your best friend inexplicably becomes vehemently opposed to basic physical contact with you," he harshly shares. "It's only gotten worse. The other night when I sat next to you during the movie, I thought you were going to bolt the second our shoulders touched. Yet, you used to be the one hanging all over me, Kurosaki. Tell me why you've become like this? Explain it to me clearly so I can understand."
"That 'lame joke' on the train wasn't a joke at all, was it? You just didn't mean to admit that much to me at the time."
Ishida averts his gaze in an admission clearer than words.
"You really did look devastated," he mutters towards the floor. "Even though it bothered you so much, nothing has changed. That episode in this room earlier proves it. If our friendship isn't worth working through this, then maybe we should—"
"Don't you fucking dare," Ichigo growls. The unexpected intensity has Ishida's eyes widening as they swerve to meet his. "If you want to ditch me because I'm an annoying moron, go ahead. I can't blame you. But if you think for one second that you could ever mean less to me, I won't forgive you."
The stunned silence stretches. Ichigo wants to finish it. His proclamation was so close to a confession anyway. All he needs is three more words to seal it forever. They roll around on his tongue as perspiration dots at his pulse points. Breath becoming erratic, he peers into Ishida's searching eyes and wills his voice to work.
His stomach complains loudly. Ichigo's eyes fall shut on a disbelieving groan as he plops backward to the futon. He hears Ishida rise and walk across the room. When the embarrassment recedes enough to look, he sees the man returning with a box and a pair of chopsticks. He pulls Ichigo upright by the ropes around his chest and points to the wall. Ichigo obligingly turns to lean his back against it for support so he can sit comfortably.
Surely Ishida isn't thinking...
Yelping when Ishida kneels directly over his straightened knees, he gets a glare for the dramatic outcry. Fortunately, it seems Ishida has yet to notice a very damning piece of evidence, mercifully hidden by the folds of his kimono for the most part. It isn't going away any time soon if he is about to be gently hand-fed in this situation. Ishida picks up what indeed turns out to be a bento box and pinches a piece of sushi with the chopsticks.
"You skipped dinner, right? I can't expect you to think clearly if you're hungry. Here." Ichigo locks his jaw and shakes his head. "It's fresh. I got it from the kitchen right before I tied you up."
"Mm-mn," he firmly declines.
"Kurosaki, don't be juvenile. You're merely delaying the inevitable. Do I need to be more creative?"
Balking at the notion of what a more creative Ishida might do, he relents. His lips obediently part and Ishida smirks as he slips the rice-wrapped creation between them. Ichigo chews while deterring the flush he feels coming on. Isn't this way too intimate? What the hell is Ishida thinking? Friends don't do this kind of thing! This is closer to Level Seven of the relationship scale: already slept together and it was extremely enjoyable for both parties so now they're super comfortable with each other.
Swallowing hard, Ichigo accepts another bite, and another, wishing Ishida would turn the light out so he can't see what this is doing to him. Friction from the ropes against his incessant squirming sparks another realization. In order for Ishida to knot these things around him, didn't he have to touch Ichigo all over? So lightly that he didn't wake him, yet so carefully to make sure it was done right. With nothing but the single layer of his light kimono between Ishida's hands and Ichigo's skin.
He gasps at the distinctive feeling of his balls tightening. Mind flooding with panic, Ichigo thinks of any and everything boring or disgusting to wind down. Anything but the weight of Ishida's eyes on him, the heat of his ass perched on Ichigo's legs, or the smooth flex of dexterous fingers on those chopsticks. Famine, war, STDs. Maggots. The smell of expired yogurt. Daytime TV. Calculus.
It's not working.
Ichigo opens eyes he didn't mean to close and catches Ishida's pink tongue as it sneaks out to lap at a drop of sauce smeared along the pad of his thumb. He hums in appreciation of the salty taste.
"Ah, fuck, Ishida," he moans as his head knocks against the wall. "You win, you cruel bastard. I can't take anymore!"
"What are you talking abo—?"
"I love you."
The box and utensils he holds clatter to the floor. Painful silence follows, attenuated only by Ichigo's ragged breaths. The relief of finally confessing is rivaled by the anxiety of guaranteed rejection. Ishida is stiller than a statue before him. It takes quite a bit for him to utter one befuddled syllable.
"Eh?"
"That's why I've been acting weird and moody, freaking out every time you touch me. It's because I'm in love with you."
"But..."
"For a really long time now. You never suspected?"
The man shakes his head, too shell-shocked for words. He starts to stand but lacks the coordination and slumps sideways to sit beside him instead. Ichigo struggles against his restraints again, wanting to reassure him and make sure he doesn't fall over or something. The movement catches Ishida's eye. He almost seems...worried.
"You never told me," murmurs Ishida in a strained tone. "Years?"
"Probably."
"Why?
"Inoue." At his confusion, Ichigo elaborates, "I know you kissed her. She admitted it even if you wouldn't. I'm assuming you guys dated, too."
"It's not like what you're thinking, Kurosaki," he says with a miserable curl to his brow.
"Hey, you don't have to worry about me. I get it. You like women and I'm the oddball in this circumstance. All I'm saying is I don't expect anything from you. I already know you can't reciprocate my feelings and I should've just kept them to myself like usual. But you kind of forced my hand with all this. You effect me more than you know, Ishida."
Even a vague reference is enough for someone like him to get it. His eyes dart along Ichigo's body in critical analysis, cataloguing all the signs he had no reason to pick up on before and figuring out what they mean in this new context. His gaze settles on the jutting center of Ichigo's hips, effectively camouflaged but still discernable.
Lightning-fast, Ishida swings back into a kneel over his legs. Ichigo's breath hitches in trepidation. Is this the part where he gets strangled to death for daring to think that way about his friend? Ishida's hands aren't around his throat, though. One is braced against Ichigo's shoulder for stability and the other is...The other hand is tentatively reaching lower. Guessing its target, Ichigo tenses and snaps his gaze to Ishida's face in shock.
The instant their eyes meet, a warm palm rips a helpless moan from him. Ishida's mouth falls open at the sound and the sensation, both confirming Ichigo's declarations. At the lightest squeeze, Ichigo's mind clouds over in heady warning.
"Shit," he hisses past the pleasure.
"You're so hard," Ishida breathlessly marvels. "Is this what I do to you, Kurosaki?"
"Yes." The affirmation is punctuated with a gasp as Ishida's index finger traces a delicate line from base to tip through the damp material. "Unh. Don't touch me, Ishida. I can't..."
"I kissed Inoue-san," he enunciates slowly so he won't be misunderstood in spite of the way his finger keeps languidly outlining Ichigo, "Because she asked me to. It was our last week of high school and she told me how much it bothered her that she couldn't go to the same university with the rest of us. She would have to start over in a new city. New place, new friends, new crush. Meanwhile everyone else in our class had already had their first kiss."
"It was her idea?"
"It took so much for her to ask. I did my best."
"Your best looked really fucking hot," Ichigo blurts without thinking, hips twitching eagerly from such light attentions. "I've always envied her because she got the chance to taste your mouth."
His teasing fingertips retreat at that and Ichigo thinks he has finally gone too far. Ishida leans in to whisper against his ear.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Wha—?"
The hand on his shoulder rises to grasp in his hair as Ishida fits their open mouths together, immediately touching tongues. At the same time, he pulls the kimono aside to expose Ichigo for a tight, sliding grip. His orgasm pours through him like hot water, a lazily overbearing thing with gradually devastating layers. Ishida stays on him, waits it out until Ichigo's muscles relax and he blinks in weary astonishment. Only then does he pull away.
"You came so much for me, Kurosaki," he praises with a caress down the back of his neck. "Do I really turn you on like this?"
Raising a hand to lick curiously at the residue there, Ishida obliterates whatever verbal response Ichigo could have mustered. He settles for a sincere nod instead. Ishida smiles.
AN: Finally, a resolution! Or is it...?