Terms to know:
Warji: Traditional Japanese sandals
Ginpaku: Heirloom scarf
Nemaki: Traditional Japanese sleeping robe
Fundoshi: Traditional Japanese underwear.
Perfect Darkness: Part two
xXx
Once Ichigo returned to Seireitei the next day, he rushed to the mansion, took a thorough shower, and went to find Byakuya.
When Ichigo stepped onto the deck, he saw nothing but the swaying silhouettes of the garden giving way to a lively darkness, and the winds that hit his face were crisp, carrying with them a foreboding thrill.
He leaped down, the grass tickling against his heels as he observed the inky sky, clouds dripping amidst their creeping travels. Then a sudden inciting sensation belonging only to Byakuya made every pore on his body widen and fill with the biting thirst of a hunter. He then began down the path and further into the garden, the dense umbrage sucking both on him and the light, calling him deeper into a darkness. Walking through its thickness, he felt more hollow than he did man.
As he advanced, hints of Byakuya's reiatsu were purposefully left behind like the footprints of a prey that yearned for consumption. He understood now, Byakuya wanted to play.
Ichigo's put on a smirk and his gut let loose a growl that stopped in his chest. He shunpo, picking up bread crumbs of Byakuya's presence. At first, it was just flares of energy, but then it was his warji, ginpaku kazahana no uzuginu, and lastly, the obi of his nemaki. Ichigo picked up the wayward garment with a small chuckle, running fingers over the cotton. Byakuya could never make anything easy.
He drove forward with instinct, every part of Byakuya a mouthful in itself, but not enough to satisfy. They were just fragments, and Ichigo wanted the real thing.
Then, a pacifying melody permeated the fruitlessness of his hunt, beckoning him. It was a siren's song, and as Ichigo stood in front of the gallery of glass that was the Jigokucho sanctuary, he realized it was not him who'd be doing the consuming.
A new found nervousness wreck his bravado, wavered his prowl, and it took a leap of gumption to make it through the doors, but when he saw Byakuya there, he could barely feel the feet beneath him, let alone any fear.
It had a been almost a year since the war ended, a war that amounted to one day of their lives, and yet it occurred with such a thrusting cruelty that it still provoked and prodded all the days since. That's why they called it tragedy. You couldn't escape the effects of that sorrow, you could only try to shape them into a better future.
Back then, before the war, Byakuya had just been a part of the background that framed Ichigo's existence. It was like living in a town for years and passing by the same shop each day. It had always been there, and although you saw it, it was never with more than the most basic level of regard. Only one day, not out of destiny or the aligning of stars, but out of a strange string of coincidences, you walked in. You walked in and you wondered how you've never had before, because it's vast, and it's interesting, and somehow wonderfully underrated, and you think to yourself that you have found your new favorite place in this world.
Byakuya use to be no more than a speck in Ichigo's eye, and now he was the whole damn pupil, all because of the war. That was more than Ichigo thought he deserved.
Byakuya pressed down on ivory teeth, and music came from the mouth of the instrument. Around him were butterflies radiating bright greens and blues and candles putting off flames that wrinkled the darkness, and maybe it was just from where Ichigo was standing, but it seemed like the whole room centered around him.
There were things Ichigo felt that people just didn't say. They were the kind've words you put in love poems or waited until it was too late to voice. They were too earnest, too forward, better displayed through the filter of nuanced actions, but if he was a bolder man, a man who was better at turning emotions into words, he'd tell Byakuya to lay down his haori, to undress for him. He'd tell Byakuya to settle his head on his chest, to give Ichigo his worries and his tears and let him scrub away the tar that decades of solitude caked onto him. He'd tell Byakuya that there had been many people that he's wanted to save, but for the first time, there's someone he wanted to take care of, and if it wasn't for him, he wouldn't even know the difference.
He would tell Byakuya that being with him was like turning a house into a home. There was endless potential in it's already beautiful foundation, and the more love you put into the walls, the more it gave back. You hung up pictures and planted a garden in the front, opened up curtains and slow danced on the hardwood. In return, it comforted you, challenged you, gave you a place in this world, and in the end, it wasn't the house that needed you, but you that needed the house.
He would tell Byakuya that he deserved love, because he always gave it away in the same manner that someone might pawn an item of sentimental value just to feed their family. He would tell Byakuya that he deserved love because he was always so willing to sacrifice it for someone else. He would tell Byakuya that he wanted to love him in the ways no one ever had, but Ichigo didn't know how to say those things, so he did the only thing he could.
He walked over to the noble and placed hands firmly against both shoulders, shifting the olive fabric to show a sliver of him. Byakuya stopped playing, and in the silence, Ichigo dipped to place lips against that skin. "You're beautiful," he whispered, kissing and running a tongue over that patch of porcelain, taking in it's fresh flowery taste.
Byakuya gave a sound of relief in the way one might do when rubbing ice across their overheated skin. Ichigo smirked against his shoulder. "What do I get for finding you?"
The noble turned around on the bench and stood, taking Ichigo's hand and bringing the wrist to his lips. His eyes were silver like mercury, liquid lust, as he placed kisses along the thick vein that protruded from the appendage. "What is it that you want, Ichigo?"
Ichigo shuddered, because no one should be able to make a name sound like that. He bit his lip and took a steadying breath. "You."
Byakuya's lips paused and he said, "You're nervous."
Ichigo knew it wasn't a question, but he also knew it wasn't a judgement. He gently released his wrist and placed his hand against Byakuya's forearm. "I need you to teach me," he said, forcing it out with an impressing amount of confidence. "I know some things, like how to prepare."
"Prepare?" Byakuya asked, and if he didn't tilt his head in genuine confusion, Ichigo would've thought the noble was purposefully torturing him.
"You know," he muttered, shutting his eyes in mortification, "I'm clean and everything."
Byakuya put on a tiny smile before pulling Ichigo close, placing one hand on the small of his back and one on his nape. "I will teach you everything you need to know and then some," he whispered against Ichigo's ear, making his body deflate in relief. "...but I want you to take me tonight."
Ichigo edged back a bit and asked, "Take you? You mean…"
Byakuya confirmed his worries with a nod of the head, and Ichigo tried not to let out an audible gulp.
"Why?"
"Because, you are giving me an important part of yourself, and likewise, I would like to do the same. No one has ever been inside of me."
A heat went from Ichigo's stomach to his hips, and his heart became a stuttering mess. He wanted to give Ichigo something precious and untouched, only for him, and Ichigo felt more power in holding that part of Byakuya than he ever felt when gripping the hilt of a sword. Because it wasn't about his blood, or his DNA, or any innumerable amount of circumstances that had been put upon Ichigo that made him special this time. He had earned this, earned Byakuya, not because of fate or lineage, but just because.
"Are you okay with this?" Byakuya asked.
"Hell yeah! I- um, I mean, yeah." Byakuya chuckled lightly and Ichigo said, "I just don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. I will teach you." He perked a brow, adding, "And the best way to learn is through example."
When Byakuya stepped back, Ichigo noticed for the first time that his nemaki was open, giving way to a lithe expanse of soft yet sculpted muscles, everything exposed other than what was underneath a cotton fundoshi. He had seen other guys nearly naked in the locker rooms, but none ever made him squirm like this. Then again, none of them were Byakuya.
Byakuya looked so wickedly risque that he preoccupied all of Ichigo's attention. He didn't even notice when Byakuya pulled out the bench. "Will you sit, Ichigo?"
Ichigo's head snapped up, and he did so without words, an excitement curling in his toes and shooting up his legs. Byakuya stood behind him, placing a hand on Ichigo's shoulder.
"Let's start with an anatomy lesson, shall we?"
"Uh, s-sure."
Byakuya placed two fingers in a small bowl of heated oils and rubbed it against his palms. He slid his well worn hands slowly up Ichigo's neck, pressing each individual finger into any tension felt on his slippery track. He raked through Ichigo's hair and added pressure with the tips of his fingers, kneading the scalp in little circles. Then he descended, pushing into all the small hollows of Ichigo's neck again before going further, repeating this process with the blades and wells of his shoulders.
Ichigo was so pleasurably relaxed under those glazed hands that he barely realize when Byakuya moved in front of him and settled onto his knees. He used one thumb to round the edges of Ichigo's ear and the other to carefully outline the exterior of his quivering lips, giving him a prickly feeling in the corners of his mouth.
Ichigo let out tiny little moans, rolling the balls of his palms into the glossy bench as he was emptied and refilled with different sensations.
"Wh-what the hell are you doing to me?"
"These are your basic erogenous zones," Byakuya said as his fingers dipped again, and he gently jutted his thumb and index into the groove beneath Ichigo's collar bone, making his head droop and his mouth wilt into an 'o'. "Like right here, this is your clavicle. As you can see, it is extremely sensitive."
"These, however, are the same for everyone. I have yet to find the spots specific to you, Ichigo. That will come later."
"Where did you learn all this? Don't tell me you've got a copy of the kama sutra hidden away somewhere?"
"Not hidden, but yes," he said, "and as your sensei in the sensual arts, this will be your first assigned reading."
Ichigo let out a humored snort. "You're enjoying this too much, Byakuya."
The noble pressed harder into his clavicle, pulling a gasp from Ichigo. "And you are not?"
"F-fair point," Ichigo panted. "Just- ah - don't be an ass about it."
"I make no promises," Byakuya said as he placed a hand on Ichigo's obi. "May I?"
"...Yeah."
Byakuya tugged at the fabric and nudged the nemaki until it was slipping down Ichigo's shoulders. He placed more oil in his hands before he ran them in a crisscross fashion across Ichigo's torso, past his navel and towards his pelvic. Then he started again, this time intentionally placing a lingering force. From pectorals to hips, he moved as if his nerve endings had a memory of their own, using a gliding scrutiny to preserve Ichigo's every pit and ridge.
Ichigo never felt more turned on than when watching Byakuya trace him like brail. Eye's closed and mouth slightly ajar, he looked so gravely engrossed, as if Ichigo's body was the most important thing he'd ever read.
"I love touching you," Byakuya admitted, pressing fingers between the indentions of his abdomen in the way one might press keys on a piano, willing music from Ichigo's mouth. "It is like I am drawing a map of your body in my mind. It is almost like I can see you."
Ichigo caressed Byakuya's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the creases etched into the noble's palm. "Touch me all you want, Byakuya."
And touch he did. From the crook of his elbow, to the silkiness of his inner thighs, all the way to the balls of his feet, Byakuya touched him everywhere. Sometimes with just the stroke of a finger, sometimes with gentle scratches, and sometimes with greedy handfuls, he took all of him, teaching Ichigo what it felt like to be savored bite by bite.
When Byakuya touched his perineum, Ichigo dug nails into his palms, refusing to climax that easily.
"Byakuya! Can we- ahh - I-I want to touch you."
The noble looked hesitant to stop, but did so before holding out a hand.
"Lead me to the futon, Ichigo?"
Ichigo took Byakuya's hand before he thought about it too much and lead him over to a candle and oil surrounded futon situated near the far end of the sanctuary. Their hands were still laced, and even though Ichigo was guiding Byakuya, it felt very much the other way around. Byakuya turned to face him and tugged on one of Ichigo's hands until it was sitting atop his chest and eclipsed by his own.
Ichigo felt many things in that moment, like a winding tightness, swelty, slithering down to his loins until they became thick. He felt swollen all over, so sensitive that even the slightest chill was like being urged forward by some unseen force. He felt the perspiration of palms rumbling against Byakuya's chest and an overall sickness that might have made a different kind've man take a few steps back.
But Ichigo wasn't a different kind've man, and where some would step back, he moved closer, focusing not on how he felt, but on Byakuya. The noble's eyes became a white silver, striking like lightning, and his heart was an S.O.S signal, fluttering with an erratic significance, screaming at Ichigo through the dark.
Not a cry for help, but a sort've gospel that circulated by means of its existence, proclaiming a validity that only Ichigo could hear. The scripture between the lines of those beats told him that when Byakuya's lips were stiff or when his voice was taciturn, Ichigo was the only one permitted close enough to feel the truth just beneath the skin. Where others only got fragments, he would always get the full Byakuya.
Ichigo traveled the roads of ivory with the prudence of a student driver. Breaking at the tie of Byakuya's fundoshi, he licked his lips and gave it a suggestive nip.
"Can I?" he asked.
"You have full access every part of me, Ichigo. Touch me however you please."
He talked how they had both talked all night, low and with words that dragged, as if they were telling secrets that only them and the mood could keep, as if they feared the world outside might grow ears and intrude on a moment belonging only to them. That it might ruin it, as the world often does.
He talked how they had both talked all night, only with words Ichigo couldn't muster without the film of a timorous smirk. He said them as if they were so basic, but Ichigo understood the victory behind every syllable. He knew how many walls had crumbled for them to get here.
Ichigo proceeded to unravel Byakuya with an honor, doing so weary of any reckless excitement, knowing the noble only gave his body freely because he trusted Ichigo to treat touching it as a privilege. Once all the clothing was an abandoned pile by Byakuya's feet, Ichigo withdrew just enough to regard the noble, pay homage to that temple of flesh and marvel at it's fullness. Byakuya was perfect like this, wearing nothing but the bare essentials.
When the noble did the same with Ichigo's nemaki, he thought that there were no more walls between them, no more layers to be shifted through. They were risk takers, danger seekers, more gallant in the rawness of their nudity than they had ever been in battle. There would be scars, they were too exposed for it to be otherwise, but that was okay. The armor would just weigh them down.
A Jigokucho landed on Byakuya shoulder, making thicker lines of the vague slopes that made up his body. Ichigo saw something he'd never noticed, and though he thought he'd seen Byakuya shirtless in the past, this was something he wouldn't have had to look for. Amidst his pearly, nearly blemishless skin, there was a singular scar. It was healed over and off white, a vestige of the day they fought for Rukia's life. At least, that what Ichigo had been fighting for. It wasn't till later that Ichigo realized Byakuya had been fighting for something much more.
He ran fingers over the risen tissue, and Byakuya's breaths became heavy enough to be heard over the rain that hit the ground like the shattering of plates.
"It is the only scar that would not completely heal," Byakuya said, "My soul would never let me forget."
Ichigo lips acted without prompting as they pressed against the old wound, taking in everything it represented in the way one might look back at faded pictures with the advantage of matured eyes.
Byakuya's knees became wobbly and his breaths took on a denser distribution, almost as if Ichigo had pierced him again, opened the wound back up with his lavishing mouth. When Byakuya let out a little moan, Ichigo grabbed chunks of the him, desperate to know how the nobleman felt in his hands, and somewhere between instinct and yearning, they clumsily made their way onto the futon.
By the time they were laying side by side, the two were joined in deep, wet kisses, finding a good rhythm that sat somewhere between not too fast and not too slow. It was gradual and natural and everything men like them weren't suppose to have, but they did. It was told in the marks they'd go to leave on each others bodies. It was heard in their hushed honesty that would sometimes get lost to the storm.
They did not rush through this, but simply sipped from each others skins. A whole world couldn't be swallowed whole, after all, and that was exactly what they were to each other, whole worlds added to their own.
After a while, Ichigo was against Byakuya's chest and propped up on his elbow, head braced against his palm as to create a slot for the noble's arm to slide through. Byakuya took full advantage, sweeping over Ichigo's jaunty, taupe hued nipples while teething at his stretched neck, causing him to search for more of that delicious feeling by pushing deeper into the curvature of the noble's body
Byakuya trailed hot breaths up Ichigo's neck, making him scrunch his shoulder at the tickling sensation. He stopped at Ichigo's ear and slowly tongued it's curved exterior.
"Ichigo," he whispered, "can I show you how to prepare me?"
"Yes," he said without a moment's thought.
"If you want me to stop at any point, tell me," he said, positioning his rolling hips as to tease Ichigo's slit with his cock. "I want you to feel safe here."
Ichigo let out something between a moan and a chuckle. "Trust me," he said, "if I wanted you to quit, I don't think I'd have any problems."
Byakuya let out a shallow, husky chuckle that spilled into Ichigo's ear, making him tremble. "True, but I would prefer the word stop over a show of violence."
Ichigo shoved into him teasingly and said, "Less talking and more touching, or else I really will give you a show of violence."
Byakuya let out a tiny growl before he whispered, "Yes sir," and if there wasn't something so shamelessly playful about it, if not downright patronising, Ichigo would've been surprised at the submissiveness of the words. Either way, he liked it. He liked it alot. He liked it even more when Byakuya drenched his fingers in an oil warmer that sat right in front of them beside the futon, only to drag those lavender scented fingers below his waist and into untouched territory.
Ichigo inhaled sharply at the gauging touch, prompting Byakuya to start caressing his chest again before pushing him deeper against his own.
"You must relax," Byakuya said. "It is imperative that you do not constrict and that you keep your breathing steady."
"I'll try."
"Ichigo," he asked, "Do you trust me?"
Ichigo turned to look up at Byakuya, about to tell him not to ask stupid questions, but something in the way he looked mad him consider. With the hand not supporting his head, he thumbed the noble's cheek. "Yeah, of course."
'It will be uncomfortable at first," Byakuya explained hypnotically, voice a deep, whispered lull as he circled Ichigo's hole. "But I will not hurt you...Relax for me."
Byakuya's preparations were as leisurely as they were meticulous, and Ichigo could feel nothing but the rising of his body temperature and the piloting tongue of the noble's doing somersaults around his own. "You are amazingly respective to this," Byakuya said after a while , "You've already taken one of my fingers whole."
Byakuya stopped plucking at his nipples to apply more lube, but much to Ichigo's pleasure, he quickly returned those nimble fingers. He continued to drink from Ichigo's lips, that succulent mouth seeming set on showing him all it had, doing things he never even knew a mouth could do. He swiped his tongue across the roof of Ichigo's mouth before using it to trace his now plumped lips. Then Byakuya ghosted his mouth over Ichigo's, close enough to taste his breath but far away enough to tease, pulling back every time Ichigo tried to regain to sensation of the noble's lips on his own.
Ichigo growled, hooking Byakuya's nape and pulling him down until their lips aggressively collided. Byakuya let out a sinful, one syllable type chuckle, the trill of which Ichigo could feel reverberate in his chest.
"Touch yourself, Ichigo," Byakuya ordered with such a gravelly girth that Ichigo's mouth moistened and cock swell at the sound, making Ichigo stroke himself with firm and even tugs, not having a moment of reluctance or a single question.
A twisting of Byakuya's fingers brought a sudden revelry that rebelled against his senses. So much so that he could not see past the unwitting tears that spilled from his eyes and onto his grappling lips. Nor could he hear past the static of his own lurid moans. The only half coherent thought he could form was how much he didn't want it to stop.
"That's it, Ichigo, keep making those sounds for me."
He crowed at the pleasure Byakuya both gave and took away graciously, prodding Ichigo's wanton hole only to shift his fingers in an act of mercy whenever it became too much. Ichigo was suspended in the devotion of Byakuya menstruations. He wanted more. He wanted to sink deeper into those penetrating fingers.
With all his efforts, Ichigo pushed into the arch of Byakuya's body and the heat that could be found there. It was a heat of depth, starting from within and working it's way out until all that was left was an insistent fever. The kind that might make ashes of Ichigo's mind before it left his system. The kind that you gave everything to.
It felt like a welcomed eternity, how long Byakuya moved inside of him, speaking into Ichigo's ear with the lunacy of wrecked man, parched and salivating. Still, he moved with a courageous amount of restraint as he told Ichigo everything he was doing and how many fingers he was doing it with. He instructed. He loved. He gave, and amidst the pure sensation of it all, Ichigo ended up turned towards Byakuya, head burrowed into his stone heavy chest.
His body was cradled by Byakuya, oil and sweat making friction of everything, and somewhere between Byakuya's deepening plunges and their mesh of slippery parts, Ichigo was rubbed in all the places to make something within him snap.
"Let go, Ichigo."
Ichigo's nails lodged into Byakuya's shoulder blades as he was practically carried through his climax. In Byakuya's graces, he could get no hotter, and all that was left to do was combust.
"Ahhh, Kuya!"
A rivulet of come splashed between them, and with the way his head and body struggled for a semblance of unity, Ichigo felt as if he was on the precipice of another world, like one might feel when being pulled back from the doorway of death.
He had never been a religious man. In Ichigo's world, God's were, at the least, self proclaimed, narcissist made insane by their abundance of power. At the most, God's were just ideas and feelings people believed in, but laying here with Byakuya, he thought that maybe he had found his own personal sanctity. This was the greater power. It was love, and in its light, Ichigo felt the closest to a spiritual high he could get. He was nothing compared to what they were when together.
Maybe it was melodramatic. Maybe it was all chemicals, but rather you called it science or religion, it all radiated in the same way. It was all born from the same feelings.
For a while, Ichigo just laid their, covering Byakuya's heart with his head, listening to way it thumped furiously. He felt a mellowed, almost drained felicity, the whole of his body thrumming as if to say it had been through something and would never be quite the same.
Amidst that floating haziness, he drifted upon thoughts that pulled him under with their discomfort. Ichigo thought that as much as he wished Byakuya could belong to him, he never really would. People didn't even really belong to themselves. They were just borrowing bodies and time, temporary possessions delved out by the world indiscriminately. If you were lucky, someone would come along and share their own borrowed time with you, but eventually, wars happened, mothers and friends died, and what felt like something being stolen was really the world taking back something that never belonged to you in the first place. All you could do was bargain for more time and hope that the world was kinder to you than most.
The coldness of this thought came in with such an uninvited abstruseness, like the frosty gust of a snow storm bursting through the shutters of his heart. It was a nasty thought that had no place here, the realization that this would end one day.
Byakuya had removed his fingers and Ichigo's hole throbbed at the lack thereof. He turned so that he was on his back, holding Ichigo against his chest while raking through his hair.
"Sleep," Byakuya said, "you've exerted yourself."
Ichigo didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to miss a chance to touch Byakuya while he had it, because if he learned anything over the past year, is was that the sun doesn't always rise for everybody.
"Don't be so cocky," he said, swinging himself to straddle his lover. "You're good, Byakuya, but not that good. Besides, I think you still have something you need to give me."
"You are correct. I do, but only if you are able to take it."
"You worry about yourself, old man," Ichigo said, smirking down at Byakuya. "I've got stamina on my side."
xXx
There was a reason people jumped out of plans, a reason people drove fast and dodged moving trains. There was a reason people danced with death right under their feet and knocked on its door, running away before it could come outside.
There was something vindicating in challenging death. It was as if stepping that close to it freed you from its immanent presence, because you couldn't know what it felt like to be truly alive without being willing to die.
Byakuya understood, because loving Ichigo with no safety net was the most terrifying thing he had ever done, but within that horror, he found the true meaning of deliverance.
Trembling skin against trembling skin.
Bones bumping like the nervous chattering of teeth.
Calluses pressed in contrast against fleshy tendons. Goosebumps underneath persistent lips.
Untamed curiosity and pitless enthusiasm, toying tongues and scouring nails. Gropes meant to bruise and kisses meant to show piety.
Bodies that absorbed each other's shapes like clay absorbed fingerprints. Palms and heels that enjoy the steepness of their slopes. Synchronized pulse points.
The bustling labor of vocal chords wailing amidst a rapidly approaching dawn. Piles of limbs wrestling against hypersensitivity. The scent of musk and petrichor.
Their love making, it was an endeavor for the senses, magnified by this perfect darkness. Every nerve ending Byakuya had was alive and screaming.
It was real and silly, at times, even bumbling, but always primrose, and to Byakuya's joy, the best was still yet to come, leaking and twitching at the brim of his prepared hole.
Ichigo was sitting up, one hand on the curve on Byakuya's back and one hand on the base of his cock. Byakuya took a collective breath, allowing the caressing thumb of Ichigo's to sooth him into further looseness before he gyrated onto that stiffness.
He shimmied past the head, taking in only a hint at first, but it felt so deeper than it was. From the way Ichigo caught curse words in the clench of his jaw, Byakuya knew he felt the same. Immediately, he wanted more.
It surprised them both when he propelled himself on the entire length of Ichigo's ample cock, making raspy groans rupture from them both. Ichigo had prepared Byakuya with a perfect mimicry, four fingers, slow and thorough, excessive with lube, but perhaps he had been a little too eager, because it hurt more than he'd admit to out loud.
After a few moments of restless stillness, they braced each other, and Ichigo's breaths fluttered in his ear.
"Shit, that- ahhh." He let out short, overwhelmed pants. "You're amazing, Byakuya."
"I believe it is you who is amazing, Ichigo," Byakuya countered, still spinning from the ineffable fullness of it all. He kissed Ichigo for the love of his flavor, and because it came naturally to him, he took the lead, dominating their pleasure with expert precision, making the younger man moan in raptor. That was until two hands clamped down on his swiveling hips and stopped him completely.
"I want to make you feel good this time."
At the determined request of guidance inferred in Ichigo's words, Byakuya nodded and placed Ichigo's hands on his bottom. "Wrap my legs around your waist and move onto your haunches."
Ichigo did as instructed, and Byakuya dug his heels into the futon behind them to give him some leverage. Then he overlapped his hands with Ichigo's, encouraging him to squeeze his suppleness. "Use your thighs and hips to thrust into me while lifting my bottom up and down your shaft."
Ichigo did zealously, jutting with all the strength of his pelvic in full albeit messy stabs, but despite the way he moved like an exuberant greenhorn, there was such a rawness in his want. He was a blank slate that just begged to be brimmed with all the things Byakuya could teach, and there was something incredibly sexy about that.
As the man's upward drive became more controlled, yielded more of a technique, Byakuya's ass hit the base of Ichigo's ramming cock with a euphonic string of squelches, causing a heat to gradually color his stretched cheeks before working its way up his every vertebrae to sit at the bottom of his neck.
He looped his arms under Ichigo's pits and hooked his hands into the stratum of churning muscles that made up the younger man's back. Knowing just how to goad his lover, Byakuya said, "Find my prostate, Ichigo. Make me tremble around you. If you think you actually can."
Byakuya could all but see the furrow of Ichigo's brow and the curl of his lips as he squeezed the noble's ass with more vigor.
"You know better than to doubt me, Byakuya."
"Perhaps I do not. You may need to teach me a lesson, Ichigo."
It took several different position changes before Ichigo started striking him with a cunning accuracy, and it took all a moaning Byakuya had to move in time with his rolling hips.
"Have you learned your lesson yet?" Ichigo asked, sucking at the junction below the noble's ear.
There were a dozen snippy comebacks Byakuya could've said in challenge, but he was too lost in the balmy heat of his gut . All he could do was melw dreadfully into Ichigo's neck and clamp down on the body that was hurtling him towards climax.
Within the amorous haze that filled his mind, there was only one thought that could slip past his lips.
"Ichigo, I-I love you," Byakuya blurted, broken and completely open.
Ichigo shoved them back, laying Byakuya down into the feather cushion before entering him deeper. "I love you too," he said, hoisting one of Byakuya's thighs well past his midriff.
Their clinging bodies glossed against each other, propelled by the mixture of lusty fluids that smeared them. Ichigo rooted his heels into the futon and immersed himself further into Byakuya's pucker hole, attempting a greater depth with each shove, as if he might breach the most guarded parts of him if he only went far enough. Byakuya's head careened, head reeling into a delightful fray as he hissed out pleads, pleads for Ichigo to finish inside of him.
"You first." Ichigo smirked, running a tongue across Byakuya bobbing adam's apple. "You should know, Byakuya, that's just good manners."
Byakuya would have reminded Ichigo that manners never mattered to him before, but all he could manage was breathy, half spoken demands of more, more depth, more speed, just more.
"Ichigo, pull my hair!"
Ichigo gripped his locks from the roots and bared into Byakuya's hip with bruising fingers in search for greater leverage. He growled into the scoop of Byakuya's neck, and the noble swore he heard a muttered 'mine' uttered into his shoulder. It was a possessiveness Byakuya didn't know Ichigo was capable of, but one that was wholly welcomed.
In his life, many had tried to possess him. People had tried to possess him through money or demand, but this was different. This was a willing and mutual possession, one of heart, and a heart could never be taken by force.
Ichigo pumped into him several more times until he reached an almost painful peak, bursting out of him and stretching out into one of the most drawn out orgasams he'd ever hade. How long had it been since he touched anyone's body, or even himself? Decades or more, and now, after a sexual drought, his come poured out with the intense longevity of a ruptured dame.
Ichigo pulled back marginally, his cock still moving in even, almost trance like strokes while he muttered something that didn't meet Byakuya's ears. He knew Ichigo was watching the lewd display, appreciating the way he arched and tremored into convulsions until the walls of his insides clamped down around the younger man, making him thrust with more vigor. Byakuya felt Ichigo's sinew form tense and shudder, his cock twitching in a fritz, and was finally gifted with that warmth he had craved so badly.
Ichigo collapsed onto Byakuya, limp and spent, and they shared needy breaths as they tried to regain some of the sanity they lost.
"Fuck," he panted out. "Shit… fuck."
"Hm, eloquently put, Koibito."
They shifted, sharing exhilarated chuckles and finishing kisses. Ichigo moved off Byakuya, but stayed close, showing his affection not with words but in the way he thumbed circles against the noble's moistened cheek. Byakuya turned towards Ichigo, and they laid there in blissful silence, exchanging tiny, meaningful touches.
"We're gross," Ichigo finally said, "We should go get cleaned up."
"A soak in the bathing chambers would be nice."
Ichigo ran a concerned hand down Byakuya's tremoring leg and asked, "Do you need me to to carry you? You're shaking all over."
"Now who is being cocky?" Byakuya tutted. "You did not break me, Ichigo."
Ichigo gave an amused scoffed. "So you're saying it was not the most wonderful, mind altering sex you've ever had?"
Byakuya hummed as if actually pondering the question. "You at least ranked in the top three," he said, only to laugh lightly as Ichigo wrestled him onto his back, pinning his wrist down beside his head and kissing him gently.
"Then I guess I just have something to work towards."
Byakuya closed his eyes and sighed against his lover's lips.
"I'm glad it was you."
Ichigo's grasp loosened but stayed anchored.
"Me?"
"Yes," Byakuya said, rubbing his thumb up and down Ichigo's wrist. "I am glad it was you I gave this part of myself to."
"Worth the wait?"
Byakuya cupped Ichigo's face, reveling in the warmth beneath his palms before pulling him down for one more lingering kiss.
"You, Ichigo Kurosaki, are worth every instance of heartache that lead me to this moment."
The muscles of Ichigo's face went stiff before slacking completely. Then he leaned in for a sudden kiss that both tasted and felt like desperation. When he pulled away, he tucked his head into the crook of Byakuya's neck as if wanting to hide in it. Byakuya wrapped Ichigo in an embrace, and he curled deeper into the noble like a child seeking safety. "Ichigo," Byakuya asked, "what it bothering you?"
"You know, it's been almost a year since the war."
"Yes, it has…"
Ichigo shifted closer into that swaddled heat and moved his arms to sit pinched and dolefully toiled between their chest, like a baby bird who just couldn't fly. His lips moved with him and pecked against the noble's neck, as if feed off its clamminess. It made Byakuya wonder when was the last time Ichigo had felt safe.
"This is the happiest I've ever been, Byakuya," he said, the whispered admission pouring down the noble's shoulder to pool at the bottom of his throat. He understood.
"You are frightened."
His arms and legs ruffled again as if in confirmation, and Byakuya tried to sooth away that agitation with musing caresses.
"It's stupid, thinking like this."
"I do not think so. What I do think, however, is that one would be very air headed to never consider such inevitabilities." He combed fingers down Ichigo's back and twisted his neck to press lips against his forehead. "Brooding reflection is the curse of intellectuals. We are not so easily distracted by shiny things and passing novelties."
"Worthless then."
"Perhaps or perhaps not," Byakuya considered. "It depends on your perspective. Understanding how fleeting moments are can help you appreciate them."
"I know, It's just," Ichigo sighed, fidgeting in his spot, "I keep thinking that it was all stupid luck. I keep wondering what makes us any more worthy than all those people who died that day."
"Nothing. You are correct when you say that we are lucky, and I for one do not plan on wasting that good fortune." Byakuya fingers slowed, smelling the roses that was Ichigo's body. "Right now, you are real and tangible in my arms, and I will both soak up and add to that warmth everyday the world continuous to allow it. That is my promise to you."
There were times, times when Byakuya was at his most self indulgent, when he dwelled on the darkness, when he allowed it to still scare him. It would stretch out in front of him like an unnavigable chaotic sea, and he was sure he'd be stranded in it. But then there would be Ichigo's heart beat, clear and constant, the sound of steadier tides, and then the darkness became nothing but a way home. Byakuya didn't want to think about a day when he couldn't hear Ichigo's heart anymore.
So he pulled him closer, because that's the only thing you can do to alleviate these sort've things.
"And my promise to you is that I'll always fight for more days."
"I would expect nothing less."
Ichigo nipped at his neck. "Thanks."
"For what, exactly?"
"Just for being you." He smirked, worming his way in between Byakuya's legs. "And for teaching."
"Hm, it helps to have a devoted student."
Ichigo fanned hands across Byakuya's shoulders and growled against the vein of his neck. "I think the student might surpass the teach pretty soon."
There was a spark to Byakuya's lips before he flipped Ichigo onto his back with a swift execution. "Nonsense, you'd need the better half of a century to catch up with me, upstart." He lowered himself to mouth Ichigo's hip bone before teasing the fine hair leading to his newly revived cock. "Lucky for you, I am nothing but a generous teacher. Our next lesson will be an oral presentation." When the younger man let out an anticipatory moan, Byakuya said, "And Ichigo, I will be on top this time."
...
Up next: Baby Byakuya.
xXx
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