Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
If Renji hadn't already been certain Kurosaki was a few Bankai short of a zanpakutō, he was now. For the third time that morning, Kurosaki wandered idly past one of the small blue boxes Renji had planted on his route to college, completely unaware of its existence. "Hey, Kurosaki-kun, are you coming?" "Can't. I'm busy," said Ichigo, which he wasn't, but he didn't feel like joining the others on their trip to town. "Thanks anyway." Karaoke just wasn't his thing, nor was getting wasted early in the afternoon like some of the guys from his classes did on a semi-regular basis. He appreciated that they tried to include him, but frankly he knew he was an outsider. The sensible part of him knew he always would be. That was pretty much settled for him the day he'd met Rukia. He watched his classmates making their way out of the lecture room, before hitching his bag up over his shoulder and shoving his hands in his pockets. There were a few students still milling around the entrance as he exited the room and wandered distractedly down the corridor. He waited for them to leave before letting his shoulders sag. What a day. Ichigo frowned to himself for what felt like the hundredth time. He hadn't been able to concentrate during English period, nor the history lecture they'd had before it. No thanks to what he'd found in his locker during lunch break. He was still wondering what was going on; why the hell there had been a purple hairbrush, a dark red candle and a tube of freshmint toothpaste in his locker. He certainly hadn't put it there. He was also certain he was the only one that knew the combination to his padlock, since he hadn't shared the four digit code with anyone else. Most importantly, he wondered who the heck had put the strange objects there, and how they'd made it inside without any sign of forced entry (and why they hadn't nicked off with his portable MP3 player, while they were at it). Maybe someone was playing a joke. Ishida, perhaps... but no, it wasn't Ishida's style. The guy didn't really have a sense of humour, let alone a bad one. Inoue... no, she wouldn't do something so random, and she was off sick from college to boot. Chad... again, no. It wasn't Chad's style, either. The other thing that bugged him was what, exactly, the mystery gift giver was trying to say. A hairbrush? Toothpaste? After quickly double-checking he was alone in the corridor, Ichigo brought his hand up to his mouth, breathed into his palm twice, and cautiously sniffed. Didn't smell too bad, considering he'd had lunch. No worse than anyone else who ate in the canteen. And anyway, it wasn't like he was the type to go lounging all over people, breathing on them like Keigo or Kon. Vague annoyance set in beneath the confusion, and Ichigo scuffed his shoes down to the end of the hall. For a prank, it was pretty crap. So maybe it was serious... Argh! This was going to drive him mad if he let it. Ichigo pushed through the front doors. They banged hard against the walls and he cringed, not meaning to be so rough. Luckily nobody was lingering outside the front of the school. With a heavy sigh, Ichigo started to make his way home. Renji was not having a good day. He considered just heading back to Soul Society, but the stubborn part of him was determined to get back at Kurosaki, and the rest of the world, for making his day suck so much. "When you're done over there, Abarai-kun, the front step needs brushing down," said Urahara in his stupid sing-song voice, smiling from where he was sitting - doing nothing to help, Renji noted not for the first time. "So many leaves all over the place. And the dust... it's everywhere." He tipped the front of his hat downwards and leaned back against the counter, getting comfortable. Renji pictured all the things he could do to Urahara using the handle of the broom he was currently sweeping up with. He bit his lip, cast his eyes down to the dusty shop floor, and plodded onwards, lest he end up saying something he'd regret (and earn himself yet more bloody tedious chores). Never again would he accept an offered, supposedly 'free' meal from Urahara and his band of fools, not if this was the price. He hated more that this wasn't the first time he'd been tricked into manual labour. "By the way, are you planning on seeing Kurosaki-kun in the next couple of days?" Renji froze, glanced across the shop, but Urahara wasn't looking at him; he was still reclined with his hat shading his eyes. Renji fought the heat rising in his face anyway, hating the feel of it. He wasn't sure why his pulse was racing at the question, but he suddenly wanted to go outside, get some air, get away from Urahara. "Why do you ask?" "I have something that needs to be delivered to him," Urahara said, tilting his chin up slightly. "But it's not too important. It can wait." Why did it always seem like Urahara was cloaking his words, like he had a hidden agenda? Something in the tone of his voice. It really pissed Renji off. "Fair enough," he grumbled. After tidying the dust and leaves into a neat pile to be thrown away later, and to save being subjected to any more of Urahara's random orders, he ventured outside to sweep the front step. As the sun began to sink down beyond the skyline, fat and gold like a gigantic coin, Renji's mood seemed to sink even lower along with it. He wondered if there were other people in the human world having as much bad luck as him. Possibly. His earlier mishap, or rather Kurosaki's complete lack of observance, was still getting to him. After the effort he'd put in to secure things he thought Kurosaki would... blagh. Wasted time, wasted money. His head started to ache from mulling it over so much. What he needed was a really good fight, to drain away some of his pent up tension. Yeah, a duel would go down nicely right now, he imagined. He perked up slightly at the thought. Maybe later he could wind Kurosaki up, see if he could start something. Then he scrapped that thought, heat rising in his face once again. His annoyance renewed, Renji smacked the step hard with the broom, thinking "Die, die, die!", but it only snapped into pieces, wooden splinters flying everywhere. "Shit," he cursed, and wondered if he'd be able to make a dash for Soul Society before Urahara could catch him. Ichigo was not having a good day. He scowled at the depressingly sparse notes he'd taken in English class earlier, and then looked again at the question on his homework sheet. Damn, if only he'd been paying attention. If it wasn't for his elusive Santa Claus, he would have probably finished his work by now. He checked the clock: 10:13pm. Ugh. Scratching the back of his neck with the end of his pen, he leaned back in his desk chair and yawned widely. His eyes wandered over to his bedside chest of drawers, where he'd set the 'presents' from earlier. He hated them. Hated whoever had put them there. But most of all, he hated the fact that he'd brushed his teeth four times since getting home, and combed his hair a little longer than usual, too. Now it was all fluffy and looked stupid. Hate. Ichigo figured he should get back to work and at least try to salvage something of the homework train-wreck he'd managed so far. Before he had settled the nib of his pen on the paper, though, a tapping came from the direction of his window. "Kon, I'm not in the mood. I've got too much to do, so sod off." The tapping came again, more insistent. When Ichigo glanced over, he felt a familiar lurch in the pit of his stomach as his gaze met that of Renji's. It was how he imagined motion sickness to feel, only, he wasn't moving. Maybe he'd eaten something funny at dinner. The other man was perched on the windowsill, staring through the glass at Ichigo as if to say 'well, aren't you going to let me in?'. Ichigo smiled and waved, but made no move to open up for Renji. He was no expert lip-reader, but he was sure he caught the words "bastard", "open", and possibly "or I'll break through it with my zanpakutō". Deciding he'd rather not explain to his family why his bedroom window got pulverised across his carpet, Ichigo dropped his pen and got up to let Renji in. "Yo," he said in greeting. Renji merely grunted at him. "What crawled up your arse and died?" "Shut it, Kurosaki, you insufferable idiot." "Oy, what the hell was that for?" Ichigo stepped back as Renji climbed in, briefly standing on Ichigo's bed before gracefully hopping down onto the floor. The guy looked tense as hell, like a large spring wound up slowly over a long period of time. "Er..." Ichigo said lamely. "Want a drink of something?" There was a time he wouldn't have thought to offer Renji anything upon arrival, back when the only time the red-head came over was if a particularly large group of hollows showed up and he wanted a hand beating them back. But over time, his visits had grown in number and shrunk in purpose. Over time, Ichigo had grown to not mind them so much, even though he had a hard time admitting it to himself. He still couldn't call them 'friends'; there was a tension always lingering beneath the surface, but they were a lot better off now than when they'd first met. Except for the squabbling, but that was more out of habit than real ire. Tonight, however, Renji seemed genuinely pissed off. "You got any hot sake?" he asked. "Eh, sorry. I can get some tea or coffee, though." Ichigo's dad didn't drink, and since he was the only one of legal age in the house there wasn't any alcohol around. "Never mind," Renji said dismally, and slumped down heavily on Ichigo's bed. Ichigo pulled his desk chair forward a little and perched on it, waiting for Renji to tell him what was up. If anyone was good at complaining about stuff, it was Renji. When no rant was forthcoming, he was forced to swallow his pride and say, "My earlier question still stands. What's got into you?" Renji huffed. "The general idiocy of the population on earth, not all of whom are originally from here." "You've seen Urahara today?" Renji's head jerked up and he stared at Ichigo for a few seconds, before his mouth quirked up slightly at the sides in affirmation. Ichigo tried not to find it endearing. He was just glad he was able to lighten the mood somewhat. "Yeah," said Renji, a little of the tension draining from his posture. "Got me to clean up his shop for him. The meal wasn't even that great. Not like it is back home." "Ah. Well if it's any consolation, I ain't having the best one, either." "What, did you bust a nail while you were doing up your bra again?" Renji teased, sounding a lot more like himself. "Don't make me come over there," Ichigo retorted before thinking. Both of them abruptly fell silent and looked in opposite directions. "Anyway," he went on, awkwardly, "it's been a weird day. I kept finding these random things all over the place. I dunno if someone's having a joke with me or what, but getting into my locker and then the boxes on the way home from college-" He noticed Renji's expression and abruptly stopped. "W-what is it?" Renji was staring at him wide-eyed like he'd just remembered he'd left the gas on at home, only, there was no gas and Renji had no home in Karakura town. Slowly, like an ink stain spreading across damp paper, colour bloomed over Renji's cheekbones and down his neck to mix with the solid black of his tattoos. "Uh, nothing," he said quickly, rising from the bed. "I just remembered, I can't stay - got to get going. You know how it is. I, uh... yeah. Better be off now." Ichigo frowned deeply, standing up too. "Oy, hang on a minute." Without thinking he reached out and grabbed hold of the back of Renji's shihakushō, yanking him down from where he'd stepped up onto the bed. Ichigo pulled a little too hard and Renji fell against him, then spluttered, and then tried to right his footing. "What the heck, Kurosaki?" He brushed Ichigo's hand off as he turned to glare at him. There was still trace of the blush from before. Ichigo was working frantically to put two-and-two together, but every time he kept coming up with a ridiculous answer. Renji was standing very close. Much closer than Ichigo thought right. Or maybe it was just that he hadn't backed off yet. He quickly did so. But that wasn't the only unsettling thing. Renji's reaction... surely it didn't mean...? Ichigo had two choices: either bite the bullet and ask, or let Renji go and forever wonder. He didn't need that kind of worm eating away at him, so he steeled himself, and said, "It was you, wasn't it?" "W-what are you on about?" Renji was a crap liar. "Why did you leave toothpaste for me in my locker?" That earlier vague pang of annoyance jabbed at his guts, and he resisted the urge to ask if he had bad breath. He didn't want to know, and he certainly didn't want Renji to be the one to tell him. "And what's with all the little blue boxes full of coloured rice?" Luckily, Renji looked about as uncomfortable as he felt. "Renji," Ichigo prompted, having lost all patience. "All right, all right, don't make such a big thing of it. I just thought..." Renji shifted from one foot to the other, and back again. "I heard it was that time of year. Valum's day or something like that. I just figured you'd helped me out in a couple of tight spots over the years... it was stupid. Forget it. It was no big deal." "Time of the year?" Ichigo was totally confused. Renji raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, twelfth of February, by the human world reckoning. Valum's day." Oh God, thought Ichigo. "You mean the fourteenth," he said slowly, clearly. "It's on the fourteenth if you're talking about Valentine's day. And God, why are you talking about Valentine's day? Do you have any idea what that is?" "Of course I do," scoffed Renji. Then he swallowed, looked around as if lost. Ichigo sincerely doubted he understood anything about Valentine's day. "It's when you go around being nice to people you know, giving them gifts and such, right? I heard all about it." "From who, Byakuya? 'Cause this sounds just like the sort of thing he would know nothing about." Ichigo bit his lip briefly, before continuing. He was sure he was just as red in the face as Renji was, but he had to soldier on. "Valentine's day's for ... you know. Couples." There. He'd said it. Renji blinked at him. Four times. His mouth opened. Closed again. Ichigo didn't know where to look, what to do with his hands. He stood there lamely, wishing the floor would open and swallow him whole, chew heartily on his mortified bones. And to think all those silly presents had been from Renji. To think that Renji had gone out of his way to put them all over the neighbourhood, to break into his locker and put them there, too, even though they were pretty rubbish gifts. Ichigo had never felt so awkward in his life. However, underlying that there was the strangest thrill buzzing somewhere in his abdomen, curling warmly outwards like a mellow, sweeping fire. He swallowed, cleared his throat. "Yeah, so that's why it's all ... I mean. Thanks and all..." He cleared his throat a second time, unable to meet Renji's eyes. Unable to meet Renji's general direction, in fact. "It was just a stupid thing..." Renji said again. "Yeah. It's... Thanks." "It's not like-" "I know that-" Silence. When Ichigo managed to drag his gaze from the floor, he caught Renji in a rare pensive moment. Eyes lowered, almost closed, his vivid lashes were like small nicks of blood against the paleness of his cheek. Ichigo could recall the coppery tang of blood - he knew it all too well - and for a brief, heady moment he wondered if Renji's eyelashes would taste of it. "Really stupid," Renji murmured, and seemed to snap out of his reverie. His face flushed again and he scowled, probably out of frustration, embarrassment, and trying to cover it up. For a second, Ichigo thought the other man was about to bolt. Even though he was sure death by seppuku would be less painful than what he was about to do, he found he didn't want Renji to leave, at least not after... Before his brain could convince his body not to, he was stepping forward, taking hold of Renji's sleeve to stop him from walking out. His sweaty fist bunched in the soft fabric, and there would no doubt be a web of creases there when he was finally able to let go. Anywhere but in the eyes, Ichigo thought, suddenly very worried Renji might find all the secrets he kept buried deep. The eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul, after all, and he wasn't willing to risk it. The problem was, that left Renji's mouth as the focal point of his face. Ichigo licked his own lips, his throat and mouth parchment dry. As if in echo, Renji's tongue flashed out, swiping a wet line over first his lower lip, then the top one. A groan crawled up Ichigo's throat panther-like and deadly. He fought it back down. The twist in his guts was starting to ache now, but he tried not to think too much about it. "It's all right," he said, although he wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure Renji or himself. Everything was getting confusing; how his room seemed to be closing in, the atmosphere full of pressure, heat. And at the same time how he felt more reckless than when he'd slid his body onto Rukia's blade, when he'd first held his zanpakutō, taken down his first hollow... "Kurosaki." Was it his imagination, or was Renji's voice strained, fainter than usual? It sounded low and rich, intent, like he was trying to say something complicated to Ichigo without saying much at all. Ichigo couldn't make head or tail of it. He decided it was time to put an end to this. If he was coming down with something, it'd be best for Renji to just leave, or he might catch it too. He went to push Renji back - when had he got even closer? - but he was met with resistance. "Kurosaki," Renji said again. Ichigo realised why his chest felt so tight all of a sudden - Renji had hold of the front of his t-shirt in a firm grip, was tugging on it. He hadn't even noticed. "You're hopeless, you know that?" "Don't insult m-" The end of his sentence was replaced with a small, reluctant grunt, because he was sure that this, whatever the hell was happening, would come back to haunt him. Maybe never leave him alone. There was a distinct scent on Renji's skin, darkly spicy, and the very faint taste of sweat. Ichigo never thought his first kiss would be like this, in his room, in his house. With Renji. Renji, whose teeth scraped gently over Ichigo's lower lip as he moved his head just so, for a better angle or because he was trying to decide if he should stop - Ichigo wasn't sure which. All he was sure of was that he was too hot and the tightness in his groin was killing him, it wanted out so badly. After a couple of seconds Renji's tongue pushed against Ichigo's, and startled, they both pulled back. As if on autopilot, they then both went in again for another go. It was the weirdest sensation, Ichigo could safely say - another tongue against his, stroking back and forth in an obscene manner that just made him think of wanking and porn and things he wanted to do, to have done to him. Christ. As he opened his mouth wider, helplessly, heart pounding, he realised the eyes were useless in keeping back some secrets, secrets as colossal as his. He knew he was hard, was painfully aware of it, and was positive Renji could feel it, too. They were so close, a blade's edge couldn't have passed between them. The urge to pull away reared; Ichigo knew at the back of his mind that Renji was learning things about him he vowed would never be known by another soul, not as long as he lived if he could help it. He was still confused, still felt immature in areas he should be familiar with by now, at eighteen. But the reasonable, better functioning part of his brain pointed out that Renji hadn't turned him away, nor punched him in the face. Actually, Ichigo was sure Renji had been the one to start this whole mess. Hadn't he? A grand mix of relief and terror rose when Renji curved an arm around Ichigo's back and pulled him tight against him. That was when Ichigo realised it, and it struck him like a kick to the stomach: Renji was hard, too, felt really really hard and big against his own erection and the thought of it, and the feel of it, was just so much that Ichigo would've cursed had his voice been free to do so. He couldn't kiss any more. His jaw ached, so he let his mouth relax and allowed Renji to take whatever he wanted. A little late in the game maybe, Ichigo had an epiphany: he was obviously not the only one with secrets tonight. He marvelled at the thought, up until Renji started moving, pushing forward and then pulling back a little only to push forward again. Ichigo had to break away from Renji's mouth and tongue and wet wet hot to moan, to curse "Fuck" on his out-breath. His cock twitched with want. He was more scared than he could recall. There was pain somewhere, digging into his back - Renji's fingers, holding him too hard, pinching his skin through the material of his t-shirt. He didn't care about that, though - pain he could deal with. But he wasn't sure if he could deal with the fact that he wanted to come, so badly, and he wanted Renji to put a hand on him, down there, or just keep rubbing against him with those deep, steady rotations of his hips. He wanted, he wanted to- "R-Renji- shit, I..." He was drawing in breath so rapidly he couldn't get a coherent sentence out. His fist was still curled in Renji's sleeve, hanging on; the other was clutching Renji's shoulder so tight his knuckles had turned a brilliant white colour, and maybe Renji would end up with bruises tomorrow, faint graffiti over the black tattoo markings that were already there. "I... uhh, God..." It was Renji's rumbling, hoarse moan against his ear that unravelled him, and that final hard shove that knocked him against his desk and sent his homework spilling onto the carpet like a paper waterfall. Ichigo pressed his face into the curve where Renji's shoulder met his neck, and bit down, trying not to scream as he came fierce and messy in his underwear. He vaguely heard Renji's hiss of pain, felt the body in front of him stiffen, the arms around him tighten. He had no breath to apologise, no mind to say or do anything but jerk his hips forward wantonly and let go. It hurt. It was the best feeling ever, like hands kneading him beneath his skin, milking out every drop of come he had to give, pushing from the base of his spine right out through his cock, push after pull after push after pull... Ichigo sank back against his desk, his limbs shaky and feeling like liquid. Renji was still groaning, breath hot and moist on his cheek, his ear, then his neck. He could barely feel the last few thrusts, his legs had gone numb from the hard frotting, but he was aware of the faint pulse of Renji's cock, even between the layers of their clothes. Breathless and sated, Ichigo finally let go of Renji. His hands were numb. His jaw ached. His whole body was trapped in a state of limbo, caught between the elation after an intense release and the resulting exhaustion. Pins and needles were setting in. And the realisation of what he'd just done. Letting out a half-mortified, half-contented sound, Ichigo pushed Renji back, breaking the moment. He stood ruffled and panting, sweat damp on his neck and under his t-shirt. Renji seemed to be in a similar state, flushed and gasping like Ichigo had never seen him before. A long time passed in which they stared at each other. Something had to give, or they'd end up stuck like this forever, both too confused, embarrassed and shocked to do anything else. At last, Ichigo managed to find his voice. "Um." Renji looked down at the floor. "Uh. Yeah." It was terrible. The tsunami has passed, and all that was left was the wreckage. He felt like he was stumbling blindly, unsure of whether there was anything to salvage. He'd just... and Renji had just... but where did that leave things? There was only one thing for it. "H-haa," Ichigo tried, but there was no way he could get the words "Happy Valentine's day" out, even if it was a lame attempt to settle the mood. Not without obliterating what little thread of dignity he had left, and probably destroying Renji's, too. No, now was not the time to say something stupid. Instead, he gave a short, almost hysterical laugh, and punched Renji hard on the arm. The other man stared at him, mouth still open a fraction and wet - those wet lips. God, Ichigo had been attached to those only moments ago. He couldn't fathom it, even though his heartbeat still raced, pulse thundering in his ears, and the hot feel of come against his skin made him want to laugh again. Or yell. Or shower. Or all three. Then, Renji laughed too, although it wasn't an amused sound. He returned the punch two-fold with a swift fist to Ichigo's shoulder. A sense of relief coursed over Ichigo like goosebumps, and he felt like his throat was starting to widen. He could draw in deep lungfuls of blessed air again. "I'll be seeing you, Kurosaki," Renji said, before turning and stepping up onto the mattress. Ichigo found he could now move, albeit a little unsteadily. "Yeah." He walked to the edge of his bed and watched as Renji climbed out onto the windowsill. Something tugged in that direction, but Ichigo ignored it. "See you 'round." With one last, brief flash of teeth, Renji took flight and rose up onto the roof across the street. Ichigo blinked, and in that split second Renji's retreating silhouette disappeared out of sight. Feeling oddly light, as if invisible strings that had been binding him had finally been severed, Ichigo leaned over and closed the window. He only realised he was smiling when he entered the bathroom to clean up, and caught his reflection in the mirror. "Huh, idiot," he said to himself, before splashing cold water on his face and neck, and undressing for a quick shower. When he returned to his room the first thing he spotted was his empty desk, and then his homework lying in a mess on the floor, neglected and in desperate need of being finished. Ichigo reached out to switch off his lamp. As he collapsed onto his bed and allowed his eyes to drift shut, he just couldn't bring himself to care about homework. Renji's journey back to Urahara's went surprisingly fast, considering his body was a little shaky and his bones felt a tad soft beneath his skin. He desperately needed a wash, something to eat, and to get back to Soul Society in time to report to Kuchiki-taichou in the morning. But... Well. He honestly never thought things would end up going the way they had. When he'd dropped the boxes off earlier that morning, when he'd snuck into the school and located Kurosaki's locker, he had genuinely been trying to say 'thanks', not 'I want to jump your bones'. Gah, he'd had no idea Kurosaki was... was... like that. Like him. Then again, it wasn't like they had the heart-to-heart kind of relationship. Like a tide receding, the euphoria of his earlier orgasm was washing away, and doubt started to slink in to replace it. What should he do now? What would Kurosaki do? When would they see each other again, and how awkward would it be? Very, he imagined. Ugh. He wondered how he always managed to get into these situations. Renji frowned to himself and resolved to stop acting like a freaking girl over it. What would be would be, and all that. And yet, a thought occurred to him as he touched down outside the shop and slid open the door, to be met with a warm gold glow from the lamps inside. He filed the thought away, and would wait until he was full and clean and had got a decent night's sleep before making a decision on it. On whether to thank Rangiku-san for her Valum's day tips, or keep it to himself. ~Fin~ |
Email | Post a comment on this story | Back to index | Back to Top |