Christmas Baby 4/?
Gah, I'm sooo soooo soooo sorry this took so long to post. >.< I really, really wanted to have this all done by New Year's, but my life is really crazy and hectic right now- things keep happening and more and more messes keep cropping up. Just when I finally get a few major things straightened out, a dozen other things go wrong...and gah, I'm sorry!
For all warnings, notes, disclaimers, etc, see Part One
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“Paperwork.” Hitsugaya mumbled, his furious cowl turning into a wicked little smirk and he had a dangerous, bright blue gleam in his eyes. His anger waned under his boyfriend’s constant affection and secure arms, demanding his attention. He could kill Matsumoto later- he had Ichigo right now.
“Huh?” Ichigo nuzzled the soft, marshmallowy fluff Hitsugaya had for hair. No matter how long he was with the ice-wielding shinigami, he could never get enough of him. He was a constant delight to Ichigo’s heart and senses. He had a fierce, loving heart and deep passion hiding behind his protective, icy exterior. Hitsugaya was a little firecracker, and he lit up Ichigo’s world like fireworks lit up the New Year’s night sky.
“We need to put the mod-soul into a container resembling a pile of paperwork. She’d be scarred for life- her nightmare of attacking paperwork come true.” Hitsugaya clarified, sounding absolutely delighted at the idea. As Ichigo cuddled the small taichou closer, he shuddered- Hitsugaya was almost as scary as Unohana, and he made a mental note to never, ever piss him off.
“We could, but- I’ve missed you, Shiro-chan.” Ichigo’s chestnut eyes shone in delight as he felt the smaller body snuggle close. Hitsugaya fit in his arms like a glove, as if their bodies were made to be together. Ichigo was long and lean, but not spindly like Ichimaru. His muscles were perfectly toned; he was not a bulking body builder, but he was not a scrawny skeleton, either. He was the perfect balance of lean and muscle, while Hitsugaya was petite and lightly lean, like a newborn foal. He had muscles, but he was soft in all the right places and molded easily to Ichigo’s own when they made love. In battle, he was like Soi Fon: remarkably swift and agile with a quick, keen mind. And in the bedroom…holy fuck, was he ever flexible. Ichigo tightened his arms around the dainty body and quickly stifled those thoughts with a chaste kiss to Hitsugaya’s temple.
Hitsugaya sighed again, but softer this time, more a gentle fluttering of breath than a harsh exhale. “Baka.” He said it lightly, as if it were an endearment of sorts, and tilted his head up at the brush of lips against his temple.
Ichigo gazed down into that beloved face and warm blue-green eyes that very rarely held such open gentleness. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Shiro.”
Hitsugaya rolled his big, expressive eyes. “It’s just a sprained ankle. I was hardly on my deathbed.”
Ichigo snorted. “Broken bone, torn muscle; that’s a lot more than a sprain. Still, I missed my injured baby dragon’s birthday. At least I get to spend Christmas with you, just the two of us.” He suddenly paused as a thought struck him. “You know, Shiro-chan, your birthday is only five days from Christmas.”
“So?”
“That makes you a Christmas baby.”
Teal eyes instantly narrowed. “Ichigo, shut up. Matsumoto hasn’t left yet, and I do NOT need another horrible nickname.”
“But you have the cutest nicknames. Shiro-chan, yukihime-“ He was cut off by Hitsugaya’s menacing growl and just chuckled in defeat, taking the consolation prize of a quick kiss on a pert, scrunched up little nose.
“You’re incorrigible.” Hitsugaya’s glare softened from instant death to merely resigned annoyance.
“So don’t incorrige me.” Ichigo replied cheekily.
“Oi, Ichigo-kun, remember, our little Christmas baby is not allowed out of bed and no strenuous activities!” The bubbly vice captain of Tenth Division poked her head into the bedroom, grinning lasciviously at them.
“Bye, Kurosaki-kun, Shiro-chan! Merry Christmas!” Orihime popped her head in, too, just underneath Matsumoto’s beaming face, which still had a few droplets of drying blood under her nose.
Hitsugaya automatically bristled at the sight of his merry tormentor. “MATSUMOTO! GET LOST AND TAKE THIS WITH YOU!!!” He grabbed the plastic ball of mistletoe and flung it at her cheery face. He had uncanny aim; it hit her square in the face and she spluttered in mock-agony.
“Taichou’s so cold and cruel, even on such a warm, fuzzy holiday! Fine, be a little Scrooge! Me and Hime-chan will go sledding without you two.” She pouted.
“Ah, Merry Christmas to you, too, Inoue-san.” Ichigo had learned the painful, hard way to stay out of fights between the taichou and his insubordinate subordinate lest he end up on the receiving end of Hitsugaya’s wrath. He stayed out of it by ignoring them. He held his growling lover firmly in case Hitsugaya decided to lunge for Matusmoto’s throat again.
“Kurosaki-kun, are you sure you don’t wanto to come with us? Shiro-chan can’t because of his ankle, but-“ Orihime ended in a loud, startled squeak as Matsumoto put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her away.
“C’mon, Hime-chan, we gotta go meet Rukia and the twins.”
Soon as they heard the thump of a door shutting, Hitsugaya twined his short arms around Ichigo’s neck. “Let’s go.” He ordered in his captain’s voice.
Ichigo blinked. “Huh?”
“Up. I want to make sure they actually left.”
“They had coats and gloves on.”
“You can never, ever trust Matsumoto. She’s too sneaky.”
“You trust her readily enough in battle.”
Hitsugaya snorted. “She’s only reliable when it really, really matters. Other than that, she’s the biggest pervert in Soul Society, next to Kyouraku-taichou. So, up.”
Ichigo smiled, biting his lip to keep from commenting on how Hitsugaya almost sounded like the bossy child he looked like. Hitsugaya was not a child by any means, except in looks. Hitsugaya tightened his arms around Ichigo’s neck, pulling his slim body higher up on Ichig’s chest and unknowingly brushing his hips against Ichigo’s stomach. Ichigo felt his cheeks heat up at the reminder of Hitsugaya’s lack of underwear. That, in turn, brought up memories of just how grown-up Hitsugaya was.
“Ichigo, you blockhead.” Hitsugaya groused when Ichigo didn’t respond. He looked up and saw the chocolate eyes hazy with lust, as if the bigger male was off in some perverted dreamland. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt a large, calloused hand rubbing his bare bottom.
“Kurosaki!” He snapped, baby cheeks turning pink at the mere thought of Matsumoto lurking in the hallway, watching through a peephole she had drilled.
At the loud yell, Ichigo blinked. “Huh? Oh!”
tbc....
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We're almost at the end. Getting there. I'm really trying to get this done, and I'll try not to wait so long between updates next time!
For all warnings, notes, disclaimers, etc, see Part One
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
“Paperwork.” Hitsugaya mumbled, his furious cowl turning into a wicked little smirk and he had a dangerous, bright blue gleam in his eyes. His anger waned under his boyfriend’s constant affection and secure arms, demanding his attention. He could kill Matsumoto later- he had Ichigo right now.
“Huh?” Ichigo nuzzled the soft, marshmallowy fluff Hitsugaya had for hair. No matter how long he was with the ice-wielding shinigami, he could never get enough of him. He was a constant delight to Ichigo’s heart and senses. He had a fierce, loving heart and deep passion hiding behind his protective, icy exterior. Hitsugaya was a little firecracker, and he lit up Ichigo’s world like fireworks lit up the New Year’s night sky.
“We need to put the mod-soul into a container resembling a pile of paperwork. She’d be scarred for life- her nightmare of attacking paperwork come true.” Hitsugaya clarified, sounding absolutely delighted at the idea. As Ichigo cuddled the small taichou closer, he shuddered- Hitsugaya was almost as scary as Unohana, and he made a mental note to never, ever piss him off.
“We could, but- I’ve missed you, Shiro-chan.” Ichigo’s chestnut eyes shone in delight as he felt the smaller body snuggle close. Hitsugaya fit in his arms like a glove, as if their bodies were made to be together. Ichigo was long and lean, but not spindly like Ichimaru. His muscles were perfectly toned; he was not a bulking body builder, but he was not a scrawny skeleton, either. He was the perfect balance of lean and muscle, while Hitsugaya was petite and lightly lean, like a newborn foal. He had muscles, but he was soft in all the right places and molded easily to Ichigo’s own when they made love. In battle, he was like Soi Fon: remarkably swift and agile with a quick, keen mind. And in the bedroom…holy fuck, was he ever flexible. Ichigo tightened his arms around the dainty body and quickly stifled those thoughts with a chaste kiss to Hitsugaya’s temple.
Hitsugaya sighed again, but softer this time, more a gentle fluttering of breath than a harsh exhale. “Baka.” He said it lightly, as if it were an endearment of sorts, and tilted his head up at the brush of lips against his temple.
Ichigo gazed down into that beloved face and warm blue-green eyes that very rarely held such open gentleness. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Shiro.”
Hitsugaya rolled his big, expressive eyes. “It’s just a sprained ankle. I was hardly on my deathbed.”
Ichigo snorted. “Broken bone, torn muscle; that’s a lot more than a sprain. Still, I missed my injured baby dragon’s birthday. At least I get to spend Christmas with you, just the two of us.” He suddenly paused as a thought struck him. “You know, Shiro-chan, your birthday is only five days from Christmas.”
“So?”
“That makes you a Christmas baby.”
Teal eyes instantly narrowed. “Ichigo, shut up. Matsumoto hasn’t left yet, and I do NOT need another horrible nickname.”
“But you have the cutest nicknames. Shiro-chan, yukihime-“ He was cut off by Hitsugaya’s menacing growl and just chuckled in defeat, taking the consolation prize of a quick kiss on a pert, scrunched up little nose.
“You’re incorrigible.” Hitsugaya’s glare softened from instant death to merely resigned annoyance.
“So don’t incorrige me.” Ichigo replied cheekily.
“Oi, Ichigo-kun, remember, our little Christmas baby is not allowed out of bed and no strenuous activities!” The bubbly vice captain of Tenth Division poked her head into the bedroom, grinning lasciviously at them.
“Bye, Kurosaki-kun, Shiro-chan! Merry Christmas!” Orihime popped her head in, too, just underneath Matsumoto’s beaming face, which still had a few droplets of drying blood under her nose.
Hitsugaya automatically bristled at the sight of his merry tormentor. “MATSUMOTO! GET LOST AND TAKE THIS WITH YOU!!!” He grabbed the plastic ball of mistletoe and flung it at her cheery face. He had uncanny aim; it hit her square in the face and she spluttered in mock-agony.
“Taichou’s so cold and cruel, even on such a warm, fuzzy holiday! Fine, be a little Scrooge! Me and Hime-chan will go sledding without you two.” She pouted.
“Ah, Merry Christmas to you, too, Inoue-san.” Ichigo had learned the painful, hard way to stay out of fights between the taichou and his insubordinate subordinate lest he end up on the receiving end of Hitsugaya’s wrath. He stayed out of it by ignoring them. He held his growling lover firmly in case Hitsugaya decided to lunge for Matusmoto’s throat again.
“Kurosaki-kun, are you sure you don’t wanto to come with us? Shiro-chan can’t because of his ankle, but-“ Orihime ended in a loud, startled squeak as Matsumoto put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her away.
“C’mon, Hime-chan, we gotta go meet Rukia and the twins.”
Soon as they heard the thump of a door shutting, Hitsugaya twined his short arms around Ichigo’s neck. “Let’s go.” He ordered in his captain’s voice.
Ichigo blinked. “Huh?”
“Up. I want to make sure they actually left.”
“They had coats and gloves on.”
“You can never, ever trust Matsumoto. She’s too sneaky.”
“You trust her readily enough in battle.”
Hitsugaya snorted. “She’s only reliable when it really, really matters. Other than that, she’s the biggest pervert in Soul Society, next to Kyouraku-taichou. So, up.”
Ichigo smiled, biting his lip to keep from commenting on how Hitsugaya almost sounded like the bossy child he looked like. Hitsugaya was not a child by any means, except in looks. Hitsugaya tightened his arms around Ichigo’s neck, pulling his slim body higher up on Ichig’s chest and unknowingly brushing his hips against Ichigo’s stomach. Ichigo felt his cheeks heat up at the reminder of Hitsugaya’s lack of underwear. That, in turn, brought up memories of just how grown-up Hitsugaya was.
“Ichigo, you blockhead.” Hitsugaya groused when Ichigo didn’t respond. He looked up and saw the chocolate eyes hazy with lust, as if the bigger male was off in some perverted dreamland. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt a large, calloused hand rubbing his bare bottom.
“Kurosaki!” He snapped, baby cheeks turning pink at the mere thought of Matsumoto lurking in the hallway, watching through a peephole she had drilled.
At the loud yell, Ichigo blinked. “Huh? Oh!”
tbc....
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We're almost at the end. Getting there. I'm really trying to get this done, and I'll try not to wait so long between updates next time!