[fic] Learning Calligraphy
Fandom: Bleach
Title: Learning Calligraphy
Pairing/Characters: Madarame Ikkaku/Ayasegawa Yumichika
Rating: General, I think
Genre: Slight Romance
Word Count: 2305
Notes: I wondered why I'm having difficulty producing new fics and then I noticed that there's so many unfinished ones I've dumped in my HD that needs to be done. So I thought maybe that's one of the reason why my head's cluttered. I need to get rid of the old ones before creating new ones. AHA~ and so this fic is one of those almost forgotten ones. Ah, I miss Ikkaku/Yumichika. Lately, Bleach is boring me. (I'm disappointed over the fact Halibel-sama lost! Did she really? I liked her so much!)
It was not a surprise that most of the shinigamis in eleventh division were idiots. They were better off fighting than doing things which requires thinking. They were after all better suited holding their swords and practicing their stances than holding their brushes and doing calligraphy. Of course for the eleventh division it’s only natural to follow the way their captain laid out for them (they are bloodthirsty by nature after all) but other divisions were not pleased (not even by the slightest, no, no) having a division who’re so unrestrained, violent, brash and the bad description could go on for so long.
They blamed it on their educational background in the academy. Of course that’s a lie because Abarai Renji came from eleventh and look where he landed-a vice captain in sixth division no less! But of course that doesn’t stop others from belittling the division (only in hushed voices though because mocking them out loud would mean instant death) and of course were shunned from other things.
Despite the overwhelming machisimo of eleventh division, Yumichika was an obvious (it’s a practically screaming) exception. Graduating from the academy with high marks, manners almost befitting to a (fake) noble and beauty impossible for a man to have (with a clear exception of Captain Byakuya and Captain Ukitake), Yumichika was spared from taunts and insults earned by his fellow shinigamis in eleventh division. But that doesn’t mean he’s happy with that. Yumichika was proud of his division (it was his choice to go there after all) Yumichika wouldn’t let insults go by that easily. It was his division after all. And he had to change other’s perception to their division even at the cost of headache it’ll give him. And what good way to show they’re not just a bunch of muscles and swords? Why, calligraphy of course.
*~*
The first time and probably the last time, Yumichika volunteered to teach Ikkaku calligraphy (he had to teach his best friend first before anyone else) was when they were walking along the corridor after extensive hours of swordsmanship. Ikkaku’s jaw slackened that time, quickly recovering and asking what the hell calligraphy was. Yumichika of course smiled, pleased that Ikkaku was at least asking.
After hearing the first two minutes of Yumichika talking nothing but the beauty of dipping the brush on the beautiful ink and the brush gliding beautifully on the beautiful parchment, the bald man bluntly refused and walked away.
Fuck beauty.
Of course, Yumichika, being the patient not to mention persistent one, followed him and demanded the reason behind such strong refusal. Ikkaku only scratched his bald head, stared at Yumichika for a moment and merely shrugged. Yumichika raised an eyebrow for Ikkaku’s behavior which seemed to be what the bald man had for an explanation.
Sighing in slight irritation, Ikkaku clearly told Yumichika that there’s no fun in holding stupid brushes and writing stupid kanji on a piece of a stupid paper which of course earned Ikkaku a smack in the head and a explosion of thorough explanation about the need to learn and appreciate the beauty of calligraphy.
Again with the redundancy, Ikkaku fumed to himself.
The following day, Ikkaku saw some of the guys from eleventh division seating in an open room usually used for sparring. Each and every one of them were seated in front of a small table and with quite a few things to go by which included brush, ink, ink stone and paper. And there in front of them stood Yumichika, carrying what seemed to be a huge paper fan.
Ikkaku raised his eyebrow.
“Today, I’m glad everyone is here to-Omaeda what the hell are you doing here crunching your damn food so loudly?” Yumichika’s usually serene face was gone as he screeched towards the fat, lieutenant of the second squad.
“Uh…checking all of you out?” Omaeda reasoned lamely before a table landed squarely on his face.
“Are there any other interruptions?” Yumichika looked around, flashing his teeth and looking at them so sweetly. The men were so scared to even move their neck. Ikkaku couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight but he stopped immediately. Dammit, they’re supposed to spar!
“Perfect, now everyone is here because the captain granted me the permission to teach every one of you on how calligraphy is done.”
Ikkaku choked after hearing that. There was no way the captain was letting this happen, unless the captain was damn uncaring about calligraphy he probably nodded unconsciously when Yumichika asked (which was the most sensible reason Ikkaku could ever think of).
“Is calligraphy, tasty?” piped one of the guys.
“Is calligraphy some kind of sword technique?” piped the other one.
Yumichika stared at them, his eyes not bulging with irritation or his lips twitching in utter annoyance. He merely approached the two guys and smacked them with his paper fan.
“WHAT KIND OF STUPID IDEA WAS THAT??” Yumichika exploded, his reiatsu flaring up. Everyone tensed at that. Yumichika wasn’t a fifth seat for nothing.
“WHAT KIND OF MORON WOULD THINK ABOUT FOOD OR SWORD TECHNIQUE WHEN YOU’RE CLEARLY IN FRONT OF A TABLE FULL OF WRITING EQUIPMENTS???”
The eleventh division shinigamis remained silent until one man dared to speak. Oh, he was brave alright. But so stupid.
“So… is calligraphy something that is not food or technique?” one meekly deduced and Yumichika resisted the urge to throw another table. Yumichika sighed. He should’ve known better. The Eleventh division really was a bunch of idiots.
*~*
The second day, Ikkaku found all of them continuing what they left off yesterday. Ikkaku gaped, a look of disbelief written on his face. He was also close to exploding.
So this is the reason why his men were eager to finish the sparring session! Ikkaku growled. If Yumichika’s goal was to turn the entire division into a group of sissies with brushes on their hand then Yumichika’s going to pay for it-the hard way. Ikkaku’s thoughts of how to shave Yumichika’s hair or how to cut his damn eyelashes were interrupted when he saw the fleeting look of glee in Yumichika’s eyes.
“What was that for anyway?” he grumbled, feeling a light tug on his chest. For now, Ikkaku stood back and waited (he refused to address it a curiously observing). The next time sparring time comes, he won’t give the others the energy to even hold a brush!
But right now, they were being lectured by Yumichika on how proper writing should be done. Ikkaku couldn’t see why there’re so many who volunteered wasting their time listening to Yumichika when they should be spending their time sparing or to put it bluntly, being beaten by Ikkaku (he calls it sparring, despite that).
There was something, on how Yumichika’s hand guided the others’ hand on how to properly hold the brush. Of course there’s nothing great at all to being pinched and slapped by Yumichika when he saw a horrible scribble of kanji or a broken brush (a result in which one was gripping his brush too forcefully) but the act after that, the firm yet somehow gentle touch of Yumichika lingering on top of one’s hand was enough reward to keep the lesson going.
It was slow (excruciatingly slow for Ikkaku) and light as fingers intertwined. Even Ikkaku couldn’t blame the idiot who couldn’t stop blushing and grinning at the same time.
Ikkaku made sure to beat the crap out of the man when sparring time comes.
*~*
“How’s the lesson comin’?” Ikkaku asked feigning to feign interest. Yumichika merely pursed his lips as he removed his shinigami uniform and took a new yukata from the closet. Ikkaku noticed the lack of response and clicked his tongue, slightly annoyed for being ignored.
“I’m talking to you,” he snapped though there was no real bite on it.
“Its fine,” Yumichika replied icily. From the tone of his voice, Ikkaku knew that he’s still not forgiven for the refusal he gave the other day.
“Yumichika…” he started but the other man was already on his flight.
“I’m going to take a bath and when I get back put your futon away from mine.”
“You’re so stupid you know that?” Ikkaku shouted enough to get Yumichika’s attention.
“Ya gettin’ pissed cause I ain’t doin’ that calligra-fuckin thing, che who would want that anyway? It’s not even essential in battle.”
Yumichika remained perfectly still by the doorway, his back facing Ikkaku. When he turned his head slightly enough to see Ikkaku, Ikkaku regretted ever talking back.
“If you don’t get your ass out here by the time I return, I swear Ikkaku the whole Soul Society will know your bankai’s name.” Ikkaku paled.
“Wha-what the-there’s no need for-surely you’re not-”
“Goodbye, Madarame.”
“Dammit, Yumichika!”
*~*
The next day after that, Ikkaku was pissed off. He couldn’t ignore such grave threat so, much to his chagrin, Ikkaku resorted to asking Renji if he could crash for the night. It would’ve been good if the idiot wasn’t kicking him in his sleep. Meanwhile, Yumichika was still persistent on giving free lectures to the guys in eleventh division. The other men no longer broke their brushes from too much gripping, however their writing was still as horrible as yesterday.
Ikakku smirked as Yumichika huffed in frustration. Of course, those men’s hands were made for battle not for stupid writing. Even Ikkaku wouldn’t be caught red-handed doing something this stupid. Wait, why was he sitting on top of a tree again observing Yumichika?
“You moron!” Ikkaku heard Yumichika screeched suddenly. The poor guy was being berated when Yumichika caught a glimpse of his morbid-looking paper splattered with ink. Yumichika knelt slightly his hand on top of the man’s right hand and his head tilting slightly forward his lips almost touched the man’s ears. The man’s body suddenly went rigid. Ikkaku himself stilled.
“You stroke it downwards, ah…that’s better. Do not apply too much pressure on the brush so that the ink wouldn’t smear…”
The other ‘students’ looked at Yumichika, mouths slightly parted. And it was a while when Yumichika raised his head and look around them blinkingly.
“Who’s having problem with their own paper?” he asked instead and almost all men shot their hands upward.
Ikkaku could only open and close his mouth stupidly. What was that all about? Soon after, more of them committed mistakes and was happily waiting for Yumichika to lecture and personally teach them.
Ikkaku left the hallway feeling very disturbed and very irritated.
*~*
“It’s late,” Ikkaku growled. Yumichika didn’t even spare him a glance.
“Who said you’re welcome here?” Yumichika quipped.
“It’s our house, remember? You requested for this before, didn’t you?” Ikkaku was restraining himself to snap. Yumichika narrowed his eyes for a moment before turning back.
“…is that so,” he drawled.
“It’s late,” the bald man repeated.
“And you’re still awake,” Yumichika promptly replied, rummaging through his closet to find a yukata.
“I was waiting for you.”
Yumichika stopped moving and glanced at Ikkaku sulking in the corner of their room. There’s a growing smirk at the corner of Yumichika’s lips.
“Why?”
“Brush…” the bald man muttered, looking at anything but Yumichika. The other man did not reply and ceremoniously undressed his uniform to put on a lighter yukata. Ikkaku watched him with interest, never getting tired of sight-seeing. He turned his head away when Yumichika looked at him.
“You’ve finally taken a liking to calligraphy after a couple of days worth watching?” Yumichika asked while getting some ink bottles and parchment from his drawer. Ikakku’s eyes widened.
“Che, how did you know I was around?” Ikkaku cocked his head, eyebrows raised.
“Reiatsu, you suck at hiding it.”
“Oh,” Ikkaku’s voice lost the initial irritation. He scratched his bald head to stall time, glancing at Yumichika’s direction every once in a while. Why’s he taking out writing equipments?
“Come,” Yumichika’s voice was soft. And Ikkaku stood up, paced only to stop and knelt on Yumichika’s right side. Yumichika offered a small smile, though Ikkaku thought there’s a hint of smugness in there. Placing the brush on Ikkaku’s hand, Yumichika knelt down and pressed his chest on Ikkaku’s back.
“What do you want to write?” Yumichika whispered, his breath doing wonders to Ikkaku’s ear.
“Che, you teach me,” Ikkaku wished that his voice did not tremble.
Yumichika smiled and guided Ikkaku’s hand on the paper. Ikkaku was more focused on Yumichika’s hand than the kanji itself. Yumichika withdrew his hands and urged Ikkaku to read what’s written on the paper.
“Shi…Shihai?” Ikkaku answered uncertainly. Yumichika nodded.
“What does that mean?” Ikkaku promptly asked. Yumichika placed a new sheet of paper on the table.
“It means control, Ikkaku,” Yumichika moved closer to Ikkaku, their breaths mingling. Ikkaku shivered involuntarily at the closeness. Pulling his head back a little so he could meet Yumichika’s gaze, Ikkaku smirked.
“Is that so,” he eyed the man with a dark look, eyes glinting maliciously.
“Yes,” Yumichika’s laugh was full of mirth.
“Yumi,” Ikkaku rasped, clamping Yumichika’s shoulder and pulling him closer.
“Hmm?” Yumichika’s smug look was definitely obvious. He straddled on top of Ikkaku’s legs, hips pressing hard on Ikkaku’s stomach. Ikkaku repressed the urge to groan.
“How do you write torture in kanji?”
Yumichika gave a loud laugh, mouth parted wide, teeth flashing and tears forming in his eyes. Really, Ikkaku’s an amusing man. After giving Ikkaku a contemplative look, he kissed Ikkaku brieftly on his lips but it wasn’t enough for the bald man as he closed the gap again and captured Yumichika in a searing kiss, tongue exploring languidly on each others mouth until the both of them remembered to breath.
Panting slightly, Yumichika’s hand worked their way inside Ikkaku’s robe.
“You know, brushes can be used in so many ways Ikkaku.”
END
Title: Learning Calligraphy
Pairing/Characters: Madarame Ikkaku/Ayasegawa Yumichika
Rating: General, I think
Genre: Slight Romance
Word Count: 2305
Notes: I wondered why I'm having difficulty producing new fics and then I noticed that there's so many unfinished ones I've dumped in my HD that needs to be done. So I thought maybe that's one of the reason why my head's cluttered. I need to get rid of the old ones before creating new ones. AHA~ and so this fic is one of those almost forgotten ones. Ah, I miss Ikkaku/Yumichika. Lately, Bleach is boring me. (I'm disappointed over the fact Halibel-sama lost! Did she really? I liked her so much!)
It was not a surprise that most of the shinigamis in eleventh division were idiots. They were better off fighting than doing things which requires thinking. They were after all better suited holding their swords and practicing their stances than holding their brushes and doing calligraphy. Of course for the eleventh division it’s only natural to follow the way their captain laid out for them (they are bloodthirsty by nature after all) but other divisions were not pleased (not even by the slightest, no, no) having a division who’re so unrestrained, violent, brash and the bad description could go on for so long.
They blamed it on their educational background in the academy. Of course that’s a lie because Abarai Renji came from eleventh and look where he landed-a vice captain in sixth division no less! But of course that doesn’t stop others from belittling the division (only in hushed voices though because mocking them out loud would mean instant death) and of course were shunned from other things.
Despite the overwhelming machisimo of eleventh division, Yumichika was an obvious (it’s a practically screaming) exception. Graduating from the academy with high marks, manners almost befitting to a (fake) noble and beauty impossible for a man to have (with a clear exception of Captain Byakuya and Captain Ukitake), Yumichika was spared from taunts and insults earned by his fellow shinigamis in eleventh division. But that doesn’t mean he’s happy with that. Yumichika was proud of his division (it was his choice to go there after all) Yumichika wouldn’t let insults go by that easily. It was his division after all. And he had to change other’s perception to their division even at the cost of headache it’ll give him. And what good way to show they’re not just a bunch of muscles and swords? Why, calligraphy of course.
*~*
The first time and probably the last time, Yumichika volunteered to teach Ikkaku calligraphy (he had to teach his best friend first before anyone else) was when they were walking along the corridor after extensive hours of swordsmanship. Ikkaku’s jaw slackened that time, quickly recovering and asking what the hell calligraphy was. Yumichika of course smiled, pleased that Ikkaku was at least asking.
After hearing the first two minutes of Yumichika talking nothing but the beauty of dipping the brush on the beautiful ink and the brush gliding beautifully on the beautiful parchment, the bald man bluntly refused and walked away.
Fuck beauty.
Of course, Yumichika, being the patient not to mention persistent one, followed him and demanded the reason behind such strong refusal. Ikkaku only scratched his bald head, stared at Yumichika for a moment and merely shrugged. Yumichika raised an eyebrow for Ikkaku’s behavior which seemed to be what the bald man had for an explanation.
Sighing in slight irritation, Ikkaku clearly told Yumichika that there’s no fun in holding stupid brushes and writing stupid kanji on a piece of a stupid paper which of course earned Ikkaku a smack in the head and a explosion of thorough explanation about the need to learn and appreciate the beauty of calligraphy.
Again with the redundancy, Ikkaku fumed to himself.
The following day, Ikkaku saw some of the guys from eleventh division seating in an open room usually used for sparring. Each and every one of them were seated in front of a small table and with quite a few things to go by which included brush, ink, ink stone and paper. And there in front of them stood Yumichika, carrying what seemed to be a huge paper fan.
Ikkaku raised his eyebrow.
“Today, I’m glad everyone is here to-Omaeda what the hell are you doing here crunching your damn food so loudly?” Yumichika’s usually serene face was gone as he screeched towards the fat, lieutenant of the second squad.
“Uh…checking all of you out?” Omaeda reasoned lamely before a table landed squarely on his face.
“Are there any other interruptions?” Yumichika looked around, flashing his teeth and looking at them so sweetly. The men were so scared to even move their neck. Ikkaku couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight but he stopped immediately. Dammit, they’re supposed to spar!
“Perfect, now everyone is here because the captain granted me the permission to teach every one of you on how calligraphy is done.”
Ikkaku choked after hearing that. There was no way the captain was letting this happen, unless the captain was damn uncaring about calligraphy he probably nodded unconsciously when Yumichika asked (which was the most sensible reason Ikkaku could ever think of).
“Is calligraphy, tasty?” piped one of the guys.
“Is calligraphy some kind of sword technique?” piped the other one.
Yumichika stared at them, his eyes not bulging with irritation or his lips twitching in utter annoyance. He merely approached the two guys and smacked them with his paper fan.
“WHAT KIND OF STUPID IDEA WAS THAT??” Yumichika exploded, his reiatsu flaring up. Everyone tensed at that. Yumichika wasn’t a fifth seat for nothing.
“WHAT KIND OF MORON WOULD THINK ABOUT FOOD OR SWORD TECHNIQUE WHEN YOU’RE CLEARLY IN FRONT OF A TABLE FULL OF WRITING EQUIPMENTS???”
The eleventh division shinigamis remained silent until one man dared to speak. Oh, he was brave alright. But so stupid.
“So… is calligraphy something that is not food or technique?” one meekly deduced and Yumichika resisted the urge to throw another table. Yumichika sighed. He should’ve known better. The Eleventh division really was a bunch of idiots.
*~*
The second day, Ikkaku found all of them continuing what they left off yesterday. Ikkaku gaped, a look of disbelief written on his face. He was also close to exploding.
So this is the reason why his men were eager to finish the sparring session! Ikkaku growled. If Yumichika’s goal was to turn the entire division into a group of sissies with brushes on their hand then Yumichika’s going to pay for it-the hard way. Ikkaku’s thoughts of how to shave Yumichika’s hair or how to cut his damn eyelashes were interrupted when he saw the fleeting look of glee in Yumichika’s eyes.
“What was that for anyway?” he grumbled, feeling a light tug on his chest. For now, Ikkaku stood back and waited (he refused to address it a curiously observing). The next time sparring time comes, he won’t give the others the energy to even hold a brush!
But right now, they were being lectured by Yumichika on how proper writing should be done. Ikkaku couldn’t see why there’re so many who volunteered wasting their time listening to Yumichika when they should be spending their time sparing or to put it bluntly, being beaten by Ikkaku (he calls it sparring, despite that).
There was something, on how Yumichika’s hand guided the others’ hand on how to properly hold the brush. Of course there’s nothing great at all to being pinched and slapped by Yumichika when he saw a horrible scribble of kanji or a broken brush (a result in which one was gripping his brush too forcefully) but the act after that, the firm yet somehow gentle touch of Yumichika lingering on top of one’s hand was enough reward to keep the lesson going.
It was slow (excruciatingly slow for Ikkaku) and light as fingers intertwined. Even Ikkaku couldn’t blame the idiot who couldn’t stop blushing and grinning at the same time.
Ikkaku made sure to beat the crap out of the man when sparring time comes.
*~*
“How’s the lesson comin’?” Ikkaku asked feigning to feign interest. Yumichika merely pursed his lips as he removed his shinigami uniform and took a new yukata from the closet. Ikkaku noticed the lack of response and clicked his tongue, slightly annoyed for being ignored.
“I’m talking to you,” he snapped though there was no real bite on it.
“Its fine,” Yumichika replied icily. From the tone of his voice, Ikkaku knew that he’s still not forgiven for the refusal he gave the other day.
“Yumichika…” he started but the other man was already on his flight.
“I’m going to take a bath and when I get back put your futon away from mine.”
“You’re so stupid you know that?” Ikkaku shouted enough to get Yumichika’s attention.
“Ya gettin’ pissed cause I ain’t doin’ that calligra-fuckin thing, che who would want that anyway? It’s not even essential in battle.”
Yumichika remained perfectly still by the doorway, his back facing Ikkaku. When he turned his head slightly enough to see Ikkaku, Ikkaku regretted ever talking back.
“If you don’t get your ass out here by the time I return, I swear Ikkaku the whole Soul Society will know your bankai’s name.” Ikkaku paled.
“Wha-what the-there’s no need for-surely you’re not-”
“Goodbye, Madarame.”
“Dammit, Yumichika!”
*~*
The next day after that, Ikkaku was pissed off. He couldn’t ignore such grave threat so, much to his chagrin, Ikkaku resorted to asking Renji if he could crash for the night. It would’ve been good if the idiot wasn’t kicking him in his sleep. Meanwhile, Yumichika was still persistent on giving free lectures to the guys in eleventh division. The other men no longer broke their brushes from too much gripping, however their writing was still as horrible as yesterday.
Ikakku smirked as Yumichika huffed in frustration. Of course, those men’s hands were made for battle not for stupid writing. Even Ikkaku wouldn’t be caught red-handed doing something this stupid. Wait, why was he sitting on top of a tree again observing Yumichika?
“You moron!” Ikkaku heard Yumichika screeched suddenly. The poor guy was being berated when Yumichika caught a glimpse of his morbid-looking paper splattered with ink. Yumichika knelt slightly his hand on top of the man’s right hand and his head tilting slightly forward his lips almost touched the man’s ears. The man’s body suddenly went rigid. Ikkaku himself stilled.
“You stroke it downwards, ah…that’s better. Do not apply too much pressure on the brush so that the ink wouldn’t smear…”
The other ‘students’ looked at Yumichika, mouths slightly parted. And it was a while when Yumichika raised his head and look around them blinkingly.
“Who’s having problem with their own paper?” he asked instead and almost all men shot their hands upward.
Ikkaku could only open and close his mouth stupidly. What was that all about? Soon after, more of them committed mistakes and was happily waiting for Yumichika to lecture and personally teach them.
Ikkaku left the hallway feeling very disturbed and very irritated.
*~*
“It’s late,” Ikkaku growled. Yumichika didn’t even spare him a glance.
“Who said you’re welcome here?” Yumichika quipped.
“It’s our house, remember? You requested for this before, didn’t you?” Ikkaku was restraining himself to snap. Yumichika narrowed his eyes for a moment before turning back.
“…is that so,” he drawled.
“It’s late,” the bald man repeated.
“And you’re still awake,” Yumichika promptly replied, rummaging through his closet to find a yukata.
“I was waiting for you.”
Yumichika stopped moving and glanced at Ikkaku sulking in the corner of their room. There’s a growing smirk at the corner of Yumichika’s lips.
“Why?”
“Brush…” the bald man muttered, looking at anything but Yumichika. The other man did not reply and ceremoniously undressed his uniform to put on a lighter yukata. Ikkaku watched him with interest, never getting tired of sight-seeing. He turned his head away when Yumichika looked at him.
“You’ve finally taken a liking to calligraphy after a couple of days worth watching?” Yumichika asked while getting some ink bottles and parchment from his drawer. Ikakku’s eyes widened.
“Che, how did you know I was around?” Ikkaku cocked his head, eyebrows raised.
“Reiatsu, you suck at hiding it.”
“Oh,” Ikkaku’s voice lost the initial irritation. He scratched his bald head to stall time, glancing at Yumichika’s direction every once in a while. Why’s he taking out writing equipments?
“Come,” Yumichika’s voice was soft. And Ikkaku stood up, paced only to stop and knelt on Yumichika’s right side. Yumichika offered a small smile, though Ikkaku thought there’s a hint of smugness in there. Placing the brush on Ikkaku’s hand, Yumichika knelt down and pressed his chest on Ikkaku’s back.
“What do you want to write?” Yumichika whispered, his breath doing wonders to Ikkaku’s ear.
“Che, you teach me,” Ikkaku wished that his voice did not tremble.
Yumichika smiled and guided Ikkaku’s hand on the paper. Ikkaku was more focused on Yumichika’s hand than the kanji itself. Yumichika withdrew his hands and urged Ikkaku to read what’s written on the paper.
“Shi…Shihai?” Ikkaku answered uncertainly. Yumichika nodded.
“What does that mean?” Ikkaku promptly asked. Yumichika placed a new sheet of paper on the table.
“It means control, Ikkaku,” Yumichika moved closer to Ikkaku, their breaths mingling. Ikkaku shivered involuntarily at the closeness. Pulling his head back a little so he could meet Yumichika’s gaze, Ikkaku smirked.
“Is that so,” he eyed the man with a dark look, eyes glinting maliciously.
“Yes,” Yumichika’s laugh was full of mirth.
“Yumi,” Ikkaku rasped, clamping Yumichika’s shoulder and pulling him closer.
“Hmm?” Yumichika’s smug look was definitely obvious. He straddled on top of Ikkaku’s legs, hips pressing hard on Ikkaku’s stomach. Ikkaku repressed the urge to groan.
“How do you write torture in kanji?”
Yumichika gave a loud laugh, mouth parted wide, teeth flashing and tears forming in his eyes. Really, Ikkaku’s an amusing man. After giving Ikkaku a contemplative look, he kissed Ikkaku brieftly on his lips but it wasn’t enough for the bald man as he closed the gap again and captured Yumichika in a searing kiss, tongue exploring languidly on each others mouth until the both of them remembered to breath.
Panting slightly, Yumichika’s hand worked their way inside Ikkaku’s robe.
“You know, brushes can be used in so many ways Ikkaku.”
END