[ ...Well that did it. Up until now, Ichigo had been doing well with keeping his thoughts, and reactions to himself. He didn't want anything he thought to influence Shiro's decision ( and when did they become two distinct entities, no one remembers ) so he did his level best not to let anything get through. But that, so lost sounding, and so fucking familiar coming out of someone with his face...well. Like a dam breaking, it's a big rush of empathy, relief, concern, fear, and above it all? Faith. Faith, and trust. Which is strange, considering their situation, but even OTHER PEOPLE had noticed how far Shiro has come. He's an immature, power-crazy, gluttonous brat at times to be sure...but sometimes he's the best, most loyal friend, too. The one that you are glad is on your side, because he's a fucking beast, with power in spades, and no qualms about using it.
Ichigo's hands tighten in the fabric under them, but he doesn't actually say anything. Because for better, or worse, he's more restrictive with himself than Shiro is. He doesn't know how to put any of it into words, and it all sounds stupid. But it's true. Sighing, he lets his head hang too, just so he can see Shiro's eyes in the reflection of the water.
You turned bitterest hatred into love, Shiro. If you can do that, being human is a piece of cake. ]
[Shiro would realize it later, when he thought about it, how what he said mirrored what Ichigo felt. When he stepped out of the realm of the living and into the world of Shinigami and Hollows. How he'd gained the power to be the Savior of worlds... or the Destroyer. Going back to what was "normal" would be empty.
It felt good to get it off his chest. The hole felt a little lighter, less leaden. It was nice to be needed, to be trusted, to be wanted. That wasn't something he could have gotten from the inside. Not so quickly.
In an instant, he turns, throwing his arms around Ichigo and burying his face in his other's chest.
This. Being in Ichigo's soul was one thing. Even though it was so close, it wasn't touching. There was never any touching. No real contact. This is what made it worthwhile. Body to body contact. Heat and breath and life and the warm comfort.
He lifts his head a bit so that his voice isn't muffled]
... if we go home, I have to go back inside, don't I?
[ Hurf. Smooshed. It actually knocks Ichigo off being balanced on the balls of his feet to landing half-sprawled with Shiro attached to his chest, burrowing. Out of reflex, mostly, Ichigo clung to the cloth under his hands to begin with, and he was about to fuss at Shiro for tackling him--
...But all that died in his throat when Shiro pinned him with the ghostly, but hurt looking black, and gold eyes. Ichigo opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. So he frowned hard, and just ran a hand through Shiro's hair. It felt nice. It did feel nice to have someone who knew him inside and out, someone he could always rely on, and someone who - just once in a while - saved him. ]
Yeah...you do.
[ His expression pulls back down into a determined scowl. ]
But only long enough to do what we need to do. Then, I promise, I'll find a way to make it better. Better for you, and Zangetsu, and...and I don't know how, but I'll do it.
[yeah, hope you don't need your lungs for breathing, Ichigo. Cause uhm, squish. Just to make sure you're there. That he himself is there. Though he keeps them both up straight, instead of putting his entire weight on the orange-headed twin.
Shiro buries his hurt eyes again, just so Ichigo can't see the disappointment. He knew they had a job to do. An important one. And he knew they couldn't do it like this. They had to be together. A triangle is the strongest shape, after all.
But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.]
... if you say you'll find a way, then you will. Maybe I could be outside there sometimes, too.
[so they could do things like this. Hug and touch and make love. And other things, like have dinner, and joke, and play games... he could meet his own sisters and give that Goatchin a piece of his mind. A life of his own, but still close to Ichigo. It's what he wanted.]
[ No, Shiro. Ichigo needs his lungs. Air is good. But, being squeezed hard enough for it to hurt a little is sort of a reassurance for Ichigo, too. No one else could do this to him - hell, next to none of his friends could even deal with his bankai alone! Shiro was his negative, his opposite, lover, and maybe only equal. Without thinking about it, Ichigo used the handhold in Shiro's hair to drag the hollow up, and force a kiss on him. It's a little strange, but intimacy, and physicality are tangled up for such an emotional mess as Ichigo. He can't say what he wants to, he never knows how, so he shows the only way he can think of. The way Shiro taught him to do.
[Oh. Well. Loosening up a little then. But just enough for Ichigo to be able to breathe. Any more and Shiro feels like he'd slip away. Really, Shiro was the only one who could take everything Ichigo had to give. The pain and the pleasure. Took it and took it happily, and gave it back in turn.
The fingers feel good on his scalp, his long hair falling over both of them as their lips touch and they connect. Actions speak so much louder than words. Words had finesse, and tact, but action had power. It helped that the pair of them could communicate wordlessly, of course, but their lips, quivering and warm against each other, did most of the talking.
I know you will. I trust you.
Because even when they did go home (when, not if), they would do their job. They would win. And then? Ichigo would find a way for them to be together like this again.]
[ Ichigo may not be an excellent kisser, but knows by now what Shiro likes and makes every effort to tease him, tongues wrestling through a thick groan before his own retreats, barely nipping with blunt, human teeth here and there, sinking back into another deep kiss with already sticky lips.
Parting his legs, he pulls a pair of hips into place and furls both arms, and legs around Shiro almost desperately. Here, and real, and mine, mine, mine.
The rough stone floor didn't matter. The way Ichigo's conflicting emotions bled into the storm of his reiatsu, nothing. It's as if he can feel the empty ache in that lack of a heart next to his own, but that might just be Shiro's laden breathing. Outright clinging fiercely, he keeps the kiss alive with unexpected licks, a hand running up a spine to the nape of a neck to hold a handful of Shiro's hair firmly in place for an admirably thorough, if a little messy kiss. ]
[both of them were pretty shit at it, really. They knew what the other liked, and that was about it. For each other, they didn't need to be anything but sloppy and needful, full of tongue and teeth. Shiro's teeth more easily slice into Ichigo's lips, sucking the blood and healing it back up with a quick infusion of his regenerative reiatsu. He'd gotten good at seamlessly integrating his aura, and removing it before it could give Ichigo a sick feeling.
Wrapping his arms, legs, and tail around Ichigo, he lets out a bit of a moan and breaks off the kiss to snuffle in Ichigo's hair. Love, today, more than lust. As close to love as the Hollow could get. But he learned, he learned emotions and picked up new ones. Maybe he could be capable of real love. Just maybe. After all, the Hollow didn't need a heart. He had Ichigo, and Ichigo's heart was strong enough for the pair of them.
The kiss comes back and Shiro sighs again into his other's lips, all tongue and mixed spit. Messy boy kisses that weren't pretty, but they got the job done.]
[ In a dim corner of Ichigo's mind, he knows this is all about comfort and familiarity after having been so soon raked over the emotional coals, but it's also about simply making each of them feel good, loving to touch and be touched in return. They know each other inside-out and don't have any secrets to hide, a wonderful thing in Ichigo's inexperienced estimation.
Rocking together, he loses himself in Shiro's kiss, taking it slowly and memorizing every tiny detail. Ichigo draws in Shiro's scent, feeling his taste as they kiss. This was true intimacy, and though tangled a bit with feeling warm, and hungrily aroused, sex was not the first thing Ichigo was thinking about. Though the attempt at swallowing little whimpers at being bitten was pathetic, Ichigo was trying to be quiet. All that really mattered, though, was touching, and being close, and giving Shiro comfort in the only form that either of them could seem to accept from the other. ]
[Wonderful? Yeah. Also refreshing. Ichigo kept secrets from everyone, his innermost feelings always hidden away from almost everyone. It had to be... well, nice to let it out every once in a while. Besides, there was no hiding anything from Shiro, and Shiro had no way to hide things from Ichigo. It was pure and it was open and that was all they needed.
Shiro thought about sex a lot, unsurprisingly. Even more often when he was with Ichigo. He was the Id, the receptacle for all that Ichigo forsook. Sex being number one among those things. But even now, here, he wasn't thinking too much about it. It was more about figuring out these emotiony things. Had he always had them, and never had use for them? Or did they just appear? If so, then where did they come from? Why?
Shiro purrs into Ichigo's lips, then parts them, humming thoughtfully.]
... This floor is cold. [he looks up into Ichigo's eyes, no longer looking as sad or hurt... but no less human than before] Can we go to the bed?
[ Have a chagrined ( and very blushy ) scowl, Shiro. ]
You could have thought of that before you pounced on me, you know.
[ He's not serious in the least, though. Just token bickering. With a sigh, and nuzzling his way behind a white ear, Ichigo wrapped his legs around Shiro's waist, and arms around shoulders.
[Shiro just rolls his eyes] I could've, but I didn'.
[oh so that's how it's going to be huh. HE has to do all the carrying. Damn that horse metaphor, always coming back to bite him in the ass. He huffs and picks Ichigo up, which isn't too hard since Ichigo is wrapped around him like a barnacle. He plods to the bedroom cavern, claws clicking on the stone and echoing off the walls.
Plop. Dropping Ichigo on the bed rather unceremoniously]
[ You're the one that started that, Shiro. You've got no one to blame but yourself. Still, flopping across the bed, and streeeeetching ouuut.
Even going so far as to roll onto his stomach, and steal one of those ever-present pillows. Ha-HA! See, he can tease too ( only not really because he's bad at making up these sorts of games ) ]
Why don't you have a proper bed? You've just got...I don't know, a pile.
[Nu uh. YOU'RE the one who barged in here and made with all the... emotional... stuff. Which Shiro still isn't sure he's ok with. He still doesn't know how to deal with any of it. He doesn't want to, so he'll just do what he always does; cross that bridge when he comes to it.
Then possibly burn it.
Shiro flops next to him on his stomach, tail flopping off the side of the bed. The attempt at teasing is lost on him since, lol, there's like 25 pillows here, man.]
There is a proper bed under here! Just... lots of pillows.
[he digs down through the pillows, pushing them aside. Look. See? A bed! Pillow top and all] I like ta sleep with lots of stuff around me. Like a nest.
[sob. it was me. v_v NEVER LIVING THAT DOWN, AM I.
Bwahd! He catches it and then hits Ichigo with it]
Tch! Maybe! I like to sleep with my stuff around! Is that too much to ask? Deal with it. At least I don't drag my bone collection into your bed, hehehe.
[he loves his shinies, ok. Shiro purrs and curls up to Ichigo]
Faith, and trust. Which is strange, considering their situation, but even OTHER PEOPLE had noticed how far Shiro has come. He's an immature, power-crazy, gluttonous brat at times to be sure...but sometimes he's the best, most loyal friend, too. The one that you are glad is on your side, because he's a fucking beast, with power in spades, and no qualms about using it.
Ichigo's hands tighten in the fabric under them, but he doesn't actually say anything. Because for better, or worse, he's more restrictive with himself than Shiro is. He doesn't know how to put any of it into words, and it all sounds stupid. But it's true. Sighing, he lets his head hang too, just so he can see Shiro's eyes in the reflection of the water.
You turned bitterest hatred into love, Shiro. If you can do that, being human is a piece of cake. ]
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It felt good to get it off his chest. The hole felt a little lighter, less leaden. It was nice to be needed, to be trusted, to be wanted. That wasn't something he could have gotten from the inside. Not so quickly.
In an instant, he turns, throwing his arms around Ichigo and burying his face in his other's chest.
This. Being in Ichigo's soul was one thing. Even though it was so close, it wasn't touching. There was never any touching. No real contact. This is what made it worthwhile. Body to body contact. Heat and breath and life and the warm comfort.
He lifts his head a bit so that his voice isn't muffled]
... if we go home, I have to go back inside, don't I?
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Out of reflex, mostly, Ichigo clung to the cloth under his hands to begin with, and he was about to fuss at Shiro for tackling him--
...But all that died in his throat when Shiro pinned him with the ghostly, but hurt looking black, and gold eyes.
Ichigo opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. So he frowned hard, and just ran a hand through Shiro's hair.
It felt nice. It did feel nice to have someone who knew him inside and out, someone he could always rely on, and someone who - just once in a while - saved him. ]
Yeah...you do.
[ His expression pulls back down into a determined scowl. ]
But only long enough to do what we need to do. Then, I promise, I'll find a way to make it better. Better for you, and Zangetsu, and...and I don't know how, but I'll do it.
I swear.
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Shiro buries his hurt eyes again, just so Ichigo can't see the disappointment. He knew they had a job to do. An important one. And he knew they couldn't do it like this. They had to be together. A triangle is the strongest shape, after all.
But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.]
... if you say you'll find a way, then you will. Maybe I could be outside there sometimes, too.
[so they could do things like this. Hug and touch and make love. And other things, like have dinner, and joke, and play games... he could meet his own sisters and give that Goatchin a piece of his mind. A life of his own, but still close to Ichigo. It's what he wanted.]
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Shiro was his negative, his opposite, lover, and maybe only equal. Without thinking about it, Ichigo used the handhold in Shiro's hair to drag the hollow up, and force a kiss on him. It's a little strange, but intimacy, and physicality are tangled up for such an emotional mess as Ichigo. He can't say what he wants to, he never knows how, so he shows the only way he can think of. The way Shiro taught him to do.
I'll help you. I promise. ]
Reply
The fingers feel good on his scalp, his long hair falling over both of them as their lips touch and they connect. Actions speak so much louder than words. Words had finesse, and tact, but action had power. It helped that the pair of them could communicate wordlessly, of course, but their lips, quivering and warm against each other, did most of the talking.
I know you will. I trust you.
Because even when they did go home (when, not if), they would do their job. They would win. And then? Ichigo would find a way for them to be together like this again.]
Reply
Parting his legs, he pulls a pair of hips into place and furls both arms, and legs around Shiro almost desperately. Here, and real, and mine, mine, mine.
The rough stone floor didn't matter. The way Ichigo's conflicting emotions bled into the storm of his reiatsu, nothing. It's as if he can feel the empty ache in that lack of a heart next to his own, but that might just be Shiro's laden breathing. Outright clinging fiercely, he keeps the kiss alive with unexpected licks, a hand running up a spine to the nape of a neck to hold a handful of Shiro's hair firmly in place for an admirably thorough, if a little messy kiss. ]
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Wrapping his arms, legs, and tail around Ichigo, he lets out a bit of a moan and breaks off the kiss to snuffle in Ichigo's hair. Love, today, more than lust. As close to love as the Hollow could get. But he learned, he learned emotions and picked up new ones. Maybe he could be capable of real love. Just maybe. After all, the Hollow didn't need a heart. He had Ichigo, and Ichigo's heart was strong enough for the pair of them.
The kiss comes back and Shiro sighs again into his other's lips, all tongue and mixed spit. Messy boy kisses that weren't pretty, but they got the job done.]
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Rocking together, he loses himself in Shiro's kiss, taking it slowly and memorizing every tiny detail. Ichigo draws in Shiro's scent, feeling his taste as they kiss. This was true intimacy, and though tangled a bit with feeling warm, and hungrily aroused, sex was not the first thing Ichigo was thinking about.
Though the attempt at swallowing little whimpers at being bitten was pathetic, Ichigo was trying to be quiet.
All that really mattered, though, was touching, and being close, and giving Shiro comfort in the only form that either of them could seem to accept from the other. ]
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Shiro thought about sex a lot, unsurprisingly. Even more often when he was with Ichigo. He was the Id, the receptacle for all that Ichigo forsook. Sex being number one among those things. But even now, here, he wasn't thinking too much about it. It was more about figuring out these emotiony things. Had he always had them, and never had use for them? Or did they just appear? If so, then where did they come from? Why?
Shiro purrs into Ichigo's lips, then parts them, humming thoughtfully.]
... This floor is cold. [he looks up into Ichigo's eyes, no longer looking as sad or hurt... but no less human than before] Can we go to the bed?
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You could have thought of that before you pounced on me, you know.
[ He's not serious in the least, though. Just token bickering. With a sigh, and nuzzling his way behind a white ear, Ichigo wrapped his legs around Shiro's waist, and arms around shoulders.
Yes. I'd like a bed with that. ]
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[oh so that's how it's going to be huh. HE has to do all the carrying. Damn that horse metaphor, always coming back to bite him in the ass. He huffs and picks Ichigo up, which isn't too hard since Ichigo is wrapped around him like a barnacle. He plods to the bedroom cavern, claws clicking on the stone and echoing off the walls.
Plop. Dropping Ichigo on the bed rather unceremoniously]
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Still, flopping across the bed, and streeeeetching ouuut.
Even going so far as to roll onto his stomach, and steal one of those ever-present pillows. Ha-HA! See, he can tease too ( only not really because he's bad at making up these sorts of games ) ]
Why don't you have a proper bed? You've just got...I don't know, a pile.
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Then possibly burn it.
Shiro flops next to him on his stomach, tail flopping off the side of the bed. The attempt at teasing is lost on him since, lol, there's like 25 pillows here, man.]
There is a proper bed under here! Just... lots of pillows.
[he digs down through the pillows, pushing them aside. Look. See? A bed! Pillow top and all] I like ta sleep with lots of stuff around me. Like a nest.
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...Have one of those pillows chucked at your face. ]
Is that why you keep dragging socks, and those shiny rocks Ace found into my bed?
[ You, and your hoard. Honestly. ]
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Bwahd! He catches it and then hits Ichigo with it]
Tch! Maybe! I like to sleep with my stuff around! Is that too much to ask? Deal with it. At least I don't drag my bone collection into your bed, hehehe.
[he loves his shinies, ok. Shiro purrs and curls up to Ichigo]
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