Switch, pt. 1 (Ichigo/Renji, NC-17)
Title: Switch
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: July 7th, Ichigo/Renji: first time on top - Quit complaining, I can see how much you like it.
Warnings: man!sex, rimming, oral, little bit of reiatsu-play...and this is actually my FIRST yoai so...well you don't hafta be kind...but we're all fans of CONcrit...
Word count: 10,000+ (like whoa damn LJ word count limit)
Summary: Renji get hurt and convinces Ichigo he can kiss it and make it all better.
A/N: Soooo sorry for lateness, deadlines and me are mortal enemies...Also apologies for the largeness--ahem--of this post when I write smut the words just seem to multiply like rabbits...
“Hey, there’s a hell butterfly outside my window,” Renji commented in a childlike sing song, the grin on his face not on par with its usual wolfishness thanks to the analgesic herbs Unohana-taichō had given him when he’d arrived at the fourth division.
“Hold on Abarai-fukutaichō,” Hanatarō’s soft voice called out as the bandage-swathed redhead attempted to sit up, as the hell butterfly fluttered against the barrier of the window trying to get to the wounded man. The small healer quickly leaned in from his position by his patient’s futon a hand braced on the fukutaichō’s shoulder to hold him down, his free hand sliding along the abdomen muscles straining to sit him up pulsing a specific paralyzing kidō through them until Renji dropped back into his bed. Then he stood and intercepted the bug before Renji continued to disobeyed him and rip out all of his stitches, the moment the temporary paralysis faded.
“It’s Ouka,” Renji announced just as slurred as his previous observation. “Kuchiki-taichō’s,” He lifted his hand out toward Hanatarō and glanced down at his bandaged abdomen like he was surprised to find himself still horizontal.
Hanatarō moved back to sit beside the futon before letting the butterfly find its designated target. They were both startled when Rukia’s voice spoke instead of Byakuya’s, mostly because the taichō never shouted.
“Baka what were you thinking teaching Ichigo how to unlock the Kuchiki Senkaimon! He heard about your stupid accident and is flash stepping to the fourth as I speak.” Then came a delicate snort. “You’re lucky it was nii-sama’s bankai or he likely would have killed Kurosaki and I’d be warning you of him shunpoing toward you.”
“That’s silly Rukia, he’d already be here,” Renji countered the butterfly, sticking his tongue out at Ouka.
“Never mind that,” Rukia’s voice came after a brief pause of thought. “You’d be dead by now.”
Ouka gave a flutter and Renji focused a bit of his reiatsu to make a return message and a startling bark of laughter left him when he felt how washed out his spiritual energy was, what with the dumbass idea of provoking Byakuya into a spar...full bankai, the subsequent ass whoopin’ and then healing those efforts. “Domo arigato Rukia, tell taichō sumimasen.”
It took Hanatarō waving at the butterfly impatiently to get it to leave Renji’s finger. “One more treatment for today,” Hanatarō’s cheeks blushed suddenly and Renji was coherent enough by now to notice, the initial herbs he’d gotten when he’d arrived battered and bleeding at the forth division were almost out of his system.
“Ya okay Yamada-san?”
“Oh, um,” He blushed even brighter as he tried to explain himself with stutters and unintelligible mumbling. Renji pieced together something about not being left alone through the night and should he send an unseated from the fourth to sit at the fukutaichō’s bedside or would Ichigo be...?
“I’ll be okay I think,” Renji eyed the small shinigami as he prepared the area and his patient. So this pipsqueak knew? Well damn, I suppose I’m not very discreet, not as discreet as the kid wants me to be at least.
The change from blushing uke to self-assured professional was almost a shock. “Like I thought! You’ve popped some stitches,” Hanatarō scolded.
Since this magic trick had happened a few times through the day he’d spent under the little healer’s care, it wasn’t as startling this time, even if the contrast was considerably more obvious this time. Unohana-taichō had taught this one that deep bone-chilling...thing she managed to do with just a flash of her eyes; sadistic woman had to add a smile.
At least Hanatarō used his sparingly.
“Ya ain’t gonna sew ‘em back up here are ya?” Renji asked as he let professional hands pull the blankets of his futon down to uncover the bandages decorating nearly sixty percent of his body. Damn petals...
“I’m just going to focus a little more on those wounds. Movement in your legs should return this time around,” Hanatarō said the somber of his eyes peeling back momentarily to flash a not-at-all-like-Unohana-taichō smile.
He actually meant leg movement without pain. He’d managed to drag his ass from outer western Rukongai to the fourth just fine.
“Um, ya might wanna wait a second,” Renji murmured as a very obvious reiatsu made itself known only a few shunpo away. “I know ya need to focus the reiatsu.”
“Hai,” Hanatarō glanced back through the open bedroom door just as the front door slid open with way too much force.
“Oi!” Renji shouted his lips curling into a grin. “Don’t break my fuckin’ door baka!”
Ichigo was very suddenly at the door, his reiatsu a writhing, churning pressure.
“Domo arigato Abarai-fukutaichō!” Hanatarō whined with feeling as he realized that the orange-headed teen’s reiatsu when emotional was more than a little disrupting. “I might have ruptured your internal organs.”
“Git yer ass outta here or calm down,” Renji ordered and Ichigo moved into the room, leaning Zangetsu in the corner since he couldn’t see Zabimaru and sat under the window a few feet away from the foot of Renji’s futon.
As they glared at each other Hanatarō lifted his hands the moment he felt Ichigo’s reiatsu pull as far back as his half of the room, which was good for the substitute. Hanatarō quietly let his spiritual pressure fill the kidō silently chanting through his head in a steady rhythm, a bright flare of green reiatsu erupting out of his hands like gouts of flame. “I need you to calm down Abarai-fukutaichō...Kurosaki-san you’re not helping.”
Renji almost laughed at the expression that came over Ichigo’s face as Hanatarō treated him to his serious and disapproving blue eyes and admonishing assertive tone.
“Can I talk?” Ichigo asked him as Hanatarō moved to hold his glowing hands over Renji’s bandaged chest.
“If you can both stay calm while doing it.”
Ichigo nodded totally unnerved by the sharp aggressive tone coming from such an obvious uke like Hanatarō. He met Renji’s gaze again and aside from the glaze of painkillers and the untreatable physiological pain that stemmed from a badass getting thoroughly whooped, the vice captain looked ecstatic.
At the jubilant expression on the wounded shinigami’s face Ichigo found it easier to manage his reiatsu as those eyes reminded him he hadn’t seen Renji for over two months.
For some reason--he assumed it had just spilled out of his ear--he didn’t remember the angry barb he was about to hiss. He just stared at the half-bandaged face, all the concern and fear he’d been barricading back with anger spilling out. Well fuck anger wasn’t really his way.
Who? The violent, growling voice bubbled from inside and Ichigo was glad for once to have his hollow to focus his reiatsu inward and away from Hanatarō’s healing hands. Ask him who fuckin’ did this Ichi-baka or I ain’t going’ nowhere!
“W-who...what happened?”
Since his reiatsu was busy healing his wounds alongside Hanatarō’s Renji couldn’t feel the intent of the teen’s reiatsu but they’d known each other long enough...He had seen his brown eyes change, seen that mask appear both voluntarily and not.
The hollow didn’t appear as often these days, especially after Shinji’s help but Renji had enough inner dialogue with Zabimaru to recognize when others were thus engaged. Especially when it wasn’t the usual zanpakutō conversation subject of “gaining strength and wisdom.”
The only person Renji had seen anguished like Ichigo was Hisagi-sempai.
“I think that should wait ‘til Yamada-san’s done here,” Renji glanced over to the healer’s serious gaze, knowing the assertiveness that had come over him was distracting Ichigo; along with the inner hollow.
Ichigo was in total agreement for once over the conversation topic, given that as soon as he’d gotten over his king fucking another guy the hollow had shown himself to be a very possessive seme. “How bad is it?”
To help, Hanatarō answered, “Mostly superficial but extensive...” He glanced at the boy and for a moment fumbled over medical jargon in his head before intelligent brown eyes met his. Oh, that’s right his dad... “The real damage--"
“Ya almost done?” Renji interrupted gently and the small healer nodded.
“Hai,” Hanatarō quickly collected all of his things. “Kurosaki-san with the kidō treatments and the kidō-houtai he should be up and about tomorrow morning.” He zipped his medical kit and clipped it back around his torso, snug on his back as he turned and met the teenager’s eyes. “Do not agitate him, you can stop the healing that’s going on now, and even reverse it.”
With a chill going down his spine Ichigo nodded silently at the dark-haired shinigami.
“Abarai-fukutaichō,” Hanatarō turned back to Renji. “Someone from the fourth will be by in the morning to check on you.” He moved a few steps closer to Ichigo and waiting until he had the young man’s attention before he made himself say what he had to say. “Kurosaki-san I also wanted to tell you that the only real difference between healing kidō, bakudō and hadō is the intent of the reiatsu put into it.”
“Arigato Yamada-san,” Renji nodded as Hanatarō gave them each a small bow from the waist and left them to return to Unohana with his report. As he watched the dark-haired shinigami leave he told himself he had other things to focus on than weird parting comments to his lover, like said lover looking both angry with his usual measure of angsty.
“What happened?” Ichigo murmured into the silence.
“I got myself in a fight at school,” Renji teased and could tell his question hadn’t been Ichigo’s first especially when his answer was met with a murderous glare.
“Please don’t be stupid.”
“I got in a spar...started out as a practice spar...fifth seats ‘n’ up aren’t allowed ta practice in the Seireitei so most of the time when we do moral boosting division-wide drills we have an arena out in the unpopulated parts of Rukongai. We don’t need anybody showboatin’ ‘n’ bustin’ shit up, we got enough ryoka bitches doin’ that,” Renji gave an experimental flex of his toes, stretching his legs.
The grimace must have been obvious because Ichigo was suddenly beside his futon, a hand fluttering between them as the teen tried to find a spot uninjured/unbandaged to touch. “Are you okay?”
“No I’m fucked up, ya got eyes...”
“Teme, Renji!” Ichigo shook his head, moving his gaze to the expanse of tan skin and white bandages. “Who did this?”
“I ain’t sendin’ my big bad vizard boyfriend ta beat bullies up fer me. I kick ass all on my own,” Renji argued, even if he was sort of physical proof against it at the moment. “But domo fer th’ offer Baby.”
“Tell me Renji. I’m not gonna get all possessive and ‘that’s my man, bitch’.”
Renji let out a bark of laughter as he imagined him doing just that. “Yeah right! If any part o’ you feels like that then--"
“Renji I...” Ichigo sighed and ran an irritated hand over his face knowing that the shinigami knew him well enough (hollow included) to be hesitant with this particular information. “I just wanna know how bad it is...Obviously you’re not dead so I won’t be killing anyone no matter how much I want to!”
Shaking his head Renji managed another laugh. “Okay, only because I want ya ta appreciate the situation...but...”
“Fuck...what?”
“Strip.”
“What!”
“I ain’t askin’ fer a show, jus’ get th’ clothes off,” Renji was glad the last of the medicine was almost out of his system. He could feel just how healed he was and how far to push the kidō-houtai (a trick he’d learned in the eleventh division). Plus with the half-assed way Ichigo contained his reiatsu these days there was a certain amount--miniscule for most, small for Ichigo--of absorption the outside of the bandages did.
“Renji--” Ichigo grumbled as if protesting, but his fingers were already attacking his obi.
“Shut-up!” Renji sighed exasperated and the teen clamped his teeth together obediently and instead showed defiance with a rude face. “Oh, yeah try and act like a kid...domo...”
“Fuck you.”
“Uh-huh,” Renji made sure Ichigo knew he was watching as he fumbled with the rest of his shihakushō.
“W-what?” Ichigo asked as Renji made an appreciative noise and nodded. “So I’m supposed to like being ordered to undress?”
“Of course you’re a fuckin’ kinky bitch behind closed doors...but I know ya still wouldn’t step foot outta those doors naked,” Renji teased.
Even though he was half-naked Ichigo froze, mid-disrobement to stare at Renji with a nervous question in his eyes. “What? Are you gonna kick me out?” It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been tricked into being less than decent in less than private places.
“No dumbass I’m gonna tell ya who did this ta me and all that shit takes time to get back on if ya don’t wanna look stupid.” Renji saw the uncertainty in the boy evaporate before he continued. “Plus I’m already naked.”
“You’re covered in bandages!”
“So? S’only a fundoshi under here,” Renji watched him finish disrobing, not a stitch to cover the enticing view.
“Did you want that off too?”
“I ain’t gonna let ya fuck me until after I tell ya no matter how much ya sweet talk me,” Renji replied with a wolfish grin.
“F--herk!” Ichigo tried to say something but had ventured too close and Renji’s arms had been the first thing to heal all the way. His fingers curled around Zabimaru--sealed and sleeping in its scabbard under his futon--and swung his arm out just in time to catch Ichigo in midstride with one foot on the ground and over he went.
“I can’t believe you beat me...heh...” Renji murmured turning his head to catch Ichigo’s where he’d ended up sprawled out beside the futon.
“Teme...” Ichigo grunted, pushing up onto his elbows. “I coulda landed on you baka!”
“Ah thinkin’ ahead...” Renji chuckled and closed eyes as Ichigo plucked Zabimaru from his hand. “Yeah I don’t think that’s one o’ my best qualities.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t get into so many fights--"
“That’s my line.”
Ichigo only stammered a moment before clamping his mouth shut with a blush, turning away to prop Zabimaru in the corner with Zangetsu.
“Ne, thought so,” Renji snickered. “Get in bed. Oi, close the door first.”
“Are you expecting someone?” Ichigo murmured, moving to close the shoji door.
“Naw, just wanted to see yer ass a little bit longer...it’s really been too long.”
Spinning on his heel in outrage Ichigo stood there a moment before realizing he hadn’t done a thing to change the situation. “Teme!” He grumbled before lowering a hand to cover himself from Renji’s lecherous gaze.
“How many times have I seen your dick?”
“In the last two months?” Ichigo countered, moving back to the futon.
Renji kept the husky laugh in but the grin on his lips said it all. He wasn’t particular about exactly what he saw of the carrot-top, he loved the whole glorious stretch from toes to crown. Especially when he was riled enough to be blushing all the way down like that. Plus the teen was practically groping himself.
“Ya know usually it takes longer for me to get that bright a blush, Strawberry,” Renji teased drawing out the despised nick name.
“Ya know I’m beginnin’ to see why you’re all fuck up,” Ichigo growled, moving into the futon making sure to keep enough space between them, he really couldn’t tell how wounded Renji was. “Hanatarō mentioned the difference between kidōs do you know why--"
“Naw, I’ll hafta ask him tomorrow,” Renji reached over to pull Ichigo closer. “He figured out our secret.”
“What--Careful!” Ichigo hissed, hesitating since the spot he usually rested his head on was bandaged.
“If you fight me it’s worse baka!” Renji hissed tightening his arm around Ichigo’s shoulders. “Relax.”
He stopped moving but still held his head up, eyes examining each bandage. “Those are kidō-houtai?”
“Put yer damn head down! My chest ain’t that bad off,” Renji’s fingers dug into the short orange hair and pushed his cheek against the bandages over his upper chest. “Ya didn’t kiss me hello by the way...I only let it slide cuz ya might have taken my lips off.”
“I told you before I won’t let him hurt you,” Ichigo turned his head to murmur against the skin peeking at the bottom of the bandage before the next set started. “He knows who’s in charge.”
Renji nodded softly there was a reason he’d gone aggressive uke for the kid, “I know.”
“And I already told you I don’t do PDA.”
“In front of Yamada-san is hardly public,” Renji let his fingers gently scratch through the other’s short vibrant hair. “You mean ya don’t in front of people who don’t know about us,” Renji reminded, although he gave the teen no end of grief over being his dirty secret, Renji actually didn’t mind. He may have been nineteen, but Renji had come to realize the boy would need a few decades to become comfortable enough with his sexuality to realize how pointless that bullshit was.
“Renji--"
“Cuz Rukia is still bein’ really fuckin’ bitchy after she saw you cop a feel last time we were all at Urahara’s,” Renji of course hadn’t minded, even if it had sent his life-long friend off to find...
“You okay?” Ichigo lifted his head as Renji shivered violently.
“Sorry...Thinkin’ ‘bout the fight.”
“Okay, I think I’m sufficiently trapped--go on,” Ichigo gently rested his head in the usual spot, the pad of the bandages making it feel funny.
“The trap’s just a happy coincidence,” Renji moved his hand slowly down Ichigo’s neck and then back and forth over his shoulder blades. “I already told ya after I’m done yer fuckin’ me...That mean’s yer naked...coincidentally yer trapped cuz...well I don’t fuckin’ know why cuz half the Gotei wouldn’t mind a show.”
“Renji!”
The raise in reiatsu slapped through the kidō-houtai where Ichigo’s cheek rested and abrasively wherever it spilled out and touched each bandage. “Teme! Calm down--shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Calm. Down.” Renji hissed his muscles coiling as one of Ichigo’s hands touched one of the bandages on his side. “Che, stop moving!”
Ichigo moved away, Renji’s arm still over the back of his neck. “Okay!”
“These bandages they’re a special type...collaborative effort o’ Unohana-taichō, Urahara-san ‘n’ just recently Kurosuchi-taichō. They had developed them a long time ago but just recently have been able to make them available ta all the fourth...Ya know healing kidō is the healer and wounded’s reiatsu working together?”
“Yeah, I watched Hanatarō a couple times...He’s the only one that seems to notice my curiosity.”
“Not just the medical kind either,” Renji muttered since Ichigo had calmed down.
“Pervert!”
“Says the guy in bed naked with another guy...A severely wounded guy...” Renji watched Ichigo almost punch him...only playfully but he still gasped and snatched his hand back at the last second horrified at his actions.
“Yer reiatsu is always all over the place...even when it’s peaceful...well let’s call it 'mellow in yer case,” Renji only grinned in return to Ichigo’s dirty look for that comment. “The kidō-houtai are set to Yamada-san’s reiatsu and that is the normal state of his...peaceful I mean for anyone else.”
“Teme...I swear Renji--"
“See when yer pissed or...oh I dunno? On the rag? They just shut off...unless yer fuckin’ touchin’ them. They take in reiatsu with healin’ intent, formed into kidō on the outside. Usually there’s enough residual healin’ energy from the healer soaked up for my reiatsu to work with it to continue to heal me.”
Purposefully ignoring the teasing--because he was listening!--Ichigo calmed his reiatsu. “So it’s like you’re getting healing kidō while the healer isn’t here.”
“So as long as ya either keep yerself mellow or stop touchin’ the kidō-houtai,” Renji gave him a cheesy grin with teeth and the teen shook his head with a laugh. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” Renji watched Ichigo’s shoulders relax. “So story time is cuddle time, lay back down dumbass.”
With only his usual scowl Ichigo moved close again and stared at the bandages rather than touch them.
“Yer already plastered against some on my legs. I think that’s yer cock on my hip though,” He swiveled his eyes to catch Ichigo’s as the teen gave a nudge of his hips.
“You think?”
Renji closed his eyes because that was much better than mellow reiatsu. “Whenever I see it, it’s harder than that. Bigger too.”
“Fuck you.”
“Che,” Renji shook his head tsking his tongue in disapproval. “Not until after story time.”
They both went tense as they both realized how prickly the teen’s reiatsu was becoming. Ichigo calmed himself and finally lowered his head down to rest on Renji’s chest. He mumbled something his lips teasing unbandaged skin.
“What was that?” Renji prompted, he still had problems with Ichigo’s much more subdued attitude in sexual situations, they’d been together for three years already and the teen was still innocent and modest no matter how kinky Renji helped him be.
“You’re wounded I’m not fucking you,” Ichigo said a bit louder, still trying to muffle his statement against warm skin.
“I’m wounded yeah, but that just means I can’t fuck you Sugar,” Renji started to argue, but as Ichigo looked up, mouth flying open to protest he threw his hands up and preempted him, “This is stupid, I still have my story to tell.”
“Get on with it then!”
“So the sixth was out doin’ drills in the field arena and...well...I was leadin’ the division while Kuchiki-taichō walked around and made snooty comments on everyone’s form.”
“Jackass.”
“Slut.”
“Not you fucker, Byakuya,” Ichigo frowned as his fingers encountered bandages when his hand automatically moved to trace Renji’s stomach tattoos.
Renji noticed and cut to the end, “He actually told me I’d improved a lot.”
“He challenged you?”
The sheepish smile was answer enough, so Renji’s words came as no surprise. “I asked if he thought I could inspire the troops knockin’ him around...So I could see where I stood.”
“And?” Ichigo didn’t say it but Renji knew he wondered why Byakuya was still where he strived to get.
Renji didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want that type of relationship with Ichigo. He’d much rather have his ass instead of trying to kick it. He wanted a different domination, and although position-wise he’d always been the uke there was no mistaking who the seme was.
“The division filled one side of the arena...heh...gave ‘em a good show. Taichō was nice enough to made sure the end was out of pryin’ eyes...noble bastard...” He murmured closing his eyes, only opening them when Byakuya didn’t appear and attempt to flay him again.
“Out of prying eyes?”
“Mountaintop about twenty shunpo away,” Renji recalled deciding to soothe himself with Ichigo, the touch of the younger man had always done the trick. His hand moved down to take the fingers still searching for a mark to trace and pulled Ichigo’s arm over him, his fingers coming back to trace from his elbow to his shoulder, back and forth. “The first thing I asked was if he had an opinion ‘bout what part of my new regimen might have helped the most...and he was like...’Mostly fuckin’ that Kurosaki kid--‘"
“Yeah like he’d say ‘fuck’...Shit did he really say that?” Ichigo’s head jerked up to catch crimson eyes in shock.
Renji scrunched up his face in thought, nodding as he tried to recall the exact words. “’If I had to hazard a guess Abarai-fukutaichō I would say your current dalliance with the Kurosaki boy.’” Renji effected Byakuya’s somber delivery and cultured tone, somehow eerie coming out of that mouth.
Made Ichigo wonder if the reverse were true. If maybe the noble did--in private of course--use words like “fuck.” Although he threw the word around carelessly, when trying to imagine Byakuya...
“I told him he was pullin’ my leg ‘n’ he made a smartass comment ‘bout bein’ too far away to reach my leg,” Renji rolled his eyes and wove his fingers in soft spiky orange hair to guide him back to resting his head on his chest.
“We fought ‘n’ I noticed a difference in his reiatsu too. It got even more obvious when we went shikai,” Renji shook his head, still unable to believe the events that he himself had lived through to get where he was at present. “I knew he’d stop the fight if I tried goin’ bankai so I...heh...I asked him which teenage boy he’d started fuckin’ since we’d fought last--"
“You didn’t! Fuckin’ dumbass!”
“Shaddup!” Renji laughed and groaned as muscles protested the vigorous mirth. “He’d just remade his sword when I closed in and I was close ‘nuff ta see his eyes go wide ‘n’ he goes, ‘I do not believe that is any of you damn business Abarai-fukutaichō.’ Heh.”
“He didn’t deny it!” Ichigo gasped, his arm tightening around Renji’s middle. “Did you find out who?”
“Fuck kid I’m getting’ ta that!” Renji distracted him by scratching nails into his scalp. “I kept guessin’ ‘til he went bankai, it was a great answer.”
“He went bankai first?”
“Yeah I’m sure I coulda at least fucked up his hair if he hadn’t snapped.”
“Snapped?” Ichigo pressed against Renji’s shiver-inducing fingers to show the disbelief on his face.
“It’s the Quincy.”
“No-fuckin’-way! Ishida Uryū?”
“I don’t know any other teenage Quincy,” He chuckled as he gave a small one-armed shrug. “Dunno why I’m surprised he’s just as arrogant a bastard as Taichō.”
For a moment Ichigo opened his mouth to object then he thought better of it and merely shook his head and lowered his cheek back into place, mind whirling. “Yeah I guess.”
“It was like I’d broken a dam. The last time we fought he hardly made a sound...”
“Yeah?” Ichigo resisted the delicious dig of Renji’s fingers in his hair, trying to focus on the bizarre information.
“He...He said...” Renji tried to soften the next words with another impression of his stoic captain. “’Abarai-fukutaichō I have to admit pleasure at having a second chance to show you Senbonzakura Kageyoshi...In the years interspersed between these foolish attempts of yours to attain the unattainable your markings have caught both my zanpakutō’s curiosity as well as mine.’”
“Your tattoos?” Ichigo murmured, eyes moving over the pattern of the bandages. It had seemed random, but now he noticed not a one of the black lines showed, even those adorning his forehead.
“Maybe if they were normal tattoos he coulda carved them out like he wanted,” Renji chuckled as Ichigo’s fingers splayed over his chest as if to longingly stroke the marks. “I mighta even got some new ones, I did way better’n last time.”
“I fuckin’ disagree!”
“Ya didn’t see me after I fought him the first time...at least Zabimaru’s still in one piece this time...heh, he was really focused on cuttin’ me up.”
“Renji he’s your fuckin’ captain!”
“Fer what I said to goad him inta bankai...” Renji saw the anger filling his lover’s face (aimed at him!) and hesitated finishing outloud. I deserved it! Instead he tried, “If he’d said it ‘bout you, I woulda killed him.”
“Dumbass.”
“Hey! It ain’t like he was his usual stoic self the whole fight!” Renji defended himself, forgetting the need to calm the teen. “I asked him if I should really go all out...I didn’t wanna ruin the Quincy’s fun...and he actually smiled...’n’ it was...well--fuck--lets just say I woulda preferred normal cold-as-fuckin’-ice Taichō.
“After he sent his bankai ta carve the marks off--all the marks--” Renji knew Ichigo would look up and he waited to meet his eyes. “Said, ‘that sounds like quite a superb idea as punishment for your impertinence...if the only result in besting you is only more insubordination like this.’”
“W-what?” Ichigo’s eyes were confused but still Renji could tell he understood.
“It takes the forth a while ta completely heal spine injuries...I realize he...I realized I’d found his button...ya know the one I hit from just talkin’ ta you?” Renji tried to joke, but the Ichigo of before was back, the bone-clenching sensation along the kidō-houtai told him that.
“Hanatarō said it was superficial but...”
“I can move my legs but it fuckin’ hurts, I’m tougher than he thinks ‘n’...Um, turns out yer not the only one who visits Seireitei between invasions.”
“Ishida’s here?”
“Probably at the Kuchiki palace fuckin’--"
“On no! No! No! No! Shut-the-fuck-up right there!” Ichigo pulled back, sitting up to smash the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Fuck now it’s stuck in there.”
“Aw, c’mon!” Renji laughed as the teen kept thumping his forehead as if to knock something out of his brain. “That skinny piece of noble ass prolly saved me from missin’ out on sex fer months.”
An exasperated groan left Ichigo and he muttered, “Bleach, I need fuckin’ bleach...I don’t want those kinds of mental pictures--"
“Aw, Ichigo!” Renji admonished, holding a hand out to him until he moved back to cuddle against him. “Ya can picture ‘em?” He asked as soon as Ichigo relaxed. “Cuz I know both of ‘em ‘n’...’n’ how the hell...the Quincy has to be uke.”
“I’m not talking about this,” Ichigo rubbed his cheek along the bandage beneath it, knowing the lines he loved to trace were hidden there. “And I don’t think Ishida could relax enough to be fucked.”
“Oi, what happened to not talkin’ about it?”
“Whatever.”
“Quincy kinda seems like me, the aggressive uke type.”
“Oh, stop now!”
“Oh, fuck that gives me an idea...”
Ichigo shifted to look up at the expression on the older man’s face. “I don’t wanna know...I’m takin’ a nap...You ‘n’ yer dumbass macho fights.”
“Ichigo ya know he didn’t tell ya I was hurt cuz he felt guilty,” Renji murmured into the silence. “He let yer dumbass use his senkaimon unauthorized because now I get to see what I can’t have.”
“Baka!” Ichigo started to object but it hit him suddenly that just because the taichō was stoic and aloof didn’t mean he had no emotions underneath. He had thought it unusual Byakuya notifying him of Renji’s injuries, Rukia had even been at the senkaimon as he came flash stepping through it. He hadn’t even given her a chance to talk to him. Considering his state of mind hearing the details so soon might have led to a much more hellacious fight within the Seireitei.
“Ichigo?”
Shaking his head Ichigo focused on Renji. “I know what you’re thinking and I still think you’re too injured.”
“If ya fuck me I won’t have ta do any work,” Renji whined and Ichigo shot him an incredulous look.
“You heard Hanatarō I could still reopen wounds,” Ichigo knew they were less than gentle with each other, but neither of them had tried fooling around while one of them was this wounded except...
“What are you thinkin’ about..?” Renji trailed off into silence and Ichigo knew he should have felt uneasy as he saw what he could only call a knowing and lecherous light enter his lover’s eyes. He was more than a little embarrassed when the sight only aroused him.
“I think you stole my line this time,” Ichigo grumbled but he yelped in surprise as rough fingers closed over his half-hard member.
“Mm, I can guess,” Renji’s voice lowered into a purr, a deceptive voice that lulled Ichigo’s usual anxiety usually by distracting him with arousal. “Fuckin’ me?”
“Che, when don’t I?” Ichigo tried to tease back and Renji countered with a stroke of his hand.
“Yer the one who keeps tellin’ me otherwise.”
“Just because I said I wasn’t going to, doesn’t mean I don’t want to or don’t think about it dumbass,” Ichigo lowered his forehead to press it against Renji’s shoulder, as pleasure rippled through him.
“Ain’t fair Baby...Ya wanna fuck me, I wanna fuck you...”
“You wanna fuck me?”
Renji had to bite his lip as the words trembled out of the teen, but his cock gave an interested twitch in his hand. “I’d fuckin’ love to you know that.”
Ichigo could count on his hands the number of times he’d actually played uke. He’d been seventeen when they’d gotten together, very unsure about the fact that he’d found himself attracted to his friend, his male friend. Renji had never argued with Ichigo when he trusted the older shinigami enough to admit his inexperience, and seek assistance in being the seme.
Vivid scenarios were playing through the red head as he gave the teen time to think over the idea. He’d only been with a couple of men, mostly as seme but he’d been taught by his sempai just how fun uke could be. He’d been alive a long time, knew he was still dealing with a kid. Even though he was really an adult, the experience gap still gave Renji an almost clairvoyant sense for the boy’s actions and the motives for them. Renji reminded himself how long he’d held out against his sempai before being pleasantly surprised.
And the substitute wasn’t totally against penetration; loved to come with his cock down Renji’s throat and the redhead’s merciless fingers rubbing at his prostate. He wouldn’t admit to it but he always tried to take full advantage of those few moments with fingers and tongue. He’d already gotten a considerable girth of fingers, but the line was drawn there.
Ichigo had hang-ups about being uke, mostly a teenage male ego. Even if nobody but Renji knew of their roles, he knew it mostly had to do with a certain inner hollow with a big fucking mouth he couldn’t shut.
“Hypothetically...”
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: July 7th, Ichigo/Renji: first time on top - Quit complaining, I can see how much you like it.
Warnings: man!sex, rimming, oral, little bit of reiatsu-play...and this is actually my FIRST yoai so...well you don't hafta be kind...but we're all fans of CONcrit...
Word count: 10,000+ (like whoa damn LJ word count limit)
Summary: Renji get hurt and convinces Ichigo he can kiss it and make it all better.
A/N: Soooo sorry for lateness, deadlines and me are mortal enemies...Also apologies for the largeness--ahem--of this post when I write smut the words just seem to multiply like rabbits...
“Hey, there’s a hell butterfly outside my window,” Renji commented in a childlike sing song, the grin on his face not on par with its usual wolfishness thanks to the analgesic herbs Unohana-taichō had given him when he’d arrived at the fourth division.
“Hold on Abarai-fukutaichō,” Hanatarō’s soft voice called out as the bandage-swathed redhead attempted to sit up, as the hell butterfly fluttered against the barrier of the window trying to get to the wounded man. The small healer quickly leaned in from his position by his patient’s futon a hand braced on the fukutaichō’s shoulder to hold him down, his free hand sliding along the abdomen muscles straining to sit him up pulsing a specific paralyzing kidō through them until Renji dropped back into his bed. Then he stood and intercepted the bug before Renji continued to disobeyed him and rip out all of his stitches, the moment the temporary paralysis faded.
“It’s Ouka,” Renji announced just as slurred as his previous observation. “Kuchiki-taichō’s,” He lifted his hand out toward Hanatarō and glanced down at his bandaged abdomen like he was surprised to find himself still horizontal.
Hanatarō moved back to sit beside the futon before letting the butterfly find its designated target. They were both startled when Rukia’s voice spoke instead of Byakuya’s, mostly because the taichō never shouted.
“Baka what were you thinking teaching Ichigo how to unlock the Kuchiki Senkaimon! He heard about your stupid accident and is flash stepping to the fourth as I speak.” Then came a delicate snort. “You’re lucky it was nii-sama’s bankai or he likely would have killed Kurosaki and I’d be warning you of him shunpoing toward you.”
“That’s silly Rukia, he’d already be here,” Renji countered the butterfly, sticking his tongue out at Ouka.
“Never mind that,” Rukia’s voice came after a brief pause of thought. “You’d be dead by now.”
Ouka gave a flutter and Renji focused a bit of his reiatsu to make a return message and a startling bark of laughter left him when he felt how washed out his spiritual energy was, what with the dumbass idea of provoking Byakuya into a spar...full bankai, the subsequent ass whoopin’ and then healing those efforts. “Domo arigato Rukia, tell taichō sumimasen.”
It took Hanatarō waving at the butterfly impatiently to get it to leave Renji’s finger. “One more treatment for today,” Hanatarō’s cheeks blushed suddenly and Renji was coherent enough by now to notice, the initial herbs he’d gotten when he’d arrived battered and bleeding at the forth division were almost out of his system.
“Ya okay Yamada-san?”
“Oh, um,” He blushed even brighter as he tried to explain himself with stutters and unintelligible mumbling. Renji pieced together something about not being left alone through the night and should he send an unseated from the fourth to sit at the fukutaichō’s bedside or would Ichigo be...?
“I’ll be okay I think,” Renji eyed the small shinigami as he prepared the area and his patient. So this pipsqueak knew? Well damn, I suppose I’m not very discreet, not as discreet as the kid wants me to be at least.
The change from blushing uke to self-assured professional was almost a shock. “Like I thought! You’ve popped some stitches,” Hanatarō scolded.
Since this magic trick had happened a few times through the day he’d spent under the little healer’s care, it wasn’t as startling this time, even if the contrast was considerably more obvious this time. Unohana-taichō had taught this one that deep bone-chilling...thing she managed to do with just a flash of her eyes; sadistic woman had to add a smile.
At least Hanatarō used his sparingly.
“Ya ain’t gonna sew ‘em back up here are ya?” Renji asked as he let professional hands pull the blankets of his futon down to uncover the bandages decorating nearly sixty percent of his body. Damn petals...
“I’m just going to focus a little more on those wounds. Movement in your legs should return this time around,” Hanatarō said the somber of his eyes peeling back momentarily to flash a not-at-all-like-Unohana-taichō smile.
He actually meant leg movement without pain. He’d managed to drag his ass from outer western Rukongai to the fourth just fine.
“Um, ya might wanna wait a second,” Renji murmured as a very obvious reiatsu made itself known only a few shunpo away. “I know ya need to focus the reiatsu.”
“Hai,” Hanatarō glanced back through the open bedroom door just as the front door slid open with way too much force.
“Oi!” Renji shouted his lips curling into a grin. “Don’t break my fuckin’ door baka!”
Ichigo was very suddenly at the door, his reiatsu a writhing, churning pressure.
“Domo arigato Abarai-fukutaichō!” Hanatarō whined with feeling as he realized that the orange-headed teen’s reiatsu when emotional was more than a little disrupting. “I might have ruptured your internal organs.”
“Git yer ass outta here or calm down,” Renji ordered and Ichigo moved into the room, leaning Zangetsu in the corner since he couldn’t see Zabimaru and sat under the window a few feet away from the foot of Renji’s futon.
As they glared at each other Hanatarō lifted his hands the moment he felt Ichigo’s reiatsu pull as far back as his half of the room, which was good for the substitute. Hanatarō quietly let his spiritual pressure fill the kidō silently chanting through his head in a steady rhythm, a bright flare of green reiatsu erupting out of his hands like gouts of flame. “I need you to calm down Abarai-fukutaichō...Kurosaki-san you’re not helping.”
Renji almost laughed at the expression that came over Ichigo’s face as Hanatarō treated him to his serious and disapproving blue eyes and admonishing assertive tone.
“Can I talk?” Ichigo asked him as Hanatarō moved to hold his glowing hands over Renji’s bandaged chest.
“If you can both stay calm while doing it.”
Ichigo nodded totally unnerved by the sharp aggressive tone coming from such an obvious uke like Hanatarō. He met Renji’s gaze again and aside from the glaze of painkillers and the untreatable physiological pain that stemmed from a badass getting thoroughly whooped, the vice captain looked ecstatic.
At the jubilant expression on the wounded shinigami’s face Ichigo found it easier to manage his reiatsu as those eyes reminded him he hadn’t seen Renji for over two months.
For some reason--he assumed it had just spilled out of his ear--he didn’t remember the angry barb he was about to hiss. He just stared at the half-bandaged face, all the concern and fear he’d been barricading back with anger spilling out. Well fuck anger wasn’t really his way.
Who? The violent, growling voice bubbled from inside and Ichigo was glad for once to have his hollow to focus his reiatsu inward and away from Hanatarō’s healing hands. Ask him who fuckin’ did this Ichi-baka or I ain’t going’ nowhere!
“W-who...what happened?”
Since his reiatsu was busy healing his wounds alongside Hanatarō’s Renji couldn’t feel the intent of the teen’s reiatsu but they’d known each other long enough...He had seen his brown eyes change, seen that mask appear both voluntarily and not.
The hollow didn’t appear as often these days, especially after Shinji’s help but Renji had enough inner dialogue with Zabimaru to recognize when others were thus engaged. Especially when it wasn’t the usual zanpakutō conversation subject of “gaining strength and wisdom.”
The only person Renji had seen anguished like Ichigo was Hisagi-sempai.
“I think that should wait ‘til Yamada-san’s done here,” Renji glanced over to the healer’s serious gaze, knowing the assertiveness that had come over him was distracting Ichigo; along with the inner hollow.
Ichigo was in total agreement for once over the conversation topic, given that as soon as he’d gotten over his king fucking another guy the hollow had shown himself to be a very possessive seme. “How bad is it?”
To help, Hanatarō answered, “Mostly superficial but extensive...” He glanced at the boy and for a moment fumbled over medical jargon in his head before intelligent brown eyes met his. Oh, that’s right his dad... “The real damage--"
“Ya almost done?” Renji interrupted gently and the small healer nodded.
“Hai,” Hanatarō quickly collected all of his things. “Kurosaki-san with the kidō treatments and the kidō-houtai he should be up and about tomorrow morning.” He zipped his medical kit and clipped it back around his torso, snug on his back as he turned and met the teenager’s eyes. “Do not agitate him, you can stop the healing that’s going on now, and even reverse it.”
With a chill going down his spine Ichigo nodded silently at the dark-haired shinigami.
“Abarai-fukutaichō,” Hanatarō turned back to Renji. “Someone from the fourth will be by in the morning to check on you.” He moved a few steps closer to Ichigo and waiting until he had the young man’s attention before he made himself say what he had to say. “Kurosaki-san I also wanted to tell you that the only real difference between healing kidō, bakudō and hadō is the intent of the reiatsu put into it.”
“Arigato Yamada-san,” Renji nodded as Hanatarō gave them each a small bow from the waist and left them to return to Unohana with his report. As he watched the dark-haired shinigami leave he told himself he had other things to focus on than weird parting comments to his lover, like said lover looking both angry with his usual measure of angsty.
“What happened?” Ichigo murmured into the silence.
“I got myself in a fight at school,” Renji teased and could tell his question hadn’t been Ichigo’s first especially when his answer was met with a murderous glare.
“Please don’t be stupid.”
“I got in a spar...started out as a practice spar...fifth seats ‘n’ up aren’t allowed ta practice in the Seireitei so most of the time when we do moral boosting division-wide drills we have an arena out in the unpopulated parts of Rukongai. We don’t need anybody showboatin’ ‘n’ bustin’ shit up, we got enough ryoka bitches doin’ that,” Renji gave an experimental flex of his toes, stretching his legs.
The grimace must have been obvious because Ichigo was suddenly beside his futon, a hand fluttering between them as the teen tried to find a spot uninjured/unbandaged to touch. “Are you okay?”
“No I’m fucked up, ya got eyes...”
“Teme, Renji!” Ichigo shook his head, moving his gaze to the expanse of tan skin and white bandages. “Who did this?”
“I ain’t sendin’ my big bad vizard boyfriend ta beat bullies up fer me. I kick ass all on my own,” Renji argued, even if he was sort of physical proof against it at the moment. “But domo fer th’ offer Baby.”
“Tell me Renji. I’m not gonna get all possessive and ‘that’s my man, bitch’.”
Renji let out a bark of laughter as he imagined him doing just that. “Yeah right! If any part o’ you feels like that then--"
“Renji I...” Ichigo sighed and ran an irritated hand over his face knowing that the shinigami knew him well enough (hollow included) to be hesitant with this particular information. “I just wanna know how bad it is...Obviously you’re not dead so I won’t be killing anyone no matter how much I want to!”
Shaking his head Renji managed another laugh. “Okay, only because I want ya ta appreciate the situation...but...”
“Fuck...what?”
“Strip.”
“What!”
“I ain’t askin’ fer a show, jus’ get th’ clothes off,” Renji was glad the last of the medicine was almost out of his system. He could feel just how healed he was and how far to push the kidō-houtai (a trick he’d learned in the eleventh division). Plus with the half-assed way Ichigo contained his reiatsu these days there was a certain amount--miniscule for most, small for Ichigo--of absorption the outside of the bandages did.
“Renji--” Ichigo grumbled as if protesting, but his fingers were already attacking his obi.
“Shut-up!” Renji sighed exasperated and the teen clamped his teeth together obediently and instead showed defiance with a rude face. “Oh, yeah try and act like a kid...domo...”
“Fuck you.”
“Uh-huh,” Renji made sure Ichigo knew he was watching as he fumbled with the rest of his shihakushō.
“W-what?” Ichigo asked as Renji made an appreciative noise and nodded. “So I’m supposed to like being ordered to undress?”
“Of course you’re a fuckin’ kinky bitch behind closed doors...but I know ya still wouldn’t step foot outta those doors naked,” Renji teased.
Even though he was half-naked Ichigo froze, mid-disrobement to stare at Renji with a nervous question in his eyes. “What? Are you gonna kick me out?” It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been tricked into being less than decent in less than private places.
“No dumbass I’m gonna tell ya who did this ta me and all that shit takes time to get back on if ya don’t wanna look stupid.” Renji saw the uncertainty in the boy evaporate before he continued. “Plus I’m already naked.”
“You’re covered in bandages!”
“So? S’only a fundoshi under here,” Renji watched him finish disrobing, not a stitch to cover the enticing view.
“Did you want that off too?”
“I ain’t gonna let ya fuck me until after I tell ya no matter how much ya sweet talk me,” Renji replied with a wolfish grin.
“F--herk!” Ichigo tried to say something but had ventured too close and Renji’s arms had been the first thing to heal all the way. His fingers curled around Zabimaru--sealed and sleeping in its scabbard under his futon--and swung his arm out just in time to catch Ichigo in midstride with one foot on the ground and over he went.
“I can’t believe you beat me...heh...” Renji murmured turning his head to catch Ichigo’s where he’d ended up sprawled out beside the futon.
“Teme...” Ichigo grunted, pushing up onto his elbows. “I coulda landed on you baka!”
“Ah thinkin’ ahead...” Renji chuckled and closed eyes as Ichigo plucked Zabimaru from his hand. “Yeah I don’t think that’s one o’ my best qualities.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t get into so many fights--"
“That’s my line.”
Ichigo only stammered a moment before clamping his mouth shut with a blush, turning away to prop Zabimaru in the corner with Zangetsu.
“Ne, thought so,” Renji snickered. “Get in bed. Oi, close the door first.”
“Are you expecting someone?” Ichigo murmured, moving to close the shoji door.
“Naw, just wanted to see yer ass a little bit longer...it’s really been too long.”
Spinning on his heel in outrage Ichigo stood there a moment before realizing he hadn’t done a thing to change the situation. “Teme!” He grumbled before lowering a hand to cover himself from Renji’s lecherous gaze.
“How many times have I seen your dick?”
“In the last two months?” Ichigo countered, moving back to the futon.
Renji kept the husky laugh in but the grin on his lips said it all. He wasn’t particular about exactly what he saw of the carrot-top, he loved the whole glorious stretch from toes to crown. Especially when he was riled enough to be blushing all the way down like that. Plus the teen was practically groping himself.
“Ya know usually it takes longer for me to get that bright a blush, Strawberry,” Renji teased drawing out the despised nick name.
“Ya know I’m beginnin’ to see why you’re all fuck up,” Ichigo growled, moving into the futon making sure to keep enough space between them, he really couldn’t tell how wounded Renji was. “Hanatarō mentioned the difference between kidōs do you know why--"
“Naw, I’ll hafta ask him tomorrow,” Renji reached over to pull Ichigo closer. “He figured out our secret.”
“What--Careful!” Ichigo hissed, hesitating since the spot he usually rested his head on was bandaged.
“If you fight me it’s worse baka!” Renji hissed tightening his arm around Ichigo’s shoulders. “Relax.”
He stopped moving but still held his head up, eyes examining each bandage. “Those are kidō-houtai?”
“Put yer damn head down! My chest ain’t that bad off,” Renji’s fingers dug into the short orange hair and pushed his cheek against the bandages over his upper chest. “Ya didn’t kiss me hello by the way...I only let it slide cuz ya might have taken my lips off.”
“I told you before I won’t let him hurt you,” Ichigo turned his head to murmur against the skin peeking at the bottom of the bandage before the next set started. “He knows who’s in charge.”
Renji nodded softly there was a reason he’d gone aggressive uke for the kid, “I know.”
“And I already told you I don’t do PDA.”
“In front of Yamada-san is hardly public,” Renji let his fingers gently scratch through the other’s short vibrant hair. “You mean ya don’t in front of people who don’t know about us,” Renji reminded, although he gave the teen no end of grief over being his dirty secret, Renji actually didn’t mind. He may have been nineteen, but Renji had come to realize the boy would need a few decades to become comfortable enough with his sexuality to realize how pointless that bullshit was.
“Renji--"
“Cuz Rukia is still bein’ really fuckin’ bitchy after she saw you cop a feel last time we were all at Urahara’s,” Renji of course hadn’t minded, even if it had sent his life-long friend off to find...
“You okay?” Ichigo lifted his head as Renji shivered violently.
“Sorry...Thinkin’ ‘bout the fight.”
“Okay, I think I’m sufficiently trapped--go on,” Ichigo gently rested his head in the usual spot, the pad of the bandages making it feel funny.
“The trap’s just a happy coincidence,” Renji moved his hand slowly down Ichigo’s neck and then back and forth over his shoulder blades. “I already told ya after I’m done yer fuckin’ me...That mean’s yer naked...coincidentally yer trapped cuz...well I don’t fuckin’ know why cuz half the Gotei wouldn’t mind a show.”
“Renji!”
The raise in reiatsu slapped through the kidō-houtai where Ichigo’s cheek rested and abrasively wherever it spilled out and touched each bandage. “Teme! Calm down--shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Calm. Down.” Renji hissed his muscles coiling as one of Ichigo’s hands touched one of the bandages on his side. “Che, stop moving!”
Ichigo moved away, Renji’s arm still over the back of his neck. “Okay!”
“These bandages they’re a special type...collaborative effort o’ Unohana-taichō, Urahara-san ‘n’ just recently Kurosuchi-taichō. They had developed them a long time ago but just recently have been able to make them available ta all the fourth...Ya know healing kidō is the healer and wounded’s reiatsu working together?”
“Yeah, I watched Hanatarō a couple times...He’s the only one that seems to notice my curiosity.”
“Not just the medical kind either,” Renji muttered since Ichigo had calmed down.
“Pervert!”
“Says the guy in bed naked with another guy...A severely wounded guy...” Renji watched Ichigo almost punch him...only playfully but he still gasped and snatched his hand back at the last second horrified at his actions.
“Yer reiatsu is always all over the place...even when it’s peaceful...well let’s call it 'mellow in yer case,” Renji only grinned in return to Ichigo’s dirty look for that comment. “The kidō-houtai are set to Yamada-san’s reiatsu and that is the normal state of his...peaceful I mean for anyone else.”
“Teme...I swear Renji--"
“See when yer pissed or...oh I dunno? On the rag? They just shut off...unless yer fuckin’ touchin’ them. They take in reiatsu with healin’ intent, formed into kidō on the outside. Usually there’s enough residual healin’ energy from the healer soaked up for my reiatsu to work with it to continue to heal me.”
Purposefully ignoring the teasing--because he was listening!--Ichigo calmed his reiatsu. “So it’s like you’re getting healing kidō while the healer isn’t here.”
“So as long as ya either keep yerself mellow or stop touchin’ the kidō-houtai,” Renji gave him a cheesy grin with teeth and the teen shook his head with a laugh. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” Renji watched Ichigo’s shoulders relax. “So story time is cuddle time, lay back down dumbass.”
With only his usual scowl Ichigo moved close again and stared at the bandages rather than touch them.
“Yer already plastered against some on my legs. I think that’s yer cock on my hip though,” He swiveled his eyes to catch Ichigo’s as the teen gave a nudge of his hips.
“You think?”
Renji closed his eyes because that was much better than mellow reiatsu. “Whenever I see it, it’s harder than that. Bigger too.”
“Fuck you.”
“Che,” Renji shook his head tsking his tongue in disapproval. “Not until after story time.”
They both went tense as they both realized how prickly the teen’s reiatsu was becoming. Ichigo calmed himself and finally lowered his head down to rest on Renji’s chest. He mumbled something his lips teasing unbandaged skin.
“What was that?” Renji prompted, he still had problems with Ichigo’s much more subdued attitude in sexual situations, they’d been together for three years already and the teen was still innocent and modest no matter how kinky Renji helped him be.
“You’re wounded I’m not fucking you,” Ichigo said a bit louder, still trying to muffle his statement against warm skin.
“I’m wounded yeah, but that just means I can’t fuck you Sugar,” Renji started to argue, but as Ichigo looked up, mouth flying open to protest he threw his hands up and preempted him, “This is stupid, I still have my story to tell.”
“Get on with it then!”
“So the sixth was out doin’ drills in the field arena and...well...I was leadin’ the division while Kuchiki-taichō walked around and made snooty comments on everyone’s form.”
“Jackass.”
“Slut.”
“Not you fucker, Byakuya,” Ichigo frowned as his fingers encountered bandages when his hand automatically moved to trace Renji’s stomach tattoos.
Renji noticed and cut to the end, “He actually told me I’d improved a lot.”
“He challenged you?”
The sheepish smile was answer enough, so Renji’s words came as no surprise. “I asked if he thought I could inspire the troops knockin’ him around...So I could see where I stood.”
“And?” Ichigo didn’t say it but Renji knew he wondered why Byakuya was still where he strived to get.
Renji didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want that type of relationship with Ichigo. He’d much rather have his ass instead of trying to kick it. He wanted a different domination, and although position-wise he’d always been the uke there was no mistaking who the seme was.
“The division filled one side of the arena...heh...gave ‘em a good show. Taichō was nice enough to made sure the end was out of pryin’ eyes...noble bastard...” He murmured closing his eyes, only opening them when Byakuya didn’t appear and attempt to flay him again.
“Out of prying eyes?”
“Mountaintop about twenty shunpo away,” Renji recalled deciding to soothe himself with Ichigo, the touch of the younger man had always done the trick. His hand moved down to take the fingers still searching for a mark to trace and pulled Ichigo’s arm over him, his fingers coming back to trace from his elbow to his shoulder, back and forth. “The first thing I asked was if he had an opinion ‘bout what part of my new regimen might have helped the most...and he was like...’Mostly fuckin’ that Kurosaki kid--‘"
“Yeah like he’d say ‘fuck’...Shit did he really say that?” Ichigo’s head jerked up to catch crimson eyes in shock.
Renji scrunched up his face in thought, nodding as he tried to recall the exact words. “’If I had to hazard a guess Abarai-fukutaichō I would say your current dalliance with the Kurosaki boy.’” Renji effected Byakuya’s somber delivery and cultured tone, somehow eerie coming out of that mouth.
Made Ichigo wonder if the reverse were true. If maybe the noble did--in private of course--use words like “fuck.” Although he threw the word around carelessly, when trying to imagine Byakuya...
“I told him he was pullin’ my leg ‘n’ he made a smartass comment ‘bout bein’ too far away to reach my leg,” Renji rolled his eyes and wove his fingers in soft spiky orange hair to guide him back to resting his head on his chest.
“We fought ‘n’ I noticed a difference in his reiatsu too. It got even more obvious when we went shikai,” Renji shook his head, still unable to believe the events that he himself had lived through to get where he was at present. “I knew he’d stop the fight if I tried goin’ bankai so I...heh...I asked him which teenage boy he’d started fuckin’ since we’d fought last--"
“You didn’t! Fuckin’ dumbass!”
“Shaddup!” Renji laughed and groaned as muscles protested the vigorous mirth. “He’d just remade his sword when I closed in and I was close ‘nuff ta see his eyes go wide ‘n’ he goes, ‘I do not believe that is any of you damn business Abarai-fukutaichō.’ Heh.”
“He didn’t deny it!” Ichigo gasped, his arm tightening around Renji’s middle. “Did you find out who?”
“Fuck kid I’m getting’ ta that!” Renji distracted him by scratching nails into his scalp. “I kept guessin’ ‘til he went bankai, it was a great answer.”
“He went bankai first?”
“Yeah I’m sure I coulda at least fucked up his hair if he hadn’t snapped.”
“Snapped?” Ichigo pressed against Renji’s shiver-inducing fingers to show the disbelief on his face.
“It’s the Quincy.”
“No-fuckin’-way! Ishida Uryū?”
“I don’t know any other teenage Quincy,” He chuckled as he gave a small one-armed shrug. “Dunno why I’m surprised he’s just as arrogant a bastard as Taichō.”
For a moment Ichigo opened his mouth to object then he thought better of it and merely shook his head and lowered his cheek back into place, mind whirling. “Yeah I guess.”
“It was like I’d broken a dam. The last time we fought he hardly made a sound...”
“Yeah?” Ichigo resisted the delicious dig of Renji’s fingers in his hair, trying to focus on the bizarre information.
“He...He said...” Renji tried to soften the next words with another impression of his stoic captain. “’Abarai-fukutaichō I have to admit pleasure at having a second chance to show you Senbonzakura Kageyoshi...In the years interspersed between these foolish attempts of yours to attain the unattainable your markings have caught both my zanpakutō’s curiosity as well as mine.’”
“Your tattoos?” Ichigo murmured, eyes moving over the pattern of the bandages. It had seemed random, but now he noticed not a one of the black lines showed, even those adorning his forehead.
“Maybe if they were normal tattoos he coulda carved them out like he wanted,” Renji chuckled as Ichigo’s fingers splayed over his chest as if to longingly stroke the marks. “I mighta even got some new ones, I did way better’n last time.”
“I fuckin’ disagree!”
“Ya didn’t see me after I fought him the first time...at least Zabimaru’s still in one piece this time...heh, he was really focused on cuttin’ me up.”
“Renji he’s your fuckin’ captain!”
“Fer what I said to goad him inta bankai...” Renji saw the anger filling his lover’s face (aimed at him!) and hesitated finishing outloud. I deserved it! Instead he tried, “If he’d said it ‘bout you, I woulda killed him.”
“Dumbass.”
“Hey! It ain’t like he was his usual stoic self the whole fight!” Renji defended himself, forgetting the need to calm the teen. “I asked him if I should really go all out...I didn’t wanna ruin the Quincy’s fun...and he actually smiled...’n’ it was...well--fuck--lets just say I woulda preferred normal cold-as-fuckin’-ice Taichō.
“After he sent his bankai ta carve the marks off--all the marks--” Renji knew Ichigo would look up and he waited to meet his eyes. “Said, ‘that sounds like quite a superb idea as punishment for your impertinence...if the only result in besting you is only more insubordination like this.’”
“W-what?” Ichigo’s eyes were confused but still Renji could tell he understood.
“It takes the forth a while ta completely heal spine injuries...I realize he...I realized I’d found his button...ya know the one I hit from just talkin’ ta you?” Renji tried to joke, but the Ichigo of before was back, the bone-clenching sensation along the kidō-houtai told him that.
“Hanatarō said it was superficial but...”
“I can move my legs but it fuckin’ hurts, I’m tougher than he thinks ‘n’...Um, turns out yer not the only one who visits Seireitei between invasions.”
“Ishida’s here?”
“Probably at the Kuchiki palace fuckin’--"
“On no! No! No! No! Shut-the-fuck-up right there!” Ichigo pulled back, sitting up to smash the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Fuck now it’s stuck in there.”
“Aw, c’mon!” Renji laughed as the teen kept thumping his forehead as if to knock something out of his brain. “That skinny piece of noble ass prolly saved me from missin’ out on sex fer months.”
An exasperated groan left Ichigo and he muttered, “Bleach, I need fuckin’ bleach...I don’t want those kinds of mental pictures--"
“Aw, Ichigo!” Renji admonished, holding a hand out to him until he moved back to cuddle against him. “Ya can picture ‘em?” He asked as soon as Ichigo relaxed. “Cuz I know both of ‘em ‘n’...’n’ how the hell...the Quincy has to be uke.”
“I’m not talking about this,” Ichigo rubbed his cheek along the bandage beneath it, knowing the lines he loved to trace were hidden there. “And I don’t think Ishida could relax enough to be fucked.”
“Oi, what happened to not talkin’ about it?”
“Whatever.”
“Quincy kinda seems like me, the aggressive uke type.”
“Oh, stop now!”
“Oh, fuck that gives me an idea...”
Ichigo shifted to look up at the expression on the older man’s face. “I don’t wanna know...I’m takin’ a nap...You ‘n’ yer dumbass macho fights.”
“Ichigo ya know he didn’t tell ya I was hurt cuz he felt guilty,” Renji murmured into the silence. “He let yer dumbass use his senkaimon unauthorized because now I get to see what I can’t have.”
“Baka!” Ichigo started to object but it hit him suddenly that just because the taichō was stoic and aloof didn’t mean he had no emotions underneath. He had thought it unusual Byakuya notifying him of Renji’s injuries, Rukia had even been at the senkaimon as he came flash stepping through it. He hadn’t even given her a chance to talk to him. Considering his state of mind hearing the details so soon might have led to a much more hellacious fight within the Seireitei.
“Ichigo?”
Shaking his head Ichigo focused on Renji. “I know what you’re thinking and I still think you’re too injured.”
“If ya fuck me I won’t have ta do any work,” Renji whined and Ichigo shot him an incredulous look.
“You heard Hanatarō I could still reopen wounds,” Ichigo knew they were less than gentle with each other, but neither of them had tried fooling around while one of them was this wounded except...
“What are you thinkin’ about..?” Renji trailed off into silence and Ichigo knew he should have felt uneasy as he saw what he could only call a knowing and lecherous light enter his lover’s eyes. He was more than a little embarrassed when the sight only aroused him.
“I think you stole my line this time,” Ichigo grumbled but he yelped in surprise as rough fingers closed over his half-hard member.
“Mm, I can guess,” Renji’s voice lowered into a purr, a deceptive voice that lulled Ichigo’s usual anxiety usually by distracting him with arousal. “Fuckin’ me?”
“Che, when don’t I?” Ichigo tried to tease back and Renji countered with a stroke of his hand.
“Yer the one who keeps tellin’ me otherwise.”
“Just because I said I wasn’t going to, doesn’t mean I don’t want to or don’t think about it dumbass,” Ichigo lowered his forehead to press it against Renji’s shoulder, as pleasure rippled through him.
“Ain’t fair Baby...Ya wanna fuck me, I wanna fuck you...”
“You wanna fuck me?”
Renji had to bite his lip as the words trembled out of the teen, but his cock gave an interested twitch in his hand. “I’d fuckin’ love to you know that.”
Ichigo could count on his hands the number of times he’d actually played uke. He’d been seventeen when they’d gotten together, very unsure about the fact that he’d found himself attracted to his friend, his male friend. Renji had never argued with Ichigo when he trusted the older shinigami enough to admit his inexperience, and seek assistance in being the seme.
Vivid scenarios were playing through the red head as he gave the teen time to think over the idea. He’d only been with a couple of men, mostly as seme but he’d been taught by his sempai just how fun uke could be. He’d been alive a long time, knew he was still dealing with a kid. Even though he was really an adult, the experience gap still gave Renji an almost clairvoyant sense for the boy’s actions and the motives for them. Renji reminded himself how long he’d held out against his sempai before being pleasantly surprised.
And the substitute wasn’t totally against penetration; loved to come with his cock down Renji’s throat and the redhead’s merciless fingers rubbing at his prostate. He wouldn’t admit to it but he always tried to take full advantage of those few moments with fingers and tongue. He’d already gotten a considerable girth of fingers, but the line was drawn there.
Ichigo had hang-ups about being uke, mostly a teenage male ego. Even if nobody but Renji knew of their roles, he knew it mostly had to do with a certain inner hollow with a big fucking mouth he couldn’t shut.
“Hypothetically...”