Bleach, Ichigo/Ishida
Title: Chemoreceptor
Author: shayheyred
Fandom: Bleach, Ichigo/Ishida
Part IV: Smell
Warnings: Sex (like that warns you away, heh)
Chemoreceptor: Sensory receptor that responds to airborne chemicals
Part 1, Sight: Chiaroscuro
Part II, Hearing: Contrapunto
Part III, Touch: Cicatrix
Blood.
The tang of copper coats the back of his throat.
Sweat.
He breathes deeply, inhaling damp salt.
Unnamed, unkown.
Ichigo's nostrils flare at the scent of…something else, something he can't put a name to. Perhaps he's heard of pheromones in biology class, or chemistry - right now it's an intangible something he can only identify as Male Body.
His. And another's.
Lightning.
The faint aroma of ozone clings to that other male body, which is now, surprisingly, terrifyingly, beneath Ichigo's own. More than any other scent, Ichigo has come to know this one -- the smell of lightning, of the charged air before a thunderstorm. It is Ishida's scent, and it is stronger and more recognizable even than the salt of sweat or the copper of blood or the sharp cleanliness of Ishida's starched shirts.
Ichigo reaches with unsteady hands towards the unmistakably male body of his frequent antagonist, occasional ally, reluctant friend and - whatever else they are about to become. Perhaps it's the blood they've spilled that's drawn them together, or the sweat they've earned in battle. Or maybe it's power seeking its equal, like seeking like, lightning coupled with thunder, molecules battling and combining to become an element entirely new and far, far stronger than its parts.
A tentative and chilly hand slides up Ichigo's arm. Nerves shake Ishida's hand, just as they raise Ichigo's arm in gooseflesh. But the touch releases something else between them, a scent undetectable by their olfactory nerves but instantly interpreted by other body parts. Ichigo feels himself swell and respond to Ishida's simple touch; beneath him, Ishida's erection rises in answer to him. Heat suffuses Ichigo's body, and with a small groan he begins to move.
Atoms collide and regroup. Pheromones crash together. Sweat-slick bodies grind and thrust. Mouths open and gasp at the thick, charged atmosphere.
They are young, and eager, and overwhelmed, and this is new and powerful and relentless. In a mere blink of the eye, a heartbeat, a tick of the clock, it's over -- far too soon, but Ichigo could not have stopped if his life were at stake. With a rush, with a cry, they are both spent, and the scent of their combined passion saturates the air.
Ichigo collapses on the panting body beneath him. His hands fall gracelessly to the side. His nose burrows into Ishida's damp hair. He breathes deeply.
Sweat.
Starch.
Salt.
Soap.
Sex.
Lightning.
Lover.
Author: shayheyred
Fandom: Bleach, Ichigo/Ishida
Part IV: Smell
Warnings: Sex (like that warns you away, heh)
Chemoreceptor: Sensory receptor that responds to airborne chemicals
Part 1, Sight: Chiaroscuro
Part II, Hearing: Contrapunto
Part III, Touch: Cicatrix
Blood.
The tang of copper coats the back of his throat.
Sweat.
He breathes deeply, inhaling damp salt.
Unnamed, unkown.
Ichigo's nostrils flare at the scent of…something else, something he can't put a name to. Perhaps he's heard of pheromones in biology class, or chemistry - right now it's an intangible something he can only identify as Male Body.
His. And another's.
Lightning.
The faint aroma of ozone clings to that other male body, which is now, surprisingly, terrifyingly, beneath Ichigo's own. More than any other scent, Ichigo has come to know this one -- the smell of lightning, of the charged air before a thunderstorm. It is Ishida's scent, and it is stronger and more recognizable even than the salt of sweat or the copper of blood or the sharp cleanliness of Ishida's starched shirts.
Ichigo reaches with unsteady hands towards the unmistakably male body of his frequent antagonist, occasional ally, reluctant friend and - whatever else they are about to become. Perhaps it's the blood they've spilled that's drawn them together, or the sweat they've earned in battle. Or maybe it's power seeking its equal, like seeking like, lightning coupled with thunder, molecules battling and combining to become an element entirely new and far, far stronger than its parts.
A tentative and chilly hand slides up Ichigo's arm. Nerves shake Ishida's hand, just as they raise Ichigo's arm in gooseflesh. But the touch releases something else between them, a scent undetectable by their olfactory nerves but instantly interpreted by other body parts. Ichigo feels himself swell and respond to Ishida's simple touch; beneath him, Ishida's erection rises in answer to him. Heat suffuses Ichigo's body, and with a small groan he begins to move.
Atoms collide and regroup. Pheromones crash together. Sweat-slick bodies grind and thrust. Mouths open and gasp at the thick, charged atmosphere.
They are young, and eager, and overwhelmed, and this is new and powerful and relentless. In a mere blink of the eye, a heartbeat, a tick of the clock, it's over -- far too soon, but Ichigo could not have stopped if his life were at stake. With a rush, with a cry, they are both spent, and the scent of their combined passion saturates the air.
Ichigo collapses on the panting body beneath him. His hands fall gracelessly to the side. His nose burrows into Ishida's damp hair. He breathes deeply.
Sweat.
Starch.
Salt.
Soap.
Sex.
Lightning.
Lover.