Christmas Baby

Teal eyes instantly narrowed. “Ichigo, shut up. Matsumoto hasn’t left yet, and I do NOT need another horrible nickname.”

“But you have the cutest nicknames. Shiro-chan, yukihime-“ He was cut off by Hitsugaya’s menacing growl and just chuckled in defeat, taking the consolation prize of a quick kiss on a pert, scrunched up little nose.

“You’re incorrigible.” Hitsugaya’s glare softened from instant death to merely resigned annoyance.

“So don’t incorrige me.” Ichigo replied cheekily.

“Oi, Ichigo-kun, remember, our little Christmas baby is not allowed out of bed and no strenuous activities!” The bubbly vice captain of Tenth Division poked her head into the bedroom, grinning lasciviously at them.

“Bye, Kurosaki-kun, Shiro-chan! Merry Christmas!” Orihime popped her head in, too, just underneath Matsumoto’s beaming face, which still had a few droplets of drying blood under her nose.

Hitsugaya automatically bristled at the sight of his merry tormentor. “MATSUMOTO! GET LOST AND TAKE THIS WITH YOU!!!” He grabbed the plastic ball of mistletoe and flung it at her cheery face. He had uncanny aim; it hit her square in the face and she spluttered in mock-agony.

“Taichou’s so cold and cruel, even on such a warm, fuzzy holiday! Fine, be a little Scrooge! Me and Hime-chan will go sledding without you two.” She pouted.

“Ah, Merry Christmas to you, too, Inoue-san.” Ichigo had learned the painful, hard way to stay out of fights between the taichou and his insubordinate subordinate lest he end up on the receiving end of Hitsugaya’s wrath. He stayed out of it by ignoring them. He held his growling lover firmly in case Hitsugaya decided to lunge for Matusmoto’s throat again.

“Kurosaki-kun, are you sure you don’t wanto to come with us? Shiro-chan can’t because of his ankle, but-“ Orihime ended in a loud, startled squeak as Matsumoto put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her away.

“C’mon, Hime-chan, we gotta go meet Rukia and the twins.”

Soon as they heard the thump of a door shutting, Hitsugaya twined his short arms around Ichigo’s neck. “Let’s go.” He ordered in his captain’s voice.

Ichigo blinked. “Huh?”

“Up. I want to make sure they actually left.”

“They had coats and gloves on.”

“You can never, ever trust Matsumoto. She’s too sneaky.”

“You trust her readily enough in battle.”

Hitsugaya snorted. “She’s only reliable when it really, really matters. Other than that, she’s the biggest pervert in Soul Society, next to Kyouraku-taichou. So, up.”

Ichigo smiled, biting his lip to keep from commenting on how Hitsugaya almost sounded like the bossy child he looked like. Hitsugaya was not a child by any means, except in looks. Hitsugaya tightened his arms around Ichigo’s neck, pulling his slim body higher up on Ichigo’s chest and unknowingly brushing his hips against Ichigo’s stomach. Ichigo felt his cheeks heat up at the reminder of Hitsugaya’s lack of underwear. That, in turn, brought up memories of just how grown-up Hitsugaya was.

“Ichigo, you blockhead.” Hitsugaya groused when Ichigo didn’t respond. He looked up and saw the chocolate eyes hazy with lust, as if the bigger male was off in some perverted dreamland. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt a large, calloused hand rubbing his bare bottom.

“Kurosaki!” He snapped, baby cheeks turning pink at the mere thought of Matsumoto lurking in the hallway, watching through a peephole she had drilled.

At the loud yell, Ichigo blinked. “Huh? Oh!” He grinned nervously down at his little lover, pulling Hitsugaya’s oversized shirt down and smoothing the cloth over the tiny, tight rump he loved so much. He withered under the intense teal glare, groping for a w ay out of the sudden hot water he found himself in. “Panties!” He blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. “You need panties!”

The icy, teal glare did not soften. “No shit, Sherlock. They’re *underwear* and that big-boobed buffoon hid all mine. The shirt’s long; it’ll have to do. I swear, when we get back to Soul Society…” He mumbled to himself the various ways in which Matsumoto was going to pay. Ichigo caught a few of them and winced, the death threats distracting him enough to pull his mind somewhat out of the gutter.

“But Shiro-chan, your ankle. And Rangiku-san said you were supposed to stay in bed.”

The glittering green-blue eyes eyes rolled. “My ankle is just fine, and Matsumoto has a dirty mind. Now, up.”

“Ah, alright.” Ichigo was too distracted by Hitsugaya’s lack of underwear to be fully coherent. All he had to do was lay his pretty ice prince down on the mattress, lift up the hem of the shirt, spread those slender, lily-white legs wide, and pull down the hem of his own pants, then he would be at the gates to his favorite shrine...His dainty little dragon with no panties; nothing guarding that most private and secret part of him…Ichigo nearly whimpered like Matsumoto had, except, unlike her, he was allowed to touch, to taste-

“KUROSAKI!!”

Ichigo jerked, shook his head, and blushed Christmas red. He tried to get his lust-filled brain to work, but thinking had never been his strong suit. He always followed his gut instinct, and right now, his gut told him to flip Hitsugaya onto the mattress, wrap those pale, sleek legs around his waist and slam into his tight heat like there was no tomorrow- “Err… Right. Up. Yeah.”

One arm supported Hitsugaya’s back, the other just under his bent knees and Ichigo stood up, carrying Hitsugaya bridal style. Hitsugaya was annoyed at how long it took Ichigo to react. His strawberry was not usually this stupid. But he understood why he was so slow. Hitsugaya just wanted to make sure there were not any orange-haired, big breasted perverts lurking about armed with video cameras. Hitsugaya felt the same way as the impulsive strawberry, only he had much better self-control and a brain that actually worked. With war between Soul Society and Hueco Mundo looming on the horizon, times of peace were few and far between, so this day they had together was all the more important to them both.

The lack of covering on his privates made the normally reserved, modest taichou feel incredibly exposed and dirty, vulnerable in a sexy, powerful way. Ichigo’s fascination with his forbidden parts gave Hitsguaya unprecedented domination over the substitute soul reaper; he could easily bend the younger male to any whim he had. Not that he couldn’t any other time; it was no secret in the world of the living or the dead that Hitsugaya had Ichigo firmly wrapped around his little finger. Ichigo was totally whipped, and everyone knew it. Right now, he was triple-whipped. He was Hitsugaya’s willing slave. Hitsugaya felt very naughty and powerful as Ichigo carried him out of the bedroom. He wriggled in the strong arms, finding a more comfortable position and grinding his pert ass on Ichigo’s forearm, causing the bigger male to stumble.

Ichigo carried Hitsugaya to the door and they looked out at the foot tracks of Matsumoto and Orihime in the deep snow. The world was covered in white. Rooftops, bushes, and yards were buried under the many layers of white. Sidewalks and roads were coated with slush and salt, and white snow flakes drifted gently to the white world below.

The window was getting fogged from their warm breaths on the cold glass. Hitsugaya had not been outside in nearly a week, and this was his favorite weather. He pressed his pink lips to Ichigo’s cheek. “Lets go out in the snow.”

Ichigo melted at the butterfly light caress of soft lips on his skin. He was tempted to cave in and open the door for his adorable snow prince, but even he knew that taking someone with a broken ankle and no underwear on out in the cold was a BAD idea, even if said someone was the wielder of the strongest ice/snow zanpaktoh.

He kissed the petal-soft lips in apology. “I’m sorry, Shiro-chan, but if I took you out, I’d have half of Soul Society after my blood. I’d rather now have Yachiru sick Zaraki on me cuz her adored Chibi-chan got sick.”

“Baka. I won’t get sick.” Despite how much he loved the snow and wanted to go out in the winter wonderland, going outside without underwear, or pants, which would not fit over his cast, was too risqué for him But sex in the snow…

“I know.” Ichigo said and kissed his sweet baby cheek. He immediately changed the topic as a thought popped into his head. “Ah, you still have to open the presents I got you.” He blurted out suddenly, as quick as Matsumoto with topic changes.

Hitsugaya snorted in amusement, breath washing over Ichigo’s neck. “You just remembered you brought me a present?”

Ichigo blushed sheepishly. “Well, I’d already exchanged gifts with the others when I first came over. I wanted to give you yours when it was just the two of us.”

“Sentimental moron.” There was no frosty bite to the words, though, and Hitsugaya snuggled comfortably in his arms as Ichigo carried him into the living room and sat on the couch. At the end of the couch, in a corner of the room, was a small, artificial Christams tree trimmed with lights, tinsel, and colorful ornaments. Most of the presents under the tree were already unwrapped, except for the ones Ichigo and Hitsugaya got each other.

Hitsugaya cuddled into Ichigo’s lap as strong arms wrapped around him securely. He laid his head on Ichigo’s shoulder as Ichigo plucked a beautiful package of silver wrapping paper with a big blue bow from under the tree and set it down gently in Hitsugaya’s little lap, arranging Hitsugaya’s legs so his cast was not in danger of getting bumped.

Hitsugaya pulled at the ribbon and took his time opening it. He pulled out a delicate, crystal snowflake ornament, the edges frosted a pale teal and in the center was a picture of him and Ichigo together last New Year’s. Ichigo stood with his arms around Hitsugaya. The strawberry wore an elegant, inky black kimono while Hitsugaya was beyond breathtaking in a pale turquoise furisode with billowing sleeves and a thick, dark blue obi that accentuated his slender form. Around the edge of the photo, etched in flowing silver kanji were ‘Ichigo + Toshiro 2007’.

Hitsugaya held it carefully and stared at the huge, delicate ornament with large aqua eyes. When he didn’t say anything, Ichigo chewed his bottom lip in worry. What if his baby dragon didn’t like it? What if he thought it was maudlin and dumb? “Shiro-chan?”

Hitsugaya settled it gently back in the box and kissed Ichigo on the chin, the only part of Ichigo he could reach when his head was raised. “It’s beautiful, Ichigo. Arigato.” He said softly, a light blush adorning his porcelain cheeks and his thick, long and inky lashes lowered.

Ichigo beamed in relief, set the boxy safely aside, and glomped the petite shinigami. Hitsugaya grunted in discomfort as he was squashed against Ichigo’s muscular chest. Ichigo buried his face in his wonderfully soft and thick, snowy hair. “Happy Birthday, Shiro-chan.”

For Christmas, Ichigo got Hitsugaya a stuffed white bear with button eyes, a fluffy baby blue Santa hat covering one ear, a matching blue scarf, and a silver snowflake on its furry tummy. When Ichigo made Hitsugaya hug it, the bear sang ‘Let It Snow.’ The song was in English and Hitsugaya could not understand it, and Ichigo had a rough time translating. “I think,” Hitsugaya said, eyeing the bear warily, “those Americans are completely insane.”

Hitsugaya, ever the practical one, got his beloved strawberry a thick, leather bound book on kidou and proper shinigami protocol. The present was eerily similar to what Rukia got him- a book on etiquette. Ichigo pouted at the gifts; it was almost as bad as getting underwear and socks. “You conspired with Rukia, didn’t you?”

“Well, your manners are atrocious and your kidou and reiatsu control even worse.” Hitsugaya pointed out matter-of-factly. Now Ichigo was the one who grumped while Hitsugaya smirked.

“I should’ve stayed home with my family.” Ichigo sulked at the lack of imagination in his gifts.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Cuz Pops had to go make a few house calls, and Yuzi and Karin wanted to try out their new sleds. And I wanted some quality time alone with my baby dragon.”

Hitsugaya chuckled at the still-pouting tone. “It’s better than what Matsumoto and Inoue got me. And don’t even ask.” He added warningly.

“I wasn’t going to.” Ichigo kept one arm firmly around Hitsugaya’s slim waist, trapping the little body to his chest while he rummaged through Hitsugaya’s presents with his free hand, despite the little taichou’s scowls, growls, and threats. The gifts were typical concoctions of Matsumoto’s warped mind- a Grumpy the Care Bear plushy, baby blue hand knitted socks with matching mittens from Orihime, and a sparkly, light teal sweater trimmed with fluffy, white faux fur and hood.

Ichigo was almost done when he spied a remaining gift. “What’s this?” He grabbed a little red gift bag when Hitsugaya, face beet red, snatched it out of his hand.

“It’s nothing.” He held the bag tightly to his slim chest.

“It has my name on it.”

“Kurosaki.” Hitsugay growled and clutched it tighter when Ichigo tried to grab it.

The taller male, however, knew the little one’s weakness, and with his free hand, he tickled one armpit. Hitsugaya was extremely ticklish; he squirmed, biting his full, lower lip to muffle his giggles. Yes, giggles. He only giggled when tickled because that was an automatic response of his body that was hard to control. Ichigo grinned in triumph as he quickly snatched the crumpled red bag away from the littlest taichou. Immediately, Hitsugaya stopped giggling and reached for the bag, but Ichigo held it away from him. “Give it back!”

“It’s mine, from Rangiku-san and you.” Ichigo read the tag then peered inside and blinked. Hitsugaya quieted ominously in his arms, alabaster face flushed cherry pink and hidden in his dainty hands. Ichigo raised an orange eyebrow questioningly. “A teal ribbon…and peppermint lube?”

tbc….

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Hitsugaya could not look at Ichigo. The ribbon was long and nearly matched the shade of Hitsugaya’s eyes. It was long enough to wrap around his petite, sleek body. Ichigo’s brown eyes widened in delight and lust. He knew his modest little Shrio-chan would never come up with something this delightfully dirty on his own, and oh, how he suddenly loved Matsumoto.
“My naughty baby dragon!” He cooed and pressed his face to Hitsguaya’s dainty hands, which were clamped over his pretty face, shielding him from Ichigo. The strawberry knew what to do. He slipped his hand under Hitsugaya’s nightshirt and caressed one creamy, soft cheek. Not expecting that, Hitsguaya gasped and dropped his hands in surprise and Ichigo swooped in, sealing his mouth with his own, his hungry tongue barging in and stealing Hitsugaya’s breath away while his big hand cupped his bare ass.

Hitsugaya’s hands fisted in Ichigo’s sweater, clinging to him and giving in to Ichigo’s demanding hunger. A finger slipped between his creamy cheeks and Hitsugaya moaned into Ichigo’s mouth, the strawberry’s hot tongue and roving hand lighting a fire deep within him.

Getting dizzy from the lack of air, Hitsugaya pushed, trying to pull away, but Ichigo’s strong arm locked around him. Feeling his lungs tighten, Hitsugaya could not suppress his whimper, but Ichigo only deepened the kiss. Finding no other way out, Hitsugaya promptly bit down on the tongue in his mouth, causing Ichigo to jerk away in surprise and pain.

Both were panting and red-faced, mouths slobbery and pupils dilated in lust. “The hell? Ichigo looked down at the dainty but powerful shinigami in his lap. Hitsugaya’s petal-soft lips were swollen from the harsh, bruising kiss and his chest rose and fell faster than Ichigo’s. Maybe the little dragon was not up to making love, afterall. Ichigo growned, his gaze sliding to the teal cast protecting the fragile, broken ankle. “Shiro-chan, maybe we shouldn’t-“

Hitsugaya glared heatedly at him. “I’m fine- just wasn’t ready. Don’t start what you can’t finish, Ichigo.” When the younger male did not move to touch him, Hitsugaya turned, mindful of his cast, to straddle Ichigo’s lap and rose up on his knees, kissing him deeply. Ichigo’s eyes closed and he immediately sank into his snow prince’s soft sweetness, taking control of the kiss.

Dainty hands tugged on Ichigo’s sweater, trying to pull it off him while Ichigo’s shaking hands pulled at his zipper, tugging his pants down. A strangled cry left Hitsugaya’s throat and Ichigo chuckled into the kiss; his Shiro was frustrated because he could not get the shirt off. Ichigo broke the kiss momentarily to pull his sweater off, kick his jeans off, and whip Hitsugaya’s shirt over his head, then his hands and mouth were all over that nude, supple body.

He rained kisses on Hitsugaya’s face and bare chest, licking and sucking on the rosy, pert little nipples, feeling them harden under his warm, moist tongue. Hitsugaya’s little fingers roughtly grasped Ichigo’s bright orange mop, grinding his gently rounded hips into Ichigo’s stomach, making the bigger body twitch and jerk under him.

Ichigo’s length was stiff, hot, hard, and ready to explode. All it took to get him fully erected were a few soft caresses from his snow prince. He had never been good with restraint, especially when it came to things he truly desired. Such as Hitsugaya Toshiro. He could barely hold back from throwing the taichou onto his back and pounding his ass into the couch. Only the knowledge that taking Hitsugaya so carnally, without lube or preparation, would hurt the shinigami held him back. He felt Hitsugaya’s slight body shuddering in desire as the smaller taichou kissed him fiercely, grinding his pert ass over Ichigo’s throbbing erection.

Ichigo let out a hoarse cry of desperate need, grabbing the peppermint lube out of the bag, and tossing the bag and ribbon roughly aside. His long, lanky body trembled in restrained desire, his muscles tense and sweat beading on his smooth skin. He had to have Shiro, and he had to have him now!

Hitsugaya smirked at the strangled groan- Ichigo was much more vocal than he was himself. He, too, was loosing his control. His own stiff erection throbbed between them, rubbing against Ichigo’s toned, taut stomach, a bead of pearly white fluid leaking from the tip.

Ichigo clumsily smeared a huge glob of lube onto his fingers, and coated Hitsugaya’s crack with it, dipping one finger inside him. Hitsguaya gasped against Ichigo’s lips, fingers gripping the bare, broad shoulders as another diging slipped inside, wriggling around and stretching him while Ichigo nibbled at his rosy lips. Finally, he added a third finger and their sweaty bodies writhed against one another, both groaning, moaning and gasping.

“Damn it, Shiro. You’re tight. Always so tight, like a virgin. No matter how many times I fuck you.” Ichigo ground out between clenched teeth as he coated his huge, hard manhood while Hitsugaya kissed and nibbled on his neck. It delighted him and terrified him at the same time. Hitsugaya’s body was deceptively delicate looking, almost fragle as a snowflake, and Ichigo always had a lingering fear he’d accidentally hurt the taichou. He knew Hitsugaya could take it as roughly as Ichigo could dish out and return it full force, but the knowledge could not erase that nagging fear. And he had to be careful of Hitsugaya’s ankle, too. But, damn it, his baby dragon was really pushing his limited self-control.

Hitsugaya broke Ichigo’s restraint by grabbing both their leaking erections at the same time and squeezing lightly as he pumped with dainty fists; Ichigo bucked his hips upward, jerking violently. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep his seed from exploding.

Hitsugaya smiled as Ichigo struggled to hold his climax back- only he could get such an explosive reaction from the strawberry. He kissed Ichigo’s lips lightly and felt a large hand on the back of his head smash their lips together in a brutal, hungry kiss. Ichiog’s tongue forced its way into his mouth, the younger male’s frayed self-control fully unraveling and he unceremoniously flipped them over.

The soft couch cushions supported Hitsugaya’s naked body, cushioning the impact and cradling him as Ichiog’s bigger body covered him fully, nearly crushing him in his haste, but Hitsugaya did not mind- sometimes, he liked it rough. His small hands raked voer Ichigo’s toned chest, one hand covered in lube from grabbing Ichigo’s erection, before his arms twined around the orange-haired man’s neck as butterfly kisses were rained on his face.

“Shiro. Shiro. Shiro.” Ichigo panted in between kisses as he grabbed Hitsugaya’s slender, sleek legs and slid between them, the dripping tip of his length pressed against Hitsugaya’s tight entrance. Hitsugaya mewled and trembled with anticipation, but Ichigo reassured him with loving kisses as he slowly slid himself into heaven.

Ichigo whimpered at the tight heat and Hitsugaya closed his eyes tightly in pain as his body adjusted to Ichigo’s huge girth that no amount of stretching could ever prepare him for. Tears formed in the corner of his clenched lashes when Ichigo rolled his hips too soon and too hard, pain overriding the pleasure. With one strong arm, Ichigo cradled Hitsugaya’s upper body to his chest, the pounding of his frantically beating heart rattling Hitsugaya’s teeth as Ichigo kissed his tears away in apology.

Ichigo could not think, let alone talk. It took all his conscious effort to keep from rolling his hips again. After several moments, Hitsugaya’s harsh pants slowed, and his fingers released their death grip on Ichigo’s shoulders, and he cracked open his eyes. “Okay.” He said softly. A part of Ichigo- the same part that always feared he would hurt him- was doubtful, but that encouragement was all his hips needed to buck.

Ichigo slipped a hand between their tightly pressed bodies, stroking and squeezing Hitsugaya’s length, bout all he got was a whimper and a shudder. The pain and pleasure were equally balanced within Hitsugaya right now; he was still adjusting to having Ichigo’s massive erection buried deeply in him. His body was stretching and growing accustomed to the sensation of being filled so fully. The pressure of Ichigo’s huge, calloused hand on his own erection pulled him over the edge, pleasure winning out and allowing Ichigo to continue on.

Hitsugaya gasped as Ichigo slipped out then rammed into him, his tip hitting the sweet spot buried in him. With each powerful thrust, Hitsugaya arched his back, pulling him in deeper, hissing and raking his fingernails down Ichigo’s chest. Ichiog’s long body trembled as he neared release, lost in how delicious his baby dragon was. Hitsugaya made soft noises, but with each thrust, Ichigo bellowed like a wounded beast, his passionate cries filling the silent house and making the Christmas tree tremble.

As he thrust in and out, Ichigo pumped Hitsugaya’s own length; waves of pleasure crashed down and engulfed Hitsugaya so that all he could do was cling to Ichigo and follow where his thrusts lead.

Hitsugaya’s slim hips rose in tune with Ichigo’s driving thrusts, muscles clenching around his erection, causing Ichigo to clench his teeth and spasm deep within him. “AAAH! FUCK! SHIROO!” Ichigo cried, chest hitching as he felt the tight pressure in him popping, his seed exploding into Hitsugaya’s wonderfully tight passage. As he climaxed, his callous fingers jerked roughly on Hitsugaya, who came with a loud screech in Ichigo’s ear, his warm seed jutting on Ichigo’s abdomen. “Ichigo!”

Slipping out of Hitsugaya’s soft body, Ichigo collapsed on his side, fully sated and drained. He used the last of his fading strength to draw Hitsugaya into his arms, cradling him to his chest. With a contented sigh, Hitsugaya settled down as Ichigo pressed a sloppy kiss to his forehead. “Love you, Shiro-chan.”

Baby cheeks rosy red from their activity, Hitsugaya looked up at Ichigo with a sleepy, contented smile, his large, sea-foam green eyes warm and gentle, fully unguarded. “Love you too.”

Ichigo’s heart melted at the warm expression that so few ere privileged enough to ever see. He rubbed their noses together in an Eskimo kiss; Hitsugaya scrunched his pert little one up. “I smell peppermint.”

Ichigo chuckled, returning the soft, gentle smile with one of his own. “It’s the lube.” Hitsugaya’s reply was swallowed by a yawn, his long, thick lashes fluttering closed as he fell asleep cocooned protectively in Ichigo’s arms, lulled to slumber by the beat of Ichigo’s heart with the smile still on his pretty, cherubic face.

The cast on Hitsugaya’s slim ankle was rough on Ichigo’s leg, and the bigger male gently stroked a soft baby cheek, lightly fingering the gently curved, pink lips as he drank in the sight of the rare smile he once promised an old woman in Rukongai he would always protect. “Merry Christmas, Shiro-chan.”

His own smile grew along with the warm feeling in his heart when Hitsugaya snuggled closer. “My little Christmas baby.” With a petite, warm body cradled to his chest, Ichigo fell asleep, too. The lay together on the couch next to the Christmas tree, surrounded by presents and love.