That Good Night

A/N: Finally. It's been awhile, I know, but I'm on vacation now and my muse struck me. This chapter's structured a bit oddly, what with playing with the tense and POV. The next chapter shouldn't take near as long, because this one was particularly difficult to write. I actually had a near complete draft at one point, but my beta said it was terribly boring. I'll stop now and just request some more reviews, please.

Blaze. . . and Be Gay

This particular part begins with our protagonist at a bar getting drunk. It was Izuru's idea, the drinking—“It'll be fun,” he said—but as Ichigo has no tolerance for alcohol, he's drunk even after only a few. Everything looks different drunk, a bit duller, to be sure, a refreshing—at the time—change from the mundane nonetheless. Actually, I hesitate to call it a bar—they're eating; that's it. They're eating supper and Izuru ordered the meal—with drinks—and Ichigo didn't say anything at the time, didn't want to seem like a baby.

But that's not the important part. They're leaving—Izuru pays—and he can sense these guys coming at them. Shinigami, three of them, and they're waving paperwork and shouting something about needing Izuru. Thing is, Ichigo would much rather Izuru not be taken away, and Izuru agrees with him.

He starts with a pulse of reiatsu, just enough to make them lose their balance, and then he's grabbed Izuru's hand and they're running through the crowd as best they can. They're following, sure, but losing ground all the while—it's what happens when you send grunts to do a Captain's job.

“God,” he says, or something like it, once they've lost them for good. “I didn't think they'd be after me so quick.” Quick catches of breath interspersed with laugher, on both sides. “They probably won't send anyone else, though.”

“Good,” is all Ichigo manages to say. Then he kisses the man. It's just getting to be dark, long shadows stretched and filling the alley around them.

Izuru kisses back—whether from intoxication or genuine feeling is unclear. It's not a particularly good kiss, on either end, but they're going at it like it was, groping and feeling and everything.

Back pressed against the wall, only he can't tell who's doing the pressing, doesn't care either way.

Then Izuru stops. “We can finish this later,” he says, “otherwise we'll get stuck in the rain.”

A drop falls on Ichigo's shoulder as if to emphasize. “Okay.”

It's not very far left to go, Izuru says, but he'd like to stop off at the store to get a few things first. Ichigo has no problem with that.

“Two bottles,” he says at the counter—“make that three. Just in case,” Izuru adds with a wink and a smile that almost makes him weak in the knees.

Why they need alcohol escapes him, but he's not really in a position to question, is he? Or, should I say, he is not at present able to adequately assess whether such a situation is overall preferable to the alternative—“What alternative?” he asks—and therefore cannot question the reality. What I should say is this: he doesn't give a fuck; he's about to get laid. That right there is the extent of his thought process, and even that is questionable.

They're not even back outside for a minute and it's started raining, and both of them without an umbrella. Don't think to buy one, either, but that's to be expected, really. Hard to make decisions like that in their state.

But what you're really interested in is the next part, right? The sex? Figures.

I don't remember who started it or when, except we'd gotten where we were going already and one of the bottles he'd bought was half-empty. No idea where it went. He was particularly aggressive about it all, whereas I was more. . . timid, I guess you'd call it. Timid, shy, submissive, reluctant—I could come up with adjectives all day long and then some to describe it, but I doubt you'd listen. Maybe an example: He's got me pinned to the wall, nipping along my neck and both my hands held in his, and all I can do is stand there and mewl a bit. But I can hardly manage even that with the way he makes my knees practically melt with each swish of his tongue.

Next thing I know my shirt's gone and his too, and I'm too distracted to even ask what happened to the wall. Beds are softer anyway. Having the skin on skin is markedly different; each little movement registers as a series of sensations all along my chest, and did I mention Izuru's an excellent kisser? Oh, but yes, I certainly wouldn't mind another sip or three. Nothing at all wrong with that. Makes him look even better than before, more so when he's naked.

Penis tastes. . . well, it's like regular skin, only with a bit more of a salty taste to it. I know I'm sloppy as hell at it, but he doesn't seem to mind. Even if it's just the feeling of his hand in my hair like that guiding me. He stops me before he comes, though, doesn't want to blow his load just yet. I don't even remember when my pants came off, but suddenly his mouth is wrapped around mine and I about shoot right there. Izuru happens to be good with his mouth in general, apparently.

He doesn't seem to care quite so much about my own longevity, and I'm through in what can't possibly have been more than two minutes. He almost laughs, then trails his tongue upwards over my body, stops at my jaw a while, and reaches my ear. “Top or bottom?” he whispers, then laughs before letting me answer. He really likes my neck.

I can't remember the penetration, but the feeling of being inside him is indescribable. Tight and hot all at the same time, and pulsing all the while. It's something you can't really know till you've experienced it. He's on top, hands on my chest, bouncing up and down. Back arched and face ecstatic. Almost primitive. But all of him is so erotic I can hardly stand it. I reach a hand around to grasp his butt, and the first thing I note is its smoothness. Its warmth. The palpable feeling of sex. And whenever my hand isn't there between us he slams down all the way and sort of grinds against me.

Where being inside Izuru was indescribable, being penetrated by him is infinitely less so: it hurts. An almost tearing sensation at first, followed by a mostly uncomfortable pressure. He moves slowly at first, spreads and holds my legs apart with his hands. His brows are furrowed in concentration like he's trying his best not to make it hurt, and I guess it's working. The alcohol helps.

In and out and in and out he goes unrelenting, with the slap slap slap of his skin hitting mine resounding throughout. He puts a hand forward on my chest, but I'm almost too dazed to notice. Looks like maybe he's about done as well. How long has it been? The sensation has since dulled from its former peak, but it's still incredible. He becomes more and more erratic and frustrated, slams harder and slower each time. The sweat glistens off his skin in the lamplight and his breath is forced and desperate, but he keeps on until at last he's done and collapsed on top of me.

He's fallen asleep already—passed out, more like—but I'm still conscious enough to watch him. There's something strangely haunting and at the same time beautiful about watching a sleeping face, because it's hardly ever similar to the waking. With Izuru, he relaxes so very much more than usual. The lines of his face soften and he's constantly on the verge of a smile.

Besides that, though, there's the fact he's naked on top of me. Just collapsed from having sex with me. I don't think I was fully capable of comprehending that fact right then, but that didn't stop the wonder as it. Successfully had I rescued him from his captor, the dark and evil Renji. He came reluctantly into my arms, but had been won over in the end, enough even for sex. And then. . .

That whole losing my virginity thing. I guess I'd always imagined it as being more romantic and less drunk, but there were worse ways to go. At least it was the guy I loved. Even if I wouldn't probably remember all of it. Granted, I was also a complete idiot back then. Rationalization after rationalization flitted through my head because I was completely and unadulteratedly infatuated with him. Wasn't a thing wrong with him to my eyes, for better or worse.

I had a dream that night. I dreamt I was back home, fighting hollows. They kept coming and coming, horde after horde of faceless evil and darkness. And then, once I thought I'd finished, this one big one showed up, larger than all the rest combined, towering over me. It felt almost like I'd shrunk he was so big. He raised his fist, opened it, and swung it at me. I tried to run, but there was no hope. It swallowed me in one quick swoop of shadow. But I wasn't dead yet. I was in a desert, stark and endless white all around me. Nothing alive to be seen and a grim moon overhead.

I was running. I didn't know from or to what, just that I was. I was running and getting nowhere very quickly, until there wasn't any sand anymore, and all else turned raven black.

Was anyone there, I wondered. Would anyone ever be there.

Still running, from nowhere to nowhere. Then—a face. I can't see it, but it's gone now and I'm back in the bed with Izuru there and smiling, but it's different. He's holding me and I'm injured. He tells me I won, but won't say what, only that it's dead. It's a dread thing and I killed it. Did I know he loved me? I wouldn't say, just push myself closer to him. Nuzzling and the like and reveling in the warmth of it all.

Then I woke up, and the brightness was painful. I could barely open my eyes for it. Izuru was on me still, and my arm was about numb from it. I nudged him but he didn't say anything. He rolled over beside me after a minute but was still asleep. My arm was still tingly and I tried to get the blood flowing back to it.

“You awake?” I said, though I knew the answer.

My ass was sore—actually, I was sore all over. Hardly a place on my body I could feel didn't hurt. I couldn't even get up.

He was much more responsive when I punched him. “Hey, jerkass,” I said, “could you get me something to drink?”

A glass of water is very nice in that situation, very thirst-quenching. But Izuru wasn't very awake yet, either way. There was this glazed look to his eyes, a general vacant-ness that said he needed more sleep or coffee, one. He opted for the coffee.

He cursed under his breath after his first sip. Then he went into this rambling apology that didn't quite make sense. “I didn't mean for things to go that way,” he said. “Shouldn't have drunk anything. You're not even old enough ” He looked downwards, then said, “I didn't hurt you did I?”

“Just a little—Nothing worse than I've gotten before,” I added hastily when he looked like he was about to stab himself. “Really, it was fine.”

“And that was your first time?”

“If you don't count that one time with Ishida, yeah.”

“Do you even remember most of it?”

“I think so.”

He sat back down on the bed and combed a hand through his hair. “Dammit. You still sore?”

“Yes.”

“Shower?”

“Together?”

“I guess. Can you move?”

He was kind enough to carry me, though I did insist on walking the last bit. The water was warm and nice and soothing, and all the other usual things it might ever be. And I would have thought Izuru a bit too grabby were he anyone else. But if it was him it was okay. We ended up having sex again in there, something about wanting to make up for last night. Not that I cared.

Very slowly and deliberately he sucked me off on his knees and reached around behind to play with my ass a bit. Sticking wet and slick fingers carefully to elicit the highest pleasure. Sex is so much better when you're sober because, where alcohol might make them more pleasing to the eye, it significantly detracts from their performance.

I must have been pretty vocal, because I could feel the smirk across his lips even as he removed himself and transferred to my mouth, where he put his tongue to a slightly different use. Soft and pliant lips brushing, at first—whose were the soft I couldn't tell.

There was rubbing and pressing, too, while he kissed me, and it didn't take me long at all till my knees were buckling from the pleasure and his hands were the only things keeping me up.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” he said.

And did I mention Izuru's an excellent kisser?

Then the shower was done and he took to toweling me off, and I buried myself in the fresh clean planes of his body. “You smell nice,” I said.

“So do you.”

“So what is there to do here, anyway?”

“Well, there's the lake,” here he finished the toweling, “and I guess that's about it. It's really a very nice lake.”

“I'm sure it is.” And then I had a thought, and it was a very clever one, I know that much. I just can't remember what it was exactly, something to do with a lake or a lark alighting somewhere along something or other and—never mind, it doesn't matter. But this unremembered thought led to another, then another and another and another until at last I came by commodious pondering to an idea. I had an idea, and I rather liked it, you see. I told Izuru as much.

But I can't remember what that idea was because we never actually got to it. It involved going out, I know. Going out and to the lake and doing something there, but we didn't even get that far. Because we got lost on the way. The forest surrounding the lake was dense and thick and green in just the right way to trigger that whole lost-in-the-woods scenario. Izuru thought we should go left. I said right. We ended up doing an odd combination of both and neither that resulted in us going by a very large tree about three times before we decided maybe we were lost.

“What do we do now?” he said.

“Don't you have training for this sort of thing?”

“No, I cleanse hollows. I'm not a boyscout.” He paused a moment. “Wanna make out?”

So we did. We probably shouldn't have, but we did. For a good long while, too.

“But really, what do we do now?” I said.

“Keep walking?”

“Which way?”

The sun was still not even half-way across the sky, though enough so to be useless for navigation. We walked for another while after, until Izuru tripped on a root and fell down a hill.

“Found the road,” he called from the bottom.

“You sure did.”

So we followed it till we came to the lake, but even then we didn't finish what we set out to because of what happened next.

What happened was this.

We reached the lake with no more problems—actually, was it a picnic we were planning?—but once we got there we weren't quite alone. Not in the least.

Shuuhei and Toshiro. Standing there, no, sitting there in a rather romantically compromising position. What I mean to say is they were naked and copulating on a blanket by a tree. I won't go into positions or who was putting what where, but embarrassment was had all around when they noticed we were there. Shuuhei looked almost confused for a minute then apparently remembered he'd brought Izuru here before, so of course he'd come back sometime.

They had a bit of a conversation for a minute, left Toshiro and me both by the side with this odd sort of awkwardness. Because they were both still naked, you see.

Not nearly anything approaching comedy to them, but readily hilarious to us. It took a good deal more effort than I would normally spare to not break out into laughter. Actually, no. I laughed right in his (Toshiro's—and I did still call him that) face. Pointed, too. He wasn't very happy about that.

“Is he wearing handcuffs?” I said.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

“And. . . is that a whip over there?”

“Yes. He really likes that sort of thing.”

“I. . .” (laughter) “. . . see.”

“So what brings you here anyway?” he said in his usual serious manner.

“A date. You?”

“The same. Obviously.”

“You and Shuuhei? Never saw that one coming. Well, I almost did.” I also had a lame sense of humor back then, too.

“We would prefer,” he said, “if you never mentioned this to anyone.”

“I guess we could do that.”

Please remember that they were both still naked for all this.

Well, I think Shuuhei was maybe wearing socks. But that was it. Izuru and Shuuhei had finished talking by this point and were heading back over to us. Because apparently they liked the idea of a double date. It annoyed me at the same time it intrigued me.

They would get dressed shortly. We gave them a few minutes to themselves first, of course. And as much as I'd like to have known what all they were up to, I didn't look even once. Like sex they smelled, the both of them. Hung about them like an expensive perfume. I could tell because I was now an expert at that sort of thing, by virtue of the previous night, you see.

Let me take this moment, though, to explore something. It is common, in certain circles, when evaluating homosexual relationships, to do two things. The first is the assignation of specific and unchanging roles to each of the couple—top or bottom, seme or uke, whatever you call it. The second has to do with how those roles are usually assigned: by height. I will say now that I do not now nor have I ever in the past nor will I ever ascribe to those conventions. They are in general demeaning to all parties involved. Even if there is some grain of truth in the matter.

I say this because Shuuhei and Toshiro threw all those “conventions” to the wind in constructing their relationship. So, please, do not let that startle you any, if you are of such a disposition (and God help you if you are).

Anyway. According to Shuuhei there was a very nice little restaurant down the way (I had no idea what he meant by that) where we could eat. I'll tell you now I don't remember a thing about the restaurant itself, except to say it no longer exists, so I can only relate what happened therein.

It went something like this:

Firstly, I didn't let Izuru order. Definitely wasn't in the mood for that again. But that's all I remember in the way of food.

Secondly, Izuru and Shuuhei talked almost constantly, mostly inside jokes. You could tell without knowing they knew each other a long time beforehand. I certainly could, almost to the point of jealousy, especially with that one remark Izuru had made the other day about being his ex. But I was a better person than to let that interfere too noticeably with the general air of amiability.

And thirdly, Toshiro was himself an accomplished conversationalist. What I mean to say is he managed at several points to distract me from my likewise occupied boyfriend—I made sure to refer to him as such in my mind, and out loud. He even didn't mind my calling him by his first name. Said it didn't matter so long as he was off duty. Being off duty apparently meant a lot of things.

What this all amounted to was Toshiro and I noted we had not a few things in common. Not the least of which was our very recently joining in a relationship with the other two present. About which he had some singular gossip. Well, it wasn't so much gossip. More like embarrassing stories he'd heard. Those were shared for a good laugh all around.

You know what, this is starting to sound pretty boring, so I'll skip ahead to the good part.

So we went back down by the lake, around where we'd found them earlier. It still isn't too late in the day, and the sky's a nice blue color still.

They (Izuru and Shuuhei) wanted to try a foursome. We said no.

They wanted to go swimming. We assented.

Skinny dipping? We told them not to get their hopes up.

Of course, we were still pretty close to skinny dipping with just our underwear on (why no one had thought to bring any swim wear no one knew). And when I said good part, I obviously meant the part where we all got half-naked. I bet you'd like a description, too, wouldn't you? I'm sure.

I can't say I've ever been too much into the little boy look, but Toshiro did manage to pull it off fairly well (not that I'd ever say that to his face). The musculature was just right to suggest the strength behind them without being too obvious about it, and there was something appealing about his compactness. I imagine he was also flexible. He wasn't too entirely thrilled with the idea of swimming, especially in front of people who weren't Shuuhei, I could tell. His foot tested gingerly at the water's edge first, before he waded out.

Shuuhei was much more outgoing about it. A leap and a jump and in he was, and he knocked Toshiro over on his way. I could tell from the way he moved what Izuru and Toshiro had seen in him, what with the carefully hidden but subtly playful nature. Also, the muscles. The tattoos might make him look the bad boy, but he was always a bit of a child on the inside.

And then there was Izuru. Who I didn't see enter because I went in before he did. The water was cool and clean and clear all around and soothing immediately after the initial shock of cold. But right there behind me he splashed into the water and was embracing me.

“It's colder than I thought,” he said, pressing closer the while.

“Really,” I said. “It's still too bright for what you have in mind.” I turned around and splashed him.

Shuuhei heard and didn't want to be left out, so he did the same to Toshiro, who didn't appreciate it very much. You could see the struggle in his mind between acting serious or childlike. He opted for the latter, fortunately, and shoved Shuuhei under the water.

By this point Izuru was holding me under the water as well, and we kept going back and forth like that for much longer than was necessary. Till we were all exhausted and unable to continue, and we had to get up out of the water and rest on the grass a while beneath the bright and shining sun, even as it set into the horizon.

The breeze picked up, and Izuru rolled over to me.

“Ready to head back?” he said.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sure you don't want a foursome?” Shuuhei asked.

“Yes ” Toshiro and I said in unison.

So we left them there to their devices, and when we got back we had sex I can actually remember.

Specifically, Izuru found his stash of toys. The (fuzzy, pink) handcuffs were actually more comfortable than they looked. He had me naked and tied up to the bedpost like that, then he came back with a dildo. Wanted to see me sweat, he said. It's amazing, really, how quickly you'll degenerate to begging and pleading when there's nothing else you can do about it, how quickly you'll writhe from it and struggle against it as best you can. Pretty soon, wasn't a place on me wasn't pink or red or some shade between.

He really liked the idea of me bing tied up, though. Kept me bound even when he decided it was his turn to be fucked. It went something like this: I was still tied up, back on the sheets, arms above my head. He sat down on me much like the night before. Then he just started going at it. I should note that the dildo was still up my ass at this time—and it was set up so it wouldn't get stuck or anything.

And in case I didn't mention it before—condoms. We used those, too. Because safe sex is good sex.

It went on like that for a while, but didn't last near as long as the previous night. We also got to shower afterwards, because at one point he'd brought in some chocolate sauce and made some jokes about chocolate covered strawberries. Shower sex is really fun, by the way. I also made sure Izuru didn't fall asleep on my arm again.