Not Close Enough

Only a short while later after the substitute shinigami cleared enough places for them to sit and eat, he heard the door sliding open.
“There, that’s all done. Now, where were we?” Renji asked, striding in and closing the door behind him.
“Stuffing your face as always,” Ichigo answered.
Renji lowered himself to the floor, kneeling close to Ichigo but not touching him. Eagerly he attacked the plate of food Ichigo set near him in his effort to eliminate that black hole in his gut.
“Saw hat and clogs in the hallway,” said Ichigo.
Renji swallowed a large mouthful, almost choking. “What? He didn’t give you any crap did he?”
“Relax, Renji. He just said to bring the dishes out when we were done and clean them then,” Ichigo held up his hand. “I told him we were going to be working on how you dress.”
“You really think he’s going to buy that?” Renji asked.
“Either that or focusing my spirit energy,” Ichigo added.
“Mm hm,” Renji mumbled, taking another bite. He washed down the suddenly dry rice with a long gulp of tea.
“But I think you know as well as I do he’s not going to buy it,” Ichigo added.
Renji stared at him, a look of surprise on that side burned face. “And you have a problem with that how?”
“Who said I had a problem with it? Just saying Hat and Clogs probably knows what’s going on and he’s giving us the perfect excuse to be alone together,” Ichigo said, then stopped himself.
“He’s a smart man. Cause there is a lot of work we need to do with that raw power of yours,” Renji said, putting down his chopsticks.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to believe THAT excuse,” Ichigo said, moving one of the trays to the side. Renji felt Ichigo‘s hand pressing on his thigh, along with hot breath pulsing on his neck.
“Like hell I wouldn't,” Renji answered, his face inches from Ichigo. Both hands pressed on the red head's thighs, Ichigo huddled on hands and knees before him, eyes dark brown with hunger.
“You’ve been driving me up the wall long enough. Time for payback,” Ichigo panted.
“And what are ya going to do exactly?” Renji asked, glaring defiantly back.
“Getting me all damn hard during dinner. Shit, you’re driving me up the wall, so what do you expect I’d do?” Ichigo growled, pouncing.
Renji fell backwards onto his futon, pressed under the substitute’s weight.
Ichigo pinned him down with one hand on his shoulder, and then straddled Renji’s hips. He was surprised when Renji did not fight back, rather he lay back, letting Ichigo pin one of his arms above his head. Aggressively Ichigo brought his mouth on over Renji’s, struggling to push his lips apart, but Renji kept them closed.
For a second he felt tension, then all of a sudden, Renji’s hips bucked up, and the world rolled to the side. Now he was pinned under the other man’s greater weight, legs wrapped around Renji’s waist while their crotches collided. Seizing Ichigo’s hands Renji pinned them behind his head, and grinned down at the surprised substitute.
“What the hell took you so long to jump me, dumbass?” Renji laughed.
“What you think I want hat and clogs watching me jump your bones?” Ichigo snorted. “Please!”
“Ha, you’re slick Ichigo. You’re definitely learning,” Renji crowed with pride. Just like a damn rooster with all those tufts of hair sticking up, Ichigo thought. Then Renji’s mouth descended, tongue thrusting forward to lick and probe.
Ichigo relaxed, giving a bit of resistant so Renji had to coax his mouth further open with that delicious tongue. He parted his legs so Renji could side one knee between them, half-straddling Ichigo’s thigh to rest his weight on them. Shifting so they were laying on his futon Renji pressed the substitute's chest under his, dominating the kiss.
Rubbing down Renji’s back, Ichigo grabbed the back of his leather belt before dipping his hands between Renji’s shirt and the jeans waistband. He felt the soft cloth of boxer shorts, and then dug his fingers in the crease of Renji’s ass. He gripped tightly, squeezing hard. A loud grunting moan filled his mouth as Renji shifted, and rocked down so his cock brushed Ichigo’s hard solid thigh. That brought his thigh rubbing deliciously on Ichigo’s solidifying cock, straining at the jeans seams.
Renji felt Ichigo’s other hand reaching up to slide between his headband and forehead. He did not protest or break the hard kiss when Ichigo’s fingers undid the knot in his bandanna and it fell away. Or when those same fingers yanked out his hair holder, and he felt the release of tightness an d the soft motion of his hair falling down around the other boy’s face. Between him, he worked his arm, yanking Ichigo’s shirt up out of his jeans and rubbing his hand on bare flesh. Ichigo’s hand slid down from Renji’s scalp, diverting to rub and squeeze the spiral markings on his exposed upper biceps, then traced back, and twisted around his long hair.
Resting his weight on Ichigo’s body, Renji freed his hands to pull at Ichigo’s shirt and slip it up. He broke their kiss, panting heavily as Ichigo looked up at him with half shut eyes. “Damn,” Ichigo whispered.
“Hang on a sec. Lemme get rid of some of the clothes in the way,” Renji offered, sitting up. Ichigo kept his hands on Renji’s waist, yanking his shirt out of his jeans while Renji bent down again. The world vanished in lime green and yellow for a moment, and then he saw Ichigo’s eyes wide, flickering in strange patterns as if seeing a fly buzzing.
He chuckled, realizing the kid was following the lines of his markings. Grabbing Ichigo’s wrist he pulled it up to rest on his chest.
“Why so shy all of a sudden? Ya saw me in the shower…”
“They’re just the same as when you’re a soul reaper, damn,” Ichigo whispered, rubbing his flesh. Now both his hands were running along the lines of black, caressing and exploring them, which drove Renji to writhe on top of him.
In retaliation Renji’s fingers smoothed down the scars on either shoulder, and Ichigo moaned at the contact of a hot tongue sliding along the middle one between his pectorals. Ichigo’s right hand slid up the spirals on his arm, then across his collarbone to his cheek. It finished with his index dragging in a square pattern on his brow, fingers then sliding into his hairline. Long soft strands bathed Ichigo's chest, adding to the stimulation he felt.
“Damn…” Ichigo hissed between his teeth. He never figured the fingers rubbing at his exposed nipples would drive him to the edge as much as the pressure on his groin. Nor the moist tongue lapping all over his scars either. Indeed, he had his own markings of interest, which would not drive his eyes blind like trying to trace Renji’s tattoo lines, but every bit as memorable.
He half-expected Renji to say something when the vice captain straighten up and looked down at him, eyes half hidden by those dark black lashes. Narrowed to slits, his eyes almost resembled that of a cobra or serpent, and the mental image was enhanced by all those patterns. He couldn’t decide if Renji looked more serpentine or feline, but it didn’t’ surprise him considering what he remembered Zabimaru’s spirit resembling.
Similarly, Renji saw the wrinkles on Ichigo’s brow reminiscent of those on Zangetsu’s. He too had watched Ichigo’s spirit duel with him those three days, seeing the slender movements of the old man in the long coat that mimicked Ichigo’s fluid movements. Such wisdom in battle forced into such a young package.
“Ya look like him, Strawberry,” Renji whispered, between kisses on his lips.
“Who?”
“Your spirit. Just as much as you’re thinking I do mine,” said Renji.
“Me and old man Zangetsu?” Ichigo asked, frowning.
“Just how seriously you’re looking at me now. He has let his markings on you. The way you move when you’re charging, or the stare you give me. It’s strange.”
“Huh, imagine that.”
“Plus I like that damn coat on ya when you go Bankai. It’s freaking sexy,” Renji whispered, winking at him.
“Heh, now because of that…” Ichigo trailed off, and then tugged Renji down on top of him. Somehow, through the urgent tugging he managed to unfasten Renji’s belt at the same time the other soul reaper did his.
He peeled Renji’s pants down his hips admiring the movement of the lines that disappeared under his boxers. Renji heard Ichigo suddenly burst into a snicker, frowning. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
“Your damn boxers… who the hell got them with hearts on them?”
“Rukia did all right, you smartass!” Renji huffed. “It was that or the bunnies!”
“The hearts are better,” Ichigo laughed, his chest heaving up and down under Renji’s hand flattened against it.
“Oh yeah, and yours are any better?” he asked, sliding down so he sat on Ichigo’s knees. “You were wearing those tight ones that cut off yer circulation, and these are damn boring.”
“Hey I like my underwear you freak,” Ichigo snapped. “Yuzu buys ‘em for me! If my dad did then they’d be a hell of a lot more lame then yours are!”
“If I had a choice I’d wear fundoshi or nothing at all,” Renji cursed. “But the damn zipper in these jeans rubs against my dick if I don’t wear them!”
Ichigo laughed again. “You and most other guys. But Boxers…”
Renji snorted, grabbing the elastic of Ichigo's underwear and snapping it. “What’s wrong with em? They give ya more freedom then those tight things. Shit.”
“Hey wait!” Ichigo protested, watching Renji climb off him. Yanking on Ichigo’s jeans he pulled them down and upwards, causing Ichigo to bump his ass on the futon. Along with them came the tight white underpants. He tossed them in a bundle into the pile of clothes already increasing in height.
“Now help me with these things,” Renji urged, pointing to his open pants. Ichigo willingly helped him shimmy out of them so Renji now only wore the infamous boxers.
“Damn it this isn’t fair, you idiot,” Ichigo complained, staring up at him. Renji settled back down, pressing his underwear covered cock on Ichigo’s bare body.
“You teased me about ‘em now I can tease ya back with them, Strawberry,” Renji taunted, pulling the comforter and throwing it over them both. Legs intertwined, arms and hands clasping around their respective torsos. Fusing lips, they humped and ground against each other while sharing a similar pressure of tongues rubbing.
Double handfuls of the vice captain’s hair were smooth and silky in his grabbing fingers. Ichigo remained below, enjoying Renji’s weight pushing down onto him. He half guessed where this would go, and hoped Renji wouldn’t stop them now that they were gripping one another’s asses, nipping lips in the effort to taste and explore their mouths. Repeatedly Renji’s canines nipped and bit at folds of his skin, so he was sure he’d have a series of suspicious bruises there tomorrow.
Soon a pair of heart print boxers ejected from under the blanket, forming a crumpled bit of cloth to the other side of the bed. For a moment Renji’s hand slipped under the pillow next to his, then plunged down. Mischievously he smirked at the substitute. Ichigo painted at the sensation of Renji’s hand wrapping around his cock, squeezing and rubbing. Bending his legs Ichigo positioned himself more completely, raising his hips while releasing Renji’s hair. While flailing the fingers of his left hand brushed against the pillow and something hard and long. Squeezing it he realized it felt like a toothpaste tube or suntan lotion container. He gripped it tightly when Renji’s head vanished under the blanket, and hot slickness enveloped his mouth.
“Ah crap,” he moaned, rolling his head back on the pillow. A suckling sensation of lips and tongue along his cock wrenched more spasms of pleasure, causing all his blood to rush south. The sound of something ripping open preceded that of something being tugged up around his cock.
Renji’s head reappeared, dark brown eyes holding an unspoken question. They diverted to the left, where Ichigo clenched the tube tightly. The blanket fell off Renji’s shoulders, landing around his legs. Cool air tingled Ichigo’s skin. He wrapped his fingers around Renji’s cock, dragging them slowly along its light pink surface with a slow deliberate pull. Still he felt something encasing his cock, so he glanced down.
“What the hell did you put… down there…” Ichigo asked, straining to look.
“Just thought it’d be easier that way,” Renji said, shifting back so he pinned one hand next to Ichigo’s clenched fist. “Glad you found that.”
“What?” Ichigo asked, moving his hand away so he held the object overhead. He wasn’t surprised when he saw the brand name of something he’d seen in a store not long ago.
“I’ll show you,” Renji offered. “That’s one thing I found out about from Urahara as soon as I was stupid enough to ask him, and got more than I bargained for.”
“You asked Hat and Clogs about THIS?” Ichigo asked, not relinquishing it when Renji tried to snatch it away.
“He said the condoms were slick, but I figured you’d need a little extra help,” Renji mumbled, not looking at him.
“You could’ve asked me. I’d know where to get it,” Ichigo mumbled, reading the chemicals on the tube to take his eyes off from Renji’s embarrassed stare. He too knew that looking his lover in the eyes wasn’t going to help him relax.
“Like I said before, didn’t want to create more problems. Figured since you were… um… I just…”
“Because I’m younger than you? Please Renji I know something about sex. My old man’s a doctor after all!”
“You’re just so damn shy I figured… aww forget it,” Renji grumbled, suddenly tensing from his perch on Ichigo’s hips.
“And why’d you put the rubber on ME instead of you, huh?” Ichigo glared up at him.
“I figured you’d… well… wanna be the one to… shit…” Renji rubbed the back of his neck reaching under his hair to do so.
“At least I know you’re not going to stop me this time,” Ichigo answered, panting up at him. “Cause if you did I’d really be pissed.”
“You mean you don’t mind if you’re… on the bottom?” Renji asked tentatively, rubbing his chest. Ichigo handed him the tube reverently.
“If I didn’t want it I’d be where you were now. Besides, who the hell says we can’t um… trade?”
“Heh, that’s a huge load off my mind,” Renji confessed, relaxing as Ichigo rubbed his thighs. He still sat to one side, his hand on Ichigo’s bent knees.
“So are we going to um… you know… or not?” Ichigo asked, half sitting up.
“Maybe it’d be easier if you sat on my lap like…” Renji mused, puling Ichigo to sit up.
Although talking about it made it seem awkward, Ichigo nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, opening the container. He smeared warm slick product onto his fingers, reaching down between his spread legs to push a few fingers inside.
Renji stopped him, instead pushing him backwards. “Lie back and relax,” he urged.
However Ichigo shook his head no. “Your fingers and mine, dummy,” Ichigo said, grabbing Renji’s hand and slathering it with the lubricant.
Renji nodded seriously, sliding his forefinger alongside Ichigo’s inside the lad. Massaging, working and stretching muscles that caused him to grit his teeth and moan. Reflexively he bent his knees, lifting his hips so Renji could push a third finger in with his one. Only Renji's hissing pants from overhead filled the tense silence along with Ichigo’s sharp gasps.
Renji pulled out another package, and this time squeezed his eyes shut when Ichigo helped him tear it open and fumblingly unroll the condom onto his own cock. Ichigo snickered at the neon green on Renji’s cock, in contrast to his dark red hair curling at the base. “What…. It was the only kind they had…”
“In your size?” Ichigo taunted. “Please. Every guy says that.”
“Yeah, same in Soul Society. Imagine that,” Renji laughed, rubbing lightly on Ichigo’s cock as Ichigo squeezed and felt the slick rubber sheath on the vice captain’s.
“Wondered why the hell mine was pink. Shit, you should have really asked me when you were going to buy condoms, idiot!”
“All right, all right,” Renji playfully complained back, kneeling between Ichigo’s knees. “Now, ya ready?”
“I’ve been ready all damn day, just do it, or I’ll do it for you!” Ichigo growled, squeezing Renji’s erection.
Renji slid a hand under his hips, waiting for Ichigo to pull the tip of his cock towards his anus. He flinched when the tip slid along the periphery, slamming his hands on side of Ichigo’s right shoulder to brace himself. Ichigo wasn’t sure if he shifted his hips first or Renji pushed in, yet a stabbing pain of prolonged pressure ripped through him. As if someone had shoved a poker up his ass, and literally it WAS Renji inside him. Slick and lubricated, he stopped when halfway in.
“Why didn’t ya tell me you were in pain, damn it,” Renji whispered.
“I ah… thought… it’d hurt… shit…” Ichigo confessed, eyes squeezed shut.
“Easy, just take deep breaths, and lemme help,” Renji shushed, bending down to kiss him. He pulled Ichigo up with both hands, feeling the death grip of the younger shinigami on his shoulders to hold himself steady.
“Why aren’t you… all the way… inside?”
“Doesn’t have ta be that way to feel good,” Renji whispered, holding Ichigo partly off his lap. Locking arms behind the boy’s shoulders he flexed his knees up, sitting on his ankles. Ichigo hung off his shoulders, bending backwards .
“Should I ah… do this…”
“Yes… that’s… oh hell.. perfect!” Renji yelped, when Ichigo swung back and pivoted, using Renji’s shoulders to cling to. His fingers dug deeply into tattooed flesh, leaving bruises. Desperately he thrust up, while Ichigo wrapped his knees to straddle Renji’s thighs, enjoying the glimpses of his pink flesh against striped tan.
“Ah… ah… I…” Ichigo panted, eyes alternating between being squeezed shut and opening to see Renji’s dark eyes staring down at him.
“That’s it… just like that…” Renji panted, cradling Ichigo’s backside and helping him move. He still restricted his entire cock from plunging inside, rather using the sizable tip and front half to spread and thrust Ichigo further apart. The tip of Ichigo’s cock bumped and rubbed Renji’s abdominal muscles.
“R… Renji… it feels…” Ichigo panted, tossing his head back with the increased pace.
“Can’t last… gonna… cum…” Renji moaned. Ichigo froze in place, shaking as he tried pushing himself completely on Renji. Deep inside himself Renji’s cock slipped, pushing him over the edge. Renji cursed, then yelled Ichigo’s name. hot fire spurted through Ichigo, contained in a flimsy bit of rubber. Next time he would insist they didn’t need such barriers between them.
They trembled together at that moment, fingers squeezing and muscles pumping. Then the surface of the futon collided with their sides as they pitched to the left. Renji panted, amazed that he was buried to the hilt inside Ichigo’s muscular ass, while Ichigo shivered. Not wanting to move, Renji struggled to pull the substitute into his arms, and cover them with the bedspread.
Side by side they panted, softly caressing their lips with one another’s. The substitute admired how Renji’s hair plastered over his darkly marked brow, softening the angular predatory nature of his features. Simultaneously Renji stroked and kissed Ichigo’s cheek, tasting youth and strength there. Neither had the courage to say anything after the event, simply basking in the afterglow of well being that descended.
Only sleep could follow such an event. They would speak once they awakened, Ichigo wearily decided. Renji shifted enough to pull himself out, curling around Ichigo and holding him so they spooned together. He tucked his chin into Ichigo’s neck, possessively wrapping him in tattooed arms. Licking his lips in contentment Ichigo let himself succumb to sleep. Renji remained awake a bit longer, mind taking in all that had happened before joining his lover in slumber.