Child

Name // Child
Author // Resident angstwhore, R. Brightside
Pairing(s) // (in order of appearance) Isshin/Ryuken -+- Quincycest -+- RenIshi -+- Mentions of ByaIchi and onesided RenBya

WARNINGS // Old man porn, baybee~!!
(You know you love it. But, then again, it’s only sexy if it’s Isshin with his pretty, naughty nurse. -snickercackle- Read Fire and Ice if you don’t get me.)
And a poor, poor lonely dreamin’ Uryuu, who is a voyeur -lovelove-

Oh, yeah, and PWP.

‘N this is for the ever wonderful BrucesGirl, the magic that beta’s my ‘fics when I FAIL -love-

ON WITH THE FIC~~

--

Uryuu had been standing by their door, listening to those wonderful moans. Isshin’s foreplay could last for hours, and that’s what had happened tonight. His father was panting, gasping, and he could hear the springs of the bed creaking as he arched his back into fingers roaming over his naked, prone body.

The young Quincy thought of his father in a way he knew was… strange for a father and son. But the informalities - formerly used for disrespect, now for the scolding attention of his father that he craved so badly – and every other thing made it that much better.

A flush crept to his cheeks as he heard the wet sounds of lubrication and the impatient, needy moans of his father, along with the soothing words of Isshin, calming them both, it seemed.

Uryuu’s hand snuck into his pants for the God-only-knows what time that night (morning, he saw on the clock on the wall), and he slowly massaged himself, his own fingers nothing compared to what he felt like his father’s would be like. Nimble, uncalloused with years of caressing a scalpel and needles rather than a bow.

”Uryuu… you lack talent, don’t you?”

Oh, Gods. His father’s voice, even though it was in his mind, was so utterly erotic. He let himself be absorbed in the dream, his soft gasps for air close to silent. He’d been doing this for what felt like years, after all.

Uryuu had been trying his best to pleasure his father, but seeing as he had never held a penis other than his own, it was difficult. The use of his tongue was new, too – although, he’d seen plenty of pictures, so it helped.

He caressed and licked as best as he could, not a moan leaving his father’s lips. Oh, Gods, he was so sexy when he was stoic. The thought that he was so inexperienced was humiliating… and fuck, he loved it.

Ryuken placed a hand in his son’s dark hair, and pulled his head up, forcing Uryuu to look him directly in the eye, the younger Quincy’s eyes clouded with confusion and lust, while Ryuken’s burned with seduction.

Their lips met with gentle passion, something they’d never shared beforehand, and it made Uryuu turn to something akin to jelly. He went lax against his father, allowing him to do anything he wanted…

The bed had started to rock, which meant that Uryuu could watch them. He turned to look at the pair on the bed through the crack on the door, and found with some degree of alarm that his father was hanging off the bed, eyes half-closed with ecstasy as he was fucked roughly, his body evidently trembling with the effort to stop himself falling off the mattress. He couldn’t seen Uryuu due to lack of glasses anyway, which was the younger Quincy’s only relief.

There was still that troublesome throbbing thing between his legs that he needed to take care of.

Isshin’s insistent thrusts had gotten Ryuken to yelp and gasp on each thrust, body arching off the bed to take the Shinigami’s rather large length and girth as far as he could without breaking.

The older Quincy often complained of this, but anyone who watched could tell he loved the pain of penetration, loved every thrust in.

Loved only Isshin.

The thought was enough to make Uryuu’s eyes fill with tears, and he watched his father’s face as he attempted, and failed, to absorb himself into a dream again. He was stuck watching this scene – both hideous and beautiful -

Uryuu shivered every time his father’s soft moans filled their bedroom (Isshin’s made him do so as well, but more with disgust), and Uryuu didn’t know which was worse – hearing Ichigo jerking off to relieve the tension, or listening to the air of his own father’s bedroom being permeated with the stench of heady lovemaking.

“Uryuu…”

The younger Quincy rolled back to rest against the wall, his father’s half-focused eyes on him too much. He could hear his father whispering soft words, but his mind contorted them, made them untrue (but so much more welcome).

“Uryuu… push your hips back more. Relax, now.”

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…

“There.”

Uryuu rocked his hips back and forth, his hands – gripping his father’s strong hips – giving him the leverage he needed. His eyes were closed with bliss, feeling his father buried deep inside him, providing a wonderful friction inside him, painful and erotic.

“You learn easily when it comes to this, it seems. It’s a shame how much you lack talent as a Quincy… maybe you’d do better at being a whore.”

The words stung, but the tightening he felt in his heart was enough to make him rock his hips harder, faster.

He whimpered, moaned, writhed, and tried his hardest to please, but his father acted as if nothing was happening. A sharp sting hit his buttocks whenever he rose, and Uryuu didn’t have the patience to see what his father was doing to him.

“Ahh, Uryuu… does being called a whore get you turned on?”

His dream was shattered by orgasm, and he wiped his hand on his boxers, darting into his room and shutting the door.

When he heard them climax in unison, Uryuu started to cry.

He didn’t know why his father treated him with such distaste – it made him ache. Maybe… he wouldn’t ache so much if he stopped loving him.

--

It felt better to really have something inside him – something to take his mind off his father.

He honestly didn’t care who it was, but the soft, breathy whispers of his name told him who was thrusting into him, over and over again penetrating him deep inside. The tattooed Shinigami’s hands roamed over his chest and toned stomach, chapped lips pressed against his neck and shoulders, breathing in the scent of the herbal shampoo that Uryuu had used only that afternoon.

“’Shida…”

His voice was deep and masculine, nothing like his father’s. It rolled over his senses, caused the dam of emotion to creak under the weight, made the waters stir and ripple. He didn’t understand why he was giving into this man… a Shinigami, no less.

Renji had been lusting after him, silently, for a while, now. And the invite to the Quincy’s bed was evidently the only thing on his mind. He had known the Quincy was a virgin, and was more than obliged to make that untrue.

Usually, the red-head would be pounding his ‘lover’ for the night into the bed, making them scream, but Uryuu was surely made of porcelain – he would break if he thrust too hard. The Quincy was beautiful, and he didn’t want to shatter such a thing.

The room was filled with breathy moans and whispers, the bed’s rhythmic creaks almost absorbing them.

The dam began to give in, and so did the Quincy, rocking back into the thrusts slowly and rolling his head back to rest on Renji’s shoulder. The Shinigami deserved more – especially with the stress of being rejected countless times by his captain, with more than sour words from the orange-haired lover that the Kuchiki had claimed.

“Renji…”

Uryuu almost purred in delight at the sound of Renji’s moan, eyes soft. Maybe this was the lover he had been striving for so long… someone to cradle him when he cried, someone to make love to him gently with soft words in his ear.

… Someone to love him.

Uryuu pushed the Shinigami back, and then changed their position with some minor difficulty, allowing Renji to see the dark flush over his snow-pale cheeks and his half-lidded and unfocussed ice-blue eyes.

Upon joining once again, Uryuu wrapped his arms around the red-head, trying his best to look into the dark eyes above him before their lips met with such passion that the Quincy moaned delicately, a shiver tickling his spine.

Their tongues danced almost furiously, the opposite to the gentle thrusts that created the wonderful friction that Uryuu had dreamed of.

They reached climax together, and the Quincy fell asleep in someone’s arms for the first time since childhood, lips almost curving up in a smile.

It was when Uryuu woke up to an empty bed, devoid of a note, that he realized that life was much too complicated to be a fairy tale.

Fairytales were for children… and he had convinced himself long ago that he wasn’t a child.

Yet, he found himself sobbing outside his father’s bedroom that night, wondering why he didn’t receive love from the man he silently admired, from the Shinigami he had invited to his bed and shared a night of passion with.

Perhaps, he was still a child.