The Question

Written for a contest in the Minty Cherries Club on Y!Gallery with the theme of Renji and Shuuhei's first anything. (I write there as RegencyCathy: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/user/regencycathy/)

The Question

He had to know why. He’d wanted to ask for ages. But it was Sempai! But tonight, this seemed the right night to ask. Sempai was graduating from the academy in a few days, and the odds were that when Renji would graduate, he wouldn’t be assigned to the same division as Hisagi Shuuhei. Even if he was, there was no saying if he would relax like this—alone—with Renji ever again. And now was better than later, especially if Sempai was angry he'd asked. By the time Renji graduated, he might have forgotten.

“Sempai, I would like to ask you a personal question. May I?” asked Renji politely, too politely perhaps.

“Go ahead,” said Hisagi, his voice full of mellowness, rolling his head over to look at the redhead curiously, so he could see the very tattoo he wanted to ask about.

“Why do you have 69 tattooed on your face, Sempai?” asked Renji, licking his lips, noting he was breathing a little oddly.

“It’s in honor of the man that saved my life as a kid, Kensei Muguruma,” said Hisagi in a voice that was grave, cold, precise. “He has it marked on his stomach, and I saw it as a kid and did mine to remind me of how come I’m alive and to remember how hollows attack the defenseless and how soul reapers protect and save them.”

Oh. Disappointment lay on him so heavily, it was almost like he’d learned someone had died. Well, his own fantasies had been unlikely, but this, this wasn’t even remotely something he could turn to bring up the deeper question, the question he hadn’t even wanted to admit he wanted to ask until this answer had killed his fantasies dead. It had killed his hope. He struggled to try to try to find something to say.

Maybe something on Renji’s face showed a bit of his feelings, for Hisagi added in a softer voice, "No, I don’t know why he had it, Renji, and, no, I didn’t know its adult meaning when I had it put on my face.”

Renji blushed bright red, humiliated. He turned his head away from those glittering dark eyes, from that tattoo that seemed to mock him now, saying, “Dirty fucking cocksucker” to him.

“Did you think I put it there because I had a male lover I wanted to remember?” asked Hisagi’s voice, its tone now lower, sexier. The tone and question seemed to burn a path from Renji’s ear to his crotch.

“I think that’s why Kensei had it, right where his lover could see it when he sucked his dick.”

Oh, god, Sempai had said `dick.’ Renji’s own dick was rock hard now. The words behind him seemed to be coming from closer, much closer. Renji closed his eyes and struggled to stay calm.

“Kinda funny I put mine by my mouth, so that if I had a lover, everytime he saw my mouth and my tattoo, he could remember the feel of his cock sinking down my throat.”

Renji’s cock leaped violently, and he let out a sound that was half a whimper, half a gasp.

“I thought about tattooing my bicep instead of my face, too,” mused Hisagi, his voice now so close, his head had to be right there, just behind him. Oh, god, what if he found out that Renji was hard? What would Sempai do?

“What do you think, Renji, should I have put it there instead?” asked Hisagi, his breath tickling Renji’s ear.

“Sempai,” cried out Renji, shuddering, jerking away.

But two hands on his shoulders suddenly made his back hit the floor hard. His erection was tenting his robes, and there hovering above him was that face—upside down. But the tattoo still read perfectly, “69.”

“Please,” said Renji. “Can I—“ and then his voice failed along with his courage.

But Hisagi jerked open his robe, and there above him was the object of so many of his fantasies. He opened his mouth and arched up his neck, wanting. And then, oh, god, Hisagi was over him, jerking at Renji’s own robe, his mouth finding Renji’s cockhead only a second after his eager mouth took that cock he’d fantasized about sucking for forever—fuck, before he even really thought about being gay. Fuck, that tattoo had put the whole thing into his mind from the first time he saw that 69!

But this—oh god, this was no fantasy! Sempai’s cock slammed down into his throat as his mouth did something to Renji that made it clear to him Sempai was very, very good at this. He struggled to breathe out of his nose, his hands coming up to push the fabric falling on him away. Oh god, Sempai’s heavy balls were smacking him on the nose—and god, god, they smelled of maleness, of sex, and of—mint? God, god, what Sempai was doing with his tongue, his hands, his throat—he cried out around the thick length fucking his face, bucking his hips up, lost in the sensations.

And then he felt one of Sempai’s fingers along his dick getting sucked along with his cock, and he felt a pang of doubt—was his cock too thin for Sempai’s taste—it wasn’t as thick as his as all. Did he feel the need to suck his fingers, too because Renji wasn’t man enough? The worry made him struggle to please—and oh, it really wasn’t a struggle. God, to feel that cock thrusting in him, to taste the precum, to feel the weight of those loaded balls on his face, the smell, god, the smell . . . and the sound of the saliva, the sucking, that dirty, dirty sound of sucking . . .

And then a long finger plunged inside Renji’s ass, and he screamed around the cock in his mouth as his body exploded with the force of his orgasm. He hadn’t warned Sempai! But that mouth, that talented mouth, was sucking him harder, taking down his cum, pulling more out. Even as the pleasure took him, Renji wanted to curse, to hit himself—Sempai’s cock was still hard in his mouth, he hadn’t pleased him. And when at last that head lifted from his spent cock, he sucked harder, determined he wouldn’t fuck up his one chance. But Sempai was pulling his finger and his cock out—away, and Renji’s hands reached up and gripped his ass, struggling to try to please.

“Renji, let go,” came the order—and that, that hit him like he had been punched in the cock rather than sucked to the best orgasm of his life.

“I wanna watch myself come in you, fool, I’m not leaving,” snapped Hisagi, making Renji’s hands fall away in shock, his head thudding down on the floor with an audible thump.

But that cock was back at his mouth, and those glittering dark eyes were looking down at him, that face, oh, god, looking at him like he was, he was—the hottest fucking thing in the world.

“Take it, Renji, take it,” moaned Hisagi.

His eyes met his Sempai’s, his crush’s, and they must have told him all he needed to know because soon he was again being overwhelmed with hard dick thrusting in his face, fucking him fast and deep. Those balls, so big, were wacking his chin, and those eyes—oh, god, and that smile, that wicked, wicked smile.

“I’m going to shoot in your mouth and pull out and spray your face and that red, red hair of yours,” growled Hisagi. “Yeah, fuck, yeah, that’s good, that good, fuck! Suck that cock, Renji, suck it for me, ah, yeah, gonna blow, oh, god, yeah, ahhhhhhhh!”

Cum—god—cum—Sempai’s cum, oh, god, he wanted it all, wanted every drop, but Sempai pulled away and sprayed him, covered him, even as he moved his mouth trying to catch more of it, more of Sempai, of Hisagi, of Shuuhei. And then it was over, and he lay there his robe half off and half on, his mouth and throat feeling a little sore, the taste of Shuuhei’s cum in his mouth, and feel of it all over him and his robe. Sempai was still straddling him, struggling to catch his breath, his cock, oh that gorgeous cock, now drooping adorably.

“Shuuhei,” Renji breathed out, “thank you.” And then, feeling daring, he pushed Sempai back a bit and pulled himself up, one hand flying out to grip that short dark hair. He pressed a kiss on that scarred and tattooed face, knowing he might get hurt for that. Getting blown, sixty-nining was one thing, but kissing—well, that was for fags only, for hardcore faggots, for gayboys, for queers, for people into lovey-dovey shit. But he wanted that kiss, wanted it bad, wanted once in his life to kiss the man he could now admit he loved, really, really loved.

The hand on his ponytail jerking his head back with a hiss was expected. It didn’t hurt, really. But Renji didn’t open his eyes, even when he was shoved back down on his back. But the kiss that ripped into his mouth, that devoured his tongue, that seemed to eat at him, made him suddenly giddy—and hard again. And then Shuuhei lifted up his head, saying, “Renji, your robe is a sticky mess—it needs to come off now.”

“You did it, Shuuhei, you take it off,” said Renji with wicked grin, rocking up his body into Sempai’s, rubbing his erection against his still soft one.

“So all the sweetness is gone with the first time, eh, Renj?”

“Taste me and see, Shuu,” purred Renji.

Hisagi Shuuhei smiled. “I promise you, I will taste every bit of you,” he said.

And, later, as Renji was on his hands and knees, he found out just how much a man of his word his Sempai was. “Don’t!” cried Renji, “That’s dirty, Shuuhei, at least let me clean it first! Damn it, my shithole ain’t never gonna taste sweet, you idiot!”

But Shuuhei raised his head and smacked his lips with a lewdness that made Renji quiver and moan. “Oh, but it is sweet, Renj,” said his new lover, with a wicked smile, “Cherry sweet. And it makes me in the mood to do some cherry picking.”

Renji collapsed on the floor with a moan, unable to hold himself up. And that was when Shuuhei picked him up and moved them to the bed for the first time.