Most people would agree that having someone tell you they hated you was a bad thing, but obviously they hadn't been introduced to the opinion in much the same way as Kurosaki Ichigo was having it right now.

"I hate you so much."

It was the tears that dripped down onto his cheeks that made Ichigo open his eyes despite the dark to see the startling siluette hovering over him. He was greeted with a sniffle that seemed much closer to his face than he had anticipated.

And then he was being kissed.

And not just sneakily either: it was hard, full mouth-on-mouth with teeth bruising his lips and fingers pressing into his bones. He knew this taste even if he had never experienced it before, and didn't even need to think of a name before desire flooded his body and he was groaning and reaching and touching back.

There was a shocked pause when he started kissing back, but then it rebegan with even more intensity. Within a matter of moments Ichigo had gone hard under his thin cotton pants and he was trying out moves with his tongue he would have blushed to even think of a day before.

The little whispered "hate you"s continued even when he was kissing the daylights out of the guy on top of him. He didn't mind; that's just the way things were between them.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I hate you so much Ichigo, oh fuck."

Their hips met with rough little thrusts and Ichigo could feel a heartbeat under his fingers pounding out the rhythm.

His shirt was bunched up around his neck and useless, now; he pulled it off and threw it over his shoulder. Urgent hands helped in getting the elastic of his pants over his obvious erection and then all of a sudden it was so fucking hot. He cried out in pleasure and shock at the suddenness of the skin-on-skin contact. Fingers dug into the heavy muscles on his shoulders as whimpers entered his ears; he wasn't sure if they were his own.

It was rough, hot, and fast.

It was not what a perfect first time was supposed to be like.

When Ichigo came, his eyes rolled back in his head and one perfect name left his mouth in a tearing scream.

Looking back on it, he was rather sure he had wrapped his arms floppily around the sweaty back and pressed his nose into mussed hair.

When he woke, the sun was coming in through his open blinds and the sweat was dried on his skin and on the sheets.

When he woke, it all felt like an unsettlingly real dream.