Rating: T for implied stuff and such
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, no. Bleach isn't mine.
He had to know what he was doing.
He had to.
There was no other explanation as to why he would be jealous of a fucking ice-cube. None! Sure it was an unbearably hot day, but was it absolutely necessary for him to tilt his head back just the right amount to show off his throat in the most erotic way he'd ever witnessed? And did he have to have an ice-cube from the bowl sitting on the porch next to his chair and slowly rub it up and down that long expanse of bare skin? And did he have to moan like he did when they were in bed together while doing it?
To top it all off, he'd taken his hat off. Unbelievable. The only times he'd seen the man without his hat were when he was bathing and when he was sleeping. No one else saw the man except him without that stupid hat. Least of all a fucking ice-cube! There was no way he was going to let this keep going! If he did, then the tightness in his pants would most likely progress into a sticky mess in his pants. That wouldn't be fun to clean. And Urahara would make fun of his lack of control. Well it wouldn't be his fault with the stupid blond over there looking like that fucking ice-cube was giving him the best freaking orgasm of his life. That was his job! Just because he'd been busy with school and shinigami duties did not mean some ice-cube could take over his job on a hot day.
Yes! Finally! After knowing the man for years and his manipulative tendencies he finally figured out one of his traps before he fell into it! This time he wouldn't fall for it, and Urahara would just have to suffer. He was not going to be an immature teenager like his lover was planning on, stomp over, toss the ice-cube away and demand that they go to the bedroom and make up for lost time.
Hold it. The only way he could win was withholding sex? Ichigo looked down at his painfully tight pants and back to Urahara. He repeated this process a few times before his brain processed what he'd just pledged to do.
With a forlorn sigh in regards to his short lived victory, Ichigo stood up and made his way over to his smirking lover.
Well, he didn't win against his lover, but he sure as hell showed that fucking ice-cube.