Whatever You Want

Ichigo x Ishida (Yaoi!)


"Say it again," Ichigo growled happily as he stumbled through the bedroom door, dragging Ishida with him.

"You heard me," the Quincy said, trying to sound annoyed but not quite managing it because Ichigo was gnawing on the side of his throat.

"I want to make absolutely certain I heard you right," Ichigo chuckled, kissing his way up and down the tendon that went from Ishida's jaw to his shoulder. "I want to hear you say it again. Go on: 'Whatever…'"

"Whatever you want," Ishida gasped out, tipping his head to the side as Ichigo sucked at the pulse point right below his ear. "Anything—ahh!"

"Anything," Ichigo echoed, winding his fingers through Ishida's hair. "Anything I say?"

"Anything," Ishida agreed breathlessly, turning his head and seeking Ichigo's lips. Ichigo groaned as he covered the Quincy's mouth and pulled him closer. He was already hard – hell, his cock had started throbbing the moment Ishida had leaned close and whispered those words – and he pushed a leg between Ishida's thighs, rubbing his trapped erection against Ishida's crotch. Ishida moaned and rocked his hips, and Ichigo could feel the Quincy's own arousal growing as he rode Ichigo's thigh. "Anything," he repeated, clutching Ichigo's hair with one hand and his ass with the other. "Tell me…"

"C'mere." Ichigo's voice was already tight with desire. He disentangled himself from Ishida enough to back up a few steps, towing his lover with him. Ishida seemed to think they were headed for the bed, but Ichigo had other plans and pulled him back toward the armchair at the foot of the bed. "The first thing I want," Ichigo purred, lowering himself onto the chair and pulling Ishida to stand between his legs, "is you. Naked."

Ishida inhaled sharply and wavered a little – both of them had been drinking sake; not too much though, but just enough. Ichigo grasped Ishida's narrow hips to steady him, then pushed his hands up under the Quincy's shirt, humming with pleasure as he slid them up and down his sides. Ichigo couldn't get enough of the feel of Ishida's skin – warm, smooth, and dry – and the hard muscles beneath it. He looked up at Ishida and felt a surge of satisfaction at the expression on his face – brows knit, cheeks flushed, eyes anxious, as if he wasn't sure what Ichigo planned to do.

"Naked," Ichigo repeated, as if Ishida could have forgotten, then gave him a wicked grin as he leaned up, took the zipper tab of Ishida's shirt in his teeth, and dragged it down. His shirt was already open to his breastbone, showing the hollow at the base of his throat and an edge of collar bone, but Ichigo knew he wanted to see more. A lot more. Ichigo shook his head so that the ends of Ishida's shirt fell free, then spit out the zipper tab and happily buried his face in Ishida's stomach.

"Ahh—Kurosaki!" The Quincy's thin fingers grabbed Ichigo's head as he kissed and sucked at the lean muscle of Ishida's belly, tugging Ishida's pants down so he could twirl his tongue in his navel and nip at the thin trail of fine, dark hair that lead further down. The smooth skin grew hotter as Ichigo's mouth traveled lower, and when his lips met cloth, he kissed his way down the front of Ishida's pants until he could feel the warm flesh stirring under the fabric, and Ishida's fingers were pulling at his hair. Ichigo tilted his head just enough to see Ishida's face and grinned as he bit the zipper tab on his fly and pulled it down with his teeth.

Ishida's stomach smelled like soap and water and skin, but the scent as Ichigo unzipped his pants was deeper – still clean, but with a hint of musk and sweat. Ishida groaned and tightened his grip in Ichigo's hair as his nose traced a line down the soft blue cotton of his briefs. The heat and scent of Ishida's arousal was making Ichigo's blood dance, and he cupped the Quincy's firm little ass as he moaned and pressed his face into Ishida's open fly, mouthing at the thin cloth restraining his swelling cock and tightening balls.

"Oh—oh god!" Ishida was gasping, moving one hand to Ichigo's shoulder to support himself as he rocked against Ichigo's face.

"Hold still," Ichigo muttered into his groin, pulling back enough to unfasten Ishida's pants and slide them down, running his hands along his thighs as he did so. They were lean and tough, the muscles hard and the tendons standing out, and Ichigo stroked the soft skin behind Ishida's knees, thinking of how often he'd grabbed right there to push Ishida's legs up, to open him wide, and never noticed how tender it felt.

Ichigo leaned back, away from the heat of the stiffening cock outlined against Ishida's briefs, and reached up to pull the shirt off Ishida's shoulders. It fell to the floor, and neither of them bothered to retrieve it. Ishida's eyes were already closing in pleasure as Ichigo's hands traveled over his chest and ribs, down his sides and back. The sight and feel of him – lean and sleek, with the long muscles of a runner or swimmer – nearly stole Ichigo's breath, and he wanted so badly to tell Ishida how gorgeous he looked, but he knew it would just make the Quincy self-conscious. Instead, brushed his thumbs over Ishida's nipples until he felt them toughen into points, letting his touch express what he didn't dare say. He kept teasing Ishida's nipples until he felt the Quincy's fingers gripping him harder, heard his breath coming faster, felt him shift slightly, as if in discomfort. Ichigo rolled the stiff nubs between his fingers, then gave each a hard pinch and a tug.

"Kuro—saki!" Ishida exhaled his name in a burst of breath, and dug his fingers so hard into his shoulders that Ichigo felt his nails through the cloth of his shirt. He softened his grip on Ishida's nipples but didn't let it go.

"You said 'whatever I want'," Ichigo murmured, watching the pebbled flesh redden under his fingers. Ishida trembled, and Ichigo saw his head dip slightly in silent assent. He leaned up and gave one nipple a sloppy kiss, sucking at it and relishing Ishida's groan as the Quincy urged him on.

"Mhmm," Ichigo hummed to himself, pulling back and reaching up to untangle Ishida's hand from his hair. "Lean on me," he whispered, and Ishida did, putting both hands on his shoulders as Ichigo reached down to slide Ishida's pants to his ankles, then work them off. He picked up each of Ishida's feet in turn to strip off his socks and toss them aside, then straightened and pushed Ishida back. The Quincy stood before him, now wearing only his briefs, his glasses, his bracelet and an expression of intense arousal. Ichigo reached out and cupped Ishida's balls, giving them a light squeeze as he ran his thumb along the length of his shaft. A spot of dampness was blooming where the tip of his cock was trapped just under the waistband, and Ichigo pressed his thumbnail there, feeling another pulse of moisture leak out as Ishida whimpered.

"Ichigo…" Ishida panted, trying not to writhe against his hand, but failing. "I…"

"Shh, just stand here," Ichigo told him, not taking his eyes or his hand off the hot bulge in Ishida's briefs. "I want to look at you – watch you – so please, don't say anything." Ichigo's own voice was breathless with the desire coiling through him. "Whatever I do," he breathed, massaging little circles into the head of Ishida's cock. "Whatever I do," he repeated, "just stand here." Ishida muffled a whimper and braced his legs as Ichigo slipped his fingers under the waistband and slowly inched his briefs down.

"Fuck," Ichigo swore softly as Ishida's hard cock sprang free. It took every bit of his will power not to immediately grab it and start stroking or sucking, but he bit his lip and kept his fingers curled in Ishida's briefs, his own erection straining against his jeans as Ishida's bobbed right before his eyes. It was gorgeous – perfectly formed, flushed with blood, the head moist with pre-come and only the flaring ridge still protected by the foreskin. Trying to control his excitement, he eased Ishida's briefs down to his knees, then slipped a hand up to hold Ishida's hip as he studied the Quincy's penis.

"Don't move," Ichigo whispered as he lightly traced one finger up the vein pulsing on the underside of the shaft. He felt Ishida tense as he stroked at the fold of skin around the head, and dipped into the slit. Warm fluid pulsed out beneath his fingertip and Ichigo felt his own cock start to leak against his thigh. He swore softly and saw Ishida's cock twitch at the feel of his warm breath. Smiling a little to himself, he used two fingers to carefully slide back Ishida's foreskin, then blew onto the exposed head. Ichigo's fingers clamped down on Ishida's hip as the Quincy jerked sharply and gave a muffled yelp. Ichigo glanced up to find him biting a fist and clutching his wrist with his other hand. Sweat was running down the side of Ishida's face and neck, and his eyes behind his glasses were wide and desperate.

"You said 'whatever I wanted'," Ichigo reminded him as he started sliding Ishida's foreskin very slowly over the head of his cock and back. Ishida's eyes looked like they were watering. He closed them tightly as he gave another mute nod. "Fuck, look at you," Ichigo murmured, his fingers wet with pre-come and slipping faster over the head. "You're dripping for it, aren't you? I could probably fuck you just with this."

"Then do it!" Ishida gasped around his fist. Ichigo could feel the muscles in his hip and thigh trembling as he tried not to squirm.

"Oh I will," Ichigo promised, "but not just yet." Ishida whimpered, and Ichigo grinned, feeling truly wicked. Ishida was usually the one taunting him with his body, teasing and refusing, making him crazy, making him wait. As much as Ichigo hated it when Ishida was doing it to him, he had to admit he was starting to see the appeal. With a glance at Ishida's desperate expression, Ichigo thumbed his foreskin down, revealing the sensitive spot under the head, then leaned forward and flicked it with his tongue. Ishida gave a hard flinch and a muffled whimper. Still watching him, Ichigo took the whole tip in his mouth and sucked hard, fluttering his tongue just under the head.

That was too much for Ishida, who cried out and grabbed Ichigo's head, nearly folding over him as his hips convulsed. "Kurosaki—ahh, Ich—Ichigo! Please!" he cried out, moaning as Ichigo pulled his mouth off his cock and grabbed his waist.

"Not yet," Ichigo insisted through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure how he managed to stand up and guide Ishida backwards because his own dick was so hard he could barely walk. Ishida stumbled because his briefs were still tangled around his knees, and sat back hard on the corner of the bed, looking flushed and a little wild. He gazed up at Ichigo, and it was nearly over right then. If Ichigo hadn't still been fully clothed with his hard prick trapped in his jeans, he would have taken Ishida right there, because the expression on the Quincy's face said that he needed to be fucked, long and hard, and oh hell, that was just what Ichigo needed to do. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Ishida's sweat-sheened face, then kissed the scar in the center of his chest, then pulled off Ishida's glasses, leaving him sprawled on the bed, breathing hard.

"I want to see your eyes," Ichigo told him, setting his glasses aside and reaching down to pull Ishida's briefs off. "I want to see your face," he continued, kissing Ishida's knee as he bent his right leg and planted his foot on the bed, spreading him wide, "when you make yourself come." Ishida's stared at Ichigo, looking panicked. Ichigo took Ishida's right hand, pulled it down and placed it on his dripping cock. "I want to watch you bring yourself off," he said hoarsely, the words alone making his prick throb beyond belief. "And I want you to look at me while you do it."

Both of them were breathing hard. Ichigo could see how fast Ishida's diaphragm was rising and falling as the Quincy stared at him. Ichigo licked his lips, wondering if he would have to remind Ishida of his promise, but then he saw Ishida's slim hand encircle his cock, squeeze and slide up the shaft.

"Whatever you want," Ishida whispered in that low voice that made Ichigo's hair stand up and his nipples go hard. Ichigo could feel the blood rushing in his head as he watched Ishida's hand glide upward, pulling the foreskin over the head of his cock, then down just as slowly, baring the slick, swollen tip.

"Fuck, yes!" Ichigo moaned, sitting down hard in the chair and sprawling back, his mouth going dry at the sight before him. Ishida's face was as flushed as his cock, and damp wisps of black hair clung to his cheeks and forehead. His whole cock was slick with pre-come now, and his hand slipped up and down with greater ease. Ichigo saw him start to squeeze the head on each pass, putting a twist into his stroke. Lips parted, tongue pressed against his teeth, he flicked his eyes up to meet Ichigo's gaze.

"Is this what you wanted, Kurosaki?" he panted, his sapphire eyes so dilated they looked nearly black. "This what you wanted to see?"

"Oh hell yeah," Ichigo groaned, gripping the chair with one hand and pressing the heel of the other against the hard bulge in his jeans. There was already a wet spot on his thigh where his dick was leaking, and it got bigger and wetter as he watched Ishida stroke himself.

"Is this—what you think about?" Ishida asked in a ragged whisper. "When you're doing it? Me—my hand on my cock—in the shower, in bed, wishing—God!—wishing you, you were—ohh!"

"Oh fuck—fuck yes!" Ichigo groaned. "Always wondered what you looked like doing it. Wanted to see." Ichigo pressed his whole hand over his aching cock, as if it might burst through the denim without this restraint. "God! Wanted to see—how fast, how hard. If you used – oh fuck yes, you do, don't you?"

Ishida's breath faltered and his eyes widened. Maybe he hadn't even realized his other hand was creeping between his legs, but Ichigo had seen it, and he was leaning forward staring raptly between Ishida's legs.

"Do it," Ichigo said hoarsely. "I want to see you do it. Use your fingers. Push them in."

Biting his lip, Ishida tipped his head back and slipped his hand past his balls, trailing his fingers over that tender stretch of flesh before pressing them into his cleft. He made a small sound of discomfort and pulled his hand back, his other hand slowing on his cock as he straightened up. When Ichigo realized Ishida was bringing his hand to his mouth, he reached out and grabbed it.

"Kurosaki, what—Oh!" Ishida's eyes widened then snapped shut. He let out a moan as Ichigo brought his hand to his mouth and sucked in three fingers, bathing them with his tongue, getting them as wet as possible. They tasted like salt and sake, and he heard Ishida whine when he pulled them from his mouth and guided his hand back down between his legs.

"Do it," Ichigo groaned, so turned on that his head had started to swim, and he could barely hear himself speak over the sound of his own rapid pulse. "I want to watch." By that point, though, Ishida didn't need any urging and was already pressing his fingers into his cleft and massaging the puckered flesh of his entrance. He closed his eyes and moaned as he pushed his middle finger in, arching up the same way he did when Ichigo pushed his cock inside him.

"Oh fucking hell!" Ichigo gasped, and suddenly he was arching up too, hips thrusting up out of the chair as his fingers scrabbled at the front of his jeans, tearing them open and jamming them down his thighs. He tore off his shirt and shoved his underwear down, growling as he kicked his legs free of the confining cloth. His cock sprang up, hard and hot and angry, and he wrapped both hands around it with a deep groan. Moisture was seeping from the slit and he felt more leak out when he saw Ishida with his head thrown back, pumping his cock with short fast strokes as he pressed another finger into his hole.

"Damn, Ishida!" he hissed, squeezing at the base of his prick to get some control. He kicked his jeans and underwear away and stumbled forward, catching himself on Ishida's raised knee and leaning against the edge of the bed, poised between Ishida's wide open legs. "God, look at you," he moaned, staring down at the hand pumping the slick cock, the slim, white fingers pushing into his tight hole, the parted lips and the burning eyes. "You're so fucking hot like that! You're so—you don't even know, do you?" Ichigo dipped his head to bite-kiss Ishida's knee, then couldn't stop biting, sucking on the flesh of his inner thigh.

"Nng—Ichigo!" Ishida grunted, and Ichigo nearly bit him again just from the thrill of hearing him use his name. He planted a wet, gnawing kiss on his thigh, then pulled back, biting his lip as he stared between Ishida's legs.

"C'mon, Uryuu," he panted. "Push them all in. Fuck yourself." Ishida groaned and turned his head away, hand slowing on his cock as he shifted his hips. "That's it," Ichigo urged, swallowing as he watched him work another finger in. "Do it like that. Stretch yourself real good. Know why?" He nipped Ishida's knee again to make him look at him. "Know why?" he repeated, his voice lower, rougher, almost gone. He pressed closer, rubbing his hard cock against Ishida's leg.

"Fuck!" Ishida grunted, eyes snapping closed, and Ichigo couldn't tell if it was because of the size of the hard on he'd pressed against his leg, or how many fingers he'd shoved inside himself. "W--why?"

"Because as soon as you come," Ichigo growled, reaching down to press Ishida's fingers further inside him, "I'm gonna stick my cock right in there. I'm gonna push it in so deep and fuck you so hard we both see stars."

"Oh God yes!" Ishida hissed, arching up again, jamming his fingers in harder and starting to move them in and out. "God, Kurosaki, do it now! Fuck me!"

"Not till you come," Ichigo growled, squeezing his cock hard and wondering if he could even keep it together that long. As it was, he was practically drooling at the sight before him, and his dick was aching to get inside the tight, sweet ass that was oh so close, but he wanted – oh hell, yes he wanted – to see his sweating, panting, usually so holier-than-thou Quincy make himself come. "C'mon, Uryuu," he murmured, rubbing the head of his prick against Ishida's sweat-damp leg. "Show me how you do it. God, yes! Fuck yourself, just like that. C'mon, do it, Uryuu. Come for me!"

Ishida's hand was flying on his shaft as his fingers probed deeper. His teeth were gritted, his lips peeled back in a snarl of denied pleasure, and he tossed his head as a strangled sound of frustration rose from his throat.

"Ichigo, help—help me!" Ishida growled, his pretty face contorted as he pushed his long fingers deeper inside. "Can't—can't find—AHH!"

Ichigo didn't even wait for him to finish. Without a second thought, he sucked two fingers into his mouth, then reached down and pushed them into Ishida's ass right over the Quincy's own fingers. Ishida wailed at the sudden stretch and tried to pull out, but before he could, Ichigo had crooked his fingers and found the spot he knew so well. He pressed his thumb right under Ishida's balls, moved his fingers in a "come hither" motion, and Ishida's whimpers pitched into a full-out scream. His hips jolted straight up, his ass clamped down on Ichigo's fingers, and his cock shot streams of pale, sticky come all over his stomach and chest.

"Fuck, Uryuu!" Ichigo gasped, feeling the tremors of Ishida's orgasm in the muscles squeezed tight around his fingers. He had to clamp down on his own balls to keep from coming himself as Ishida's cock gave one last spasm, one final pulse of semen onto his belly, after which Ishida's slim body collapsed in a trembling heap on the bed.

"Ichigo," he moaned, breathing like someone who had been drowning, but Ichigo didn't respond – couldn't respond. He had already pulled his fingers free and was frantically scraping come off Ishida's hot, flushed skin and clumsily smearing it between his cheeks as he wrestled with his own rampant prick.

"Uryuu!" he growled desperately, pushing his free hand under Ishida's butt and trying to either lift him up and pull him closer to the edge of the bed. "Fuck—Ishida! A little help, huh?"

Still breathing heavily, Ishida rolled his head to the side and gazed up at Ichigo through his long lashes. He moistened his lips, raised one arm to grasp the rails of the head board, then rocked his hips up, offering himself to Ichigo.

"Fuck me, Ichigo," he whispered, half-lidded eyes glazed and glistening. "Want to feel you—inside—ahh! Yes!"

"Oh fuck yes!" Ichigo was groaning as he pressed his cock into Ishida's sticky entrance, having hurled himself on top of the Quincy the moment the word fuck left Ishida's lips. Even stretched and relaxed from a shattering climax, he was still deliciously tight, and Ichigo whimpered like a dog as he pushed inside, fingers clamped at the base of his prick so he wouldn't immediately lose it.

"Fuck," Ishida murmured as Ichigo slid all the way in, mashing his balls up against Ishida's ass. "So big! God—move, Kurosaki! You're killing me like this."

"Don't move!" Ichigo hissed through gritted teeth, trying to get used to the incredible feel of being sheathed tight in Ishida's ass. Every time—every damn time--so good. "Just--God, please don't move! I'm trying—not to come." Ichigo felt slim fingers wind into his hair.

"Thought you wanted to come," Ishida purred, an arch note in his voice.

"Want to fuck you, damn it!" he growled, rolling his hips and giving an experimental thrust that set Ishida to whimpering again.

"Ahh! Fuck Kurosaki! Why do I let you do this to me?"

"Because you love it," Ichigo grunted, pulling back and thrusting again, deeper, harder. "Besides, you said—whatever…"

"Whatever you want," Ishida groaned, arching up and hooking his legs around Ichigo's hips. He tipped his head to look straight into Ichigo's eyes, wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled Ichigo down toward him. "Fuck me," Ishida whispered against his mouth. "Fuck me like you said. So hard we both see stars."

Ichigo groaned and pressed his mouth against Ishida's, and suddenly, he wasn't in control any longer. His hips and cock, they were giving the orders now, and he obeyed instantly, thrusting in, pulling out, rocking Ishida under him until he was slamming into him so hard and fast that Ishida had to grasp the head rail with both hands, and lock his feet around Ichigo's back just to hang on. He moaned and whimpered beneath Ichigo, sweating and panting and urging him on, and every bit of it was heaven to Ichigo – every breath, every inch, every thrust. He was riding the edge of a huge wave of drawn out pleasure – head swimming, blood pounding, muscles tensing -- and though he knew it couldn't last, he tried to keep his balance, tried to ride it until the last possible moment when he knew it would tip him up, toss him over and slam him down.

It was Ishida crying out beneath him that did it. Ishida crying out and arching up, Ishida's ass gripping his cock even tighter than before, Ishida's reawakened cock spurting something hot and wet between them that tripped him up and sent the wave crashing over him. He slammed into Ishida one last time, and a whiplash of pleasure stole his breath, froze his muscles and twisted inside his groin. He felt his balls tighten, felt the contractions start inside his cock, felt the hot-sweet-buzzing lance of can't-hold-back pleasure as he shot and sputtered inside Ishida's heat.

He thought for a second he was going to black out, both because he couldn't get his breath – not even to howl out his pleasure – and because as his climax went through him, the light fractured and went to pieces, and no matter that he blinked and gasped, he still saw shining, glimmering things drifting through the dim air all around them. When he blinked down at Ishida – who was a tousled, sweat-drenched, come-splattered, damp-haired, beautiful mess – he still saw the glimmering things, glowing like little stars, lighting on Ishida's skin like snowflakes made of colored glass, like, like…

"Fireflies," Ichigo mumbled, then collapsed on top of Ishida, burying his face in the crook of his neck and groaning as the tension left him, like a wave pulling back from the shore.

"Fireflies?" Ishida asked. It sounded to Ichigo like he was talking from far away. There was the faintest hint of a snort behind his voice. "Are you seeing things, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo waited until he'd caught his breath, then muttered, "You didn't see stars, then?" He squirmed a little between Ishida's legs. His cock was softening, but he rocked his hips and pressed close, trying to keep himself inside Ishida, not wanting to leave the sweet, sticky warmth.

"Stars are not fireflies, Kurosaki," Ishida sighed, as if he'd been forced to explain the difference between dogs and cats. He wriggled under Ichigo, who thought he was trying to dislodge him, but instead Ishida hooked a leg over his thigh to keep him close. Ichigo grinned against Ishida's neck.

"So did you see stars or not?" Ichigo wanted to know.

"Ugh. Kurosaki, I can't breathe!" Ichigo knew that announced the end of the cuddling. He sighed in acceptance. When he looked up, the glimmering things were now gone.

"All right," he grumbled, shifting up and rolling off of Ishida. He propped himself up on an elbow and considered his companion. He decided that "fucked" was a damn good look on Ishida. He also decided he probably wouldn't tell him that just now.

"What are you staring at, Kurosaki?" Ishida wanted to know. He'd dragged a pillow down to put under his neck and was arching a brow at Ichigo as he wiped sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

"Just thinking."

"Oh?" Ishida's brow went even higher, but, astonishingly, he didn't follow it up with any catty remarks about Ichigo's intelligence. "What about?"

"Do you think we could do this again sometime?" Ichigo grinned and held his breath. Ishida looked like he was actually considering it.

"When were you thinking?" he wanted to know.

Ichigo decided he was feeling lucky. "Soon," he purred, reaching out to stroke his fingers down Ishida's sticky and sweat-slick stomach. "Very soon."

Ishida raised both eyebrows. Instead of answering, he arched his back and extended his limbs in a long, cat-like stretch, then relaxed and smirked at Ichigo.

"Whatever you want."