A/N: This story contains M/M romance and sex; including rimming, anal sex, fingering, male masturbation, sado-masochism, and rough sex. No underage readers please! All others be advised.

Also, this story has been edited to be completely in first person in order to sound more coherent.

The music reverberated throughout the smoky, crowded room; the walls shook with the force of the beat. My body too shifted from side to side, hot, close and in time. Sweat fell in swollen, heavy beads down the broad expanse of this bare chest, my shirt long forgotten in the heat of the dance. Long, unforgettably red locks fell in my face and I pushed them back with a trembling hand. I really shouldn't be having this much fun…

Boyfriend-sitter; how I got roped into this, I could no longer remember. I looked over to Yumichika who, dancing in the center of a crowd of ogling men, seemed to be having a ball. I'm just glad that Ikkaku's payin' for drinks, I thought to myself as I slammed back another shot of… whatever. The atmosphere of the club started to suffocate as my blood burned with alcohol, so I walked away from the bar, cigarette in hand, with full intentions of shirking my responsibilities outside. As I reached for the door, I turned to take on last glance at Yumichika – just to make sure he would be okay. He's a big boy, I thought. I don't even really need ta be here. Yumi was still dancing gracefully and being admired by at least half the club, so I stepped outside.

The night air felt clean and cool to my overheated body. I lit up my cigarette and took a long drag. I really didn't like clubbing. Most people looked stupid when they danced, and the music made conversation nearly impossible. Despite the tattoos, long hair, and generally hot-headed, standoffish way I tended to act, I really preferred to connect with people mentally and intellectually. How was anyone supposed to hold an intelligent conversation in a place where the music thundered so loudly that it could take from three to ten tries just to ask someone to dance? By the time I got an answer, I was usually so frustrated that I didn't want to dance at all. I checked my watch; it was only half-past midnight – I would be here a while, if Yumi had anything to say about it.

Take him out and let him do whatever he wants. I'll pay for both of you, here's my card, just make sure he has a good time. Stupid Ikkaku and his stupid business conference. And make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble. I don't wanna get a call from jail, got it? Like I would let us get arrested. Again. I rolled my eyes and took the last drag of my cigarette; bliss.

As I re-entered the club, I immediately sought out my charge; easily a head taller than most of the patrons, I quickly identified the red and yellow feathers attached to Yumichika's face and reassured himself that my friend hadn't been hurt, or worse, gotten into a fight and hurt somebody else. Yumi spotted his red-headed escort and waved me over, but something had stolen my attention. The effeminate man followed my gaze; make that something a someone.

I had just spotted Yumichika's feathers when a shock of orange, glowing in the black lights, caught my eye. As I looked more closely, I noted that the orange was actually hair, and that hair was attached to a head, a face, a sculpted chest… I blinked, certain that no man could possess the beauty of what danced before me.

Said orange-haired beauty moved with the thumping bass line, hips gyrating and pumping hotly. Captivated, I stared, eyes locked on the other's face. Gotta stop staring. Just look away man. You can do it. Just look away before he notices, I panicked. As I pulled my gaze up from the stranger's full lips, the orange-haired boy locked eyes with him. Fuck! Fuck, fuck… he saw me. He's staring right at me… what do I do? I thought, still unable to look away. The man across the room continued his sensual dance as he beckoned me over.

A wave of nervous terror forced my stomach into my throat as I made my way onto the dance floor. I hated this music; I despised dancing; I needed to be leaving this place, not meeting with strange, god-like strawberry blondes. And dammit to hell, my body wouldn't cooperate! My feet dragged me forward, against my will.

As soon as I was close enough to the beckoning stranger to notice the kid's warm chocolate eyes, I heard the orange-haired beauty shouting over the music, "Hey, I'm Ichigo!"


"Wanna dance?"

No. "Uh… Sure." I got a bit closer to Ichigo before I began to dance.

The music reverberated throughout the smoky, crowded room; the walls shook with the force of the beat. My body too shifted from side to side, hot, close and in time. Sweat fell in swollen, heavy beads down the broad expanse of my bare chest, my shirt long forgotten in the heat of the dance. Long, unforgettably red locks fell in my face and I pushed them back with a trembling hand. I really shouldn't be having this much fun, I smiled, and wrapped my arm tighter around Ichigo's slim waist.

A buzzing in my pocket distracted me from the beauty in front of me. A text message from Yumichika.

Called a cab. Have fun! Don't do anything unbeautiful.

Thank the gods for friends like Yumi.

"What was that?" Ichigo asked when I lost the rhythm of the music as I read the text message.

"Ah, just my friend. We came here together, but I guess he decided to leave," I tried to say as privately as the jam-packed club would allow.

"Oh, you came here with someone?" Ichigo had stopped dancing completely, and looked up at me with uncertainty perverting his perfect features.

"Yeah, uh, see, er, I was, uh, boyfriend-sitting," I replied. The blush staining my cheeks was no longer the result of alcohol consumption.

Ichigo paused for one fear-filled moment before erupting with laughter. "Seems like you kinda suck at it, eh?"

I scowled for a moment, ready to rip into the little shit for insulting me before I conceded, nodding. "Yeah, probably." Smirking shyly, I sidled closer to Ichigo. The orange-haired kid would pay for that comment. Dancing resumed until Ichigo stood on his toes to whisper in my ear, "Would you like to go somewhere more, uh, private?"

I could hardly believe the boldness of the question, but my instincts knew how to react; "My place isn't far." Ichigo motioned for me to lead the way, and we exited the club. Once outside, I lit up a cigarette to calm my nerves; for God's sake, I was nearly trembling as I offered the pack to Ichigo. We smoked in silence as we walked to my apartment.

"Well, um, here it is," I lamely announced as I opened the door and flicked on the light switch. I gave Ichigo a sidelong glance, looking for any clue as to how exactly to proceed. Ichigo surprised me for the third time with his overconfidence when he pulled me inside by my arm and pressed me against the door with his body. Ichigo's hot breath overtook my senses as I was kissed gently; the strawberry-blond tangled his long fingers in my crimson locks as his tongue probed my thin lips, opening under his ministrations. Gentle explorations became a fierce battle – teeth and tongues clashing as we each fought to wrench throaty moans from each other. Hands roamed; mine finally resting on Ichigo's ass, I pulled the other to myself, trapped erections grinding together pleasurably. Ichigo leaned his head away from me, exposing his long neck as he moaned, "Fuuuuuuuck."

I used the position to my advantage and locked my teeth onto Ichigo's neck, nibbling at the tender flesh. I could feel my heart beat in my ears, thumping louder than the bass at the club, as I unbuttoned the other's shirt and slid it off slim shoulders to land softly on the floor. Moaning, Ichigo pulled on the long hair tangled in his hands and pressed his body to mine.

"We're not gonna make it to the bedroom, are we?" I mumbled, lips still attached to the long neck in front of me. I pulled away for one surreal moment to look at my soon-to-be lover. I had never witnessed anything as sexy as the flushed and panting man before me.

"I don't think I can wait that long," Ichigo responded, clumsily tugging on both his and my pants. When all our clothes lay in a pile around their ankles, I pushed the orange-haired man backward toward the sofa. The backs of Ichigo's knees hit the edge, and he sat down with a quiet but surprised "oomph." I remained standing; smirking at Ichigo, I guided the kiss-swollen lips to my erection. I watched in amazement, eyes glazing over in pleasure, as the orange spikes bobbed on my cock. I carded my fingers in the soft, slightly sweaty locks. I could hardly believe that any of this was happening – I hadn't even wanted to go to the club in the first place. I hated to think that I might have missed out on this. My thought process halted when Ichigo swallowed me completely, nose nestled in the patch of crimson curls.

"Fuck, that's good! Oh god, ah! I'm gonna- ah!" I pulled Ichigo away by his hair before I lost control. Taking in large gulps of air, I slowly reigned myself in. The cool air against my overheated skin felt as if I had lost something and I groaned, looking down at the extremely talented kid. Ichigo smiled almost dreamily up at me as he gripped his own cock. Slow, steady strokes had him breathing heavy and spreading his legs in silent invitation. I took the hint, leaving my eager partner for only a moment to grab lube and a condom from the bathroom – I thanked God that my flat was so small; it only took seconds to gather everything.

Upon re-entering the living room, my jaw dropped at the sight of Ichigo laid back, knees bent and stroking himself. I watched in awe as the younger man lifted his hips and two fingers disappeared – oh fuck.

"Startin' the party without me?" my voice was husky but steady. The orange-haired man on the sofa didn't answer, but opened his lust-darkened eyes and smirked. I gaped at the bone-meltingly hot expression, and joined my hand with Ichigo's on the smaller man's member, kissing him deeply. I fucked Ichigo's mouth with my tongue, a symbol of what I really wanted to do with the kid. Licking and nipping my way down the beautiful body before him, I left a bruising bite on a creamy, perfect hip bone before reaching my goal. I lifted Ichigo's legs at the knees and planted a deep, wet kiss on the pink, stretched entrance. Ichigo moaned whorishly when my tongue pushed into him. He looked like he might explode when I added fingers. When I pulled away to slip on the condom and slather my cock with the lube, the strawberry sighed in disappointment.

"Ready for me?" Ichigo could only nod in response before I slowly entered him. The heat engulfed me, beginning at my groin and radiating torturously outward, growing stronger as each inch sunk into the lithe body writhing below me. Judging from the blush covering Ichigo from hairline to navel, the younger man was feeling the same heat as me. The flames consumed them; nothing existed outside their union – neither of us could rightly name the moment when the I began to thrust.

Tight, hot…. oh fuck. So good. Squeezing my eyes shut in an effort not to come embarrassingly quickly, I felt a bead of sweat traverse slowly down my spine. I concentrated on the trail of cooling liquid and slowed the movement of my hips. Just as I regained control, Ichigo rolled his hips to signal for more. He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes and, breathless, mouthed 'harder.' I groaned and snapped my hips forward while holding Ichigo in a bruising grip. The slap of skin on skin made heat rise in our faces. Ichigo's cock twitched at the sound, and I wrapped one hand around the pulsing member. Silky skin stretched over taut, corded steel throbbed, searing in my palm.

Ichigo moaned in time with my thrusts. I uttered a string of curses interspersed with half-formed words of encouragement, growing more incoherent as I neared my peak.

"Ah, fuck! So tight – "

"Take it. Yeah, take my cock in your tight ass. Mmmm, yeah, like that…"

"Feels like – like you're gonna squeeze my dick off! Fuckin' –"

"Yeah, you like that baby? That the spot?"

"Goddamn, you – "

"Oh, shit, I –"

"Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!"

I sped up my strokes as my vision went white, and I stilled my movements as I came, shaking and cursing. After a moment, I returned to reality and stared at Ichigo. My hand was still jerking the kid off, but I slowed the motion as I leaned down to kiss the orange-haired man. The exchange was gentler now, sensual and unhurried. I swept my tongue across Ichigo's lower lip before pulling away. With heavy lidded eyes, I gazed at my awaiting partner. Ichigo's eyes met mine and I gave a wink.

Pulling out with a soft 'pop,' I laid one hand on Ichigo's hard stomach and used the other to draw my sweaty, matted locks back from my face. I was eager to taste the kid, and spent no time teasing. I stretched my mouth around Ichigo's cock; taking about half the length and fisting the base as I sucked. Hard. The orange-haired man came violently, nearly ripping out my red tresses he had tangled in his fingers. He yelled, and then gasped for air.

I caught each string on my tongue and marveled at the taste. Strong, musky and something unidentifiable – almost sweet. I swallowed and lifted my head to face Ichigo. Soft snores greeted me – Ichigo had passed out. I laughed before picking the smaller man up and carrying him to the bedroom.

"I sure hope you planned on staying the night," I muttered and lay down beside Ichigo on the bed. As soon as I closed my eyes, I was asleep.

Bright streaks of sunlight streamed through the curtains, waking me from the best sleep I'd had in a long time. I recalled the night before with a wolfish grin, and reached to where the orange-haired sex god should have been. The other half of the bed was empty.


I jammed my face into the pillow and sighed, extremely disappointed. Though it was a random hook-up, I had been hoping for something more than a one-night stand. I had also wanted to make the kid pancakes for breakfast – I was no slouch in the kitchen, and I loved to show off my skills. I settled for grabbing all of the blankets, making a cocoon around myself and going back to sleep.

When I awoke the second time, I got out of bed and resolved to make pancakes for myself. Who cared if it was two o'clock in the afternoon? I walked around the other side of the bed and grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand, pulling my hair into a sloppy ponytail. As I pulled my hair back, I noticed a small scrap of paper on the floor. On the back of it was a quickly drawn picture of a strawberry, and a phone number.

"I guess it wasn't a one-night stand after all," I said to myself. As I ate my breakfast, I wondered how long I could wait to make the call.