Don't have enough time to make a proper AN. Enjoy. It's SHOUNEN AI. Not YAOI. That means Boy's Love. Not Boy's Lust. No sex for you, fankittens!
I own nothing.
"Hana… tarou?" Renji arched a tattooed eyebrow at the scared boy behind the counter. It was a hot day; so hot, in fact, it had even prevented the great Sixth Division Fukutaichou from training. The fated moment he had run for cover from the heatwave had led him straight into an ice cream parlor. Behind the counter, needless to say, stood the said calm black-haired shinigami. He was dressed head to toe in red and white stripes, with a smiling nametag that had his name written in magic marker. Or, as one would notice, used to be calm.
"Do I know you?" The tiny voice replied, tipping up his slick visor to wipe his forehead of sweat; although it was nicely air conditioned in the small shop. Renji scratched his bare shoulder before peering down into the frozen display. The odd look in those blue eyes told him he was intimidating the smaller male. But, when wasn't he intimidated by another person?
"Are you serious, Hanatarou? It's me, Abarai-fukutaichou," he grunted at him, still looking over the rainbow colors popping out at him from behind the chilly glass.
"O-oh! Right, sorry Abarai-sama," still so business-like, Renji noticed. A faint blush was spread across the shorter male's face, and he reached for a scoop. "What flavor would you like?"
The redhead mused, holding a rough hand up to his chin. The available options swirled around his mind, and he glanced at Hanatarou again. He was shaking now, gulping often to replenish his parched throat.
"Hanatarou," he said, lifting a flushed face to meet his brown gaze. "Are you feeling ill? Do you need to rest?" He shook his head fervently, gripping the scoop with more determination.
"No, Abarai-sama, I'm feeling fine," what a feat, to try and lie to a fukutaichou. "What flavor?" His tone was clipped this time, revealing his full situation to the taller man.
"Just put your favorite flavor in the biggest bowl, okay?"
Not daring to continue to badger the tough man, Hanatarou scooped elegantly into the largest size bowl they had. They only locked eyes once more before he stuck a small, plastic spoon into it and set it on the counter for Renji to grab.
"Let's take a break," Renji said, instead reaching over the counter to grab the thin, weak wrist. The attached hand dropped the scooper, and a terrified shudder shook him along with a startled stare at the tattooed man.
"O-okay," Hanatarou choked out the words, removing the visor that kept the majority of his raven bangs from his sweating face. He wandered around the counter, hands folded in front of him politely with a bowed head.
Wordlessly, the redhead tugged him to a booth with the tub of vanilla ice cream. He dashed off for a short moment, just long enough for Hanatarou to release a breath and put a hand over his racing heart. It wasn't fear making him react this way; he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was something he wasn't ready for just yet. Renji returned with a large shaker of sprinkles.
"No toppings, eh? You're a man of simple taste," he remarked, sitting across from the shivering youth. Hanatarou hid the pleasured look on his face behind his spoon as he ate a bite of the ice cream. Renji shoveled off a large chunk of the white creamy deliciousness and poured the assorted sprinkles all over it, spilling all over the table. He cursed, looking around.
Blue eyes were mesmerized with every sleek movement of the fukutaichou. The tattoos that rippled with every twitch and pulse of his certainly golden heart were dizzying, and he wanted to know how far they went on his skin. Hanatarou resisted the strong urge to reach out and touch that hot flesh by swallowing another small bite of vanilla heaven.
"Ah, I'll clean that, okay?" Renji leaned under the table, and without thinking Hanatarou wielded a plastic knife. Maybe he could make this silliness stop before it was too late to turn back. With a shaking hand, he leaned over and cut the band holding Renji's hair up. With the hair covering his shoulders, maybe it would be easier to repel this woozy feeling in his heart. It had to be the heat getting to him. It had to be the lack of sleep from those nights of pure studying and training.
"Oh, shit," a calloused hand reached up to snatch helplessly at the fallen locks. He sat up, looking at the nervous boy. "It came loose."
His assumption had been wrong. Now, with that beautiful fiery hair exploding from the matching handsome face, he looked like an eloquent samurai. The hot sunshine made him glow like an angel; Hanatarou knew he was done for. It was too late to take back his emotions. Renji leaned forward on both strong elbows, scooping almost half of the remaining ice cream into his gaping mouth. Unfortunately, a small drip escaped the orifice and dribbled down his neck and chin. His muffled words were cut off by desperate stuttering.
"W-w-w-we have t-t-towels in the ba-ack," his running mouth tripped over the walking words, and he stood quickly with both hands on the table. His clothes fluttered with his sudden movement, and even Renji was surprised at his eagerness. One big gulp later, Renji replied, "Okay, let's go."
Hanatarou was overwhelmed with the thought that Renji knew what he was trying to do. It was embarrassing really, that he was trying to set something so childish up between them. It would never work, and he would be rejected. But these feelings were starting to suffocate him, and he had to do something before he completely jumped the man.
There was always the chance that the satisfied shinigami following him like a curious puppy had no idea what he was plotting. They made it behind the counter, and he unlocked the supply closet with quaking hands and jingling keys. Renji remained silent, putting his hands in his hakama pockets. Hanatarou shot a single look behind him before turning on the light inside.
The smooth chest of the fukutaichou, he had to embrace it at least once. The undeniable yearning inside his tiny body multiplied when they walked inside. The door clicked behind them, and Hanatarou bent down to retrieve a red towel. As he returned to his five foot glory, Renji sat on a crate of cups and lids. He didn't raise a hand when the other man offered the towel to him.
"I don't mind if you do it," was his excuse, and Hanatarou's eyebrows knit together in desperate excitement. His hand, although covered by the towel, was about to touch him.
Him. Abarai Renji.
The thought almost stopped his heart. He started over his clavicle, where the melting ice cream was pooling. Renji's collarbones seemed to be carved out of beautiful stone. The towel moved upward to wipe up his neck. Twisting his head to the side and leaning back to his grip on the other side of the crate, Renji closed his brown eyes. The image was killing Hanatarou slowly, and as he reached the chin of the other shinigami.
"Th-th-there we go," he whispered, now suddenly aware how close he was to the taller man. He was standing nearly six inches away, his body right in between the fukutaichou's legs. "All d-done."
Instead of responding, Renji just opened his eyes to look at Hanatarou. His craned neck straightened, and a dangerous look flitted over his face before a single hand wrapped around the thin wrist once again. The black-haired medic's body was shaking in anticipation, and his other hand bunched up the fabric on the side of his uniform pants, effectively sweating all over them with his palm.
"Thanks, Hana," the nickname caused Hanatarou to quiver. This was it. The moment he had pined for. He could already feel their skin rubbing together. The sounds Renji would make when they-
But Renji released the wrist and stood quickly, to shuffle past the still-awestruck man. The same hand he had been expecting to pleasure him instead wrapped around the doorknob. With a twist, Renji grunted.
"Hana," that pet name again, it drove a needle into the blue-eyed shinigami's spine. "The door is locked."
Oh no. Oh no.
No. No no, this was not happening.
Hanatarou started to panic, releasing hot pants and gripping his hair. His plan had backfired, and he was now powerless. The mood was shot; and Renji wanted to leave.
Renji didn't want to be here. Strong people had better things to do, had a more exciting lifestyle to lead. They didn't waste their time being pranked, or fruitlessly straining to be better. They always had results.
A tiny fire sparked uselessly in his brain. If he could only build some courage, he could get what he wanted. It was no longer about his confusing lust, it was about his life. If he could get stronger, braver, faster, taller, better, he could make the sixth seat. Maybe even fifth, if he put his mind to it.
He had to be like Renji.
He hurried to the fukutaichou's side, still twinkling with admiration of the muscular man. Two tiny fists gripped the powerful elbows of his challenge, and Hanatarou turned bright red before using his measly strength to pull Renji down.
Hanatarou was not expecting this. Yet another factor he had forgotten; the actual moment. D Day. The moment of launch. Renji's soft, warm lips were molten over his own, and he pushed into the sweet feeling with the strongest determination he had felt in a long time. It felt so good, getting what he wanted.
But the kiss itself was even better when Renji kissed back. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by sinewy muscle and the smell of sweat and sweet bean paste. His back was pushed up against the shelves and boxes, and a sweet tongue stabbed into his innocent mouth.
The feeling was back again; that pulsating from deep down inside that was starting to control his every motion. The tiny hands now tangled themselves in scarlet locks, and he felt the blood rush from his face. Renji was eating him alive, inhaling his very essence with every stroke of the tongue. He felt complete; he really could do it, he believed. Hanatarou just had to reap this power over and over until it sunk in. He didn't see a problem with doing this more often, to be honest.
Renji nipped and bit every inch of Hanatarou's smooth lips that he could reach, prodding with his tongue with each tiny moment. His cute responses, those tiny hiccups of moans, were raging him on the inside. The small yelp when he pushed against him roughly almost made him a wild animal. Instead, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he pulled away. He ran his tongue up Hanatarou's jaw, engulfing the earlobe at the end of its journey. Renji's teeth ran across the temple next to his target, and Hanatarou grunted softly.
He fell limp, and Renji growled as he pulled away. Had the suddenly inspired man stopped responding to his passion?
Oh. Black locks covered most of the pale face, with eyelids covering the eyes Renji had been swimming in earlier. The face that had been contorted with so much confusion, fear, and anxiety, was now smooth with the peace of rest.
"Oops," a silly smirk overcame Renji as he noticed Hanatarou had fainted. Maybe this amount of craving had been just a bit much for the first time. Renji made a note to be gentler next time, if he wanted it to last. He smoothed out the uniform of the tiny shinigami and picked him up, careful not to bump him against anything.
Looking at that sweet sleeping face, he couldn't help but plant a long, slow kiss right under Hanatarou's left eye, ridding him of the teardrop there. He might have imagined it, but he thought he saw a faint smile fold those ravished lips upward. Renji could tell Hanatarou had taken the first step in the long road to become stronger. When he woke up, Renji would help him down it.
A small chuckle fell from his mouth as he twisted the unlocked knob easily, and strutted out of the closet. A single finger flicked the light off behind them, and the door closed the room filled with their desires.
I have to sleep, or I will die. Thank you for reading, I hoped you liked this very short, very sweet oneshot of mine.
Goooooo RenTarou! :D