/Okay, I went back and edited this a little bit. I fleshed out the actual plot, added more passion, a touch of humor, and some depth and history. I still don't own Bleach.\\\
"Zangetsu," for the first time in a while, Ichigo found himself unsure of what to do. He sat perched over the shirtless man, with both hands spread over the darker skin that wrapped trained muscle. His jeans, crumpled but still firmly on his lower half, were rubbing against torn robes.
The stronger hand, once above the mess of dark hair, slid around his wrist and pulled Ichigo's uncertain hand to thin lips.
"I know you'll do the right thing, Ou-sama," was mumbled before a steaming tongue dragged the long fingers into his mouth. Zangetsu closed his eyes, sucking slowly on the phalanges before the orange-haired teen let out a throaty groan.
"Wh-what is this?" His broken phrase juggled around his shaking mouth before entering the Zanpakuto's ears. He opened a single eye to examine the flushed male. His soft lips were parted, a shiny trail of drool from his lower lip to his Adam's apple. Chocolate eyes that melted with lust glimmered in the light of the moon. Zangetsu released his mouth's hold on the fingers, pulling his master down by a fistful of bright hair instead.
"This is love, Ichigo-sama."
Their lips smashed together with the force to shake Ichigo's body. He fell limp into the bigger man's embrace, who furiously kissed the nervous male.
Tearing the blanket off of him and glaring out of the window filled with moonlight, Ichigo cried out. He was drenched in sweat, and he looked across the room to where Zangetsu was propped against the wall.
A tower of reiatsu shot out and fanned around the tired substitute shinigami. The energy that was once so great was wavering under the power of the Zanpakuto. That's when he appeared. The windblown dark locks hung as they had always hung, and the tattered robes were just as disheveled as they had always been. But the look in his eyes was what startled Ichigo. They were looking him straight on with a twisted sense of illness.
"You called, Ichigo?" The voice that had haunted his embarrassing visions was quiet, keeping a curious façade. Ichigo cursed his sleeping form for having called out his Zanpakuto's name.
"It's nothing," he grunted. He was hoping the dark-haired man would disappear back into his sword, but luck wasn't on his side that night.
"What is the problem?" The presence of the man who had haunted his dreams was borderline hysterical on his nerves, and Ichigo had to turn away to hide his odd expression. His head was spinning with explicit images. A bead of sweat traveled down his neck, and he noticed something terrible.
"It's obvious to you, isn't it, Zangetsu? You saw that dream," he pointed out, scrunching his eyes closed in humiliation as he twisted to sit on his bed. He ran his hands through his hair slowly for a few seconds before locking his gaze onto the floor. The grim man remained quiet, instead taking a step toward the youth.
"It is only a dream, Ichigo. It happens all the time to people your age," his voice blended into the dark as his form dissipated from sight. Ichigo's lips parted in a silent sigh of relief, feeling the tension coiling in his stomach disappear as quickly as his Zanpakuto had. It was true; just another strange dream. Not like he hadn't had those before. His hand fisted around some blanket, which was pulled quickly over his head. But the fact that the other person in that dream had been the spirit made something in the middle of his chest coil in anticipation.
Brown eyes lidded smoothly, and a flicker of a black cape appeared before he slept yet again.
"I'm all too aware of your inexperience," Zangetsu said, twisting a long piece of orange hair between his thumb and pointer finger. His pinky curled under Ichigo's earlobe. They were lying next to each other in the sunshine, with the rays illuminating the side of his face mystically. The teen swiped a tongue quickly over his bottom lip, trying to quell his drying lips. Leaning on an elbow, his spirit drifted over him like an autumn leaf; ready to fall on top of him at any moment. The hand at his cheek was removed and replaced by a steady pair of lips.
"I can't help you, Ichigo, if you can't help me," the slow whisper brushed over his ear excruciatingly slowly. "That's what happens when you fall in love with yourself." When he stated it like that, Ichigo felt his stomach clench and unclench sporadically. Did he have to make it sound so narcissistic? The guilt bubbling in his brain was starting to give him a headache. He knew the older man was correct, and he reached a tentative hand up to rub his thumb over the dark stubble.
Stumbling into the kitchen, Ichigo ran a hand through his hair. The dream had drained his energy, ironically, and he woke up feeling exhausted.
The thing that bothered him the most was Zangetsu's awkward instructions. He would touch him in entirely normal places, his hands, his face, his ankles, but it felt like tiny fires broke out over the spots that were touched by the fingertips. The softest of moans had danced on the teen's lips, but the dark man remained solemn, almost cold, with his emotions.
When he was questioned on what he was doing, the older man simply shook his head, removed his hands, and said he wasn't sure.
Ichigo opened the door to the refrigerator and let the cool air blow across his face, almost banishing the ghost of sweat from his flushed body.
"Ichigo… Hey, Ichigo," a distinct, annoying voice called out, and a tiny paw curled around the corner of the wall. Two beady eyes looked up at the teen, whose refreshing bliss had been cut short by the stuffed animal. He shut the fridge abruptly before picking Kon up.
"What?" It was a straight up growl, and it was partnered with a menacing glare. The shadows from the recently-risen sun impacting the furniture bent over both of them, shading the lion's face.
"Please… don't hurt me! I just wanna help, man!" The mod-soul flailed, waving his arms back and forth desperately. He kicked as well, and Ichigo scowled before setting him down on the kitchen table.
"Make it quick," he warned, putting a hand on his hip impatiently. Kon took a big breath in, for dramatic effect, and clutched his tan chest.
"Why? You got somewhere to go-"
An angry palm smashed down in front of him, sending a shiver of horror through him before he gulped.
"Uh, y-yeah. You need some h-help, eh?" He rose a cartoon eyebrow with this, putting up both of his paws in a demonstration of peace. "I… I accidentally heard you and the old man's conversation last night."
Brown eyes widened, and Ichigo turned quickly to brush up the stairs. If he could ignore him long enough, maybe the annoying lion would disappear.
"Wait! I promise, I can help you out!"
Although embarrassed, the teen turned around to send a sharp stare at him.
"How?" He spat, looking the stuffed animal up and down. Ichigo was hardly expecting this; he didn't know Kon had a benevolent piece of stuffing in his fake body.
"I know where we can get some… intimate materials," came the soft reply, but his face was utterly serious with its delivery.
The teen nearly escaped back into his room, but stopped when he heard the last two words.
Intimate… materials? He almost blushed, thinking about what the stuffed animal meant. No way would he lower himself to that pervert's level… reading that sort of thing…
But if he didn't, would he be stuck in this difficult hell forever? Cursed to only get so far from where he wanted to be with Zangetsu? That would be letting both sides of his soul down.
"Fine, Kon," he grunted, closing his brown eyes. He didn't want to see the sick expression of triumph on the lion's face.
The next day, Ichigo went into town with a small backpack slung lazily over a shoulder. Every second or so, it rustled and grunted a few curse words. The slick soles of his sandals slapped against the steaming sidewalk, and the teenager managed to find his way to the bookstore with relative ease. A tiny bell that was attached to the top of the door jingled lightly as he entered and looked around.
For a Sunday morning, it was quite empty. Rows and rows of shelves of uniform height spread out about fifty feet in each direction, and the counter right by the door had a service bell attached to the top of the cash register. Signs that hung above each row read different genres in pretty yellow kanji. His pack started to rumble again, and a tiny voice was cursing.
"Welcome," the dull voice cut off his backpack quickly, and Ichigo turned to look at the older man behind the counter. His receding hairline had started to turn whitish-grey at the scalp, and ancient, hawk-like eyes were shielded by a pair of rectangle glasses. The owner of the bookstore had his hands clasped on the counter. Ichigo swallowed down his embarrassment and faced the man with complete seriousness.
"Good morning. I'm looking for," the word had to fight to get out of his constricted throat. "Porn."
The old man didn't gasp or look surprised. Instead, he shook his head and let a small smile slide over his wrinkly mouth. He nodded silently, waving the slightly surprised teen to follow him as he wandered into the back room.
"We only have extremely hardcore fetish, is that alright with you?"
The man sighed, now aware of how new the tall teenager was to this sort of thing. Ichigo felt like leaving the store immediately, but remembered the awkward hell he would have to face in his dreams if he couldn't follow through.
"Wait here, I'll go see if we have anything softer," a wrinkled hand rose to stop him, and the bespectacled man trudged off into another room. The backpack kicked his rib, and the orange-haired teen rolled his eyes before throwing the bag to the floor. It screamed, and the zipper shook until it was partially open. Kon's squishy head squeezed through the opening, with a scowl on his little lion face.
"You really think this will help?" He spat at the shinigami's feet, earning a harsh kick that planted him in the wall painfully. "Guh!"
"That's why I brought you," Ichigo whispered, glaring at the withering stuffed animal. "You're gonna help me pick the right stuff out."
"Do you even know what a fetish is?" The incredulous look on the lion's face put a guilty look on Ichigo's face.
"Not… exactly, no…"
Kon gave him a hard stare, and shook his head with a sigh. A swift punch stopped his 'I'm-so-ashamed' expression.
Okay, I edited this. Added more… plot…
The last chapter will have a billion passionate scenes, but no lemon… sorry ;-; I hope you liked this! :D