Okay, here it is, the Renji x Ichigo x Shuuhei that I mentioned at the end of Not Always Easy. I initially meant for it to be a oneshot, but my brain refused to stop, and now I have a 6-chapter story drafted out. *sigh*

Warnings: Like I mentioned before, this is dark (if the title didn't warn you already). This is the first time I've written anything like that, I hope I won't offend anyone in the process.


Ichigo licked his lips nervously, his eyes sweeping over the dark room packed full of writhing, swaying bodies. The dance music was obnoxiously loud over the speakers, and bright, hot lights flashed in sync with the beat all around him, the colors changing every second. It was enough to send any epileptic patient into a seizure.

He hated this place. Not even five seconds in this noisy, smoky club, and Ichigo was ready to bolt. The air reeked of sweat and alcohol from the mostly intoxicated customers and it made him feel sick. Why anyone would get any entertainment out of this was beyond him.

The only reason he even stepped foot into this hellhole was his roommate. Ichigo had only been to the states for less than a week, so he really only knew one person — Starrk Coyote, his older, laid-back, eccentric American roommate. Ichigo was fresh from Japan, and his English was not very fluent; he could hold a conversation in a classroom alright, but throw in slangs and accents in the "real world" and he's lost.

And that's exactly how he felt at the moment. Lost. Lost in the sea of people, all alone, because Starrk had sauntered off by himself the minute they arrived, and Ichigo hadn't been quick enough to see where he had gone. Now he's stuck with no means of transportation, limited communication skills, and not to mention, not a lot of money in his pocket.

Ichigo wasn't a timid person, but even the bravest person would feel a little intimidated being surrounded by strangers, most of them drunk or getting there, and for the most part taller and larger than him. He wasn't underweight by any means; he maintained a healthy body weight, worked out enough to keep his body lean and fit, but these people here were huge.

He licked his lips and searched for Starrk again. It was a near impossible task — the room was simply too dark and confusing, and there were way too many people. It wasn't like Starrk was particularly easy to pick out amongst the crowd; he had brown, wavy shoulder-length hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee. There were many, many men with wavy brown hair here, and Ichigo couldn't make out anyone's faces in the darkness. It didn't help that Starrk was wearing black, either.

To make things worse, the music was starting to give him a headache. After fifteen more minutes of fruitless searching, Ichigo gave up and headed for the bar. He was a college freshman, but because he'd spent a few years volunteering as a teacher at a rural town in his home country, he was older than most students in his year. He was thankful for that now, because he could definitely use a drink to stave off his boredom.

The bartender was a strange-looking older gentleman who was dressed more like a butler than your typical bartender at a nightclub, complete with a waistcoat and a bowtie. He had a strip of black cloth across his face, serving as an eyepatch for his right eye. Ichigo tried his best not to stare and politely ordered a bottle of beer. He knew it was tame and boring, but he didn't really want to get too buzzed.

He was about to take his third sip when a stranger suddenly sat down next to him. He immediately stiffened up; the man was invading his personal space, and he didn't like it. He thought about speaking up, but as he was still trying to put the right words together, the stranger spoke.

"It's too fucking loud here."

Ichigo's eyes lit up. The man spoke in Japanese with a typical Tokyo accent; Ichigo was delighted even though the words were so crude. He took a closer look at the stranger, who was looking right at him. The man was quite a sight — the color of his blood red hair was distinct even in the horrible lighting, and he had tattoos on his forehead, his neck, and his biceps. He topped off the look with a horrendous-looking, bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of ripped, well-worn black jeans. Ichigo swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. The tattoos seemed to indicate gang relation, but then again this is the US, it could be just a fashion statement for all he knew. Either way, he was so ecstatic to find a fellow countryman here that he replied anyway.

"Yes, it's horrible," Ichigo agreed. He smiled at the man, who grinned back and nodded.

"Your first time here?" the stranger practically shouted. The music had kicked up a notch, drowning out most of the conversation around them.

Ichigo didn't bother trying to out-yell the music and simply nodded.

"Welcome!" The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Abarai Renji. What's your name?"

Ichigo swapped his beer to his left hand and shook Renji's hand. He waited for the singer to finish screeching, then said, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

Renji's eyebrows arched. "Seriously?" he asked with an amused smirk.

Ichigo rolled his eyes — he got this all the time. He shrugged, making a "what can I do?" face.

As if reading Ichigo's mind, the redhead grinned and said, "You must get this all the time. Don't worry, I won't laugh in your face."

As their conversation went on, Ichigo found himself getting more and more relaxed around his new friend. Renji was a senior at the same university and was set to graduate after this semester with a Computer Engineering degree. He was from Tokyo; unlike Ichigo, he had more of a reverse cultural shock — this city was tame to him, even boring, while Ichigo was still wide-eyed with awe.

One beer led to another, then Renji somehow convinced Ichigo to try tequila shots — straight up with a bit of lime and a touch of salt. It was fun. The two of them swapped stories; Ichigo told Renji about his older, still-missing roommate, while Renji told Ichigo about the other hangouts in the city, which one had the nicest girls and which one had the cheapest drinks.

"I don't think I should," Ichigo hiccuped, holding his hands up when Renji handed him a sixth shot glass. His face was completely flushed now, and his cheeks were burning like a pair of torches. Starrk had yet to show up, and even if he was looking for Ichigo, he would be having a hard time, because the cellphone Ichigo had ordered online was due to arrive the next day.

Renji scoffed and claimed the glass for himself. "Weak."

Ichigo laughed and gave the redhead the middle finger. "I...have this thing called...self control," he slurred.


Self control my ass, Renji thought, eyeing the kid in amusement.

The guy was plastered. His words had started to run into one another three glasses ago and his eyes were glassy. It was absolutely hilarious.

He was cute, too. Renji liked the hair, especially — short, spiky, and so irresistibly orange. Ichigo had large eyes, the irises a warm golden-brown. His face was slim, his features sharp. He was tall and a bit on the skinny side, but Renji could tell that he was fit and probably sported flat, well-toned abs underneath his t-shirt. If Ichigo was a little more sober, Renji wouldn't dare to check him out so openly, but the kid was pretty far gone by now that he probably wouldn't even flinch if Renji were to grope his butt.

Renji sat back and let his eyes roam up and down the younger man's body. Definitely one-night-stand material.

With that thought in mind, Renji leaned closer and asked in a lower voice, "Do you want to get out of here? Get some fresh air?"

Ichigo held up his empty glass in a mock salute and slid off the bar stool, tumbling a little before Renji grabbed his elbow.

"Watch it, man," Renji laughed. Just to test how far he could go, he took the Ichigo's arm and slung it over his shoulder, and then slipped his own arm around the boy's waist.

Ichigo didn't struggle, didn't push him away. If anything, he seemed to lean into Renji's body. "I'm fine," Ichigo muttered, only to stumble over his own feet as the two of them squeezed their way towards the exit.

Renji almost sighed out loud in relief when the fresh air hit him full in the face as he stepped outside. He practically dragged Ichigo all the way, until they arrived at the corner of the street. He let go of the younger man, and Ichigo immediately sagged against a lamp post, just barely keeping himself upright. Renji hoped he would sober up slightly later; he preferred his partners conscious, thank you very much.

A shrill ringtone cut through the noisy background — there were still people lining up outside, waiting to get into the club. Renji cursed and thrust his hand into one of his pockets. He fished out his cell and scowled at the screen, then he took a better look at the caller ID.

Shuuhei. Renji's lips curled into a lopsided smirk.

"Hey, sexy," he said into the phone. He glanced at Ichigo, who was now humming softly with a faraway look in his eyes.

Shuuhei laughed, his voice deep and sultry. "You wanna meet tonight?"

"Gimme a sec." Renji tilted his head to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder. Ichigo was beginning to slide down the post, so Renji gave him a little boost to straighten him up again. Ichigo giggled and brushed Renji's hand aside, mumbling something about feeling perfectly fine.

"Who's that?" Shuuhei asked with a chuckle. "Aww, you have other plans tonight?"

Renji laughed and grabbed the phone with his hand. "Just a kid I picked up at The Academy. I'm just about to take him home." He took a quick look at Ichigo, noting his rosy cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. Hmm. "You wanna join?" he asked, kinky thoughts beginning to form in his mind.

There was a brief pause on Shuuhei's side, then, just as Renji thought that he'd scared Shuuhei — he didn't think that was possible, the man replied, "I thought you'd never ask. Be there in twenty."


If Renji had known how much work he'd have to go through to get the orange-haired kid into his apartment, he might've re-considered. But as it was, he wiped his brows and half-lifted, half-guided the young man into his bedroom, and then with a loud grunt, lay him down on his king-sized bed. Ichigo chuckled with his eyes closed, apparently amused at the noises that Renji had been making all the way from his car to his apartment.

"Yeah, you laugh now," Renji muttered. He looked down at Ichigo, who was sprawled on his back on the bed, his arms spread out on his sides. Renji had managed to wrestle his shoes off, and now one of his legs was stretched out straight on the bed while the other hung off the side of it. Even fully clothed, the boy was an open invitation, and Renji's mouth watered at the thought of what he was going to do with Ichigo later.

No — what they were going to do with him.

He and Shuuhei shared a "more than friends, not really together" type of relationship. They'd known each other for a few years; Renji had met Shuuhei during his first year at college. At the time, Shuuhei had just graduated and was back on campus doing some volunteer career counseling. A few conversations and a couple of nights out later, they ended up in Shuuhei's bed. It was a little awkward at first, but once they found out that neither were looking for commitment, they eventually settled on this friends-with-benefits arrangement. They kept in touch off and on — sometimes once a month, sometimes twice a week. There was nothing predictable about it, and Renji liked it that way.

This wouldn't be the first time they "shared". If the other party was willing to play along, they were game for anything. In Ichigo's case, willing may not be the most accurate word to use, but he hadn't objected to Renji's touches so far. They would try later, see how Ichigo would respond to Shuuhei. If the kid was receptive, who were they to say no?

Renji was pulling off Ichigo's socks when the doorbell rang, He immediately jogged to the door and opened it, revealing one of the most gorgeous men he'd ever seen in his life. Even though Hisagi Shuuhei was slight shorter and slimmer than Renji, his body was lean and strong, and he had eyes that were capable of visually undressing anyone. Shuuhei stepped in and went straight for Renji's mouth, sliding his tongue between Renji's lips aggressively. Grinning, Renji kissed back just as eagerly before pulling away and gesturing for Shuuhei to follow him into the bedroom.

"Sweet," Shuuhei whistled and looked at Ichigo appreciatively.

The boy was still on his back, both legs stretched out on the bed, humming some nameless tune that actually sounded half-decent. At Shuuhei's voice, he turned and cracked his eyes open. "Hi," he said, giving Shuuhei a half-hearted wave that looked more like a "come here" sign than anything else.

"He's pretty wasted," Renji said a little wistfully. It wouldn't be as fun if Ichigo wasn't into it.

Shuuhei shrugged off his black leather jacket and flung it on the floor. "Works for me," he said, his eyes already darkening.

Renji recognized that look and couldn't help but chuckle. Looked like Shuuhei was in one of those moods tonight; he could be like that once in a while. Sometimes he couldn't even wait till he was inside Renji's apartment before attacking him, pulling and tugging at his clothes the instant the door opened. Renji found it amusing and arousing at the same time.

The bed dipped and creaked softly as Shuuhei climbed onto it. He had wasted no time stripping everything off, and Renji stared, mesmerized, as the older man crawled over Ichigo and went straight in for the kid's mouth. Renji's heart hung in the air for a split second — would Ichigo struggle or give in? His shoulders relaxed when Ichigo let out a moan that was immediately silenced by Shuuhei, only to tense up again when the boy's hands went to Shuuhei's shoulders, looking like he was going to push Shuuhei away.

"Shhh..." Shuuhei pulled back just enough for him to grab Ichigo's wrists and pin his arms down on the mattress.

Somehow, Shuuhei's voice must've soothed the young man's nerves because he fell silent after that. His head turned to the side limply, but Shuuhei turned him back around and began to kiss him — the deep, wet kind with all tongue and teeth. Ichigo moaned again, and this time he responded by opening his mouth. That drew a groan of approval from Shuuhei, and Renji could see the muscles on his bare back ripple as he pressed down on Ichigo's body, driving his hips into the younger one's. When Ichigo arched his back and thrust his hips upwards, Renji grinned — looked like the problem of getting Ichigo into it just solved itself.

Renji left a trail of discarded clothing as he climbed onto the bed to join them, carefully avoiding Ichigo's legs as he crawled over to the other side. Shuuhei looked up just as Renji was settling down next to Ichigo, and Renji sat back up to grab a fistful of Shuuhei's short black hair and pull him in to claim those lips for his own. Shuuhei pulled away from Ichigo and tried to move over to his red-haired lover, but Ichigo immediately held on to his wrist and whined. The boy's lips were red and moist with Shuuhei's saliva, and his half-closed eyes were looking at the older man longingly, obviously not liking the idea of Shuuhei moving away from him.

Renji laughed and let go of Shuuhei's hair. "Not even five minutes and he loves you already," he teased.

Shuuhei flashed him a cocky smile before returning his attention to the young man beneath him. Ichigo was still fully clothed, and Shuuhei was going to fix that right now. It wasn't easy; Ichigo was conscious but obviously not quite here, and it showed in his sluggish movements. Renji joined in to help, and between the two of them, they finally managed to get his clothes off.

"Why the fuck do they make clothes so tight nowadays?" Renji complained as he flung Ichigo's jeans to a far corner of his room.

His only response was a loud, drawn out moan from Ichigo, and he turned around to see Shuuhei running his hands along Ichigo's straining length. The boy's fingers curled around fistfuls of bedsheet and his hips were raised, practically begging for more. The look on Shuuhei's face was now bordering onevil, and Renji could tell that Shuuhei had just changed his mind about jumping right in. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Shuuhei turned to him, one corner of his mouth upturned with a mischievous glint in his slate-grey eyes. Their gaze met briefly, and Renji had to resist the urge to rub his palms together in glee.

Shuuhei scooted up and settled on his knees, hovering over Ichigo's chest. He bent down and tucked all the pillows under the boy's head to prop him up so that he was now half-lying down, half-sitting up. Once he was satisfied with Ichigo's position, Shuuhei moved up further and patted Ichigo's cheeks lightly. The boy looked up at him with glazed eyes and smiled, oblivious to what Shuuhei was about to do.

"Open up for me, baby," Shuuhei whispered, patting Ichigo's cheek again. He supported the boy's face with one hand and held himself with the other, and waited for Ichigo to respond to his request. Ichigo frowned slightly in confusion, and then his eyes widened suddenly as Shuuhei thrust his hips towards his face. He struggled, his eyes blinking rapidly, and then his mouth fell open. He threw his head back against the pillows and let out the most delicious sound that Shuuhei had ever heard, and then his hand flew from the sheets to Shuuhei's thighs.

Shuuhei chuckled and glanced back at his partner. Renji was holding Ichigo's hips down and his head was buried between the boy's legs — obviously the source of Ichigo's sudden burst of pleasure. Shuuhei had experienced it first-hand and could vouch for Renji's skills. Ichigo would be mush in his hands now.

"C'mon," Shuuhei urged again. This time, Ichigo complied, his mind too occupied with his own pleasure to comprehend what he was being asked to do. Shuuhei closed his eyes and hissed as he slid himself between Ichigo's parted lips. The boy shook his head groggily but Shuuhei held his head in place and began to move. It was either drool all over the place or close his mouth, and Ichigo chose the second option. His groans came out muffled as Renji continued to work his mouth and tongue on him. Their voices became intermixed — Shuuhei's was low and throaty, while Ichigo's was higher, silkier.

As Ichigo got used to Shuuhei being in his mouth, he began to respond, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing, squeezing Shuuhei with the insides of his cheeks. The combination of that and the vibrations coming from Ichigo's throat as he moaned brought Shuuhei precariously close to the edge, and he quickly pulled out before he climaxed. It felt good, but the night was still young — he had plenty more in mind for this gem.

When Shuuhei stopped, Renji got up and wiped his mouth with a questioning look in his eyes. But before he could say anything, Ichigo moaned, "Don't stop."

The two friends exchanged a look and Shuuhei burst out laughing. Rolling his eyes, Renji bent down and went back to work. Shuuhei sat back and watched, enjoying the sight of the redhead bobbing up and down, his lips stretched around the younger man's length. Shuuhei's hand unconsciously went to his own arousal, his lust spurred on even more by the wet, messy sounds from the act. Not one minute later, Ichigo cried out and stiffened, his fingers tangled in Renji's long hair. His hips arched off the mattress briefly, then, as the last moan left his throat, he fell limply back onto the mattress.

Chuckling, Renji crawled up towards his face and took his mouth. Ichigo kissed back sleepily, his body relaxing after the high.

"Don't fall asleep on me now," Renji laughed. He licked a trail from the corner of Ichigo's mouth down his neck, then he bit down.

Ichigo's eyes flew open immediately and he gasped in surprise. Renji hadn't really bitten that hard, but the sudden sting was enough to jar him awake. Awake, but still not entirely here. Renji laughed again and looked into Ichigo's eyes.

"Think he'll remember us tomorrow?" Renji asked in an amused tone.

Shuuhei shot back, "If you're as good as I am, maybe."

Renji snorted, then he climbed off the bed and went to his bedside drawers. In the meantime, Shuuhei went over to Ichigo and gently stroked him. The boy smiled up at him for a moment before his eyes fluttered closed, his body arching instinctively into Shuuhei's hand.

"Nah, he's not falling asleep on ya," Shuuhei chuckled. He straddled the younger man's hips and ground down; the pressure and the friction drew a hiss from him and a whispered moan from Ichigo. Shuuhei rolled his hips, then again, and again. Each time, his hands dug deeper into the sheets on either sides of Ichigo's shoulders; he was getting impatient.

"What the hell's taking you so long?" he called out.

Without turning around, Renji gave him the middle finger. "New box. Stupid packaging," he grumbled, and then he was back at Shuuhei's side. He tossed a small packet and a bottle towards his friend and kept a packet for himself.

Shuuhei picked up the bottle and poured a generous amount onto his palm, then he rubbed his fingers together, slicking them up thoroughly. When he was done, he nudged Ichigo's thigh with one knee, and Ichigo moved his legs, wrapping them loosely around Shuuhei's thighs. His breaths were coming harsh and fast, his gaze still slightly unfocused but he was obviously staring at Shuuhei.

"Come on, don't make him wait," Renji teased.

Shuuhei rolled his eyes and raised one of Ichigo's knees, then he slid a finger inside. Ichigo immediately bucked, his hand flying to the sheets again. Renji went over to him and bent down to drag his tongue along Ichigo's lips; Ichigo opened his mouth and Renji dove in. He traced his tongue along the boy's teeth and tongue, and then Ichigo bucked again. His cries came out muffled, but Renji could feel the trembling in the boy's limbs. With another muffled moan, Ichigo bucked again, and again, and then Shuuhei tugged on Renji's hair.

"Get out of my way," Shuuhei complained in mock annoyance.

Renji scooted away and watched his friend spread Ichigo's thighs. Gasping in anticipation, the boy immediately hooked his legs around Shuuhei's hips. Shuuhei didn't need any more encouragement than that, and with a smooth, hard thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt. Ichigo cried out, his legs tightening around Shuuhei, effectively trapping the older man against his body.

"Shit," Shuuhei groaned. He looked at Renji, his brows furrowed from his effort to hold himself still. "Tight," he croaked.

Renji swallowed. This was too much — he was throbbing and aching, and he had to listen to Shuuhei talk like that. "Hurry up," he said hoarsely. His heart was racing inside his rib cage, his blood roaring in his ears. Damnit, he needed something right fucking now!

"On your back," he said to Shuuhei.

Shuuhei's lips pulled back into a leer. "Gimme a sec," he said. He reared up onto his knees and slipped his arms beneath Ichigo's knees and pulled the boy closer. Then he took a deep breath and snapped his hips forward over and over again, hard and fast like his life depended on it. Ichigo's moans broke, the air knocked out of his lungs every time Shuuhei slammed into him. Then, just as abruptly, Shuuhei stopped and pulled out. His hair was getting damp from sweat, his face and chest flushed pink.

"Don't stop," Ichigo whispered. He sat up and grabbed Shuuhei's arms and added, "Please." He was obviously very close — the urgency was clear on his face and the way his fingers dug painfully into Shuuhei's skin.

Shuuhei laughed softly and lay down on his back. He pulled Ichigo onto his lap and said, "We're not stopping, babe. Come up here."

Body shaking with need, Ichigo let Shuuhei guide him, and then he shuddered as he was lowered onto the older man. It was almost like he suddenly came alive, because as soon as he was seated fully, he began to move, lifting himself up and then dropping back down feverishly. Shuuhei's eyes nearly rolled back into his head, but he managed to catch himself, and he stopped Ichigo, holding the boy tightly in place. Ichigo whined and bucked in protest.

"Shhh..." Renji placed one hand on Ichigo's shoulder from behind and whispered into his ear. "Wait for me."

There was a low hiss, a wave of tension in Shuuhei's muscles, and then Renji groaned as he pushed slowly into Shuuhei. "Lean forward a bit, Ichigo," he gasped.

Ichigo complied wordlessly, giving Renji more space to move. Shuuhei squeezed his eyes shut, his senses torn between the tight, crushing heat wrapped around him and the burning hot ache inside of him. He breathed through his mouth, and then when he finally deemed himself ready, he let go of Ichigo. The boy acted like a released wild horse and immediately began to bounce. Renji joined in a second later, his voice adding to the erotic symphony echoing in the small room. He started slow, but soon fell into the same wild rhythm set by Ichigo.

As Ichigo's movements became more and more frantic, Shuuhei reached out and wrapped his hand around the boy. That was all it took — Ichigo's body seized up, his mouth open but silent, and then he fell forward, catching himself just in time before he crushed Shuuhei.

"Almost there," Renji murmured, his jaw clenched tightly.

Shuuhei didn't bother responding; instead, he gripped Ichigo's hips and urged him to continue moving. Tired and sleepy now, Ichigo's movements were clumsy and slow, but with Renji going at it like this, it was enough to give Shuuhei that little extra push — with a gasp, he stiffened and spilled himself deep inside the boy.

Renji managed a few more shallow, jerky thrusts before he followed suit. He lurched forward, breathing so hard that his throat burned. His clammy forehead hit Ichigo's equally-clammy back, but he ignored the stickiness and let himself rest like this while he recovered his breath.

It took them a while to disentangle themselves afterwards, mostly because Ichigo had passed out. Renji eventually managed to get him into his clothes in a somewhat presentable fashion, while Shuuhei waved and left with a wide grin on his face.

"Asshole," Renji muttered under his breath, annoyed that he was stuck with Ichigo alone.

But when he looked down at the unconscious young man, he couldn't help chuckling; Ichigo was cute even with his mouth hanging open and snoring like a bear. He brushed a few strands of stray hair from Ichigo's face and wondered if the boy would remember them in the morning, and if he did, how much would he remember?


It's too bright it's too bright it's too bright!

Ichigo twisted his body around, instinctively shrinking away from the sunlight. Apparently, someone had dropped a crate of bricks on his head some time during the night. He opened his mouth to groan but found that he couldn't; his mouth was dry and his throat hurt, and his tongue felt too large for his mouth.

A hangover. He recognized the signs and knew that he was nursing the worst hangover in his life yet.

"Mister?" a voice suddenly asked.

Startled, Ichigo sat up, only to immediately sink back down on the…couch. As he fought down a bout of nausea, he struggled to get his bearings. Where the hell was this?

"Sir," the voice insisted. "Are you alright?"

No I'm not, Ichigo croaked inside. But outwardly he could only wince. The voice was too loud, way too loud, and it was making his head throb in time with his pulse. He looked to the source of the voice — it was a young man with dark blond hair with a kind, friendly face. His brown eyes were large and bright, and he was currently looking at Ichigo with a frown of concern.

Ichigo swallowed a few times, but that only made his throat hurt even more. His look of distress wasn't lost on the boy, because he walked away briefly and returned with a small plastic cup of water. Ichigo took it gratefully.

"Where am I?" Ichigo asked, his voice so hoarse that he could hardly recognize it himself. The place looked familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You're at the reception area in Camper Hall," the boy replied. "Someone dropped you off here last night, but we weren't able to wake you up so I don't know which room you're in."

Ichigo blinked. Someone dropped him off? From where? How'd they know where he lived? "Room 1335," he mumbled. His hand went to his right pocket and froze, then he started to pat himself down frantically. His key was gone!

"Here." The boy handed him a bunch of keys.

Ichigo's eyes widened. Of course — whoever it was would assume that he lived here because of the Camper Hall tag on his key ring. Still, that didn't explain who had dropped him here, and why, and most important of all, from where? He tried to think, but his pounding headache refused to let him concentrate even for a few minutes, and he eventually gave up. He noted the name tag on the blonde's shirt: Tesla Lindocruz. Definitely not something he could pronounce in his current condition.

"T-tesla," Ichigo tried. "Do you remember who…" He let his sentence trail off; he didn't know what he should say. Did the person drive? Bike? Walk him home? Dragged his sorry ass in in a body bag?

Tesla gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, when I came in for my shift, you were already here. I could ask my colleague…"

"No, it's okay," Ichigo said automatically. There was no point troubling someone because of his own stupidity.

Not wanting to bother the friendly receptionist any more than he already had, Ichigo wobbled to his feet and began his treacherous journey to his dorm room. His body ached all over; he felt like a pile of laundry that had just gone through the washer and dryer. Some places hurt more than others; like his thighs for example. Luckily for him, it was only one floor above, and there was an elevator. His vision was getting blurry, and the throbbing ache behind his eyes made every step a torture. But somehow, miraculously, he managed to reach his room, and he stumbled inside.

Starrk wasn't in the room. Ichigo was relieved, because he really couldn't handle any more talking. Even the slightest noise threatened to trigger his gag reflex, and he was already having a hard enough time holding his stomach down as it was. He headed for his bed, but the moment he lowered his head to sit down, he felt the unmistakable taste of bile in the back of his throat. He clamped a hand over his mouth and ran, tripping and skidding his way to the nearest restroom. He got there just in time to retch into the toilet bowl, emptying everything he'd had for the past twenty four hours until he felt faint. He didn't even care when some water splashed onto his cheek.

By the time he dragged himself to the sink, he felt ten years older. He felt like crap, and he was sure that he looked like it too. Sure enough, his face was pale and looked so dry that he could see tiny flakes around his mouth. He rinsed out his mouth and immediately felt slightly more human.

What the fuck did he do that got him so wasted?

He tried to remember, but his jello-like brain could only recall snippets — Starrk, a bar, lots of people, horrible music. He'd had some drinks, lots of it if his current state was any indication. But beyond that, he drew a blank. It was as though his life had become a skipped tape from that point onwards. Surely he hadn't drunk alone. Was it Starrk? Did he end up drinking with Starrk?

Ichigo groaned; all this thinking was making his head hurt. He could leave that for later, he was sure he would be able to remember more when his brain worked again. Now, all he wanted to do was to collapse in his bed and hibernate for at least one month. With that thought in mind, he turned on the faucet to wash his face. The icy cold water felt like silk against his itchy skin, and his shoulders relaxed for the first time since he woke up. He grabbed a piece of napkin and dried his face, then he froze as something caught his eyes. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror and brushed his hair aside to expose his neck.

There it was — it wasn't his imagination. There was a bite mark right there, below his earlobe, partially hidden by the ends of his hair.

What. The. Fuck.

What the hell did this mean? He turned his head from side to side and craned his neck to check if there were any other marks, but that was the only one he could see. Was it a hickey? Did he end up having drunken sex? Was that why his body ached?

Ichigo couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember, and he was starting to freak out, but his mind was beginning to shut down on him, refusing to let him dwell any further on things that he should be worried about. Too exhausted to fight his body, he let his legs carried him back to his room, and by the time he hit the mattress, he was already asleep.


To be continued...

Phew, that was a pretty long chapter! Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think...I've never written a threesome, so...be gentle on me!