I hate the lousy piping system at my apartment. I really, really do.
UPDATE: It has been brought to my attention that some people may feel uncomfortable with the storyline of this fic. Please be warned that the actions and thoughts of the characters may elude to sexual abuse. If you do not feel comfortable with such elements, please hit your Back button now.
The water sounds like music to my ears. I have been looking forward to this shower for the entire fucking day, and it feels every bit as amazing as I imagine it to be. The temperature is perfect, the water pressure high enough to feel like strong, sensual fingers massaging my muscles.
I pour a liberal amount of my favorite body wash—peach scent, don't judge—onto my sponge and work up a good lather on my chest. The refreshing and slightly fruity smell fill the shower stall, and I take a good long sniff before letting out a sigh. I'm not ashamed of my shower gel preference. Some men need to smell "spicy", or "musky", or whatever hell the marketing folks call it these days, in order to feel manly. Me? I have enough manliness as it is, add any more and I would start smelling like testosterone.
I stretch my back as I twist around to scrub my sides, feeling the muscles flex and bunch at all the right places. My workout regimen is going well, I'm definitely bulking up. I feel leaner and fitter than I have since graduating from university. My biceps have gotten thicker, the ridges of my abdominal muscles more visible. I'm in top shape, if I may say so myself. I start smiling to myself. If this continues, I will have to replace some of my clothes, maybe have my pants altered, and my suit—
The water turns scalding hot abruptly, cutting off my train of thought. I yelp and jump out reach of the water spray, my baby blue shower sponge slipping out of my hand to land in the soapy sludge at my feet.
"Fuck!" I yell, rubbing my elbow where it has slammed against the tiled wall during my hasty escape.
This is it.
For months it has been like this. I live in a pretty shitty apartment complex. One of the downsides is the fact that, apparently, two people can't take a shower at the same time. Every time the guy upstairs showers, it fucks with the pipes and I end up nearly getting cooked by boiling water.
And this asshole just loves to take a shower right when I'm taking mine.
I turn off the faucet and climb out of damn shower. I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist before I trudge into my room, leaving wet foot prints behind me. I ignore the water that's running down my face.
I yank my front door open and step into the hallway. I don't care that I'm about to stomp upstairs clad only in a towel. Like I said, I'm in top shape. I wouldn't mind having a few pairs of eyes on me.
Along the way, I walk past a few neighbors. Nobody I really know or particularly care about. An old lady here, a mousy-looking brunette there, a busty blonde on the stairs; they all stare at me like I'm nuts. I just puff out my chest and look right back at them. Only the blonde holds her gaze. As I brush by her she actually licks her lips. I wink at her, feeling my pride soar even though I play for the other team. A girl can dream, right? So I let her.
Once I reach the top of the stairs I turn right and storm towards the unit directly above mine. I've never actually seen this guy. I only know that it's a dude because I can hear his voice when he talks on the phone. More like shouts into the phone. I pity the poor bastard who's on the other end of the line. Someone called Goat-face or some shit like that; it's always the same person getting yelled at.
Finally, I come to his door. I suck in a deep breath and raise my arm, then I take out all my frustrations on the damn wooden door. I pound on it with my fist like I want to break it down. I know I have to be loud for him to hear it from the bathroom, but I think I'm overdoing it a little. Whatever, it feels good.
I hear a muffled call in there somewhere. I can't make out the words. Not that I care, really. I just want the fucker to open this door so that I can bash his head in. So I continue banging on it. Down the hall, a bald guy opens his door and peeks his head out. His mouth opens like he's going to tell me to shut the fuck up, but he takes one look at my face and hastily shrinks back into his apartment.
I sneer in his direction. Fucking coward.
Just as I turn back to the door that's standing between me and my victim, it opens from the inside.
"What the fuck?" the familiar voice greets me.
I look down at the man in front of me and almost forget the reason I'm here.
You see, even though I haven't seen him, I've sort of constructed a mental picture of him in my head. He sounds boyish, his voice deep but not gruff, so I imagine that he's some pimply kid fresh out of high school, probably skinny with a big head and limbs that are too long.
Boy, am I wrong.
The eyes currently boring into mine remind me of amber, brown with sparks of gold. They're narrowed—because clearly, he's pretty pissed off—but the anger only makes them shine brighter. I stare into those eyes, absolutely speechless, then I blink and take in the entire face.
I'm right about the asshole being young, but that's pretty much where my assumptions end. He has the most flawless skin I've ever seen; not the pale, baby-smooth sort, but rather the tanned, beach-model kind that instantly makes me jealous. His cheeks are a little flushed, which I assume is from the shower. His face is wet, just like mine.
But what really catches my eye is his hair. It's wet and plastered to his scalp, and it's orange. As in vibrant, Hawaiian-sunset-like orange. Thin rivulets of water trickle from his hairline down his face, and I can't help but follow the water as it flows along his jaw. There, it drips down onto his chest.
His bare chest.
He's wearing nothing but a towel, just like me.
"The fuck are you staring at?" the kid snaps at me.
His voice shakes me out of my stupor, and I suddenly remember why I'm here.
"You!" I bark, pointing a finger at him. "Do you know that every fucking time you take a shower, you mess up the water and ruin my shower?"
I know. It doesn't make much sense, but that's all I can muster at the moment. I think he just fried my brain.
He frowns and arches an eyebrow, the combination almost comical but somehow manages to look perfect on his face.
"So…you're telling me I can't take a shower?" he asks. He looks at me like I'm crazy.
I give him my best glare. I open my mouth to say something intelligent, then I realize that I have no fucking idea what to say. I guess I just want to vent, take my frustration out on him. But beyond that…I don't know how we can solve this, really.
Before my brain can tell my mouth to shut the fuck up, I find myself saying, "No, just don't take it when I do."
The kid snorts. I see his lips twitch like he's holding back laughter. "So, you gonna give me your time table or something?" he asks.
Instead of feeling embarrassed like any normal person would, I flash him a wide, wicked grin. I have no sense of modesty, in case you haven't noticed already. He, on the other hand…I can tell he's the type who becomes embarrassed easily.
I'll show him that laughing at me isn't such a great idea.
The glimmer of mischief in his eyes falters a bit and he takes a step back, away from the door.
"No, that's not what I had in mind," I tell him.
His eyes widen. My arm intercepts the door as he tries to slam it close.
"Then w-what do you…have in…mind?" he asks. His voice breaks a bit but he stands his ground.
I look at him up and down, then I pull a trick I just learned from that busty blonde on the stairs. I stick my tongue out and run it over my upper lip, then my lower lip, very, very slowly.
He swallows audibly.
I lean down and whisper in his ear, "Let me show you what I really have in mind…"
I grab his arm. He struggles and tries to fight me off, but I'm a lot bigger than him. He's not small by any means, but he's skinny compared to me. I drag him in the direction of his bathroom. I know where it is, of course, because his apartment has the same damn layout as mine.
"What! Are! You! Doing?" he shrieks.
I pull him into the bathroom and pin him against the wall opposite of the wash basin. "I think you have an idea what I'm doing," I say, letting my breath tickle the shell of his ear.
I feel him shudder. He bites his lip and glares at me. I can tell that he's afraid, but he still has fire in him. He's not going down without a fight.
Just the way I like it.
I'm still holding on to his arm, so I just tug him along as I head to the shower stall. It's a tight squeeze, but we fit into it alright. Both of us.
"This is your idea of solving the problem?" he asks, looking absolutely incredulous. "Showering together?"
I cackle in glee and reach for the shower head. The spray of water almost blinds me.
I proceed to strip out of my towel. I toss it out of the stall and let it land in a heap on the floor, then I search through the assortment of bottles that is available and pick out the body wash. What a coincidence, looks like the little punk likes peach as much as I do.
I start to wash myself, continuing the shower that he interrupted. I pretend to ignore him, but I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His mouth is wide open, and he's blinking furiously like he's trying to wake up from a nightmare.
I count in my head: three…two…one…
"You're not serious, are you?"
I turn around and smile innocently at him. "So what if I am?"
Then I realize that he's not looking at my face. I follow his gaze…down, down, down…oh.
"Wow, it really is blue," I hear him mutter.
I want to laugh, his expression is just too precious. Two seconds later, it occurs to me what his tone implies.
"You've been wondering if it is?" I ask curiously.
He looks up, and I see deep pink stains blossom on his cheeks.
All of a sudden, I'm not so interested in taking a shower anymore. Well, not that I really am in the first place…
He backpedals as I take a step towards him. There really is nowhere for him to go in this tiny space. His back hits the wall and he stares at me, the blush on his face becoming even more prominent.
I reach up and let my fingers ghost over the side of his face, following his hairline. I rub my thumb over the shell of his ear, his jaw, then I hold his chin and tilt his face upwards. My heart skips a beat when his eyes slide close. He knows what's coming, and he's not moving away. The realization of the fact sends a tremor of excitement up my spine and I feel a gush of blood rush down to my happy place.
He lets out a soft whimper when I brush my lips against his. I keep the contact light, then I pull away. His eyes fly open, glazed over and confused.
"So…" I drawl, lowering my voice to make it sound husky and sexy. At least, my former partners have informed me that I sound sexy like that.
I notice that he's breathing through his mouth, and his knuckles are turning white from the way he's clutching his towel.
I allow my grin to widen. "When exactly…did you start to wonder…" I murmur, holding his gaze. "…what color it is…down there?"
To my surprise, he whispers, "Since…I first moved in."
I raise my eyebrows. "And when is that?"
"Four months…two weeks…three days…ago," he mumbles.
The tip of his ears redden as he says this, and I can't stop myself from licking them. I cup his face and let my tongue travel from his ear to his neck. He tastes like peach. I reach down and remove the offending towel from his waist.
"So you've been watching me," I state, flattered. I never knew I have a little stalker on my tail.
He gulps and shivers as I suck gently on his earlobe. "Y-yes," he grits out.
With my ear next to his mouth, I can hear every pant that leaves those enticing lips. Lips that are moist and parted and oh-so-soft.
"Mmm," I hum. "Now that you know…what do you want to do? Hmm?"
The kid outright moans at that. I clench my jaw, forcefully swallowing the answering groan that's at the tip of my tongue. He's going to have to work a lot harder to earn that from me.
We stare at each other for a few seconds. I keep quiet and wait for his answer. His Adam's apple trembles as he swallows, then slowly…slowly…he slides down, his hands trailing down my sides, over my hip bones, my thighs, then they circle around and rest on my ass. I feel his warm breath on the tip of my cock.
My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. I'm so excited that I can see myself twitching and bobbing in anticipation. He gives me an almost adoring look, then he leans in and takes me into his mouth.
I feel my knees go weak as I'm suddenly engulfed in wet, fiery heat. I rest my palms on the wall and glass door to keep myself upright. I let out a shuddering sigh as he begins to suck and stroke me at the same time.
Good god, he is fucking talented.
The entire time, he continues to look at me, his eyes wide open and greedy. I can't look away even if my life depends on it. I'm entranced by the burning lust in his gaze.
What have I done?
I think I've just released a monster; all his pent-up hunger—all four months, two weeks, and three days of it, and now he's going to devour me.
I'm more than happy to let him.
"Yeah, harder," I slur.
He moans around me and I finally let a groan tumble from my lips. The vibration in his throat adds to the already-blinding pleasure. I can't take it anymore.
"Up, up," I command, threading my fingers in his orange locks.
He stands up, a sly smirk on his face like he knows how desperate I am. The minute he's fully on his feet, I slam him against the wet tiles and crush our lips together. I need him I need him I need him.
I grip his hips and grind against him. He pushes back, his cock rock hard and weeping. I fumble blindly for that bottle of peach-scented body wash. I squirt a generous amount of it onto my palm, then I lift one of his legs and search for his entrance.
He bucks against me as soon I press into him. He's so damn tight that I don't know if I'll be able to do this without hurting him.
"Do it, just fucking do it," he croaks when I hesitate.
His wish is my command.
I snap my hips and feel him yield to me. He cries out, his voice breaking. I give him a deep kiss to distract him, and when he nods I pull out and thrust into him again. His muscles contract around my cock and I groan, then I open my mouth to say his name and…
"What's your name?" I ask, feeling a little guilty.
"Ichigo," he gasps. "My name is…Ichigo."
I chuckle. "Nice to meet you, Ichigo." I rock into him right as I repeat his name, and he lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob.
Given that he's my little stalker, I assume I don't have to introduce myself. Sure enough, he starts to whisper my name, over and over again like a mantra.
By now, we've found a fast and steady rhythm. With his leg hooked around my waist, I brace myself with one palm against the wall next to his head and keep my other hand firmly on his hip. I slide in and out of him mercilessly, wringing all sorts of delicious sounds from him.
He's getting louder, his voice becoming hoarse. I feel him clench around me, and I know he's close. I quicken my pace, pushing him nearer and nearer to his limit. He clings to me, his fingers digging into my back, his head thrown back against the wall.
When his pleasure crests, he screams my name. The sound echoes around the tiny bathroom, bouncing off the walls and driving me over the edge. I gasp, unable to form any coherent words as I release deep inside him. It feels like all my energy is flowing into him.
I lose track of how long we stay like this, holding each other like long-lost lovers. His breathing starts to even out eventually, and I let go of him.
He doesn't move away.
I smile into his hair and reach behind me for the shower head. I pour more body wash onto my palm, then I touch him. Not the frenzied, needy kind of touch. This is almost gentle, like a caress. I let out a contented sigh. I can do this forever and not get tired of it.
He lifts his head and peers into my eyes. I feel his fingers on my forehead. He brushes my bangs out of my face and presses his lips on mine.
We wash each other, slowly and thoroughly. His skin feels like silk beneath my fingers. I turn him around and massage his shoulder blades, loosening the knots in his muscles. He sighs and leans back against my chest. We stand under the water until our fingertips are so wrinkled that they feel rubbery.
Never in my dreams have I imagined that this would be the outcome. I watch his reflection in the mirror as he tries to tame his hair with his hands. I chuckle. It's not working; the mess on his head sticks out stubbornly in every direction except the one he wants it to go. He catches my gaze and scowls at me. I guess he doesn't like people having a laugh at his expense.
I don't know where this will lead. I don't know if he will like me for who I am once he actually knows me. But I have a feeling that I won't have to worry about getting scalded in the shower for a while.
To be continued...
Yay for more randomness! So…yeah, this story was born when I got burned in the shower last night. Except, of course, I don't have a hot single neighbor in the unit upstairs. I don't have the slightest intention to have a shower with a family of three any time soon. *shudder*
But seriously, my apartment manager needs to fucking FIX THIS SHIT.