Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Reckless Once ❯ One-Shot

Reckless Once

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach; Kubo Tite, Perriot Studios and Viz Comics do.

This ficlet was written for the Boys Next Door 2006 yaoi contest and is dedicated to Quaedam, who is the grooviest.

Warnings: Teenage boys go at one another in nasty ways. Slight spoilers for Bleach manga, early Arrancar arc, chapters 183-190 or thereabouts. Foul language, non-con, masochism, and inappropriate humor. And, er, allusions to het.

A boy, wearing a houndstooth cap and a wide smile, fell headfirst out of the sky.

After somersaulting onto his feet, he landed on the sidewalk and slid on his shoes in a skateboarder’s stance for a whole block--until braking right before the main Karakura High School building. Love was in the air and maliciousness was in his heart. He thought it might be fun to pretend to be a student before recruiting Kurosaki Ichigo.

The next day he even packed a box lunch. His bento contained a pickled apricot and a Vienna sausage into which he’d cut a smiley face. "Hirako Shinji," he said, introducing himself to his classmates. "I’m very good at writing backwards." It was going to be difficult to deal with people who used only one perspective to look at things, but some of the characters in the room were spiritually gifted, if intellectually lame.

That night Hirako sauntered through the motions of attacking Kurosaki Ichigo with a zanpakutou. Predictably, the orange-haired dummy had no intention of accepting a Visored destiny, and even worse, Ichigo kicked up some spirit power that attracted Hollows and stirred the local talent into battles. Not amusing. Hirako figured that the most fun, if least efficient way, to bring over Kurosaki Ichigo to the Visored side would be to taunt the guy every school lunch period--perhaps with a Vienna sausage face and the words Ichigo, Ichigo, I can help you control your inner Hollow!

But Hirako did not get to implement this daily torment. With his very first good-morning of the next school day, Hirako hugged Orihime-chan a little too freshly, and that action seemed to jump-start all the reiatsu in Karakura. The day became one freaky series of confrontations. The clown got pissy, the lesbian got pissier, Ichigo got pissiest. Later in the afternoon, Orihime-chan, looking a teeny bit pissy herself, tried to grill him about what was he doing here. As if it wasn’t obvious he was just trying to get an education. Even Hiyori got all lathered up and murderous enough to come looking for Hirako, but Hirako wasn’t completely sorry that his Visored girlfriend gave him the kancho treatment.

The two-fingers-up-the-asshole just got him warmed up for the Quincy, that’s all.

**

Ishida Uryuu may have lost his Quincy powers, but his reiatsu-sensing ability was still sharp. He had smelled the new boy right away as being somewhat Hollowish, but telling himself that such matters were no longer his concern, Ishida had gone back to not paying attention in class. All day long, the teacher’s voice had been a soft, droning kindness to a mind that was just plain tired of being smart.

That night Ryuuken blew a Hollow out of the sky before it could eat Ishida, and the next day Ishida returned to listening for fluctuations in spirit power (because being attacked by a slimy, Menos-sized Hollow with a tongue as long as a skyscraper does a lot to restore one’s vigilance). Ishida couldn’t do much to fight another Hollow, of course, but keeping his senses poised for danger somehow alerted him to how much he really wanted his powers back. If only he could trust that his father knew how to restore them….

Walking home from school this afternoon, Ishida could sense reiatsu--a congregation of familiar signatures and unfamiliar ones--somewhere ahead of him. He wasn’t concerned--the business with his father’s proposal being foremost on his mind--but then he heard Inoue-san cry out "No, wait!" and his heart froze.

She was calling to Hirako? And was there someone else with a strong spirit power ahead?

Ishida found himself running as fast as his thin legs could take him, but upon nearing the street corner, he saw that Sado and Inoue were just standing there and that the strangers were gone.

"They haven’t done anything to Ichigo yet," said Sado, unaware of Ishida’s approaching. "They may not have any bad intent towards him at all."

"I don’t know," said Inoue (Ishida at this point ducked behind a high wall of shrubbery). "All I can feel is how strong they are and how worried Kurosaki-kun was looking today."

"Ichigo can handle himself," said Sado.

Ishida winced at the mention of Kurosaki. Kurosaki had been the one who had grabbed an overly affectionate Hirako off Inoue-san this morning, and it was always Kurosaki who was saving the day.

Ishida peered through the leaves and saw that Inoue’s face was tight with worry.

It was foolish to go after Hirako. It was rash (and oh so like Kurosaki!) to confront an unknown power, and Ishida reasoned that he wouldn’t be helping anyone at all if he did. If and when his Quincy powers came back, then perhaps he could indulge his curiosity about the Hollowish boy…Following Hirako felt like selfishness.

Ishida found himself following Hirako’s reiatsu anyway.

**

He didn’t mean to confront him. He merely wanted to find him, and after a long walk in a non-residential area of Karakura, Ishida found the strange boy sitting amongst weeds behind an abandoned warehouse. There was a girl standing behind Hirako with her elbows resting on his shoulders. She was a coarse-looking, freckled-faced girl with thatchy hair--not the type that anyone would assume to be anyone’s girlfriend, but something about the way she was touching Hirako made Ishida believe that she was. The two were talking quietly, and the intimacy of the scene startled Ishida into feeling less suspicious of Hirako. How bad could the guy be if he--

Wait. Ishida’s outrage flared when it occurred to him that Hirako’s smearing himself into Inoue-san this morning was all the more unconscionable if the creep had a girlfriend.

"I don’t know what you’re waiting around for," said the girl, dropping her arms to hug Hirako around the neck. "Just stick a fork into Kurosaki and drag him back to the Hideway, and if his reiatsu causes a ruckus on the way there and people get killed, so what? They’re only people."

"Only people," Hirako repeated. "Humans aren’t completely discountable. You’d see that if you weren’t so stuck on yourself."

"You’re a jackass," the girl said and whacked Hirako on the back of the head--the gesture leaving Ishida no doubt that the two were destined to be married someday. "I’m going back. You stay here and play schoolboy all you want."

And as the girl went zipping off into the streets with the speed of a first-class Shinigami (maybe faster?), Ishida found himself frozen where he stood, partially hidden in shadow, a few yards from where Hirako sat. Ishida’s feeble Quincy reiatsu should have been imperceptible, but now that the strange boy was no longer distracted…?

I should have left before the girl.

Ishida was looking at the back of Hirako’s neck, but he knew that his presence had been detected.

Hirako turned around. "What is it with everyone?" He lifted his hands in his air and looked annoyed. "Why is everybody following me?"

Ishida stepped out of the shadows. "Surely," he said in an appropriately melodramatic tone, "you didn’t expect that a power as strange as yours would go unnoticed by some of your classmates."

"Me? Strange? It’s all of you who are over-reacting. Geez, that’s some serious look on your face… Nice glasses, though."

Ishida felt a hatred of Hirako begin to burn in his throat. "Why are you here? Is it because of Kurosaki?"

The strange boy put one hand on his hip and assumed what Ishida took to be a very creepy nonchalance. "I’m not here for the boys, you know." Hirako had unusually white and prominent teeth. "Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed the knockers on Orihime-chan? It’s a wonder there isn’t a line to greet her every morning. Or to save time, one line could embrace her from the front while others took turns glomping her from behind--oooomph!"

Ishida had knocked Hirako to the ground. He hadn’t punched him. He had shot towards him and pushed Hirako down by the shoulders. Ishida himself had fallen and now lay right on top of the strange, Hollowish boy--fists clenching the sleeves of Hirako’s shirt, knees pressing against Hirako’s bony hips.

"Damn," breathed Hirako. "Touchy, touchy. And here I thought you were supposed to be the cool one."

"What?" Ishida’s jaw was hurting it was clenched so tight. "What do you know about me?"

A large flock of migrating birds flew overhead, and the weedy space darkened a bit under the noisy creatures. Ishida could not believe that he was in this position. It was irresponsible… It was dangerous… Then he noticed an unmistakable scent.

It was too early in the fall for chrysanthemums, and no one would be growing them out here. Did Hirako wear … perfume?

**

What Hirako knew about the Quincy was that out of all the spiritually gifted people at Karakura High, this one was supposed to give him the least trouble. Ishida Uryuu was the loner, the one who had lost his offensive abilities, the one who didn’t even care about Ichigo Kurosaki and whatever the Visored might want with that orange-haired dummy.

"Don’t tell me you have a thing for Orihime-chan too?" Hirako attempted a wry face. "I could’ve sworn you were gay for Ichigo."

The Quincy lifted Hirako shoulders an inch off the ground and pushed him down again with a huff of effort.

"Aww, that was sweet." Hirako’s voice was a playful whisper. "Are you trying to hurt me?" He brought his face forward to the Quincy’s face. Most of these humans are just too damn easy to exploit. "You’re prettier than Orihime-chan, you know."

Hirako saw the Quincy’s black eyelashes bat in astonishment.

Quick as a speck of light glinting off Ishida Uryuu’s glasses, Hirako planted a light kiss on the Quincy’s cheek. Then he lay his head back and attempted to look innocent while looking at the sky. He wondered which was blonder--his hair or the dying autumn grass?

"Soooo," Hirako said after a moment’s silence. "What did you think of my retaliatory move?"

From the look in the Quincy’s eyes, Hirako guessed that a kiss was the last thing in the world that the dumbstruck boy--this poor, pissed-off, powerless boy--had expected.

"Do you really think I’m going to fight you?" Hirako cooed. "You’re just a baaaaby."

The Quincy’s eyes slitted and his fist rose. Hirako caught the fist with an open palm.

"Are you suicidal?" Hirako went on. "Don’t you know that I could kill you with my pinky? Honestly, when Ichigo pulled this tough boy shit on me, at least he had the reiatsu to back it up."

The Quincy’s expression seemed to unclench, and he pulled his fist away. The threat in his eyes remained, however. "Look," he said. "I don’t know what you’re after with Kurosaki, but don’t involve any innocents. People like Sado-kun and Inoue-san don’t have the power to fight you."

"What? And you do?" Hirako laughed and in one brisk motion rolled the Quincy over onto his back. "I still say you’re way too obsessed with Ichigo--why else would you have gone out here like this? You weren’t thinking … but I like that in a human sometimes."

The Quincy didn’t struggle. He was still holding onto Hirako’s shirtsleeve with one fist. His eyes were icy.

"I know about Quincy resolve," Hirako breathed. "Read about it in the Shinigami Main Library… about how your kind could bear the worst wounds from Hollow fangs without whining…about…" Hirako brought his face closer and smiled at his own face in the Quincy’s glasses. "Quincy control, eh? If I told you the saddest story in the word, would you even squirt out the teeniest tear?"

The boy was actually pretty good at not looking scared.

"If it was you and not Ichigo I had to teach about control, I might actually have a fun time."

Another flock of autumn birds passed overhead. Hirako could tell by the Quincy’s accelerating heartbeat that this supposedly smart kid was finally starting to get an idea of what could happen here.

**

The moment Hirako sat up and began to unbuckle his own belt, Ishida knew that he deserved what was coming to him. He should have gone straight to his father’s office after school. He should have dissociated himself from Shinigami business already. Maybe Ryuuken was right that Ishida’s going to Soul Society in the first place was a reckless thing to do.

Reckless once and look where it’s gotten me.

Hirako’s penis emerged, flaccid and pale, from behind boxer shorts printed with little yellow smiley faces.

"It’s like this," Hirako said lightly. "I put it in your mouth, and you prove to me how bad you are at sucking cock. Then I just might believe that you’re not Ichigo’s girlfriend."

There was no rewinding time. There was no use berating his own stupidity. As the hand holding the offensive organ approached, Ishida opened his mouth. Hirako didn’t stick it in right away. He ran it around the open o of Ishida’s lips and said, "My, my, that’s a little more eagerness than I was expecting."

The cock went in, and Ishida bit down hard. At first he thought that the cry from Hiroko was one of pure anguish, but as groans continued, Ishida realized that Hirako was shifting into a state of arousal. The flesh in Ishida’s mouth was apparently uninjured and swelling in size.

"Damn, you’ve quite some teeth there for a powerless boy. No wonder you’re on Ichigo’s team. You’re a mean little fucker."

Against his better judgement, Ishida bit down again--only to have the truth confirmed that Hirako liked being bitten. The strange boy wasn’t human, of course. There was a strange reiatsu pressing against Ishida’s cheeks, and a strange tasting fluid rising across Ishida’s tongue. It wasn’t blood--Ishida knew that metallic taste too well from his battle with the twelfth division caption. Then, in a moment of horror, Ishida realized that whatever Hiroko was juicing might be pre-cum … in abnormal amounts.

Ishida felt himself retch. He turned his head to one side in an attempt to spit out all that vile, seeping fluid, but the gesture only yanked at Hirako’s penis and pleasured him more. The Hollowish boy was making light cooing noises, like a turtledove, like a sad and lonely little bird. It struck Ishida as overwhelmingly wrong that he should have any sort of sympathy for the sound, but he did.

Fight him. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll die, and he’ll enjoy it.

Ishida was going to tear at Hirako’s testicles with his hands, but the futility of that idea hit him the same time as the instinct to claw and fight did. There’s got to be another way out of this. Just wait. Just think. His fingers fell with staggering faintness across Hirako’s bare thighs.

"Hard and soft! I like how you touch me. Hey, you’re pretty good!"

The slightest swallow, not just violent tugging or biting on Ishida’s part, would elicit a flurry of coos, so Ishida decided that he was not going to twitch another muscle in his face--nothing to further excite the thick shape pounding against his palette. He stared straight ahead. He saw Hirako’s blonde bangs swishing from side to side. He could not make out the expression behind them.

Hirako thrust a couple more times and stopped cold. "What’s the matter? Forget how? You were doing so well there for a while that I was considering sharing my lunch with you tomorrow."

The next moment took Ishida completely by surprise: Hirako pulled out, pulled up his pants, and leaned his chrysanthemum-scented face next to Ishida’s.

"I’m not so terrible." Hirako’s voice was low, thin, and sweet. "What did you think I was going to do? Make you do something you don’t like by saying I’m going to kill them all if you don’t? That’s not me. I’m a friendly guy. Like I was telling Orihime-chan, like I was telling Ichigo…"

Was Hirako saying that he really would kill someone innocent if Ishida didn't comply?

"… Like I was trying to tell all of you simple-minded humans in class I-3, I’m very good at sending a backwards message. All I want is for you to have some fun. Being a little scared is fun, isn’t it?"

I’m going to get my powers back and shoot off your head, Ishida thought. I’m going to disintegrate you.

"Well, now!" Hirako’s voice turned sharply cheerful. "Your turn!"

**

Giving the Quincy head was actually not that exciting.

The boy fought at first, tried to go for some strange capsules inside his shirt pocket, and wrestled quite prettily while Hirako held his wrists. Hirako ate the strange capsules like they were jellybeans, and after that, the Quincy seemed to realize his place (or fear for his friends?) and was compliant to the point of tediousness. The boy didn’t groan. He didn’t thrash. He got hard fast enough, and the blue-green veins under the very white skin of his upper legs had an aesthetic appeal, but Hirako sincerely didn’t like necrophilia.

Hirako popped the head out of his mouth. "Aww, come on. Pretend I’m the hot schoolteacher or something."

The autumn birds were flapping and cawing overhead, and Hirako could see, but not hear, the Quincy’s lungs drawing uneven, agitated breaths.

Curious, he crawled closer to get a good look at the boy’s face. Sure enough, the blue eyes were glazed over and as interesting as a corpse’s. "Sweetie," he said, touching the blue-black hair sticking to the Quincy’s forehead. "This brave and silent thing is very wearisome. I mean, could you be a bigger pansy? You’re supposed to make me want to hurry up and kill you."

To Hirako’s surprise, Ishida Uryuu let out a low growl of frustration and grabbed Hirako by the shoulders.

Hirako could not disguise his delight and literally squeaked. "Eee! How thoughtless of me! I forgot to make you angry!"

The Quincy had an inhuman look. If Hirako didn’t know better he would say it was positively Hollowish. The whites of the boy’s eyes were bulging.

"Fuck me," said Hirako, pushing still unbelted pants down again. "You know you want to."

Ishida Uryuu backhanded Hirako’s cheek with all his might. The weight of the blow was not even enough to turn Hirako’s head.

"Excellent." With no effort at all, Hirako held Ishida’s elbows and rolled him into a position above him. "Here." Hirako raised his legs around the Quincy’s waist. Both boys were naked to the knees but still wearing shirts, and the whiteness of their skin reflected afternoon sunlight. Hirako didn’t know which of the two of them was paler; he just knew that they were both very pretty. "Fuck the living Hollow right out of my obnoxious ass. Or are you a pansy?"

For one moment the Quincy seemed to be actually deliberating this choice, and Hirako wasted no time tapping that delicious confusion. He arched his crotch against the other boy’s as if a miracle of flexibility could push his famished Visored ass over the Quincy’s lovely, enraged cock. "I know you want to beat me up. This is the only way to do it, you know."

Ishida stared. Hirako recognized the moment that hate and lust merged because he had seen that look so many times on Visored faces. Then Ishida hung his head and sunk, with shameless, slow deliberation, into Hirako’s body. Hirako goaded him with a little push of his hips. At that, the Quincy lifted his head and began to fuck.

The Quincy, Hirako knew, was thrusting fast because he wanted to get it over with. He was thrusting hard because he was really pissed at Hirako and pissed at himself. The muscles in his skinny neck were popping out, and his pretty mouth hung open, snarling and taking in large noisy breaths of air. Hirako found himself wishing that he had thought to undo the Quincy’s shirt earlier so he could now watch that concave chest struggle and see the nipples turn color.

But the Quincy’s crazy, daring sense of entitlement was exciting enough. "Oh yeah, fuck me, pretty boy," Hirako whispered, and he felt the dearest tingle as his cock began to froth.

The pre-cum poured into the crevices between their legs. The wetness made a spanking sound as the Quincy continued to thrust and thrust. He didn’t have much power, of course, to properly assail Hirako into ecstasy. No matter how high Hirako arched his hips against Ishida or how much he squirmed to find the right position, Hirako could tweak no more than the slightest titillation from being fucked. So Hirako grabbed his own cock and began to pump it.

The sight seemed to either distract the Quincy or aggravate him, because his fucking slowing ever so slightly.

"You hate me," sighed Hirako.

"I hate you," growled Ishida.

"Why? I never did anything bad to you! Doesn’t this feel good? Tell me, doesn’t this feel good?"

Ishida’s shoulders seized. His chin dropped onto his chest and his hips stopped thrusting. Already? Hiroko reached out to touch long locks of hair draped over the Quincy’s face.

Already. Hirako flipped the limp boy onto his back and still clutching him by the waist with sharp knees, proceeded to finish with his own hand. He shot a fountain of cream over Ishida Uryuu’s hair, clothes and exposed white stomach.

"Ahhhhhhh, that wasn’t so bad." He ran both hands through the Quincy’s hair. Unusual haircut, that. It was probably difficult to keep neat in the back, but the long, long locks in the front were quite stylish.

"Um," Hirako sighed. "I’m in the mood for more."

No response.

"Ah well, fortunately for you," Hirako’s voice was loud and bright as he got up and adjusted his pants. "I miss my Visored bride."

The Quincy was lying on the ground, still breathing hard, pants pushed down to the ankles.

"Pathetic really," Hirako called out while levitating from the scene. "Except for the power difference, we’re both very alike, you know. Pussy-whipped by our need to look important. And of course, we both just love to make the best possible impression on Kurosaki Ichigo."

And he shot up at full speed, frightening the birds.

**

During the days he trained with his father, Ishida, who had never associated powerlessness with anything shameful, began to understand why those most powerless were often the most cruel. Being angry with oneself made one want to make others feel the same way. Had Ryuuken done something once that he felt helpless and ashamed about? Maybe that’s why he was such a big jerk.

Ishida didn’t want to be a bad person. That’s the reason, he told himself, that he most wanted his shining, magnificent ability to destroy restored to him. He wanted to use it to defend and protect, not to indulge his own selfish desire.

At night, though, when his hips writhed under his own hand, he tried not to think about fucking Hirako among the weeds, and yet the image returned.

Sometimes people just do things because it feels good to do them.

END

Thanks to Cinnie, Audra, and Quaedam for feedback.