Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Schoolhouse Rock ❯ Every time boys screw against a wall, a fairy gets its wings ( Chapter 1 )

Life had been strange for Ichigo lately. Stranger than usual, and it was almost entirely Ishida's fault.

He had no idea what their relationship was, or what it was supposed to be, or even if there was any relationship there at all. Whenever he determined that it was too much worry and he should just end whatever they were doing and get on with his life, Ishida would do something to destroy his resolve, like suck him off.

Not that the blowjob was entirely the result of a purely diabolical plot of Ishida's to keep Ichigo ensnared in his tangled web of idiotic socialization and awkward sex (though Ichigo had considered it a possibility), because, in all honesty, it would be difficult for Ishida to give Ichigo head if Ichigo didn't follow him home sometimes and sulk in his apartment until one of them tackled the other. Maybe the real problem was that Ichigo's resolve to abandon the relationship manifested itself in strange ways, like rubbing himself to orgasm on Ishida's leg.

Ichigo wouldn't have had a problem just going on the way things were -- ignoring each other at school and then fumbling each other to completion in Ishida's bedroom with the occasional fuck here and there -- but he had an annoying niggling feeling that there ought to be some sort of relationship between them, that something should change, and that Ishida should stop calling him names like "moron" or "useless idiot."

Of course, Ichigo wasn't about to ask Ishida what was going on between them, because that would be crazy. Suicide. Ishida would laugh at him and tell the whole school what an utter girl he had become, and Ichigo wouldn't be able to deny it. In one of his much less rational moments this last week, Ichigo had tried to take Ishida's hand while they were walking back to Ishida's place after school. He had no idea, then or later, what had been going through his mind except that the street was empty and that was what couples were supposed to do, but Ishida had stepped hard on his foot and yanked his hand away. The fact that something had urged Ichigo to do it at all - and that Ishida had denied him - was troubling.

A more pressing problem, at least in the sense that it was more likely to be discovered by someone not involved in the situation, was that he kept getting hard in school. That one wasn't his fault; it was really, really Ishida's for being in his line of sight and for the way he held his pencils. Something about it wasn't quite normal, Ichigo was sure, and it drew attention to Ishida's fingers, which would make him think of those fingers wrapped around his cock or clutching bedsheets, and Ichigo would lose half his body's blood supply to his dick. It would happen at the least convenient times, too, usually as far away from lunch or the end of the day as possible, and he would have to sit there, hunched over his lap, hoping no one would notice. Like right now, for example.

Maybe nobody would see if he tried to rub it away through his jeans. It might be less noticeable than the way he was practically curled into a ball in his chair in an attempt to conceal his arousal, anyway. Plus, it was really distracting him, he couldn't concentrate, and he was pretty sure no one was looking. Screw it.

Ichigo casually dropped a hand into his lap, pulling his textbook in tighter to his chest, even though anyone who was watching would notice that he couldn't easily read the book if it was so close to his body. Slowly, jerkily, he pressed the side of his hand against his erection and immediately bit his lip to keep from sighing in relief.

Though he still felt certain the teacher would catch on if he kept at it, he didn't want to stop. He rubbed as quickly and subtlely as he could, eyes darting around suspiciously between his fellow class-mates. Anxiety and paranoia might kill him before an unattended erection would. Maybe I should just ask to go to the bathroom.

As he was contemplating doing just that, someone tapped on his shoulder from behind. His heart stopped. Oh shit oh shit everyone saw me and now they're going to tell the class oh SHIT keep calm. You can deny everything if you just. Keep. Calm. It took all his will power to acknowledge the touch. Slowly, Ichigo craned his neck around to see Keigo leaning over his desk, peering at him intently.

"Oi, Ichigo! Good for you!" he whispered loudly, flashing a thumbs-up.

Ichigo went bright red. "Go to hell, Keigo!"

Half the class turned to them, including the teacher, who gave Keigo an exasperated look and sharp reprimand, and went back to the lesson. Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut and hunkered even lower in his chair. His hand was still in his lap, but there was no way he was going to try to jack off anymore.

It's all right. Think of things that don't turn you on. Hollows. Think of that shinigami with that wicker basket on his head, or the really old guy. Think of Renji. Urahara. Urahara's stupid hat. Training with Urahara. Being chained up in that big hole. Discipline. Not helping.

Think of Keigo. Kon.

With sufficiently unappealing images in mind, Ichigo managed to get through some of the longest hours of his life until lunch time. He stood slowly, self-consciously, holding his books over his crotch in what he hoped was a discreet manner.

Chad stood directly to his left, watching him, exuding a terrible aura of knowing all about Ichigo's predicament and what caused it from the general vicinity of his bangs. Ichigo wondered if Chad was picking up on anything between him and Ishida lately, and his worst suspicions were confirmed when Chad placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, then turned away, managing with a word or two to persuade Keigo and Mizuiro to eat lunch with a group of girls Keigo'd had his eye on for the past week or so. Ichigo felt a rush of bitter gratitude to Chad: it was very considerate of him to get a little privacy for him and Ishida on the roof, but he would have much rather not have to deal with Ishida. He just wanted to go to the bathroom and jerk off, then curl up in a cave somewhere and die.

"Are you coming, Kurosaki?" Ishida called from the doorway, not even bothering to turn his head.

Ichigo looked from the door to Chad's back to the door again, trying to figure out what the wisest course of action would be, then cursed himself when he followed Ishida to the roof anyway.

He was still miserable eating lunch alone with Ishida, disconsolately munching on a sandwich and hunched to hide his lap and stubborn erection. Ishida's presence right next to him was making things worse; the way he sat there with his long fingers and his long sandwich and his putting food in his mouth and swallowing it. He took a ferocious bite of his sandwich and glared uselessly at the sun.

With a sigh, Ishida reached into Ichigo's lap, pulled down his zipper, slid a hand into his briefs, and began jerking him off. Ichigo choked around a mouthful of peanut butter and an outburst of "HEY" or "WHAT THE HELL ISHIDA WE ARE IN A PUBLIC PLACE." As it was, nothing actually came out except chunks of bread.

Ichigo found himself unable to move or think beyond what seemed like a panicked clanging in his brain that shouted warring sentiments like "What the fuck" and "thank GOD, finally," so he just sat there, frozen, while Ishida went to town one-handed in the confines of Ichigo's pants. He had been ignoring his erection all day, so finally getting it some proper attention took care of the situation pretty quickly. He came with a full-body shudder and a spray of half-chewed food.

Ishida quietly extracted his hand and cleaned it off on a napkin, which he then used to brush away the crumbs that had fallen from Ichigo's slack mouth onto his lap. Ichigo finally swallowed and put down the sandwich he had been holding halfway to his mouth. This was a damn confusing situation.

"Why did you do that?" he asked finally.

Ishida glanced over. "You were obviously uncomfortable. You were going to be distracted by that all day."

Oh. Well, that was... thoughtful of him, maybe. Ichigo looked down at his still-open pants and scowled. "But now I have spooge in the front of my pants. That's going to be a lot less awkward, thanks."

"I was just trying to help out," Ishida replied with a shrug. "It's not my fault you had an erection all day."

"Yes it IS!"

Ishida looked up at him in surprise, taking a dainty swig of water from Ichigo's bottle. "I caused your erection?"

Ichigo glared out over the tops of the buildings. He hated everything. "What else would you think caused it?" he grumbled. "It wasn't math."

Instead of smirking, like he would have expected, Ishida contemplated this, swirling the water bottle gently. Ichigo half thought Ishida would come out with some smartass remark about that information, but he seemed content for the moment to consume the rest of his sandwich and Ichigo's water. In the meantime, Ichigo regarded the mess in his pants with irritated resignation. Was there a way to just ignore it? Could he scrape it out with his hand and wipe it off on the roof? After a few more moments of debating with himself, Ichigo came to the conclusion that thinking about what to do was really stupid. He stood, zipped his pants, and brushed off his hands. Ishida, just finishing off the last of his food, glanced up at him.

"I'm going to the bathroom to clean up. I'm all sticky and it feels like I took a dump in the front of my pants."

Ishida made a face but seemed otherwise unperturbed. "I'll tell the teacher you're feeling sick."

Ichigo glared at him. "Oh, no. You're coming with me."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're the one who caused the problem in the first place, and then 'fixed' it by making me come all over my own pants. Let's go."

"Kurosaki, this is ridiculous. I have no --"

Ichigo grabbed Ishida by the wrist and yanked probably a lot harder than he had to, which earned him an indignant squawk and some muttered invectives he paid no mind. He didn't really care that he felt like a mother pulling around a bratty child, because Ishida was acting like a bratty child, and screw him if he didn't want to be dragged around by the arm. He let go only when they reached the nearest bathroom and the door shut behind them. Ishida gave him a wry look.

"I'm not cleaning you off."

"No one asked you to! Just stand guard at the door and make sure no one comes in while I'm taking care of this, OK?"

Ishida rolled his eyes and sighed, but leaned against the door without further protest.

"Thanks," Ichigo spat with as much sarcasm as he could put into the word, and turned on the faucet with an angry flip of the wrist, splashing water all over the front of his pants. "Son of a bitch!"

He heard a dry chuckle behind him, but ignored it for now in favor of getting cleaned up before something truly horrific could happen to his pants. Muttering curses under his breath, Ichigo unzipped and began wiping himself off with a damp paper towel.

When he was clean enough to be comfortable, he tucked himself back in, closed his pants, and looked up to see Ishida staring at him in the mirror. Not him, exactly, but his crotch. Where he'd been gracelessly wiping off his cock a moment before. For some reason, Ichigo flushed, painfully self-conscious that Ishida had been watching him when he hadn't been aware of it. He sucked in a deep breath and turned, flushing, but determined to meet Ishida's eyes. The intensity of the hunger he saw there hit him in the gut, which sensation quickly traveled down to his dick. Fuck me, Ichigo thought irritably. I just took care of you.

Shrugging mentally, he walked to Ishida, who made no move away from the door, and Ichigo only stopped when he was almost standing on top of the other boy. Tentatively, he leaned in until his mouth was about a millimeter away from Ishida's skin. He could feel his own breath reflecting off Ishida's cheek, brushing over his lips. He could smell Ishida. It was a clean, almost sterile scent, but with something sharp and refreshing - almost like pine - underneath. Ichigo didn't really want to think about why he was analyzing the way another guy smelled.

In the end, he wasn't sure who closed the distance, but it didn't really matter, because kissing was damn good and he didn't particularly give a shit who started it.

Ichigo cupped the back of Ishida's head with one hand and slid the other over his hip to cup his ass and squeeze. Ishida's thumbs hooked into his pants, and he could feel fingers moving at his zipper. Ichigo grabbed Ishida's wrists and pulled them away, breaking the kiss.

"What...?" Ishida looked bleary and confused, and a little pissed off, if the wrinkle between his eyebrows was any indication.

"I just got cleaned up," Ichigo murmured, intending to sound playful, but was pretty sure it came out whiny. The furrow in Ishida's brow deepened in irritation. Ichigo really wasn't keen on having to clean up again, but he could think of a way around that. He'd been toying with the idea of doing it, anyway, and now seemed as good of a time as any to give it a try.

"Here." Ichigo dropped to his knees, unsure what force in the universe had plagued his brain with the notion that this could possibly be a good idea. He stared at Ishida's groin, level with his eyes, and then back up at Ishida. He was watching Ichigo incredulously, but he wasn't bitching.

Ichigo gulped and cupped the bulge at Ishida's crotch with one hand, pulling down his zipper with the other. And discovered what he had never needed to know: sometimes, Ishida didn't wear underpants. That bit of information surely wouldn't come back to haunt him during boring subjects and plague the rest of his days with hard-ons. Fucking Ishida, making my life miserable.

He slid Ishida's slacks down to his ankles and regarded the cock at his eye level, framed by the untucked ends of Ishida's school shirt. Already half-erect, his dick was twitching and coming to life. Ichigo ran a dry tongue over his lips and gave Ishida a few experimental strokes. Ishida put a hand on Ichigo's shoulder and made soft, encouraging noises that quelled the rough edges of the electric ball of nerves eating the pit of his stomach. All right. He could do this. Ichigo took in a deep breath and slid his mouth around the other boy. Ishida immediately grunted and slapped his open palms against the door, but Ichigo didn't quite register that.

He had a penis in his mouth. Someone's cock. Ishida's cock, his brain supplemented helpfully. Maybe you should do something about that. That seemed a perfectly reasonable idea, but he couldn't make himself move. He swallowed once, twice, and ran his tongue around the intrusion in his mouth, but the part of his brain assigned to figuring out the mechanics of blowing a guy was out of order.

"That feels very good," Ishida panted, "but if your goal is to suck me off, you might want to try actually sucking at some point."

Ichigo's cheeks, already flushed with embarrassment, burned more intensely. He pulled back, trying to suck without slurping or drooling or making a complete idiot out of himself, and was rewarded with a moan. He pushed forward, too fast, taking in too much, and setting off his gag reflex. He coughed and sat back, choking and spluttering and spraying saliva all over Ishida's knees.

"Uhhg." Ichigo felt like the world's largest tool. There had been a good reason he was apprehensive about this after all. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right; don't apologize," Ishida breathed. "But don't just kneel there looking stupid. You're finishing this." Ichigo stared at him incredulously. No way in hell! "Unless you're scared or something."

Son of a bitch. Ichigo was back in place in a flash, taking a firm hold of the base of Ishida's penis in one hand and staring at it in determination. After all, if Ishida could give a blowjob to him without much complaint, then Ichigo could do it, too. Twice.

"Wait." Ishida shook one foot out of his pants, spreading his legs a little wider. "My back pocket."

Curious, Ichigo dug around in Ishida's pocket and found, to his great surprise, a tube of lube. What. The. Shit. He stared at it, laying docile and innocent in his palm, before blurting, "Do you just carry this around with you? Why do you always have lube handy? What is the matter with you?"

Ishida shrugged. "Are you complaining?"

"...What do you want me to do with this?"

"Honestly, Kurosaki!" Ishida snapped. "Put it on your fingers and then put them in my ass. It'll help this go faster."

Ignoring, for the time, how Ishida knew that, Ichigo smeared some lube on his fingers and regarded Ishida's crotch area with general unease. With a little testing and some greasy poking at Ishida's butt, Ichigo finally managed to find an only semi-awkward position with two of his fingers working Ishida's asshole and his mouth working his cock. Finding a rhythm was much more difficult, especially when he was trying to balance sucking, using his tongue, and not using his teeth with maintaining a pumping rhythm with his hand. With some effort, he was managing both tasks relatively well, and definitely well enough to get Ishida into a frenzy. His hands were in fists, and he kept jerking them forward and then slamming them into the door as though he were trying to keep himself from grabbing Ichigo.

It occurred to Ichigo that the noise might attract someone's attention, and he wanted to mention something about discretion to Ishida, but his mouth was fully occupied, so, for the time, he'd just have to deal with it. In fact, you might say I have to suck it up hahahahahahahahOHGOD. Ichigo channeled the violence of his embarrassment and deep desire to get this over with into his actions, sucking Ishida hard.

Ishida froze and screamed, a high, thin sound that almost made Ichigo laugh, but then he was assaulted by several unpleasant sensations. Ishida grabbed his hair, which hurt like a bitch, he thrust forward, cramming his cock so far down Ichigo's throat he figured he was going to suffocate, and he came, sending a stream of warm ejaculate down that same throat. Ichigo didn't think he'd ever experienced anything nastier, especially when he coughed and wound up inhaling some of the foul-tasting stuff. Fucking great. I'm going to die because I sucked off Ishida. He could see the tombstone: Kurosaki Ichigo. Beloved son. DIED CHOKING ON SPOOGE.

Ichigo hacked a few more times and spluttered "I hate you," which had little effect on Ishida, who seemed to be only half-conscious, still propped against the door. Given Ishida's glazed, half-lidded look of deep contentment, Ichigo figured his first blowjob was a success, despite a rocky beginning. Maybe they weren't so bad after all.

To his surprise, Ichigo was half-hard again. He hadn't thought that giving someone else head would turn him on, but he would be damned if he was going to go through the last half of the school day with an erection when he'd just gotten rid of one. Ishida was right there, all lubed and relaxed, and Ichigo was clever enough, even without paying attention in math today, to know that one plus one equals a quick fuck in the bathroom.

Ichigo stood, massaging his knees (because owfuck kneeling on that floor hurt), and leaned in to Ishida again. He rested his forehead against the bathroom door, letting his lips just brush the collar of Ishida's shirt. He could hear and feel the other boy's breath against his ear. Ichigo placed a hand on Ishida's hip and used the other to nudge his legs wider apart and paused when he noticed the breathing hitch and the muscles under his fingers tense. Ichigo pulled his head back to look at Ishida, who was peering at him with one half-open eye.

"Are you OK with this?" he murmured. Ishida regarded him blearily for another beat, then shifted, spreading his feet and pushing his hips toward Ichigo, aaaand suddenly Ichigo was rock-hard. He unzipped his fly and fumbled his cock out of his pants and underwear, not even bothering to take them off, and guided himself to Ishida's ass.

"Aren't your pants going to get messy again?" He didn't sound like he thought it mattered, his voice low and careless and making the hair on Ichigo's neck stand on end.

Ichigo pushed in, gasping, "I don't care." Ishida made some incomprehensible noises and grabbed the sides of Ichigo's shirt, twisting his fists into the fabric, and bearing down with his hips. When Ichigo was all the way in, he just stood with his hands braced on either side of Ishida's head, shuddering.

He grabbed Ishida's legs under the knees and pulled up, forcing Ishida to support all his weight on the door and Ichigo's crotch. His thighs locked around Ichigo's waist and he rolled his shoulders against the uncomfortable hardness of the door, trying to settle in. Ichigo could feel Ishida's soft genitals pressing against the exposed skin of his lower stomach. Spreading his feet a little wider to gain a more stable stance, he pulled out, pushed back in as Ishida contracted around him. Ichigo struggled to hold up Ishida and keep his pace at the same time, which was a lot more difficult than he had originally anticipated. While adjusting his hold on Ishida's legs, Ichigo almost dropped the other boy, and Ishida's arms flailed frantically as he tried to grab hold of something for support, knocking Ichigo upside the head in the process.

Ichigo paused for a moment, watching Ishida cautiously to see if he would demand to be let down or something equally pissy just because he almost fell. He was breathing heavily, eyes closed, arms splayed out to the side, but didn't actually seem upset. Maybe he was still relaxed from the blowjob? Ichigo marked another notch in favor of giving blowjobs and used the brief reprieve to move his hands to hold Ishida's ass. Ishida shifted to accomodate him and twined his hands back in Ichigo's shirt. Ichigo moved, slowly at first, testing his hold. Ishida groaned, rolling his head to the side and kneading Ichigo's shoulders.

Having finally seemed to find a suitable position, Ichigo picked up his pace, digging his long fingers into the soft flesh of Ishida's butt - possibly the only part of his body that had any kind of cushioning. He watched Ishida's face, so relaxed, and it dawned on him that Ishida didn't have to do anything - in fact, couldn't to anything - the way Ichigo had him pinned to the wall, Ishida had no choice but to get fucked the way Ichigo wanted to fuck him. Energy surged through him, and he pressed in harder, earning a strangled cry of pleasure from the other boy.

It didn't last long, which was probably a good thing, considering the strain the position was putting on Ichigo's legs and arms, but it was intense. Ichigo's entire consciousness was washed with sensation - he could feel his own shirt and pants rubbing against his skin, the cool air against his belly; he could hear Ishida's head thumping against the door in time with his thrusts, the soft whimpers coming from that boy; he could see every detail of the face in front of him in sharp detail, a little line of sweat trickling down his forehead, the look of helpless pleasure on his face, the soft glint of his teeth behind barely-parted lips. And Ishida around him, sweet Christ, was so good. Ichigo was so distracted with feeling and hearing and seeing that his orgasm hit him by surprise. He grunted, head jerking back in the mindless intensity of sensation, thrust up hard a few more times, and was done.

Suddenly, he had no more strength in his limbs or the will to use it if he had. He slid to the floor, dragging Ishida along with him. They lay in a tangled pile for a few seconds before Ishida rolled off him. Ichigo was a little relieved - he wouldn't have minded if Ishida stayed, really, the pressure wasn't a problem, but the press of overheated skin was uncomfortable. The other boy didn't go far, though, laying in a boneless heap where he landed, looking slightly ridiculous now they were done and just wearing his school shirt with his dick exposed and his pants hooked around one ankle.

Ichigo couldn't concertate on anything for very long, though, and he found a pleasant way to pass the time in breathing deeply, letting the excitement in all of his nerves trickle away. Eventually, awareness of where they were came back to him, and he realized with distant annoyance that they would have to get up and go back to class at some point today.

"I think we're missing Biology," Ichigo muttered listlessly.

Ishida shrugged. "We just experienced a good bit of biology first-hand. I can't say I'm concerned."

Heh. That was - wait, did Ishida just make a joke? And one that wasn't about Ichigo's hair or fashion sense? Holy shit. It wasn't a particularly good joke, but progress was progress.

"Oi, Ishida."

"Ehhn."

"I didn't say it earlier on the roof, but, thank you for helping me out."

Ishida snorted softly. "Anytime."

end