ext_49394 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
kiyala.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
shannys_corner2007-03-14 10:57 pm
kiyala.livejournal.com) wrote in shannys_corner2007-03-14 10:57 pm
[fic] Much Easier
Title: Much Easier
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiyala
Word Count: 2056
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Kurosaki Isshin / Ishida Ryuuken
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mansex, lack of plot
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach
Notes: Well, this is later than I would've liked... but here's my fic for Ryuuken's birthday, which just so happens to fall on White Day xD
This is dedicated tothenakedcat, who has the best characterisation of Ryuuken I've ever seen, and who deserves a much better White Day present than this.
x-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
isshiken and bleach_yaoi
He was accustomed to spending birthdays alone since Uryuu left. Even when his son was around, there was this detached air to them that was obvious in the stilted way Uryuu would greet him in the morning before he left to school and Ryuuken went to work, spending the rest of the day in his office troubling over Uryuu’s tone, expression, choice of words…
It was much easier to spend his birthdays alone. But then, when Isshin decided to come back into his life, that all changed. Just like everything else.
No more sitting alone eating the chocolate he found on his desk from anonymous admirers (who, over the years, became less anonymous – if not due to their courage, then to their lack of subtlety) who had at least remembered that it was White Day, if not his birthday. No more reflecting back on yet another year that had gotten him nowhere. And no more spending the day snapping at people as he walked around in a foul mood. Because, God forbid, the return of that unnecessarily emotional, loud fool had actually served to make his mood a little better. Sometimes.
“Ishida-sensei,” the slightly nasal voice of his secretary brought him out of his thoughts, “Kurosaki-sensei is here… he says he has an appointment.”
“Tell him to come in,” he replied in a monotone, and his door opened in much less time than he knew it took to get from the reception desk to his office.
Looking up from work that hadn’t been touched for hours, Ryuuken held the gaze of the large man who walked into the room, and then stood. “Isshin.”
Grinning as he stood with his hands in his pockets, the other doctor nodded. “Happy birthday, Pretty Boy.”
Fighting off the blush that crept across his cheeks, Ryuuken walked around his desk and held out a hand for his friend’s coat, which he hung beside his. Upon turning around, he found Isshin closer than he expected and stumbled back a couple of steps.
“New tie, huh?” the dark-haired man steadied the other by placing a hand on his shoulder, the other holding the black and light-blue tie between his fingers. “It’s nice.”
Looking at the cross motif for a moment before looking away, Ryuuken’s eyes looked somewhat distant. “All these years and the only thing I have to tell me I have a son is a package on my doorstep. He gives me a tie every single year, Isshin. I’m fucking sick of ties.”
“He came over for dinner the other night,” Isshin murmured, letting go of the tie and holding the fair-haired man’s shoulders instead.
Drawing his shoulders close and shutting his eyes, Ryuuken grimaced at the reminder that Isshin saw his own son more than he did.
“He’s looking healthy. I’d say Ichigo’s taking good care of him— but it’s probably actually the other way around. He’s happy.”
“I’m not.”
The confession came automatically; there was something about the other man’s presence that made all of his mental barriers – set up to protect him from the rest of the world – absolutely useless. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Isshin wouldn’t exploit it. That Isshin could hopefully-maybe-somehow even manage to make it better.
Tensing as he felt the large hands rubbing down his back and pulling him closer, he frowned and placed his hands against Isshin’s chest, “Don’t… not here. I thought we agreed—”
His protest was cut short by a gentle kiss; nothing more than a pair of soft lips touching his, but it was effective nonetheless. Hesitating only for a moment, he responded to the kiss by wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders and pulling Isshin close for another kiss, humming in approval as the other man ran his tongue along his lower lip before sliding it into his mouth.
He couldn’t even remember being backed up towards his desk until it made contact with the back of his legs and he sat on it, his head automatically tipping back as Isshin kissed his way down Ryuuken’s neck. As he felt his jacket being pushed off his shoulders, he pulled away so that he was looking into the half-lidded eyes of the dark-haired man.
“Isshin…” he spoke in a soft and slow voice that sounded out of place in his office, “I thought we agreed that this would wait until we got home.”
“Not with that look in your eyes,” Isshin murmured back, his lips brushing against Ryuuken’s cheek briefly, his fingers running through silvery-gray hair, tucking it behind an ear. “Smile for me, ‘Ken.”
He couldn’t be sure if Ryuuken actually tried, but what Isshin received in response was something between a grimace and a frown. Gathering the slender man into his arms, holding him tightly despite the fact that he knew that Ryuuken didn’t appreciate this very often.
“Isshin,” he grumbled in protest, squirming out of the other man’s arms and getting off the desk but making no move to put his jacket back on, “I wish you wouldn’t treat me like an upset child every time I display some kind of emotion.”
Grinning as he took a couple of steps forward and held the other man’s face in his hands, he kissed him again. “I wouldn’t if you didn’t always try to hide how you felt.”
The argument was useless on both sides; it was one they had been through many times and they only persisted because it had become a habit. Before he realised it, Ryuuken was sitting on his desk again.
“Why is this so easy for you?” Ryuuken murmured between kisses.
“Because you—” Isshin replied against the other man’s lips and then stopped, taking a step back before crossing his arms and giving Ryuuken a goofy grin. “I bet it’s because you’re head over heels in love with me, aren’t you, ‘Ken?”
Ryuuken gave him a mock-glare, “Don’t get over-confident about things like that, idiot. Come here.”
Whatever it was that they felt for each other was something they carefully avoided speaking about. The only time they treaded anywhere near the territory was when Isshin was acting silly, because those times made it so much easier to deal with the fact that what they had – whatever it had become – was something that the word “friendship” couldn’t even begin to cover.
“How do you want it?” Isshin murmured, undoing Ryuuken’s tie and letting it hang around the other man’s neck as he unbuttoned his shirt, starting from the top.
“Whichever way you’ll give it to me,” Ryuuken whispered back, his fingers entangling in the dark hair of the other man as his neck was bitten hard. Biting his lower lip in an attempt to keep the moan at the back of his throat, he let out a low grunt instead and Isshin smirked against the skin of his neck.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” the larger man informed him with a grin, which widened at how it didn’t seem to bother Ryuuken at all.
“Well, in that case, I should return the favour.”
Isshin’s white coat was easy to push aside, and the fact that he kept the first few buttons of his shirt undone meant that Ryuuken didn’t have anything to hinder him as his teeth sank into the deliciously soft skin, tasting of salt and an odd mix of other tastes that he could only identify as Isshin. The other man moaned quietly as Ryuuken sucked on the skin – hard. There wasn’t very much patience in either of them, and that was all it took to destroy it.
Isshin pushed him down onto the table, but Ryuuken stopped him, “Not here — move to the sofa. I’d rather not be plagued by thoughts of sex every time I try to work at this table again.”
So instead, he was pulled by the large, rough hands to the three-seater sofa on the other side of the room, his shirt already half way off, his tie on the floor – along with Isshin’s coat – and his jacket on his desk. Isshin tripped over the arm of the sofa, too busy looking at Ryuuken to pay attention to where he was going, and pulled the other man down on top of him as they both landed on the soft, beige-coloured piece of furniture. Their lips sought each other out and Ryuuken’s hands worked at getting Isshin’s multi-coloured shirt off and onto the floor so their chests could meet, hearts beating against each other as they spelled out their own special language of desire.
“Damn belt,” Isshin was the first to speak, sounding irritated for once as he fumbled with the belt around Ryuuken’s waist, “The only bad thing about you being so skinny are these belts – they’re so hard to take off.”
Ryuuken’s hands went to his belt to help, but Isshin already had it off, the buckle jingling as he pulled the belt off and dropped it on the floor beside him. Without the belt, Ryuuken’s pants slid down low enough for the other man to see his erection, straining against black briefs.
Suddenly feeling self conscious, Ryuuken’s hands went to Isshin’s pants, undoing the fly and pulling them down as far as they would go without him having to stand up. Chuckling, Isshin suggested they both stood and undressed themselves and they did, as quickly as possible before Isshin settled back down on the sofa and pulled Ryuuken on top of him again.
“You gonna ride me good, baby?” Isshin asked with a wolfish grin, holding Ryuuken’s hip with one hand, a bottle of lube that he had pulled out of his pants pocket with the other.
“Mmm,” came the monosyllabic reply as Ryuuken lifted his hips, letting Isshin prepare him: stretching him carefully with two fingers until he could feel the other man’s body relax. They both braced themselves as Ryuuken carefully sat down onto Isshin’s cock, shuddering in both pain and pleasure when the Shinigami was finally in.
“Carefully,” Isshin whispered the unnecessary word of caution, holding Ryuuken’s naked hips and watching his face; his eyes tightly shut, glasses hanging off his face as he’d forgotten to take them off, mouth in an O shape as he let out shaky breaths, and his hair falling forward. The dark-haired man grinned, feeling privileged to be the only one to see Ryuuken in this state, where he looked more beautiful than anything else that Isshin had ever seen before.
After a few small thrusts, Ryuuken began to move faster, his hands gripping the arm rest on either side of Isshin’s head and purred, “Feels good, Kurosaki.”
Isshin never understood Ryuuken’s switch to his family name during sex, but he had never questioned it either. It was just one of those things that just was – it was as much a part of the sex as they were, and Isshin had come to find the way Ryuuken purred it out an extreme turn-on, which was a fact that the fair-haired man sometimes exploited.
Now was not one of these situations. They didn’t have the patience or capacity to do anything but move against each other, letting the pleasure build between their bodies and enjoying the slow-but-sure push towards breaking point.
“You’re beautiful,” Isshin gasped, his head falling back as he felt his self-control slip away, “I don’t tell you that enough.”
Ryuuken’s blush wasn’t clear as his face was already red, but he gave the other man a small smile – one of the rare appreciative ones that no one else ever saw – and gripped tighter onto the armrest.
Isshin came first, groaning loudly, his body melting against the couch cushions, and Ryuuken followed soon after, gasping quietly. He resisted the temptation to collapse against the other man and pulled away first, walking to his desk and pulling a small towel out of one of the drawers, wiping himself off before throwing it towards Isshin. The Shinigami only got dressed because Ryuuken did, and they sat together on the clean, two-seater sofa after putting all of their clothes back.
“Thank you.”
Isshin raised an eyebrow and then grinned, leaning over to kiss Ryuuken’s cheek. “No need to. Happy birthday, Pretty Boy.”
Ryuuken smiled to himself as he rested his head against the other man’s. It was much easier to spend his birthdays with Kurosaki Isshin.
Author:
kiyalaWord Count: 2056
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Kurosaki Isshin / Ishida Ryuuken
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mansex, lack of plot
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach
Notes: Well, this is later than I would've liked... but here's my fic for Ryuuken's birthday, which just so happens to fall on White Day xD
This is dedicated to
thenakedcat, who has the best characterisation of Ryuuken I've ever seen, and who deserves a much better White Day present than this.x-posted to
isshiken and bleach_yaoiHe was accustomed to spending birthdays alone since Uryuu left. Even when his son was around, there was this detached air to them that was obvious in the stilted way Uryuu would greet him in the morning before he left to school and Ryuuken went to work, spending the rest of the day in his office troubling over Uryuu’s tone, expression, choice of words…
It was much easier to spend his birthdays alone. But then, when Isshin decided to come back into his life, that all changed. Just like everything else.
No more sitting alone eating the chocolate he found on his desk from anonymous admirers (who, over the years, became less anonymous – if not due to their courage, then to their lack of subtlety) who had at least remembered that it was White Day, if not his birthday. No more reflecting back on yet another year that had gotten him nowhere. And no more spending the day snapping at people as he walked around in a foul mood. Because, God forbid, the return of that unnecessarily emotional, loud fool had actually served to make his mood a little better. Sometimes.
“Ishida-sensei,” the slightly nasal voice of his secretary brought him out of his thoughts, “Kurosaki-sensei is here… he says he has an appointment.”
“Tell him to come in,” he replied in a monotone, and his door opened in much less time than he knew it took to get from the reception desk to his office.
Looking up from work that hadn’t been touched for hours, Ryuuken held the gaze of the large man who walked into the room, and then stood. “Isshin.”
Grinning as he stood with his hands in his pockets, the other doctor nodded. “Happy birthday, Pretty Boy.”
Fighting off the blush that crept across his cheeks, Ryuuken walked around his desk and held out a hand for his friend’s coat, which he hung beside his. Upon turning around, he found Isshin closer than he expected and stumbled back a couple of steps.
“New tie, huh?” the dark-haired man steadied the other by placing a hand on his shoulder, the other holding the black and light-blue tie between his fingers. “It’s nice.”
Looking at the cross motif for a moment before looking away, Ryuuken’s eyes looked somewhat distant. “All these years and the only thing I have to tell me I have a son is a package on my doorstep. He gives me a tie every single year, Isshin. I’m fucking sick of ties.”
“He came over for dinner the other night,” Isshin murmured, letting go of the tie and holding the fair-haired man’s shoulders instead.
Drawing his shoulders close and shutting his eyes, Ryuuken grimaced at the reminder that Isshin saw his own son more than he did.
“He’s looking healthy. I’d say Ichigo’s taking good care of him— but it’s probably actually the other way around. He’s happy.”
“I’m not.”
The confession came automatically; there was something about the other man’s presence that made all of his mental barriers – set up to protect him from the rest of the world – absolutely useless. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Isshin wouldn’t exploit it. That Isshin could hopefully-maybe-somehow even manage to make it better.
Tensing as he felt the large hands rubbing down his back and pulling him closer, he frowned and placed his hands against Isshin’s chest, “Don’t… not here. I thought we agreed—”
His protest was cut short by a gentle kiss; nothing more than a pair of soft lips touching his, but it was effective nonetheless. Hesitating only for a moment, he responded to the kiss by wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders and pulling Isshin close for another kiss, humming in approval as the other man ran his tongue along his lower lip before sliding it into his mouth.
He couldn’t even remember being backed up towards his desk until it made contact with the back of his legs and he sat on it, his head automatically tipping back as Isshin kissed his way down Ryuuken’s neck. As he felt his jacket being pushed off his shoulders, he pulled away so that he was looking into the half-lidded eyes of the dark-haired man.
“Isshin…” he spoke in a soft and slow voice that sounded out of place in his office, “I thought we agreed that this would wait until we got home.”
“Not with that look in your eyes,” Isshin murmured back, his lips brushing against Ryuuken’s cheek briefly, his fingers running through silvery-gray hair, tucking it behind an ear. “Smile for me, ‘Ken.”
He couldn’t be sure if Ryuuken actually tried, but what Isshin received in response was something between a grimace and a frown. Gathering the slender man into his arms, holding him tightly despite the fact that he knew that Ryuuken didn’t appreciate this very often.
“Isshin,” he grumbled in protest, squirming out of the other man’s arms and getting off the desk but making no move to put his jacket back on, “I wish you wouldn’t treat me like an upset child every time I display some kind of emotion.”
Grinning as he took a couple of steps forward and held the other man’s face in his hands, he kissed him again. “I wouldn’t if you didn’t always try to hide how you felt.”
The argument was useless on both sides; it was one they had been through many times and they only persisted because it had become a habit. Before he realised it, Ryuuken was sitting on his desk again.
“Why is this so easy for you?” Ryuuken murmured between kisses.
“Because you—” Isshin replied against the other man’s lips and then stopped, taking a step back before crossing his arms and giving Ryuuken a goofy grin. “I bet it’s because you’re head over heels in love with me, aren’t you, ‘Ken?”
Ryuuken gave him a mock-glare, “Don’t get over-confident about things like that, idiot. Come here.”
Whatever it was that they felt for each other was something they carefully avoided speaking about. The only time they treaded anywhere near the territory was when Isshin was acting silly, because those times made it so much easier to deal with the fact that what they had – whatever it had become – was something that the word “friendship” couldn’t even begin to cover.
“How do you want it?” Isshin murmured, undoing Ryuuken’s tie and letting it hang around the other man’s neck as he unbuttoned his shirt, starting from the top.
“Whichever way you’ll give it to me,” Ryuuken whispered back, his fingers entangling in the dark hair of the other man as his neck was bitten hard. Biting his lower lip in an attempt to keep the moan at the back of his throat, he let out a low grunt instead and Isshin smirked against the skin of his neck.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” the larger man informed him with a grin, which widened at how it didn’t seem to bother Ryuuken at all.
“Well, in that case, I should return the favour.”
Isshin’s white coat was easy to push aside, and the fact that he kept the first few buttons of his shirt undone meant that Ryuuken didn’t have anything to hinder him as his teeth sank into the deliciously soft skin, tasting of salt and an odd mix of other tastes that he could only identify as Isshin. The other man moaned quietly as Ryuuken sucked on the skin – hard. There wasn’t very much patience in either of them, and that was all it took to destroy it.
Isshin pushed him down onto the table, but Ryuuken stopped him, “Not here — move to the sofa. I’d rather not be plagued by thoughts of sex every time I try to work at this table again.”
So instead, he was pulled by the large, rough hands to the three-seater sofa on the other side of the room, his shirt already half way off, his tie on the floor – along with Isshin’s coat – and his jacket on his desk. Isshin tripped over the arm of the sofa, too busy looking at Ryuuken to pay attention to where he was going, and pulled the other man down on top of him as they both landed on the soft, beige-coloured piece of furniture. Their lips sought each other out and Ryuuken’s hands worked at getting Isshin’s multi-coloured shirt off and onto the floor so their chests could meet, hearts beating against each other as they spelled out their own special language of desire.
“Damn belt,” Isshin was the first to speak, sounding irritated for once as he fumbled with the belt around Ryuuken’s waist, “The only bad thing about you being so skinny are these belts – they’re so hard to take off.”
Ryuuken’s hands went to his belt to help, but Isshin already had it off, the buckle jingling as he pulled the belt off and dropped it on the floor beside him. Without the belt, Ryuuken’s pants slid down low enough for the other man to see his erection, straining against black briefs.
Suddenly feeling self conscious, Ryuuken’s hands went to Isshin’s pants, undoing the fly and pulling them down as far as they would go without him having to stand up. Chuckling, Isshin suggested they both stood and undressed themselves and they did, as quickly as possible before Isshin settled back down on the sofa and pulled Ryuuken on top of him again.
“You gonna ride me good, baby?” Isshin asked with a wolfish grin, holding Ryuuken’s hip with one hand, a bottle of lube that he had pulled out of his pants pocket with the other.
“Mmm,” came the monosyllabic reply as Ryuuken lifted his hips, letting Isshin prepare him: stretching him carefully with two fingers until he could feel the other man’s body relax. They both braced themselves as Ryuuken carefully sat down onto Isshin’s cock, shuddering in both pain and pleasure when the Shinigami was finally in.
“Carefully,” Isshin whispered the unnecessary word of caution, holding Ryuuken’s naked hips and watching his face; his eyes tightly shut, glasses hanging off his face as he’d forgotten to take them off, mouth in an O shape as he let out shaky breaths, and his hair falling forward. The dark-haired man grinned, feeling privileged to be the only one to see Ryuuken in this state, where he looked more beautiful than anything else that Isshin had ever seen before.
After a few small thrusts, Ryuuken began to move faster, his hands gripping the arm rest on either side of Isshin’s head and purred, “Feels good, Kurosaki.”
Isshin never understood Ryuuken’s switch to his family name during sex, but he had never questioned it either. It was just one of those things that just was – it was as much a part of the sex as they were, and Isshin had come to find the way Ryuuken purred it out an extreme turn-on, which was a fact that the fair-haired man sometimes exploited.
Now was not one of these situations. They didn’t have the patience or capacity to do anything but move against each other, letting the pleasure build between their bodies and enjoying the slow-but-sure push towards breaking point.
“You’re beautiful,” Isshin gasped, his head falling back as he felt his self-control slip away, “I don’t tell you that enough.”
Ryuuken’s blush wasn’t clear as his face was already red, but he gave the other man a small smile – one of the rare appreciative ones that no one else ever saw – and gripped tighter onto the armrest.
Isshin came first, groaning loudly, his body melting against the couch cushions, and Ryuuken followed soon after, gasping quietly. He resisted the temptation to collapse against the other man and pulled away first, walking to his desk and pulling a small towel out of one of the drawers, wiping himself off before throwing it towards Isshin. The Shinigami only got dressed because Ryuuken did, and they sat together on the clean, two-seater sofa after putting all of their clothes back.
“Thank you.”
Isshin raised an eyebrow and then grinned, leaning over to kiss Ryuuken’s cheek. “No need to. Happy birthday, Pretty Boy.”
Ryuuken smiled to himself as he rested his head against the other man’s. It was much easier to spend his birthdays with Kurosaki Isshin.