[fic] Flip Sides

[kiyala.livejournal.com]

Title: Flip Sides
Status: Complete
Author: kiyala
Beta: lifeinahole27
Word Count: 1236
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo / Ishida Uryuu
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, swearing
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach
Notes: It's my birthday, SO. Have a fic :D


x-posted to ishi_ichi and bleach_yaoi

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Side A: Stupid Shinigami

I can’t remember how it started. I don’t know when I started… watching Ishida. And I really don’t know when I stopped bothering to remind myself that this is perverted and wrong and I’m not supposed to find it so hot.

But I can’t help it.

I come here every second night, leaving my human body behind so hardly anyone can see me. I perch myself on the tree that just happens to be outside his window and… fuck.

He’s got his head propped up by a couple of pillows so he can look at himself as he lies on his bed. His body is a lot musclier than his weedy nerd image leads you to believe. The expression on his face is so different to what he looks like at school, or when we’re fighting Hollows. His eyes are half-shut, his mouth open and his hair is messy across his face and on the pillow under his head.

His hands—fuck, I love his hands so much—are on his cock. His left hand’s rubbing down the whole length, pulling his foreskin down over and over while his right massages his balls. His legs are spread and they’re blocking my view a little, but if those soft moans and shaky sighs are anything to go off… he’s definitely enjoying himself.

He uses the same method every time. Starts off slow, teasing himself until he can’t deny himself any more, steadily building up to…

“Ahh,” he gasps and I know what comes next. I lick my lips, only then realising how dry my mouth is. I can’t bring myself to care, I’m too busy looking at his mouth as he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking on them.

Fuck yes, I want to moan as I watch him spread his legs a bit more, shift his weight so he can push those fingers into himself bit by bit, and let his head fall back against his pillows. His left hand hasn’t stopped stroking his cock and he gasps loudly in pleasure as he goes.

“Ah… fuck, fuck…!” his voice goes a little higher, telling me that he’s close… that the best part is coming. I don’t even blink as I watch him, trying to suppress thoughts that tell me I should just jump through that open window and give him a real reason to moan.

“Nnnnh, uh! Yess,” he pants and I know he’s found his prostate. His body tenses up, his back arches off the bed and he comes hard. But not without moaning one last time.

“Aaaah, Kurosaki!” he moans. For me. And then I can feel the precum making a little wet patch at the front of my underwear. It takes so much self control not to jack off as I look at him, but I know that since I’ve started watching him, my visual memory’s gotten a lot better. I can replay all of his expressions in my mind when I’m back in my body, in my own bed. And Ishida would be none the wiser.

I look at him again and he’s lying on the bed, looking pleased with himself as he pants quietly.

…And then he turns and looks right at me. And grins.




Side B: Dirty Quincy

When did I become such an exhibitionist? …Perhaps that isn’t quite the word for it. But there’s definitely something wrong with me. Something that makes me believe that it’s completely fine for him to just sit there and watch.

I know I can blame it on Kurosaki, whatever it is. The idiot thinks he’s so very clever, staying silent and out of sight. He doesn’t realise that his reiatsu—the very sensation that I am constantly exposed to, to the point where I need this kind of release—tells me exactly where he is. And exactly how aroused he is.

That must be it. I enjoy arousing him. I enjoy the fact that I can do this to him and as far as I know from the way I monitor his reiatsu, nobody else can. That it’s me he watches, night after night, never tiring of seeing me, hearing me, feeling the same lust that I do.

Heh. And the idiot thinks I don’t know?

He’d caught me by accident the first time. We’d been fighting and his reiatsu—like a wonderful pressure in the back of my mind—kept increasing and increasing to the point where I knew what I needed and that I needed it at that very instant.

I’d walked away. Perhaps he’d followed me. I was preoccupied trying to think straight, watching on in mild horror as my thoughts rearranged themselves; Fuck Kurosaki, fuck Kurosaki, fuck Kurosaki, I want to fuck Kurosaki.

I imagined myself doing as I pleased with him that night. I’d moaned his name repeatedly and he must have heard. It was only after I’d released that I realised he was there. I was seized by panic to begin with. And then I noticed the rough quality to his reiatsu. Not just the imposing way it always feels, but a desperate, uncontrolled feeling that made my cock stiffen all over again.

Which was when I found out that he enjoys watching me. And decided I’d make a game of it.

He treats me normally at school. To the best of his non-existent ability. He pretends he isn’t looking at me for longer than he did before. His eyes widen when I catch him and it’s impossible to miss the look of relief on his face when I pretend not to notice the bright blush. He tries to keep a straight face even though he stiffens each time we accidentally come in contact. Or when it’s not so accidental. He’s more careful when we fight, only pinning me to the floor for as long as he can handle before quickly pulling away to try and make sure I don’t notice the way it gives him an erection to be so close.

He’s a clueless idiot. But I suppose that makes me want him even more.

I moan for him every time he watches me. I pretend I don’t hear the small gasp he isn’t actually aware of himself. I resist the urge to tell him that he might as well join me if he’s going to watch me so regularly.

But even my self control wears thin over time. Even I can’t remain passive forever.

So tonight, I lie there for a moment, catching my breath, resisting the temptation to do it all over again. His reiatsu is flaring up, making it near-impossible for me to think straight.

I take a breath and look at him, where he sits on the tree outside my window. He’s lost himself in the moment and forgotten that he’s meant to be hiding. I can see him clearly and his eyes widen as he realises this.

He ducks out of my sight, as if he thinks it’ll make me believe I’m imagining things. I hear him slip and scramble against the branch, cursing softly as he steadies himself. I stand, making my way towards the window I keep open for him and leaning out.

He’s sitting there, leaning against the tree trunk, an expression of horror on his face as he looks up at me. I smirk at him.

“Pervert.”

And then, still naked, I offer him a hand.


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