[fic] Old Memories
Aug. 29th, 2009 01:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kiyala.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shannys_cornerTitle: Old Memories
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiyala
Word Count: 1014
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Kurosaki Isshin / Ishida Ryuuken
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: old man sex! hahaha
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach
Notes: This is for Kink Bingo going on at dreamwidth. Kink is "shaving/depilation"
LOL first IsshiKen fic in ages. I apologise in advance.
“You are an idiot, Kurosaki,” Ryuuken mutters. His expression is impassive as ever, but his voice is angry. “And I’m an idiot for ever listening to you.”
He looks into the mirror, long, slender, fingers running through his hair; recently dyed black. His reflection gives him a fresh reminder of just how many of his features his son has inherited.
“It’s not so bad,” Isshin replies. His voice is playful, but noticeably held in check out of consideration. They had the weekend to themselves—which really meant that Isshin’s three children were away for a few days and he had decided Ryuuken would keep him company in their stead—so Isshin had suggested they revert to the way they looked when they had first met.
Ryuuken does look markedly younger with his hair dyed black. Again, he asks himself why he had relented to Isshin’s pestering and insistence that his Great Idea would be fun. He looks back at the twenty-five years he’s known the other man for, and notes with little humour that no matter what, Isshin has always been able to convince him to do incredibly stupid things.
Somewhere in his periphery, he notices a glint of metal. He turns sharply, frown easing when he sees that it’s just Isshin holding a razor in front of him. Ryuuken stares a moment longer and then sighs.
“Give me that.”
Isshin looks up, confused. Without further explanation, Ryuuken grabs the razor from Isshin’s hand and points it in the direction of bath tub, indicating for him to sit on the edge.
“Knowing you, you’ll cut yourself,” the Quincy explains, still holding the razor like a weapon. “I don’t want your blood on my bathroom floor, Shinigami.”
Isshin grins. Even after all of these years, Ryuuken hasn’t dropped the habit of using the word as an insult. Even if he no longer says it with the same amount of malice as the first time. Sitting down and tilting his chin up so he’s still looking directly into the dark blue eyes. “Whatever you want to do, ‘Ken.”
There’s a flicker of emotion across Ryuuken’s face, but it’s gone before Isshin can ask. Turning his back on Isshin, Ryuuken picks up the shaving cream and looks at the other man, eyebrow raised.
“Do you really trust a Quincy with a blade so close to your throat?”
“I trust you with a blade near my throat,” Isshin replies and his tone is so casual that it throws Ryuuken off far more than it would if he’d sounded more dramatic.
Not knowing how to reply, Ryuuken makes a quiet, irritated, sound and places a small bucket of water beside Isshin on the edge of the tub. His movements are efficient as always; quick swipes over Isshin’s jaw line, with barely any sound other than Isshin’s deep, steady breathing.
“Done,” Ryuuken announces, putting everything away again without looking at Isshin. The ex-Shinigami stands in front of the mirror, marvelling at his bare chin.
“Wow. It’s been… years.”
“You look exactly like the idiot I had to share a dormitory with,” Ryuuken informs him.
With a grin, Isshin turns in his direction. “And you look exactly like that uptight kid who’d yell at me for thinking too loud.”
“Kid,” Ryuuken snorts.
“Compared to how old I am, you’re a baby.” Isshin taunts, taking a step closer to Ryuuken, looking down at the slightly shorter man. He pinches Ryuuken’s cheeks with a silly grin. “A cute little baby Quincy.”
In an instant, Ryuuken’s hands are on either side of Isshin’s face. The skin is soft and smooth now that it is unshaven. Not allowing himself to dwell on this, the Quincy speaks in a low growl.
“Let go of me, Kurosaki, or else.”
“Or else?” Isshin’s breath is on Ryuuken’s lips.
“Or else…” he tries to think of a threat, to string a complete sentence together. Growling again as he gives up, he tightens his grip on the sides of Isshin’s face and mashes their lips together.
It’s been years, but for a moment it’s just the two of them against each other, just like in med school all those years ago and with a low moan, Ryuuken holds onto the front of Isshin’s ridiculously patterned shirt, dragging him out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, onto his bed.
He’d never gotten rid of the double bed, a fact that he feels half-grateful and half-guilty for as they collapse onto it, legs wrapping around each other. The feel of Isshin’s face against his, without the rough facial hair, and the fact that he looks exactly like he had back when their relationship was something that they needed to keep secret, take Ryuuken back to a much more pleasant time. He holds onto Isshin as though he is an anchor, the only thing left of that part of his life making it real.
In his usually uncanny way, Isshin understands without the need for words. He gathers Ryuuken in his arms and they grind against each other in earnest, not pausing for long enough to undress.
“Kurosaki!” Ryuuken’s voice is thick with desire and pleasure, pleading in a way that even he can’t remember his own voice being for years.
Their climax washes over them, leaving them with their heads spinning, chests heaving for breath and their pants uncomfortably wet.
Ryuuken winces and shakes his head at himself. “I’m far from being as young as I once was.”
Chuckling, Isshin presses a kiss to Ryuuken’s forehead. “We never are. Now, how about we get these pants off and wash ourselves off in the shower?”
“Wash ourselves,” Ryuuken repeats, stressing the last word. He sounds dubious.
“You don’t believe me!” Isshin says, returning to his melodramatic, accusatory tone.
“Of course not. I know you. And for as long as I’ve know you…”
“Hmm?” Isshin asks with a grin, standing up and pulling Ryuuken into his arms, hands sliding down the back of the Quincy’s pants.
With a look of part-amusement, part-irritation, Ryuuken finishes, “…You’ve never been able to keep your hands to yourself.”
x
Author:
kiyalaWord Count: 1014
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Kurosaki Isshin / Ishida Ryuuken
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: old man sex! hahaha
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach
Notes: This is for Kink Bingo going on at dreamwidth. Kink is "shaving/depilation"
LOL first IsshiKen fic in ages. I apologise in advance.
“You are an idiot, Kurosaki,” Ryuuken mutters. His expression is impassive as ever, but his voice is angry. “And I’m an idiot for ever listening to you.”
He looks into the mirror, long, slender, fingers running through his hair; recently dyed black. His reflection gives him a fresh reminder of just how many of his features his son has inherited.
“It’s not so bad,” Isshin replies. His voice is playful, but noticeably held in check out of consideration. They had the weekend to themselves—which really meant that Isshin’s three children were away for a few days and he had decided Ryuuken would keep him company in their stead—so Isshin had suggested they revert to the way they looked when they had first met.
Ryuuken does look markedly younger with his hair dyed black. Again, he asks himself why he had relented to Isshin’s pestering and insistence that his Great Idea would be fun. He looks back at the twenty-five years he’s known the other man for, and notes with little humour that no matter what, Isshin has always been able to convince him to do incredibly stupid things.
Somewhere in his periphery, he notices a glint of metal. He turns sharply, frown easing when he sees that it’s just Isshin holding a razor in front of him. Ryuuken stares a moment longer and then sighs.
“Give me that.”
Isshin looks up, confused. Without further explanation, Ryuuken grabs the razor from Isshin’s hand and points it in the direction of bath tub, indicating for him to sit on the edge.
“Knowing you, you’ll cut yourself,” the Quincy explains, still holding the razor like a weapon. “I don’t want your blood on my bathroom floor, Shinigami.”
Isshin grins. Even after all of these years, Ryuuken hasn’t dropped the habit of using the word as an insult. Even if he no longer says it with the same amount of malice as the first time. Sitting down and tilting his chin up so he’s still looking directly into the dark blue eyes. “Whatever you want to do, ‘Ken.”
There’s a flicker of emotion across Ryuuken’s face, but it’s gone before Isshin can ask. Turning his back on Isshin, Ryuuken picks up the shaving cream and looks at the other man, eyebrow raised.
“Do you really trust a Quincy with a blade so close to your throat?”
“I trust you with a blade near my throat,” Isshin replies and his tone is so casual that it throws Ryuuken off far more than it would if he’d sounded more dramatic.
Not knowing how to reply, Ryuuken makes a quiet, irritated, sound and places a small bucket of water beside Isshin on the edge of the tub. His movements are efficient as always; quick swipes over Isshin’s jaw line, with barely any sound other than Isshin’s deep, steady breathing.
“Done,” Ryuuken announces, putting everything away again without looking at Isshin. The ex-Shinigami stands in front of the mirror, marvelling at his bare chin.
“Wow. It’s been… years.”
“You look exactly like the idiot I had to share a dormitory with,” Ryuuken informs him.
With a grin, Isshin turns in his direction. “And you look exactly like that uptight kid who’d yell at me for thinking too loud.”
“Kid,” Ryuuken snorts.
“Compared to how old I am, you’re a baby.” Isshin taunts, taking a step closer to Ryuuken, looking down at the slightly shorter man. He pinches Ryuuken’s cheeks with a silly grin. “A cute little baby Quincy.”
In an instant, Ryuuken’s hands are on either side of Isshin’s face. The skin is soft and smooth now that it is unshaven. Not allowing himself to dwell on this, the Quincy speaks in a low growl.
“Let go of me, Kurosaki, or else.”
“Or else?” Isshin’s breath is on Ryuuken’s lips.
“Or else…” he tries to think of a threat, to string a complete sentence together. Growling again as he gives up, he tightens his grip on the sides of Isshin’s face and mashes their lips together.
It’s been years, but for a moment it’s just the two of them against each other, just like in med school all those years ago and with a low moan, Ryuuken holds onto the front of Isshin’s ridiculously patterned shirt, dragging him out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, onto his bed.
He’d never gotten rid of the double bed, a fact that he feels half-grateful and half-guilty for as they collapse onto it, legs wrapping around each other. The feel of Isshin’s face against his, without the rough facial hair, and the fact that he looks exactly like he had back when their relationship was something that they needed to keep secret, take Ryuuken back to a much more pleasant time. He holds onto Isshin as though he is an anchor, the only thing left of that part of his life making it real.
In his usually uncanny way, Isshin understands without the need for words. He gathers Ryuuken in his arms and they grind against each other in earnest, not pausing for long enough to undress.
“Kurosaki!” Ryuuken’s voice is thick with desire and pleasure, pleading in a way that even he can’t remember his own voice being for years.
Their climax washes over them, leaving them with their heads spinning, chests heaving for breath and their pants uncomfortably wet.
Ryuuken winces and shakes his head at himself. “I’m far from being as young as I once was.”
Chuckling, Isshin presses a kiss to Ryuuken’s forehead. “We never are. Now, how about we get these pants off and wash ourselves off in the shower?”
“Wash ourselves,” Ryuuken repeats, stressing the last word. He sounds dubious.
“You don’t believe me!” Isshin says, returning to his melodramatic, accusatory tone.
“Of course not. I know you. And for as long as I’ve know you…”
“Hmm?” Isshin asks with a grin, standing up and pulling Ryuuken into his arms, hands sliding down the back of the Quincy’s pants.
With a look of part-amusement, part-irritation, Ryuuken finishes, “…You’ve never been able to keep your hands to yourself.”
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Date: 2009-08-28 07:01 pm (UTC)And I totally know that Ichigo's not there because he's totally with Uryuu...:DImagining them older, and trying to look like their college selves is a fantastically hilarious mental image.
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
K: *dumps a bucket of ribbons on Sar anyway....*