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ajremixTitle: Leave Me Breathless
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6199
Characters: Ikkaku, Nemu
In Response to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beckingham
Summary: AU. My very strained attempt at porn.
It’s earlier than usual when Nemu gets back home and she’s greeted by the smell of something… delicious.
“I’m home.” She calls out, slipping out of her shoes, books clutched to her chest. “You’re up early.” She adds. Her purse she leaves hanging on the coat rack with her jacket, the books she takes to the kitchen table.
“Yo, welcome back.” Ikkaku somehow manages around the spoon in his mouth, jumping away from the stove long enough to turn down the hip hop he has blaring on the stereo. “You’re home early.” He takes the spoon from his mouth, giving Nemu’s upraised lips a kiss.
“Urahara-sensei was called away and he told me to go home.” She goes into the kitchen to wash her hands and then stands by Ikkaku’s side as he stirs a pot. “What is it?”
He adds a bit of seasoning, taking a quick sample before he answers. “Ran-chan brought in some chili for us a while back. Asked her for the recipe.”
“Ah.” She doesn’t say it smells wonderful.
Ikkaku gives her a crooked grin. “It’s veggie.”
“It smells wonderful.”
He reaches over to her put the oregano back in the cabinet and as he pulls back, Nemu takes a handful of his shirt and pushes herself up to kiss him again. Slow and languid, he presses her into the counter, rumbling at the way her tongue swirls behind his teeth.
“You’re energetic today.” She tells him softly, tracing the wet line of his lip with her fingers as it quirks into his easy smirk.
“You’re bold today.” He tells her right back, grazing her finger as he speaks.
“I’m happy.”
“Well so am I.”
“Oh?” Only Ikkaku and Urahara has seen Nemu playful, has seen her smile be more than just polite. “Why are you happy?”
“’Cause you’re happy.”
She pokes at his sternum and he laughs.
“What? I can’t be happy ‘cause you are?” He puts a placating kiss on her forehead. “I can’t be happy ‘cause you’re bold?” And now his lips are at her ear. “’Cause you know what you do to me when you get bold.”
She blushes prettily at this and it’s Ikkaku’s goal to make her both smile and blush every single day. “Don’t you want to know why I’m happy?”
There’s a hand brushing across her collarbone and lips moving down her neck and over her jaw in dry little kisses. “Tell me.”
“Urahara-sensei was called away for a last minute business trip.” Nemu explains, tilting her head back and he can feel it when she breathes and talks and swallows. “Akon-sensei couldn’t go so they asked Urahara-sensei to go, instead.” She lowers her head, bumping lightly against his cheek and lips brushing his as she speaks quietly. “He’ll be gone until Monday.”
And that’s all she needs to say before Ikkaku’s mind is racing. With Urahara’s permission, she won’t have to do her internship while he’s gone. She could be home all day and they’d get to see each other more than an hour before he’d have to go to work.
Or, and he thought so furiously he forgot that he was kissing her, maybe he could pull some strings. He could probably get Iba to pull a shift at the bar for him if he agreed to dropped that $130 IOU, Yumi owed him for covering the door while he sucked face with Hisagi, he could probably even pressure Renji to-
“Chili! Fuck!”
And he was fumbling with the spoon and the potholders and the stove all at once but one pale hand beat him to the punch, turning the stovetop off. Then that hand was on his, bringing it up and bringing his attention back to Nemu where he knuckles (thick and callused, almost too rough for the likes of Nemu except that it looks so right next to the soft red of her lips) are brushing her mouth.
“Do you think you could get some time off that quickly?” She asks and anything Ikkaku was going to tell her fizzles in his brain as her last words end with her sucking a finger into her mouth.
Everything else scatters from his mind with the way her tongue rubs under his finger and her teeth nips little trails around the heavy digit. When he manages to tear his eyes away from the way his finger disappears in her mouth and the suction when she pulls back and warmth when she takes him up to the second knuckle again, he’s caught in her eyes and that’s even worse. Because they’re dark and smoldering and he didn’t know if she wanted it worse than him or not.
“Boss.” He manages to blurt out, still caught in her eyes. “I can get Friday and Saturday off ‘cause I had to entertain the little hellspawn for ‘im.”
Her look is disapproving and she draws the finger from her mouth. “Don’t say that.” She reprimands gently. “She’s a wonderful little girl.”
And Ikkaku snorts because he knows he’s more than allowed to. “Yeah, you can say that. She doesn’t demand to ride on your shoulders all night and bite your head ‘cause she wants a midnight snack.”
“Yachiru-chan is a very sweet child.”
“She tries to start a fight every time she’s there ‘cause she thinks it’s funny.”
Nemu’s eyes narrow slightly and she goes for the space between Ikkaku’s finger, suckling at it, running her tongue over his palm and purring soft moans through his hand.
He sighs and shudders. “Okay, okay. The squirt’s not bad. I still wouldn’t take care of her if her uncle weren’t the boss, though.”
She decides that’s fair enough and moves to the tendons in his wrist. They’re powerful against her mouth, rubbing little circles with her tongue as she nips the skin. “And Zaraki-san said he’d give you time off for it?”
“As the last time I had to watch her, I spent the entire time chasin’ a some berserk stray rat she brought in all over the damn bar, yeah. He owes me.” Ikkaku twists his wrist slightly, and it leaves a smudge of wet as he reaches back, fingers heavy on the back of her neck and thumb rubbing lightly on the teardrops in her ears. And he catches her lips again and the kiss is wetter and sloppier than it is deep but it’s still a lot steadier than the way his heart was thumping.
Nemu loves the shirt he’s wearing, really she does. It’s soft and warm and he’s had it so long that even coming out of the wash it still smells like him and sometimes when she’s having a rough night she’ll use it as a nightgown to remind herself that nothing would hurt her anymore. So really, she does love that shirt but despite how soft and warm it is or how much it smells of Ikkaku, it doesn’t feel like him when all she wants is to run her hands over his chest and across his sides. To feel her nails catching on the dips of his ribs and the curves of his muscles.
She pulls the shirt out from his pants, her thumb rubbing over his hipbone and when she follows the line of muscle down just under the belt, Ikkaku reflexively pushes against it. He whispers something against her lips and maybe it’s ‘Nemu’ or ‘Love you’ or something along those lines. But he doesn’t specify, instead sucking on her lower lip, working at it with his teeth and catching her tongue when it presses against him.
He murmurs as her hands move over the ridges of his abs. Nemu doesn’t have to see anymore to be able to trace the scars he’s accumulated over the years, following them first with fingertips and then sometime later with lips and tongue. Ikkaku’s own hands are at her hair, letting lose her long braid from its coiled bun and then working out the weaves gently. Her hair is like water in his hands and she tilts her head back as he massages her scalp. Sometimes she doesn’t even realize that she had her hair pulled back too tightly until Ikkaku is there, freeing her hair and letting it slide over his fingers.
Ikkaku’s entirely convinced that Nemu’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. He can never seem to get enough of her in any way. The way she fits so nicely under his chin when she curls against his chest, or how her hair falls in dark waves over her pale, pale back. Or the precision of her hand when she writes, or even lays out on the couch, or that she’ll sing under her breath when she thinks he can’t hear her. He loves watching the intensity in her gaze as she studies her notes, how sometimes he’ll just barely wake up when she leaves in the mornings and whispers in his ear ‘you’re too good to me’ or, God, how she looks in those short skirts she wears. And the sounds she makes when his hand is on her thigh, twisting and curving upward, pressing and petting and inching under those skirts. He’s even figured out the pattern to what length pantyhose she wears under them.
He measures out the length of her skirt from her knee with his palm- one handbreadth –and that knowledge makes him smirk against her lips. Mid-knee, he thinks, skimming up the silk of her leg and his fingers are on the edge of her panties where they curve under her ass. Nemu moans into his mouth, pressing a little harder against him and that moan turns into a little whimper when the rough pad of a finger sneaks under the lace and rubs over the entirety of her underside. He makes another pass and she gasps under him when he presses into her- just barely at all.
When he pulls his hand out from under her skirt, Nemu’s biting her lip. “Tease.” She breathes across his lips.
“Not yet.” He says with a wide grin, and the heel of his hand splays over her collarbone and his finger is just long enough to settle on the blush of her mouth. Her scent makes him heady and Ikkaku’s twice as hard as he was before just from that little hint.
Nemu looks up at him, and just the look in her eyes makes him want to strip them both where they stand but then Nemu takes Ikkaku’s finger in her mouth, licking it clean and sucking at it enough to make his cock jerk and it makes Ikkaku want to wait to see what else Nemu’s feeling bold enough to do this time around.
“You’re gonna kill me.” He manages to say vaguely and it’s not fair the way she can look so innocent as she smiles at him but so incredibly wicked-sexy with the way the pink of her tongue slides around his finger like that.
“You should do something about it.” Nemu says just as softly, her nails trailing up that long, deep scar that barely missed his heart, the one he wears proudly like a badge, the one he claims changed his life. Despite it having healed for over ten years, the torn skin is still overly sensitive and when Nemu scratches over it so lightly like that it sends shivers up Ikkaku’s spine and he bites the corner of his lip.
“Bedroom?” He didn’t mean to make it come out so husky except that she’s kissing him again, just butterfly kisses that jumble his words up.
“Too far.”
“Couch?”
And she considers this briefly, giving Ikkaku the chance to pop the first few buttons on her blouse. His hand dips under the material and the strap of her bra, rubbing a warm palm over the ball of her shoulder. Nemu tucks her head against the crook of Ikkaku’s neck, her breath warm against his collarbone. “You take care of the food, I’ll get the curtains.”
And he’d grin, chalking this up as a point for himself but that would mean he’d have to let her go and he’s not all that willing to stop touching her just yet.
Torn between decisions, Nemu simplifies things for him. She takes hold of one of his wrists and lifts it high enough for her to duck under. And when Ikkaku turns to maybe complain or just to grab her again, Nemu places a kiss against the tendon. “Quickly,” she reminds him, before leaving the kitchen for the living room.
In seconds, Ikkaku’s diving through cupboards, cursing loudly when he can’t find the lid that goes to that damn pot before he decides ‘fuck it’ and just shoves the uncovered thing into the refrigerator. It’ll be reheated before he leaves again anyway, what’s an hour at most?
He stumbles to the living room, tossing his shirt on the counter and tripping over his socks and pants and boxers. He manages to figure out where his feet are in regards to the clothing when he catches out of the corner of his eye Nemu bent over, sliding her skirt and pantyhose and panties off and fuck, he doesn’t remember how he got over to her unclothed that quickly, just that he nearly broke his neck doing it.
He grabs her as she straightens, one hand diving under her partially buttoned bloused to message her right breast, the other heavy on the apex of her legs, fingers dancing tantalizingly under her. “You’re too fucking beautiful.” Ikkaku tells her, mouthing the curve of her ear. “Everything about you, God, I love you so fucking much.” And he’s only dimly aware that he’s rocking against her ass, only more slightly aware that she’s rocking back and moaning at the play of his fingers.
“Slowly.” She leans her head back, pressing a kiss to the underside of Ikkaku’s jaw. “We have time.”
He doesn’t know if he can last long enough to go ‘slow’ and he must have said that out loud because Nemu smiles back at him and turns in his arms to draw him for a kiss to show him how long and how slow she wants it. She slides her hands down his chest before she undoes the last of her buttons and slips out of her blouse. Ikkaku’s hands are clumsy at her back, fumbling with the bra because it’s been almost a week since he’s been able to feel her body- so soft and firm and solely his –pressed tightly against his own.
Nemu smiles into the kiss and she bats at his arms. When he moves them from around her, Nemu pushes him onto the couch and straddles his lap. His cock, thick and dark and glistening excitedly, gets trapped between their bodies when he dips in to kiss the white skin of her collar. Deft fingers unhook her bra and Nemu slides it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor before she guides Ikkaku’s lips further down and he complies, alternatively sucking and nibbling at a rosy nipple.
She gapes soundlessly and then fingers are working back under her again and pressing into her. Though he knew better than to tease her at a point like this, Nemu presses back into the hand, biting her lip as she feels him sliding into her, stretching and flexing. Nemu throws back her head, strained gasps coming from her pale throat and she stares sightlessly at the ceiling. Ikkaku takes that opportunity latch onto her neck again, gently working at her until she’s relaxed against him again.
Nemu rests her cheek against Ikkaku’s head, one slender hand grasping Ikkaku’s shoulder tightly, digging nails into the thick skin. The other hand moves to his cock and does this thing with her fingers that Ikkaku could never put into words but always made stars explode behind his eyes. It makes him bite harder at the soft junction of her neck and shoulder and Nemu gives a little cry of pain that he apologetically kisses away.
She pays him back by doing that thing again.
Ikkaku jerks his hips up awkwardly. “Don’t…” he mutters weakly. “I can’t… I… fuck…”
But Nemu saves him the trouble of thinking, lifting herself from his fingers and positioning herself over his member. Ikkaku’s head falls back against the couch and he groans as she slips the weeping head of his cock inside her, shifting her hips part for preparation and part for the feel. His heels lift off the floor and his toes curl. “Fuck, Nemu…” There’s so much he wants to say to her. That he loves her, that he missed her, that he hates being away from her, that- FUCK –he doesn’t know why he doesn’t spend every waking moment of his goddamn life inside of her.
She sinks on him slowly, twisting and clenching just to drive both of them wild until finally hands are on her hips, pressing her fully into his lap. She pants, forehead pressed against his shoulder. Even after so many times it still feels like the first, like he’s breaking her in half and opening her to some divinity that strings every nerve with such pleasure it feels like her heart is about to burst.
Nemu bites her lip, slowly rocking herself on his lap and picking up speed. Ikkaku’s fingers are going to leave bruises on her hips, but he’s restraining himself from taking over the pace, forcing his legs straight and angling his hips a little better. She alternates speeds and strides and when he brushes over that spot deep inside of her, Nemu has to muffle her voice against his neck. The more he hits it, the more control Nemu loses and the faster she gets until riding him in full, each slam home rips a cry from her throat and she’s pushing the pace, feeling like her mind is on fire and her body is curling in and stretching out at the same time. Burning at the edges and flying away like paper and smoke.
She lets out a hoarse cry, body going ridged and her body’s reflexive clench as she finishes that last up stroke sets him off and his voice is a sharp bark that echoes in the room for a moment, the feel of him shooting into her makes her shudder again and she can’t even cry out the second time.
For a long moment, the two of them sit on the couch, trying to gather the little pieces of themselves. Skin cooling and sweaty, the only thing keeping Nemu warm are the arms wrapped across her back and the heart still beating erratically against hers. Her legs shake, needing to be stretched out, but not yet strong enough to move.
Ikkaku places a kiss against her temple. “Tired?” He asks quietly.
“Mmm.” Her lips move against his collarbone. “A little time. Just a little longer.” The feel of fingers combing through her hair, drawing it down her back, is almost enough to put her to sleep. Except that her stomach rumbles.
There’s another rumbling under her cheek and Nemu realizes it’s Ikkaku’s laughter. “How ‘bout I reheat the chili and let you know when it’s done, okay?” He’s already twisting them around until Nemu feels the couch against her back. She pulls him down on her, claiming his lips again and arches against him. He mumbles approvingly against her kiss. “Not now.” He chides. “You’re not ready for another round. Yet.”
A finger is wandering vaguely over his chest. “Do you think you’ll have time for another round?” Nemu asks him lightly. His grin falls and he studies her face to see how serious she is. He doesn’t even bother to see what the time is now before he tells her:
“Absolutely.”
She smiles and pushes him away with a last kiss. “Then hurry and get food ready.”
“Slave driver.” He pulls from her folds with that self-satisfied air only a man in his prime would have. “Gimme five minutes.” When Ikkaku stands and stretches and makes his way to the kitchen, it’s as if he isn’t going around without a stitch on him. It had taken Nemu some time to become used to the fact that the lack of clothes had no effect on Ikkaku. It had taken him even longer to remember he wasn’t living alone anymore.
She scooted over the arm of the couch to watch him move through the kitchen, kicking the pile that was his pants out of the doorway. She couldn’t say she didn’t like seeing him walk about nude, despite the shock the first few times gave her. Out of his three closest friends, only Yumi was smaller than him. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Renji, nor as sturdy as Iba, but she’d seen Ikkaku take down men twice his weight with one hit. She’d be jealous of his utter confidence in himself if she didn’t find it so attractive.
A part of Nemu, though, was envious of her boyfriend’s jobs. An everyman at a bar on some nights, a bouncer at a club the other nights. She never worried that he’d go looking off at other girls, she didn’t like the idea of other girls looking at him. His clothes would smell of a score of different perfume amidst the scent of smoke and alcohol and sweat, and Nemu would wash them two, maybe three times before she was satisfied all trace of misguided women were gone.
Urahara-sensei had found that more amusing than anything when she told him. He had said most women would be worried about their men being distracted by other women whereas she was merely possessive because Ikkaku was hers. Admirable, he had said, but amusing nonetheless.
She trusted him. It was as simple as that. Nemu trusted him, because for going through everything he did on her account, everything that had happened to them both in the passed two years, not trusting him now would just make everything else a waste.
“Nemu.”
Her eyes shot open, not remembering when she had closed them. Ikkaku was leaning over the back of the couch, a soft smile on his lips.
“You don’t have to eat, you know. You can just sleep.”
“Ah, no.” She tried sitting up, a large hand against her back helping her upright. “I need to eat. Didn’t have a lot of time for lunch today.”
“If you say so.” He helps her up and keeps a hand against her elbow, even though she doesn’t really need it.
Counterpoint to Ikkaku’s shamelessness, it was still an effort to get Nemu to go without clothes for longer than was generally necessary. Which, in all actuality, was fine with him. While Nemu could appreciate him unclothed, she had restraint. Every time he saw Nemu naked, the only thing he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside her, feel her everywhere, feel her against him, just…
He shifted in his seat and focused on the full bowl of chili in front of him, his cock already stirring at the thought of her skin bared and waiting for him again. He cracks his knuckles, a reflexive action whenever he started getting anticipatory, and went for his food.
Halfway through their meal, Nemu says, “Rangiku gave you this recipe?”
Ikkaku nods around his spoon. “Made a whole pot for the staff.” He grins. “Gone in twenty minutes. Kaien wants to start a kitchen up at the club, just so she can work back there every night.”
“You should ask for a copy of her cookbook. This is delicious.” Nemu sets her spoon into her bowl. “That way, when I start working, you can just cook.”
“Me?” Ikkaku laughs loudly. “Yeah, right!”
Her eyes were a little sad as she says quietly, “That way, you don’t have to work as hard.”
Ikkaku’s good humor falls. “Hey, now-“
“All this time, you’ve been working so hard to support me, I just want to help you in the same way.” Idly, Nemu stirs her spoon around. “I know that it’s hard on you. I know you don’t get a chance to be with your friends much. You should be able to do what you want to do.”
“Nemu.” She looks up into Ikkaku’s stern expression. “So what if I’m doin’ two jobs? Helpin’ you out like this is the only thing I can do for you, so yeah I’m gonna do it. You don’t have to worry about me, okay? In terms of jobs, I’m as far as my experience can take me right now. You still have a lot goin’ for you. You should be worryin’ about that. The guys know why I don’t chill much anymore and the work ain’t that bad. Besides,” he takes up another spoonful, already closing the discussion, “if I didn’t work, I’d be bored outta my damn skull.”
Nemu can’t help but smile. If she should ever wonder why she cared about this man at all, she just had to see his indignant pout. Ikkaku was such a child, really, but he never failed to put her in a good mood or forget about all of her mistakes.
Ikkaku catches her eye and raises an eyebrow. “Though, you know,” he says with a slow grin, “there IS somethin’ you could do for me if you think you gotta pay me back that badly.”
She already knows where this is going to go, but she gives him an oblivious look anyway, leaning forward over the table. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“A couple things, actually.” Ikkaku tries to hide the fact that he’s tracing the double curves of her breasts, and Nemu has to bite back a grin because even if it wasn’t obvious to her, she knew that’s what he was doing anyway. “First thing, you could finish eating a little quicker.”
“I’m done.”
“Done?” Ikkaku blinks at her bowl. “You only ate ‘bout half of it. Thought you said you didn’t have much for lunch.”
With a little smile, she pushes the bowl away. “Food isn’t interesting right now. I want to know what I can do to help you.” And even though she tries, she can’t quite keep that playful smile off her face.
But that’s fine, because Ikkaku’s mirroring it with a wicked curve of his own lips. “If that’s the case then, I can put the dishes in the kitchen and you can help me run a warm shower.”
“You need help for that?”
“Well, you know. Tossin’ drunks and assholes outta clubs really takes a lot out of a guy.” He grins. “What do ya say?”
“If it’s to repay you for you kindness. I can get the dishes.” Nemu tells him. She picks up both bowls and dances away from him when Ikkaku reaches out to her hip. “Just wait right there,” she says as she moves to the kitchen, “and I’ll help you with your shower.”
If any of Ikkaku’s friends had the chance to witness the two while they were both awake and unrushed, they’d probably be complaining about the ‘newlywed’ syndrome. But, to them, it was perfectly rational to still act that way after having moved in together for over a year. Due to their conflicting schedules, they rarely had time to really interact. Ikkaku would get back in the early morning, normally with just enough time to tuck Nemu against his chest and drift on to sleep before she was up and leaving the apartment. If traffic was good, Nemu would get back from the lab maybe an hour before Ikkaku was out the door. To them, they were taking the usual allotted ‘newlywed’ time, just that it had to be stretched to the few precious hours they were able to actually spend together.
Like now, when he has her pressed against the warm, slick tiles of the shower stall, kissing her until they were beginning to feel a little faint. Nemu would always say his hands were the part she loved most about him. So large and sure and rough, but gentle enough to move over her body like he was worshiping her. He cups her and moves her and the feel of skin slick against skin has her rubbing against the thigh that holds her up and pins her in place.
The tiles are cool against her back, but everywhere else she’s wet and warm and it’s only the needy pressure that lets her know where Ikkaku’s hands and mouth are, jumping over her skin, pressing here and there just to watch her writhe.
Perhaps it was the promise of a free weekend that makes Nemu so bold, but she slips down the length of Ikkaku’s body, tracing the patterns of his scars with light little nips, drinking the rivulets of water with long sweeps of her tongue. Above her, Ikkaku braces his forearms against the tiles, legs quivering when she places soft kisses against his abs, one hand against the back of a calf, the other dancing up his inner thigh.
That hand curves the fold where thigh meets groin, her nails scratched lightly over his balls and the underside of his cock. Ikkaku muffles a moan against his arm, hips straining forward as he tries to keep himself steady. He jumps slightly as fingers push lightly at his head and Nemu measures his length in her hand. She isn’t bold often enough, in Ikkaku’s view, to be down there, treating him tenderly and gently and maybe a little too shyly for his taste, but when she finally gets over her initial prudence… God, she’s got a mouth he used to DREAM about.
His cock twitches against her lips as she grazes him from head to root and back against, tracing the contours with her breath. Ikkaku hisses slightly, restraint unfurling at a dizzying rate as she continues to tease. Then, suddenly, the warm and wet that’s been surrounding him is suddenly warmer and wetter and there’s pressure against him that makes his breath catch in his throat, leaving a strangled echo over the sound of the shower. When she goes down on him, she relearns his feel, the suction and movement making Ikkaku’s eyes roll back in his head and he whimpers into the wall.
“Ah, fuck… Nemu…” With each pull, Nemu gets a little quicker, a little stronger, starts pressing and twirling against different parts of him, remembering what had him cursing and panting from before. He’s trying, he’s seriously TRYING to keep from pistoning into her, but when she does THAT with her tongue- which makes even MORE stars burst in his head than when she did it with her fingers –he can’t keep from jerking forward. A hand is against the back of her head because the least romantic or rewarding thing he could do at that moment is bang her head against the tiles and maybe the pain would remind him to hold still, dammit.
And then she starts moaning, dear Lord in heaven she’s MOANING against his COCK and it’s sending all this vibrations through his body and ringing in his head and he doesn’t know if that’s her or his breath coming out too fast in his ears. There’s all these little moans and whimpers coming out of her and when Ikkaku forces his eyes open, Nemu’s got him up to the hilt in her mouth and there’s one pale hand- turned pink from the shower –kneading a breast and the other-
“…oh fucking God…” her other hand is underneath her and she’s bobbing onto her own fingers and crying against his dick and if that’s not the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, he wants to where he’s been when he hasn’t been paying attention.
He…He can’t last, not when he’s watching something like that but he can’t look away, not even able to let out any sort of warning when he shoots a short jet of cum into Nemu’s mouth. Surprised, she turns away, coughing and Ikkaku has to reach down so the rest of the load hits her in the chest. He’s pressed so hard against the wall his forehead’s starting to hurt and he looks down at Nemu, not even able to apologize because there’s something so incredibly hot, having her knelt in front of him with his seed dripping over her breasts like that.
But then maybe he doesn’t have to apologize anyway because she looks up at him with a little smile that’s tinged with pride. Which is a viable look for her because he hasn’t felt this weak-kneed in a while. When she stands, Nemu grazes the length of his scar with her teeth, painting the faded edges with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He catches her mouth, wanting to taste himself on her tongue, wanting to tell her how he can’t get enough of her.
Maybe it’s because they haven’t had sex in over a week, or that just about every move she makes looks like she’s enticing him or maybe it’s because she really IS bold today, but he’s already pressed against her hip, half hard again. He grabs one of her wrists, holding it to the wall by her shoulder, unable to pull himself out of the kiss just yet. His other hand is stroking himself, the tip pressing against her mound. Nemu wriggles, trying to get a more solid feel and whimpering at his touch.
When he can’t wait another minute, he wraps an arm around Nemu’s waist, lifting her up and she hooks her legs across his back. Her hand is on him again, giving him another quick stroke before guiding him inside. He rocks into her and after the first few times, he wriggles against the angle, taking one of her legs and drawing it over his shoulder. The next one, Nemu breaks out of the kiss with a sharp cry and Ikkaku grins against her, hitting it even harder and faster and she cries out again, louder.
Each time he slams home and he’s probably pressing into her too hard, but her voice is in his ear, chanting ‘more, more’ or maybe it’s his own thoughts, but he couldn’t stop now, even if he wanted to. He’s only vaguely aware of when Nemu orgasms, her husky voice cracking in the steam-coated room. His hips jerk forward, muffling ragged cries against Nemu’s neck and his vision blackens at the edges when he cums, grunting when fingernails dig grooves across his back.
It takes him several long minutes to regain any sort of presence of mind, and it’s merely mechanical memory that ensures that both of them are washed and cleaned and dry before he carries Nemu, curled in his arms and half asleep, into the bedroom.
She shivers against the blanket, the temperature change shocking her brain into some semblance of ‘awake’. After Ikkaku slides her under the covers, Nemu automatically scoots to his side of the bed, burying her face against his pillow. He chuckles fondly, fanning her hair out across the bed. She stirs at the feel of his fingers and reaches out to him a little clumsily.
“You’re working at the club tonight, aren’t you?” Nemu asks sleepily, her hand soft against Ikkaku’s cheek. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave now. Don’t give Shiba-san an excuse to yell at you.”
He snorts lightly, but presses a kiss to her palm. “Shiba-san doesn’t need an excuse to yell at anyone. To her, excuses just get in the way.” He kisses her palm again before he moves to get up. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Mmmm.” She curls deep into the blanket, watching Ikkaku with one eye. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” And yet he was still trying to come up with a damn good excuse on why he wouldn’t be able to go to work today, but he was fairly certain Kuukaku wouldn’t except ‘I wanted to screw my girlfriend into the mattress’ as a viable reason, no matter how much Kaien back him up. He shakes his head. Work, right. Going.
He somehow manage to find his clothes again and makes it to out of the apartment and to the elevator. He most likely has that ‘just got laid’ look on his face because that perverted old guy next door is giving him a ‘well done’ grin as he goes to take out his trash. But, and maybe it was for the fact that he just got laid, Ikkaku gives him a nod and pulls out his phone.
Okay, he thinks to himself. He could get the boss to let him off Friday and Saturday, could even line up Iba to take his shift those days if he had to. And he hadn’t missed a day in the eight months working with the Shibas’, surely he was allowed to take off a night by now.
Having figured everything out, he hits his speed dial. When the other line gets picked up, Ikkaku can’t help the grin spreading over his face. “Oi, Iba. How would you like to keep your money?”
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6199
Characters: Ikkaku, Nemu
In Response to:
beckinghamSummary: AU. My very strained attempt at porn.
It’s earlier than usual when Nemu gets back home and she’s greeted by the smell of something… delicious.
“I’m home.” She calls out, slipping out of her shoes, books clutched to her chest. “You’re up early.” She adds. Her purse she leaves hanging on the coat rack with her jacket, the books she takes to the kitchen table.
“Yo, welcome back.” Ikkaku somehow manages around the spoon in his mouth, jumping away from the stove long enough to turn down the hip hop he has blaring on the stereo. “You’re home early.” He takes the spoon from his mouth, giving Nemu’s upraised lips a kiss.
“Urahara-sensei was called away and he told me to go home.” She goes into the kitchen to wash her hands and then stands by Ikkaku’s side as he stirs a pot. “What is it?”
He adds a bit of seasoning, taking a quick sample before he answers. “Ran-chan brought in some chili for us a while back. Asked her for the recipe.”
“Ah.” She doesn’t say it smells wonderful.
Ikkaku gives her a crooked grin. “It’s veggie.”
“It smells wonderful.”
He reaches over to her put the oregano back in the cabinet and as he pulls back, Nemu takes a handful of his shirt and pushes herself up to kiss him again. Slow and languid, he presses her into the counter, rumbling at the way her tongue swirls behind his teeth.
“You’re energetic today.” She tells him softly, tracing the wet line of his lip with her fingers as it quirks into his easy smirk.
“You’re bold today.” He tells her right back, grazing her finger as he speaks.
“I’m happy.”
“Well so am I.”
“Oh?” Only Ikkaku and Urahara has seen Nemu playful, has seen her smile be more than just polite. “Why are you happy?”
“’Cause you’re happy.”
She pokes at his sternum and he laughs.
“What? I can’t be happy ‘cause you are?” He puts a placating kiss on her forehead. “I can’t be happy ‘cause you’re bold?” And now his lips are at her ear. “’Cause you know what you do to me when you get bold.”
She blushes prettily at this and it’s Ikkaku’s goal to make her both smile and blush every single day. “Don’t you want to know why I’m happy?”
There’s a hand brushing across her collarbone and lips moving down her neck and over her jaw in dry little kisses. “Tell me.”
“Urahara-sensei was called away for a last minute business trip.” Nemu explains, tilting her head back and he can feel it when she breathes and talks and swallows. “Akon-sensei couldn’t go so they asked Urahara-sensei to go, instead.” She lowers her head, bumping lightly against his cheek and lips brushing his as she speaks quietly. “He’ll be gone until Monday.”
And that’s all she needs to say before Ikkaku’s mind is racing. With Urahara’s permission, she won’t have to do her internship while he’s gone. She could be home all day and they’d get to see each other more than an hour before he’d have to go to work.
Or, and he thought so furiously he forgot that he was kissing her, maybe he could pull some strings. He could probably get Iba to pull a shift at the bar for him if he agreed to dropped that $130 IOU, Yumi owed him for covering the door while he sucked face with Hisagi, he could probably even pressure Renji to-
“Chili! Fuck!”
And he was fumbling with the spoon and the potholders and the stove all at once but one pale hand beat him to the punch, turning the stovetop off. Then that hand was on his, bringing it up and bringing his attention back to Nemu where he knuckles (thick and callused, almost too rough for the likes of Nemu except that it looks so right next to the soft red of her lips) are brushing her mouth.
“Do you think you could get some time off that quickly?” She asks and anything Ikkaku was going to tell her fizzles in his brain as her last words end with her sucking a finger into her mouth.
Everything else scatters from his mind with the way her tongue rubs under his finger and her teeth nips little trails around the heavy digit. When he manages to tear his eyes away from the way his finger disappears in her mouth and the suction when she pulls back and warmth when she takes him up to the second knuckle again, he’s caught in her eyes and that’s even worse. Because they’re dark and smoldering and he didn’t know if she wanted it worse than him or not.
“Boss.” He manages to blurt out, still caught in her eyes. “I can get Friday and Saturday off ‘cause I had to entertain the little hellspawn for ‘im.”
Her look is disapproving and she draws the finger from her mouth. “Don’t say that.” She reprimands gently. “She’s a wonderful little girl.”
And Ikkaku snorts because he knows he’s more than allowed to. “Yeah, you can say that. She doesn’t demand to ride on your shoulders all night and bite your head ‘cause she wants a midnight snack.”
“Yachiru-chan is a very sweet child.”
“She tries to start a fight every time she’s there ‘cause she thinks it’s funny.”
Nemu’s eyes narrow slightly and she goes for the space between Ikkaku’s finger, suckling at it, running her tongue over his palm and purring soft moans through his hand.
He sighs and shudders. “Okay, okay. The squirt’s not bad. I still wouldn’t take care of her if her uncle weren’t the boss, though.”
She decides that’s fair enough and moves to the tendons in his wrist. They’re powerful against her mouth, rubbing little circles with her tongue as she nips the skin. “And Zaraki-san said he’d give you time off for it?”
“As the last time I had to watch her, I spent the entire time chasin’ a some berserk stray rat she brought in all over the damn bar, yeah. He owes me.” Ikkaku twists his wrist slightly, and it leaves a smudge of wet as he reaches back, fingers heavy on the back of her neck and thumb rubbing lightly on the teardrops in her ears. And he catches her lips again and the kiss is wetter and sloppier than it is deep but it’s still a lot steadier than the way his heart was thumping.
Nemu loves the shirt he’s wearing, really she does. It’s soft and warm and he’s had it so long that even coming out of the wash it still smells like him and sometimes when she’s having a rough night she’ll use it as a nightgown to remind herself that nothing would hurt her anymore. So really, she does love that shirt but despite how soft and warm it is or how much it smells of Ikkaku, it doesn’t feel like him when all she wants is to run her hands over his chest and across his sides. To feel her nails catching on the dips of his ribs and the curves of his muscles.
She pulls the shirt out from his pants, her thumb rubbing over his hipbone and when she follows the line of muscle down just under the belt, Ikkaku reflexively pushes against it. He whispers something against her lips and maybe it’s ‘Nemu’ or ‘Love you’ or something along those lines. But he doesn’t specify, instead sucking on her lower lip, working at it with his teeth and catching her tongue when it presses against him.
He murmurs as her hands move over the ridges of his abs. Nemu doesn’t have to see anymore to be able to trace the scars he’s accumulated over the years, following them first with fingertips and then sometime later with lips and tongue. Ikkaku’s own hands are at her hair, letting lose her long braid from its coiled bun and then working out the weaves gently. Her hair is like water in his hands and she tilts her head back as he massages her scalp. Sometimes she doesn’t even realize that she had her hair pulled back too tightly until Ikkaku is there, freeing her hair and letting it slide over his fingers.
Ikkaku’s entirely convinced that Nemu’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. He can never seem to get enough of her in any way. The way she fits so nicely under his chin when she curls against his chest, or how her hair falls in dark waves over her pale, pale back. Or the precision of her hand when she writes, or even lays out on the couch, or that she’ll sing under her breath when she thinks he can’t hear her. He loves watching the intensity in her gaze as she studies her notes, how sometimes he’ll just barely wake up when she leaves in the mornings and whispers in his ear ‘you’re too good to me’ or, God, how she looks in those short skirts she wears. And the sounds she makes when his hand is on her thigh, twisting and curving upward, pressing and petting and inching under those skirts. He’s even figured out the pattern to what length pantyhose she wears under them.
He measures out the length of her skirt from her knee with his palm- one handbreadth –and that knowledge makes him smirk against her lips. Mid-knee, he thinks, skimming up the silk of her leg and his fingers are on the edge of her panties where they curve under her ass. Nemu moans into his mouth, pressing a little harder against him and that moan turns into a little whimper when the rough pad of a finger sneaks under the lace and rubs over the entirety of her underside. He makes another pass and she gasps under him when he presses into her- just barely at all.
When he pulls his hand out from under her skirt, Nemu’s biting her lip. “Tease.” She breathes across his lips.
“Not yet.” He says with a wide grin, and the heel of his hand splays over her collarbone and his finger is just long enough to settle on the blush of her mouth. Her scent makes him heady and Ikkaku’s twice as hard as he was before just from that little hint.
Nemu looks up at him, and just the look in her eyes makes him want to strip them both where they stand but then Nemu takes Ikkaku’s finger in her mouth, licking it clean and sucking at it enough to make his cock jerk and it makes Ikkaku want to wait to see what else Nemu’s feeling bold enough to do this time around.
“You’re gonna kill me.” He manages to say vaguely and it’s not fair the way she can look so innocent as she smiles at him but so incredibly wicked-sexy with the way the pink of her tongue slides around his finger like that.
“You should do something about it.” Nemu says just as softly, her nails trailing up that long, deep scar that barely missed his heart, the one he wears proudly like a badge, the one he claims changed his life. Despite it having healed for over ten years, the torn skin is still overly sensitive and when Nemu scratches over it so lightly like that it sends shivers up Ikkaku’s spine and he bites the corner of his lip.
“Bedroom?” He didn’t mean to make it come out so husky except that she’s kissing him again, just butterfly kisses that jumble his words up.
“Too far.”
“Couch?”
And she considers this briefly, giving Ikkaku the chance to pop the first few buttons on her blouse. His hand dips under the material and the strap of her bra, rubbing a warm palm over the ball of her shoulder. Nemu tucks her head against the crook of Ikkaku’s neck, her breath warm against his collarbone. “You take care of the food, I’ll get the curtains.”
And he’d grin, chalking this up as a point for himself but that would mean he’d have to let her go and he’s not all that willing to stop touching her just yet.
Torn between decisions, Nemu simplifies things for him. She takes hold of one of his wrists and lifts it high enough for her to duck under. And when Ikkaku turns to maybe complain or just to grab her again, Nemu places a kiss against the tendon. “Quickly,” she reminds him, before leaving the kitchen for the living room.
In seconds, Ikkaku’s diving through cupboards, cursing loudly when he can’t find the lid that goes to that damn pot before he decides ‘fuck it’ and just shoves the uncovered thing into the refrigerator. It’ll be reheated before he leaves again anyway, what’s an hour at most?
He stumbles to the living room, tossing his shirt on the counter and tripping over his socks and pants and boxers. He manages to figure out where his feet are in regards to the clothing when he catches out of the corner of his eye Nemu bent over, sliding her skirt and pantyhose and panties off and fuck, he doesn’t remember how he got over to her unclothed that quickly, just that he nearly broke his neck doing it.
He grabs her as she straightens, one hand diving under her partially buttoned bloused to message her right breast, the other heavy on the apex of her legs, fingers dancing tantalizingly under her. “You’re too fucking beautiful.” Ikkaku tells her, mouthing the curve of her ear. “Everything about you, God, I love you so fucking much.” And he’s only dimly aware that he’s rocking against her ass, only more slightly aware that she’s rocking back and moaning at the play of his fingers.
“Slowly.” She leans her head back, pressing a kiss to the underside of Ikkaku’s jaw. “We have time.”
He doesn’t know if he can last long enough to go ‘slow’ and he must have said that out loud because Nemu smiles back at him and turns in his arms to draw him for a kiss to show him how long and how slow she wants it. She slides her hands down his chest before she undoes the last of her buttons and slips out of her blouse. Ikkaku’s hands are clumsy at her back, fumbling with the bra because it’s been almost a week since he’s been able to feel her body- so soft and firm and solely his –pressed tightly against his own.
Nemu smiles into the kiss and she bats at his arms. When he moves them from around her, Nemu pushes him onto the couch and straddles his lap. His cock, thick and dark and glistening excitedly, gets trapped between their bodies when he dips in to kiss the white skin of her collar. Deft fingers unhook her bra and Nemu slides it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor before she guides Ikkaku’s lips further down and he complies, alternatively sucking and nibbling at a rosy nipple.
She gapes soundlessly and then fingers are working back under her again and pressing into her. Though he knew better than to tease her at a point like this, Nemu presses back into the hand, biting her lip as she feels him sliding into her, stretching and flexing. Nemu throws back her head, strained gasps coming from her pale throat and she stares sightlessly at the ceiling. Ikkaku takes that opportunity latch onto her neck again, gently working at her until she’s relaxed against him again.
Nemu rests her cheek against Ikkaku’s head, one slender hand grasping Ikkaku’s shoulder tightly, digging nails into the thick skin. The other hand moves to his cock and does this thing with her fingers that Ikkaku could never put into words but always made stars explode behind his eyes. It makes him bite harder at the soft junction of her neck and shoulder and Nemu gives a little cry of pain that he apologetically kisses away.
She pays him back by doing that thing again.
Ikkaku jerks his hips up awkwardly. “Don’t…” he mutters weakly. “I can’t… I… fuck…”
But Nemu saves him the trouble of thinking, lifting herself from his fingers and positioning herself over his member. Ikkaku’s head falls back against the couch and he groans as she slips the weeping head of his cock inside her, shifting her hips part for preparation and part for the feel. His heels lift off the floor and his toes curl. “Fuck, Nemu…” There’s so much he wants to say to her. That he loves her, that he missed her, that he hates being away from her, that- FUCK –he doesn’t know why he doesn’t spend every waking moment of his goddamn life inside of her.
She sinks on him slowly, twisting and clenching just to drive both of them wild until finally hands are on her hips, pressing her fully into his lap. She pants, forehead pressed against his shoulder. Even after so many times it still feels like the first, like he’s breaking her in half and opening her to some divinity that strings every nerve with such pleasure it feels like her heart is about to burst.
Nemu bites her lip, slowly rocking herself on his lap and picking up speed. Ikkaku’s fingers are going to leave bruises on her hips, but he’s restraining himself from taking over the pace, forcing his legs straight and angling his hips a little better. She alternates speeds and strides and when he brushes over that spot deep inside of her, Nemu has to muffle her voice against his neck. The more he hits it, the more control Nemu loses and the faster she gets until riding him in full, each slam home rips a cry from her throat and she’s pushing the pace, feeling like her mind is on fire and her body is curling in and stretching out at the same time. Burning at the edges and flying away like paper and smoke.
She lets out a hoarse cry, body going ridged and her body’s reflexive clench as she finishes that last up stroke sets him off and his voice is a sharp bark that echoes in the room for a moment, the feel of him shooting into her makes her shudder again and she can’t even cry out the second time.
For a long moment, the two of them sit on the couch, trying to gather the little pieces of themselves. Skin cooling and sweaty, the only thing keeping Nemu warm are the arms wrapped across her back and the heart still beating erratically against hers. Her legs shake, needing to be stretched out, but not yet strong enough to move.
Ikkaku places a kiss against her temple. “Tired?” He asks quietly.
“Mmm.” Her lips move against his collarbone. “A little time. Just a little longer.” The feel of fingers combing through her hair, drawing it down her back, is almost enough to put her to sleep. Except that her stomach rumbles.
There’s another rumbling under her cheek and Nemu realizes it’s Ikkaku’s laughter. “How ‘bout I reheat the chili and let you know when it’s done, okay?” He’s already twisting them around until Nemu feels the couch against her back. She pulls him down on her, claiming his lips again and arches against him. He mumbles approvingly against her kiss. “Not now.” He chides. “You’re not ready for another round. Yet.”
A finger is wandering vaguely over his chest. “Do you think you’ll have time for another round?” Nemu asks him lightly. His grin falls and he studies her face to see how serious she is. He doesn’t even bother to see what the time is now before he tells her:
“Absolutely.”
She smiles and pushes him away with a last kiss. “Then hurry and get food ready.”
“Slave driver.” He pulls from her folds with that self-satisfied air only a man in his prime would have. “Gimme five minutes.” When Ikkaku stands and stretches and makes his way to the kitchen, it’s as if he isn’t going around without a stitch on him. It had taken Nemu some time to become used to the fact that the lack of clothes had no effect on Ikkaku. It had taken him even longer to remember he wasn’t living alone anymore.
She scooted over the arm of the couch to watch him move through the kitchen, kicking the pile that was his pants out of the doorway. She couldn’t say she didn’t like seeing him walk about nude, despite the shock the first few times gave her. Out of his three closest friends, only Yumi was smaller than him. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Renji, nor as sturdy as Iba, but she’d seen Ikkaku take down men twice his weight with one hit. She’d be jealous of his utter confidence in himself if she didn’t find it so attractive.
A part of Nemu, though, was envious of her boyfriend’s jobs. An everyman at a bar on some nights, a bouncer at a club the other nights. She never worried that he’d go looking off at other girls, she didn’t like the idea of other girls looking at him. His clothes would smell of a score of different perfume amidst the scent of smoke and alcohol and sweat, and Nemu would wash them two, maybe three times before she was satisfied all trace of misguided women were gone.
Urahara-sensei had found that more amusing than anything when she told him. He had said most women would be worried about their men being distracted by other women whereas she was merely possessive because Ikkaku was hers. Admirable, he had said, but amusing nonetheless.
She trusted him. It was as simple as that. Nemu trusted him, because for going through everything he did on her account, everything that had happened to them both in the passed two years, not trusting him now would just make everything else a waste.
“Nemu.”
Her eyes shot open, not remembering when she had closed them. Ikkaku was leaning over the back of the couch, a soft smile on his lips.
“You don’t have to eat, you know. You can just sleep.”
“Ah, no.” She tried sitting up, a large hand against her back helping her upright. “I need to eat. Didn’t have a lot of time for lunch today.”
“If you say so.” He helps her up and keeps a hand against her elbow, even though she doesn’t really need it.
Counterpoint to Ikkaku’s shamelessness, it was still an effort to get Nemu to go without clothes for longer than was generally necessary. Which, in all actuality, was fine with him. While Nemu could appreciate him unclothed, she had restraint. Every time he saw Nemu naked, the only thing he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside her, feel her everywhere, feel her against him, just…
He shifted in his seat and focused on the full bowl of chili in front of him, his cock already stirring at the thought of her skin bared and waiting for him again. He cracks his knuckles, a reflexive action whenever he started getting anticipatory, and went for his food.
Halfway through their meal, Nemu says, “Rangiku gave you this recipe?”
Ikkaku nods around his spoon. “Made a whole pot for the staff.” He grins. “Gone in twenty minutes. Kaien wants to start a kitchen up at the club, just so she can work back there every night.”
“You should ask for a copy of her cookbook. This is delicious.” Nemu sets her spoon into her bowl. “That way, when I start working, you can just cook.”
“Me?” Ikkaku laughs loudly. “Yeah, right!”
Her eyes were a little sad as she says quietly, “That way, you don’t have to work as hard.”
Ikkaku’s good humor falls. “Hey, now-“
“All this time, you’ve been working so hard to support me, I just want to help you in the same way.” Idly, Nemu stirs her spoon around. “I know that it’s hard on you. I know you don’t get a chance to be with your friends much. You should be able to do what you want to do.”
“Nemu.” She looks up into Ikkaku’s stern expression. “So what if I’m doin’ two jobs? Helpin’ you out like this is the only thing I can do for you, so yeah I’m gonna do it. You don’t have to worry about me, okay? In terms of jobs, I’m as far as my experience can take me right now. You still have a lot goin’ for you. You should be worryin’ about that. The guys know why I don’t chill much anymore and the work ain’t that bad. Besides,” he takes up another spoonful, already closing the discussion, “if I didn’t work, I’d be bored outta my damn skull.”
Nemu can’t help but smile. If she should ever wonder why she cared about this man at all, she just had to see his indignant pout. Ikkaku was such a child, really, but he never failed to put her in a good mood or forget about all of her mistakes.
Ikkaku catches her eye and raises an eyebrow. “Though, you know,” he says with a slow grin, “there IS somethin’ you could do for me if you think you gotta pay me back that badly.”
She already knows where this is going to go, but she gives him an oblivious look anyway, leaning forward over the table. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“A couple things, actually.” Ikkaku tries to hide the fact that he’s tracing the double curves of her breasts, and Nemu has to bite back a grin because even if it wasn’t obvious to her, she knew that’s what he was doing anyway. “First thing, you could finish eating a little quicker.”
“I’m done.”
“Done?” Ikkaku blinks at her bowl. “You only ate ‘bout half of it. Thought you said you didn’t have much for lunch.”
With a little smile, she pushes the bowl away. “Food isn’t interesting right now. I want to know what I can do to help you.” And even though she tries, she can’t quite keep that playful smile off her face.
But that’s fine, because Ikkaku’s mirroring it with a wicked curve of his own lips. “If that’s the case then, I can put the dishes in the kitchen and you can help me run a warm shower.”
“You need help for that?”
“Well, you know. Tossin’ drunks and assholes outta clubs really takes a lot out of a guy.” He grins. “What do ya say?”
“If it’s to repay you for you kindness. I can get the dishes.” Nemu tells him. She picks up both bowls and dances away from him when Ikkaku reaches out to her hip. “Just wait right there,” she says as she moves to the kitchen, “and I’ll help you with your shower.”
If any of Ikkaku’s friends had the chance to witness the two while they were both awake and unrushed, they’d probably be complaining about the ‘newlywed’ syndrome. But, to them, it was perfectly rational to still act that way after having moved in together for over a year. Due to their conflicting schedules, they rarely had time to really interact. Ikkaku would get back in the early morning, normally with just enough time to tuck Nemu against his chest and drift on to sleep before she was up and leaving the apartment. If traffic was good, Nemu would get back from the lab maybe an hour before Ikkaku was out the door. To them, they were taking the usual allotted ‘newlywed’ time, just that it had to be stretched to the few precious hours they were able to actually spend together.
Like now, when he has her pressed against the warm, slick tiles of the shower stall, kissing her until they were beginning to feel a little faint. Nemu would always say his hands were the part she loved most about him. So large and sure and rough, but gentle enough to move over her body like he was worshiping her. He cups her and moves her and the feel of skin slick against skin has her rubbing against the thigh that holds her up and pins her in place.
The tiles are cool against her back, but everywhere else she’s wet and warm and it’s only the needy pressure that lets her know where Ikkaku’s hands and mouth are, jumping over her skin, pressing here and there just to watch her writhe.
Perhaps it was the promise of a free weekend that makes Nemu so bold, but she slips down the length of Ikkaku’s body, tracing the patterns of his scars with light little nips, drinking the rivulets of water with long sweeps of her tongue. Above her, Ikkaku braces his forearms against the tiles, legs quivering when she places soft kisses against his abs, one hand against the back of a calf, the other dancing up his inner thigh.
That hand curves the fold where thigh meets groin, her nails scratched lightly over his balls and the underside of his cock. Ikkaku muffles a moan against his arm, hips straining forward as he tries to keep himself steady. He jumps slightly as fingers push lightly at his head and Nemu measures his length in her hand. She isn’t bold often enough, in Ikkaku’s view, to be down there, treating him tenderly and gently and maybe a little too shyly for his taste, but when she finally gets over her initial prudence… God, she’s got a mouth he used to DREAM about.
His cock twitches against her lips as she grazes him from head to root and back against, tracing the contours with her breath. Ikkaku hisses slightly, restraint unfurling at a dizzying rate as she continues to tease. Then, suddenly, the warm and wet that’s been surrounding him is suddenly warmer and wetter and there’s pressure against him that makes his breath catch in his throat, leaving a strangled echo over the sound of the shower. When she goes down on him, she relearns his feel, the suction and movement making Ikkaku’s eyes roll back in his head and he whimpers into the wall.
“Ah, fuck… Nemu…” With each pull, Nemu gets a little quicker, a little stronger, starts pressing and twirling against different parts of him, remembering what had him cursing and panting from before. He’s trying, he’s seriously TRYING to keep from pistoning into her, but when she does THAT with her tongue- which makes even MORE stars burst in his head than when she did it with her fingers –he can’t keep from jerking forward. A hand is against the back of her head because the least romantic or rewarding thing he could do at that moment is bang her head against the tiles and maybe the pain would remind him to hold still, dammit.
And then she starts moaning, dear Lord in heaven she’s MOANING against his COCK and it’s sending all this vibrations through his body and ringing in his head and he doesn’t know if that’s her or his breath coming out too fast in his ears. There’s all these little moans and whimpers coming out of her and when Ikkaku forces his eyes open, Nemu’s got him up to the hilt in her mouth and there’s one pale hand- turned pink from the shower –kneading a breast and the other-
“…oh fucking God…” her other hand is underneath her and she’s bobbing onto her own fingers and crying against his dick and if that’s not the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, he wants to where he’s been when he hasn’t been paying attention.
He…He can’t last, not when he’s watching something like that but he can’t look away, not even able to let out any sort of warning when he shoots a short jet of cum into Nemu’s mouth. Surprised, she turns away, coughing and Ikkaku has to reach down so the rest of the load hits her in the chest. He’s pressed so hard against the wall his forehead’s starting to hurt and he looks down at Nemu, not even able to apologize because there’s something so incredibly hot, having her knelt in front of him with his seed dripping over her breasts like that.
But then maybe he doesn’t have to apologize anyway because she looks up at him with a little smile that’s tinged with pride. Which is a viable look for her because he hasn’t felt this weak-kneed in a while. When she stands, Nemu grazes the length of his scar with her teeth, painting the faded edges with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He catches her mouth, wanting to taste himself on her tongue, wanting to tell her how he can’t get enough of her.
Maybe it’s because they haven’t had sex in over a week, or that just about every move she makes looks like she’s enticing him or maybe it’s because she really IS bold today, but he’s already pressed against her hip, half hard again. He grabs one of her wrists, holding it to the wall by her shoulder, unable to pull himself out of the kiss just yet. His other hand is stroking himself, the tip pressing against her mound. Nemu wriggles, trying to get a more solid feel and whimpering at his touch.
When he can’t wait another minute, he wraps an arm around Nemu’s waist, lifting her up and she hooks her legs across his back. Her hand is on him again, giving him another quick stroke before guiding him inside. He rocks into her and after the first few times, he wriggles against the angle, taking one of her legs and drawing it over his shoulder. The next one, Nemu breaks out of the kiss with a sharp cry and Ikkaku grins against her, hitting it even harder and faster and she cries out again, louder.
Each time he slams home and he’s probably pressing into her too hard, but her voice is in his ear, chanting ‘more, more’ or maybe it’s his own thoughts, but he couldn’t stop now, even if he wanted to. He’s only vaguely aware of when Nemu orgasms, her husky voice cracking in the steam-coated room. His hips jerk forward, muffling ragged cries against Nemu’s neck and his vision blackens at the edges when he cums, grunting when fingernails dig grooves across his back.
It takes him several long minutes to regain any sort of presence of mind, and it’s merely mechanical memory that ensures that both of them are washed and cleaned and dry before he carries Nemu, curled in his arms and half asleep, into the bedroom.
She shivers against the blanket, the temperature change shocking her brain into some semblance of ‘awake’. After Ikkaku slides her under the covers, Nemu automatically scoots to his side of the bed, burying her face against his pillow. He chuckles fondly, fanning her hair out across the bed. She stirs at the feel of his fingers and reaches out to him a little clumsily.
“You’re working at the club tonight, aren’t you?” Nemu asks sleepily, her hand soft against Ikkaku’s cheek. “You’ll be late if you don’t leave now. Don’t give Shiba-san an excuse to yell at you.”
He snorts lightly, but presses a kiss to her palm. “Shiba-san doesn’t need an excuse to yell at anyone. To her, excuses just get in the way.” He kisses her palm again before he moves to get up. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Mmmm.” She curls deep into the blanket, watching Ikkaku with one eye. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” And yet he was still trying to come up with a damn good excuse on why he wouldn’t be able to go to work today, but he was fairly certain Kuukaku wouldn’t except ‘I wanted to screw my girlfriend into the mattress’ as a viable reason, no matter how much Kaien back him up. He shakes his head. Work, right. Going.
He somehow manage to find his clothes again and makes it to out of the apartment and to the elevator. He most likely has that ‘just got laid’ look on his face because that perverted old guy next door is giving him a ‘well done’ grin as he goes to take out his trash. But, and maybe it was for the fact that he just got laid, Ikkaku gives him a nod and pulls out his phone.
Okay, he thinks to himself. He could get the boss to let him off Friday and Saturday, could even line up Iba to take his shift those days if he had to. And he hadn’t missed a day in the eight months working with the Shibas’, surely he was allowed to take off a night by now.
Having figured everything out, he hits his speed dial. When the other line gets picked up, Ikkaku can’t help the grin spreading over his face. “Oi, Iba. How would you like to keep your money?”
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Date: 2005-10-22 09:23 am (UTC)I really like the way you mentioned a lot of the other characters. You did a great job establishing the world your fic was set in.
The sex scenes were extremely well done and didn't feel gratuitous. You showed how much they loved each other. The way Nemu's boldness got to Ikkaku made me smile. Hahaha, he really wants those days off. I don't blame him.
Cute ending with the pervy old man in the elevator!
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Date: 2005-10-25 02:50 am (UTC)As I was talking to a friend of mine as I was writing this, I had set up a world so extensive in my head, it's threatening to make me start writing for it. The only problem is it's so vast, I wouldn't know where to start o.O;;
And, actually, that pervy old man in the elevator is Kyouraku. Everyone wants to pop in the oddest places^^;;