dracoqueen22 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dracoqueen22) wrote2011-03-05 02:16 pm
dracoqueen22) wrote2011-03-05 02:16 pm
Entry tags:
Bleach - One Way Street - Oneshot - Renji
a/n: Greetings! Here's another drabble from my Seireitei Monogatari collection of shorts. It's an addition to a longer series within the collection. Also, this is very much NSFW. Enjoy!
Title: One Way Street
Characters: Ichigo/Grimmjow, Renji/Ichigo (onesided), Urahara
Rating: M
Warnings: masturbation, boykisses, boysmut, voyeurism, angst
Description: Part of the Gravitation series. Renji thinks he might be a masochist, or if not, then he’s at least a little sick in the head.
Dedication: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mandalee1013 , who reminded me of the sexiness that is Renji and how much more I need to indulge.
Renji thinks he might be a masochist. Or if not, then he’s at least a little sick in the head. Since this doesn’t make any sort of sense. Not at all.
Only a fool would stand here, breath bated, watching from the shadows like some kind of stalker. Only a really twisted person would stand here, hand down his hakama. Watching with a mixture of want and pleasure and hatred and disgust, until it all coils in his belly like a fire and showers him in guilt and shame. Only a supreme idiot of the world would watch the man he’s pretty sure he loves in some kind of way, shove his tongue down the throat of a Hollow who should be dead.
Renji hates that it simultaneously turns him on like nothing else and fills him to the core with disgust. He hates that he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from Ichigo and flinches every time a piece of Grimmjow interrupts his view. And more than that, Renji hates that his own breathing grows ragged. That he’s so hard and aching that he’s naturally slicked his fingers to make things easier. That his entire body trembles and he’s tasting blood because he’s biting down on his lip to keep himself from making a noise that might be noticed.
Swallowing thickly, Renji watches. Eyes avidly tracing each twitch of muscle beneath smooth and scarred tanned skin. The red flush in Ichigo’s cheeks. The way he licks his lips and how his eyes darken with lust.
The redhead can just imagine himself there in that fucker Grimmjow’s place. Above Ichigo or under him, it doesn’t matter to Renji. He wonders how Ichigo tastes and imagines dragging his tongue over every inch of Ichigo’s skin. Curling his tongue around the head of Ichigo’s arousal and taking him deep. Listening to those sexy grunts and moans and bitten-down whimpers.
Renji sucks air through his nose, swallowing down a groan as his hand works faster over his own length. Hating himself but unwilling to stop. It’s sick, and it’s wrong, but he watches. Gods above and below, he watches and can’t tear his eyes away.
He rubs his thumb over the slick head of his length, feels himself shiver as jagged heat rips through him. Renji sucks on his bottom lip, watching as Ichigo drags his hands down Grimmjow’s back and grips his hips, and Renji’s imagination easily puts himself in the Arrancar’s place. Wondering how it would feel for Ichigo to slide against him, wet and hard, throbbing.
Heart pounding in his chest and the strong taste of copper in his mouth, Renji jerks himself off so hard it almost hurts. Long, tight pulls of his fist. He watches, and he seethes. And when he comes, it’s both a relief and a greater suffering. He spills all over his fingers and dampens his hakama, satiation battling with shame.
Renji’s eyes close as tremors of pleasure wrack his body. He turns, leaning back against the boulder that has served as his cover. He slides down the length of it, head falling back to lightly hit the rock.
He’s such a fucking idiot.
A slow chuckle slides through the quiet. “How naughty, Abarai-kun.”
His eyes snap open. And Renji freezes as he catches sight of Urahara-san standing a mere dozen feet away from him, eyes hidden by that damn hat. A smirk twists his lips as one hand toys with the head of his cane – his concealed zanpakutou.
“U-Urahara-san,” Renji splutters and struggles to cover himself, doing nothing but streaking his clothes in his semen. “How long have ya been standin’ there?”
“Long enough,” the blond sing-songs with an evil note in his tone. “My, my, I wander just what Kurosaki-kun would say if you knew what you were up to. I imagine young Grimm-kun wouldn’t be too happy either.”
Renji feels the color drain from his face, and his breath catches in his throat. “You’re here, too!” he says and feels like a kid for arguing so stupidly like this. “So what’s that say about ya?”
“But my eyes were for a different show altogether,” Urahara-san practically purrs and approaches until he is a mere two feet away. “In thanks for that, I won’t be telling Kurosaki-kun anything, but really, Abarai-kun. I never knew you had it in you.”
Renji refuses to admit that the heat staining his cheeks is anything close to a blush. “It’s none of your business,” he snarls. Pushing himself to his feet and pressing his back against the boulder as though it will serve as some protection against such blatant manipulations.
The shopkeeper tilts his head to the side, eyes gleaming from the shadows of his hat. “Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t.”
Renji bares his teeth, feeling like a cornered, wild animal. The last thing he needs is Urahara-san piling guilt on top of the shame that’s already making a nasty nest inside of him. He knows he’s some kind of sick bastard; he doesn’t need Urahara-san as a witness to his perversion.
“What do ya want?” the vice-captain demands because Urahara-san wouldn’t have announced himself just to tease him. He’s still sticking around because he wants something, has to be. “Want me ta beg ya not ta tell him?”
It’s false bravado. Inside, Renji feels just a bit like puking at the thought of either Ichigo figuring things out or Urahara-san forcing him to do something unsavory. But if there’s one thing Renji’s always been good at, it’s lifting his head and putting on a front of bravery. Even if inside he’s quaking and his face is paler than snow.
Urahara-san clucks his tongue, staff rapping sharply against the ground as he just looks at Renji. A stare that’s enough to make the redhead’s skin prickle and remind him that his clothes are rumpled, his fingers sticky with his own come, and parts of his body are bared to the air. Not that Renji’s ever been particularly modest, but he feels stripped naked right now. And it’s a disquieting feeling.
“As entertaining as that might be, Abarai-kun, I’m not here to blackmail you,” Urahara-san says carefully though he never lost that edge to his tone. “This just happens to be a matter of providence for me.”
A matter of providence? What the fuck is he talking about?
Renji knows he must be gaping like a landed fish. And he can’t seem to formulate any kind of response other. Except to give Urahara-san a stupefied expression.
The blond chuckles and turns on his heel. Geta an annoying, distinctive clack-clack of noise against the hard-packed dirt.
“You should get cleaned up, Abarai-kun. Unless you’re planning on making today the day you confess,” he tosses over his shoulder.
Confess? The thought has never crossed Renji’s mind. Confess? To what purpose? To watch Ichigo get all uncomfortable around him, to realize that his kinda-sorta friend has been harboring all sorts of lusty thoughts. And worse, that it won’t matter anyway because Ichigo’s with that Arrancar now – if that’s what they want to call it – and there’s not any room for Renji. If there was even any room before.
The vice-captain knocks his head back against the boulder, skull rapping sharply. Not enough to hurt. Just to feel it. And half-considers banging his head into the boulder a few times. Wondering if it will be enough to pound some sense into his brain.
He hears voice somewhere behind him, growing louder. Ichigo and that Hollow are arguing. Not mean-spirited but their usual annoyed banter. No doubt Grimmjow’s challenging Ichigo to some sort of spar so he can feel like king of the mountain again. And Ichigo puts up with it for some reason Renji can’t understand. He just doesn’t see what Ichigo finds so alluring about the damn Arrancar. And not for the first time, Renji wishes he hadn’t helped, that he hadn’t been there to hit Grimmjow with a binding kidoh and haul his unconscious ass to Urahara-san’s.
Things would be so much easier if Renji hadn’t given a damn.
* * * *
a/n: There will be a sequel. This I can promise. *grins* I've a lot invested in this pairing. It's HOT. I hope you enjoyed as well.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Title: One Way Street
Characters: Ichigo/Grimmjow, Renji/Ichigo (onesided), Urahara
Rating: M
Warnings: masturbation, boykisses, boysmut, voyeurism, angst
Description: Part of the Gravitation series. Renji thinks he might be a masochist, or if not, then he’s at least a little sick in the head.
Dedication: For
mandalee1013 , who reminded me of the sexiness that is Renji and how much more I need to indulge. Renji thinks he might be a masochist. Or if not, then he’s at least a little sick in the head. Since this doesn’t make any sort of sense. Not at all.
Only a fool would stand here, breath bated, watching from the shadows like some kind of stalker. Only a really twisted person would stand here, hand down his hakama. Watching with a mixture of want and pleasure and hatred and disgust, until it all coils in his belly like a fire and showers him in guilt and shame. Only a supreme idiot of the world would watch the man he’s pretty sure he loves in some kind of way, shove his tongue down the throat of a Hollow who should be dead.
Renji hates that it simultaneously turns him on like nothing else and fills him to the core with disgust. He hates that he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from Ichigo and flinches every time a piece of Grimmjow interrupts his view. And more than that, Renji hates that his own breathing grows ragged. That he’s so hard and aching that he’s naturally slicked his fingers to make things easier. That his entire body trembles and he’s tasting blood because he’s biting down on his lip to keep himself from making a noise that might be noticed.
Swallowing thickly, Renji watches. Eyes avidly tracing each twitch of muscle beneath smooth and scarred tanned skin. The red flush in Ichigo’s cheeks. The way he licks his lips and how his eyes darken with lust.
The redhead can just imagine himself there in that fucker Grimmjow’s place. Above Ichigo or under him, it doesn’t matter to Renji. He wonders how Ichigo tastes and imagines dragging his tongue over every inch of Ichigo’s skin. Curling his tongue around the head of Ichigo’s arousal and taking him deep. Listening to those sexy grunts and moans and bitten-down whimpers.
Renji sucks air through his nose, swallowing down a groan as his hand works faster over his own length. Hating himself but unwilling to stop. It’s sick, and it’s wrong, but he watches. Gods above and below, he watches and can’t tear his eyes away.
He rubs his thumb over the slick head of his length, feels himself shiver as jagged heat rips through him. Renji sucks on his bottom lip, watching as Ichigo drags his hands down Grimmjow’s back and grips his hips, and Renji’s imagination easily puts himself in the Arrancar’s place. Wondering how it would feel for Ichigo to slide against him, wet and hard, throbbing.
Heart pounding in his chest and the strong taste of copper in his mouth, Renji jerks himself off so hard it almost hurts. Long, tight pulls of his fist. He watches, and he seethes. And when he comes, it’s both a relief and a greater suffering. He spills all over his fingers and dampens his hakama, satiation battling with shame.
Renji’s eyes close as tremors of pleasure wrack his body. He turns, leaning back against the boulder that has served as his cover. He slides down the length of it, head falling back to lightly hit the rock.
He’s such a fucking idiot.
A slow chuckle slides through the quiet. “How naughty, Abarai-kun.”
His eyes snap open. And Renji freezes as he catches sight of Urahara-san standing a mere dozen feet away from him, eyes hidden by that damn hat. A smirk twists his lips as one hand toys with the head of his cane – his concealed zanpakutou.
“U-Urahara-san,” Renji splutters and struggles to cover himself, doing nothing but streaking his clothes in his semen. “How long have ya been standin’ there?”
“Long enough,” the blond sing-songs with an evil note in his tone. “My, my, I wander just what Kurosaki-kun would say if you knew what you were up to. I imagine young Grimm-kun wouldn’t be too happy either.”
Renji feels the color drain from his face, and his breath catches in his throat. “You’re here, too!” he says and feels like a kid for arguing so stupidly like this. “So what’s that say about ya?”
“But my eyes were for a different show altogether,” Urahara-san practically purrs and approaches until he is a mere two feet away. “In thanks for that, I won’t be telling Kurosaki-kun anything, but really, Abarai-kun. I never knew you had it in you.”
Renji refuses to admit that the heat staining his cheeks is anything close to a blush. “It’s none of your business,” he snarls. Pushing himself to his feet and pressing his back against the boulder as though it will serve as some protection against such blatant manipulations.
The shopkeeper tilts his head to the side, eyes gleaming from the shadows of his hat. “Maybe it is; maybe it isn’t.”
Renji bares his teeth, feeling like a cornered, wild animal. The last thing he needs is Urahara-san piling guilt on top of the shame that’s already making a nasty nest inside of him. He knows he’s some kind of sick bastard; he doesn’t need Urahara-san as a witness to his perversion.
“What do ya want?” the vice-captain demands because Urahara-san wouldn’t have announced himself just to tease him. He’s still sticking around because he wants something, has to be. “Want me ta beg ya not ta tell him?”
It’s false bravado. Inside, Renji feels just a bit like puking at the thought of either Ichigo figuring things out or Urahara-san forcing him to do something unsavory. But if there’s one thing Renji’s always been good at, it’s lifting his head and putting on a front of bravery. Even if inside he’s quaking and his face is paler than snow.
Urahara-san clucks his tongue, staff rapping sharply against the ground as he just looks at Renji. A stare that’s enough to make the redhead’s skin prickle and remind him that his clothes are rumpled, his fingers sticky with his own come, and parts of his body are bared to the air. Not that Renji’s ever been particularly modest, but he feels stripped naked right now. And it’s a disquieting feeling.
“As entertaining as that might be, Abarai-kun, I’m not here to blackmail you,” Urahara-san says carefully though he never lost that edge to his tone. “This just happens to be a matter of providence for me.”
A matter of providence? What the fuck is he talking about?
Renji knows he must be gaping like a landed fish. And he can’t seem to formulate any kind of response other. Except to give Urahara-san a stupefied expression.
The blond chuckles and turns on his heel. Geta an annoying, distinctive clack-clack of noise against the hard-packed dirt.
“You should get cleaned up, Abarai-kun. Unless you’re planning on making today the day you confess,” he tosses over his shoulder.
Confess? The thought has never crossed Renji’s mind. Confess? To what purpose? To watch Ichigo get all uncomfortable around him, to realize that his kinda-sorta friend has been harboring all sorts of lusty thoughts. And worse, that it won’t matter anyway because Ichigo’s with that Arrancar now – if that’s what they want to call it – and there’s not any room for Renji. If there was even any room before.
The vice-captain knocks his head back against the boulder, skull rapping sharply. Not enough to hurt. Just to feel it. And half-considers banging his head into the boulder a few times. Wondering if it will be enough to pound some sense into his brain.
He hears voice somewhere behind him, growing louder. Ichigo and that Hollow are arguing. Not mean-spirited but their usual annoyed banter. No doubt Grimmjow’s challenging Ichigo to some sort of spar so he can feel like king of the mountain again. And Ichigo puts up with it for some reason Renji can’t understand. He just doesn’t see what Ichigo finds so alluring about the damn Arrancar. And not for the first time, Renji wishes he hadn’t helped, that he hadn’t been there to hit Grimmjow with a binding kidoh and haul his unconscious ass to Urahara-san’s.
Things would be so much easier if Renji hadn’t given a damn.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.