Work Text:
The world was quiet so late at night. Such an illusion of being at peace was a stark contrast to when it eventually wouldn't be due to a Hollow or any perpetually loud Shinigami. Ishida enjoyed the stillness of those hours and had become comfortable in it after the years he spent alone. He'd had to. While he wasn't alone anymore, nights like tonight could make him feel that way. It was easy to believe he was that forbidding, solitary Quincy once more. Too cool for friends. Too proud for support and care from others, but just fine with secretly risking his own life for them. Usually for one in particular.
Ishida stopped gazing out the bedroom window with a bored sigh, fingers drumming on his desk where he sat. He feared he’d become reliant on the appearance of twisted creatures and a circus of people breaking through the quiet of his life. Especially now that Ichigo was attached at the hip. Well, that was a figure of speech; Ichigo’s preferred place of attachment for his body and reiatsu was more intimate.
His flip phone vibrated on the desk, and he glanced at the number. That man could be summoned with the briefest sexual thought. Against his better judgment, and in case it was an emergency he hadn't sensed, Ishida answered.
“Hello?”
“What are you wearing?”
The phone snapped shut with a forceful, plastic clack.
When it vibrated again, he picked up, but said nothing.
“Why’d you hang up on me??” Ichigo had the gall to be offended.
“Kurosaki, it is 12:38 A.M.”
“...”
“Kurosaki?”
“Sorry, I expected you to give me the temperature next.”
The phone creaked with the force of Ishida’s grip as he fought the urge to hang back up. “I said the time for a reason. Why are you calling? How do you know you didn't wake me up?”
A snort of laughter in his ear. “Aren't you up watching for Hollows?”
It was so, so irritating to be predictable. “I might not have been.” More laughter. “Okay, what do you want?”
Ichigo’s tone became gentle, voice a warm rumble. “I can't sleep. I miss you.”
“How? We saw each other today.” Ishida tried to sound cynical, and would have succeeded if his fondness had stayed in check. He used to be better than that.
“Yeah, but I haven't gotten to sleep next to you in days!” The pout was audible. “How is the spell research going?”
The replacement paper adorned with a spell from Urahara, as well as Ishida’s open books and notes, mocked him from where they lay across the desk. With a tired squint, he replied, “Slow. I found enough to say it isn't a basic containment spell. While similar, it includes a provision for collection. I’m not sure if that's necessary or suspicious yet.”
“Hmm.” He knew Ichigo was pretending to mull it over for his sake. “It might be a second layer of protection. And you won't rehang the spell until you're sure?”
Ishida rolled his eyes with a faint smile. It used to take a lot more to make him fold, too. Then again, he didn't have orgasmic incentives for giving in before. “If I don't have an answer by Friday, I’ll put it back to good use.”
“Fuck yes, I want you so bad I’m losing my mind!”
Sentiments that Ishida quietly seconded. A rush of heat in his body fled south upon hearing Ichigo’s desire for him. He simply hummed in agreement. Beyond the sex, he missed Ichigo’s presence in the small apartment. The guy spread out while here, constantly touching Ishida in one way or another. It gave him pleasant glimpses of a future domestic life he knew he shouldn't hope for.
“I keep thinking about how it feels when I first push into you, and I’ve tried to recreate it with my fist, but it's all wrong.”
Ishida choked on his own saliva.
“You're so much softer than my dumb hand and you–fuckin, like–pull me in. I feel like such a perv in the shower trying to get it right while giving my other arm a hickey.”
With one last cough, Ishida attempted to process this information. “That's very…” Crude. Shameless. Sexy. Picturing Ichigo entering his firm fist over and over to mimic his body’s resistance before it relaxed and molded to that sizable length, only for Ichigo to end up frustrated and hornier, certainly made the room a few degrees hotter. “And why are you giving yourself hickeys?”
“A…craving. I just want it to be you–any part of you. I especially need your dick on my tongue. What do I even use for that? You’d think a popsicle, yeah? Instead, I gave myself a brain freeze, and it's not—fuck, the weight, ya know?”
“Ichigo—!” Ishida leaned forward, thighs tensing. A fleeting image of Ichigo fellating a bockwurst came to him unbidden, and he violently shook his head.
“I stared at a stale churro in the basket Inoue dropped off and seriously thought about it, except it wouldn't be the shape or taste. When I come over, I swear I’m gonna hold you in my mouth while we sleep.”
Ishida’s hips nearly launched out of the desk chair like his dick was going to hirenkyaku to find Ichigo’s face. He stood up. “Ichigo! What? What are you doing?”
“Oh, uh.” There was uncomfortable shuffling and the soft creak of a bed. “Would you wanna…get off together? On the phone?”
He was going to say no. His mind flashed back to the initial “what are you wearing” question and the distaste the suggestion had brought him. The more he heard Ichigo talk about how his body missed him, however, the more the distaste turned into something else. Ichigo’s deep, distinct voice was a powerful weapon that the man knew how to wield like a sword. Words spilled from his lips unfiltered during sex, speaking in a husky purr, and it stirred a lust deep inside Ishida as easily as his delicious cock and fiery reiatsu did. Any initial embarrassment Ishida suffered from having to attempt sensual replies on his end might be worth it.
Ishida drew the shades over the window and walked to his bed, lying down with his head propped on a couple of pillows. He decided to play coy. “And how would that work?”
An excited breath, as if Ichigo couldn't control it, gave Ishida confidence. “We could say what we’d do to each other if we were together. And when you touch yourself, you pretend it's me.” Ichigo cleared his throat. “If—If you wanted.”
His hand seemed a poor substitute for Ichigo’s. He made a thoughtful sound, letting Ichigo believe he was undecided. “Give me an example that's not you failing to get off in the shower.”
“Prick,” Ichigo laughed. “Alright… Shit. I really want to kiss you, but you can’t do that solo.”
It’s the sappy thought that counts. Aloud, Ishida snarked, “You’re not very good at this.”
“C’mon, I’ve never done this before! What would you want me to do?”
“I have to do everything around here,” Ishida complained, only half serious. He took the time to place his glasses on the bedside table. “Well, I’m wearing a shirt. Do you want to tear it off me?”
“That wouldn’t get me punched into next week?”
“Not for your imagination, Ichigo,” he sighed. “Go for broke or go to sleep.”
“Then, yeah, I’d toss you onto the bed and rip your shirt open.” Ishida opened his shirt normally and spread the sides away from his chest. “Run your–your fingers from the middle of your scar to the tips. That’s what I would do first.”
After a pause, Ishida did so, pretending his fingertips were Ichigo’s. He felt the slightly raised flesh in the shape of a Quincy star, proof of how proud and determined he was to carry on his family’s legacy. The reason Ichigo liked to touch it was a mystery. “Yes?” Ishida prompted.
“Yeah. Then I’d lick from there to right over your heart.” Ishida quickly wet his finger with saliva, then dragged it over where Ichigo instructed. “I’d take your nipple into my mouth and suck until you arch off the bed.”
Ishida’s eyes flew open, without memory of when he'd shut them. The air had shifted. “Huh.” He wasn’t sure how to perfectly replicate that, sadly, so he pinched the meat around his nipple with the sides of his thumb and forefinger, then gently pulled. His chest performatively lifted into it, although the sensation wasn’t as good without the suction of Ichigo’s talented mouth. “You’re getting a little better.”
“Thanks,” Ichigo said, pleased. “What are you–? Are you playing with it? Do the other one next. Shit, I mean, I’d lick over to the other one and do the same.”
“No, that’s fine! You can give me instructions! It doesn’t always have to be what you’d do to me,” Ishida gasped as he re-wet his fingers and tugged the other bud. Now both were sensitive from the stimulation and chill of drying spit.
“Really? Ahh, I want to see you touching yourself. Rub your nipples, like I’m rolling them with my tongue. The–The tips, in the center, push in a little bit. They feel so good to lick over when they’re hard. Do you agree, Uryuu?”
He nodded mindlessly. His chest arched up on its own this time, seeking more. Ichigo sounded… “Ichigo, are you–uhn–touching yourself too?”
Throaty laughter filtered over the phone. “I am. I couldn’t wait for your say-so. And you don’t want to hear what else I’m doing. You wouldn’t let me live it down.”
That was possibly the worst thing to say if Ichigo wanted him to drop it. “What? What could be so embarrassing?”
“No, it’s… Screw it: I’m trying to put stuff in my mouth that reminds me of your nipples. I wanted to be ‘method’ here.”
Ishida blinked and mentally ran through various objects that Ichigo could be orally toying with. A pinkie. The cap of a pen. A stick of candy.
“Cup yourself for me, Uryuu. How hard are you?”
Knocked out of his mental list of suckable, enviable suspects, Ishida pressed down on the tent in his pants. He reflexively rolled his hips to meet his palm. “Not fully hard yet. You could get me there if you lay off sucking your finger and give me more.”
Silence.
Got it in one. “Ichigo, were you actually–never mind.” He wasn’t sure if Ichigo was embarrassed or thinking of the next step. Ishida decided to nudge him along, partially worried his half of the sexy talk was lacking. A whine was thrown into his speech for good measure, face burning. “Make me hard, Ichigo. Need your voice.”
“Fuck,” Ichigo breathed, and Ishida felt proud of himself despite how stupidly easy that was. “I wanted to tease you, draw it out, but I gotta see. Get your pants off—I get your pants off. I’ll hide all your pants forever.”
The added wishful declaration made Ishida let loose a laugh, and Ichigo joined in. He did tell Ichigo to go for broke, after all. Propping the cellphone on the pillow right beside his ear, Ishida slid his pants and underwear off. To play along, he joked, “It should be you going without pants from now on. I would be able to sit on you anytime I wanted.”
“Nngh!?”
“Ichigo?”
“Please sit on me anytime you want,” Ichigo softly murmured with feeling, correcting for the previous loud exclamation. Ishida belatedly remembered there was a sleeping household beyond Ichigo’s bedroom. “I already told you, you can use my body. S’all yours, just ride me, no matter when or where.”
A bolt of arousal went straight through Ishida like an electric current, making his cock fully rigid with a noticeable jump where it lay on his stomach. “Ich-i—!”
“I can't wait. I’m shoving your legs open and swallowing you whole. Fucking gorgeous, like the rest of you. I wish I could taste it from here, I wish…!
Ishida licked his palm and fisted his throbbing erection in pleasant surprise. The back of his skull dug deep into his pillow, threatening to make the phone slip. “Your mouth,” he whispered hoarsely. Faintly, his spirit started to become aware of the fact that he was reacting to Ichigo while Ichigo’s reiatsu was nowhere to be found. It flicked out, searching the room in vain.
“Yeah? What about my mouth? Tell me, Uryuu, c’mon.” That sweet voice reeled him in.
Dirty talk seemed to fall out of Ichigo’s mouth as easily and uncontrolled as anything else he was annoyingly good at. Ishida had to overthink and force the words out. “Your mouth is…always so demanding. I hate and love your mouth.” Ichigo’s mouth had always gotten reactions out of him that nobody else could.
“I figured that out already.” It definitely sounded like Ichigo had spoken through a smug grin. The jerk. “How does my mouth feel on you, Uryuu? I’m taking you in so deep. Savoring you. You can thrust in, use me how you want.”
“Ohh,” Ishida moaned, then shook his head as if Ichigo could see. “I’d go slow, easy.”
So much warmth seeped over the phone that it felt like the cell’s battery was overheating. “Hey, my hypothetical self can take going a little wild.”
Real or imaginary, Ishida found no pleasure in the option to handle Ichigo roughly. “No. I know it doesn’t matter. I’m doing it this way.”
“We can do slow then. I can hold you like I want this way. Taste every bit of you. Can you feel me?”
“Wait, almost!” Ishida yanked his bedside drawer open from where he lay and scrambled for the lube. Successful, he opened the cap and poured some directly on his erection, then worked it over as he lifted his hips off the bed, gently fucking his stationary hand. “I f-feel you. You’re always so good at this. …Like I’m melting inside.”
A grunt and hitched breath rewarded his candor. “Can I open you, Uryuu?”
“Yes!” His hips stuttered before falling to the mattress. “Inside–You should be inside me. Hurry up!”
“Fuck, if you keep talking like that…” There was more shuffling as he assumed Ichigo repositioned. “Get enough lube and shove two fingers in your hole.”
Moaning, Ishida slapped his hand on the tube again. Before he could finish coating his fingers, Ichigo had second-guessed himself.
“Is that too fast? It’s been a few days, and I’m not familiar with how… You’ll be okay, right?”
Ishida’s heart thudded against his ribcage. “It’s not too fast, no.” Ichigo was an overly caring fool who could ruin Ishida with his thick cock in a weekend of marathon sex, then turn around and worry about the impact of two slender fingers. As if Ishida hadn’t fingered himself once or twice this week anyway. It’d still be no problem if he hadn’t; it was simply funny that Ichigo assumed he hadn’t while busy jerking off in the shower and sucking on innocent objects. Ichigo wasn’t the only horny one in sex withdrawal. He reached past his balls to plunge inside to the last knuckle with a gasp. “You’re in me! More!”
Ichigo sighed exactly as he would if it were his fingers breaching Ishida. “It’s so hot how ready you are for me! I want to keep sucking your dick while I play with you.”
“I thought you couldn’t wait!” Ishida bit out, unhappy even as he curled his fingers over his prostate and pumped his fist. “You didn’t say anything about playing with me!”
“Heh. You wanna do something about it?”
The Shinigami was provoking him! It didn't matter if there was Quincy blood in Ichigo’s veins as well; the habit of aggravating Ishida had to come from the Shinigami side! He wouldn’t give Ichigo the satisfaction when the idiot wasn’t there for him to punish. “I want you to make the fingers in my ass fucking magical if I have to wait for your cock.”
“Magical, huh?” That tone. That higher-pitched, playful, promising tone. “I could start finger-fucking you right away. As fast and rough as my arm can take—as your arm can take. Go on, Uryuu.” His name was drawn out like Ichigo was tonguing the vowels.
His ass bore down on his digits in anticipation before he could begin. Ishida replicated the movements he knew Ichigo would do, gaining momentum. He pushed in and out rapidly, fitfully rubbing and jostling his inner walls as his whole hand pulsed to keep speed. The messy, wet sounds were so loud he was sure Ichigo could hear. He turned his head to pant directly into the phone as well.
“Are you hitting it, Uryuu? Doesn't sound like it. I should be hitting your prostate each time. My fingers are a magnet to that spot. Don’t you feel that?” If Ichigo’s voice got any raspier, Ishida might come from that alone.
“Hahh!” Ishida aimed where Ichigo intended with swift finger thrusts. A repeated shaky petting over the sensitive gland that made one of his legs kick out. Precum beaded and dribbled down.
“Keep going. Keep—Keep your hole full. Add another finger, deep as you can. I wish I could see! I’m gonna milk so much out of you.”
“Nn-no! No, I wanted to come on your cock! I missed your cock! You said I could use you-u!”
Ichigo’s deep moan came out muffled, then he spoke in a husky whisper to stay quiet while he broke down. “Oh, Uryuu, oh shit. I’ll give it to you! I’ll slam it all into you at once, but–Goddamnit, how do we do this over the phone?! This was–! Motherfuck, this sucks!”
“I have the toy! The dildo, remember. It’s just not–It’s not you.” As he rambled, he frantically grabbed for the object in the drawer, then started to coat it in lubricant.
“You’re gonna-? Fuuuuck, I want to see you use it! I want to use it on you! Let me, let me.”
A clever man at the most surprising moments. “Do it! I’m ready, push it in me like it’s you! Now, now, now.” Ishida brought the dildo around under his leg and positioned it at his entrance to wait. He couldn’t resist teasing it over his rim a bit. He imagined Ichigo between his legs, about to guide it all the way inside to the flared base.
“I’ve got you! It’s going in, nice and easy. I love how good your ass looks swallowing me up, so I can–I can see it spreading for your toy. Eager for it. Keep pushing, make it all fit.” Ichigo paused. “What’s the toy look like?” he suddenly asked in curiosity.
“Tsk.” Ishida could not believe he had to divert brain power to this while he was finally, blissfully filling himself. “Like a damn silicone phallus.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Blue, about five inches go inside me, it narrows at the bottom, then flares out so I can grasp it or sit on it safely. Is that sufficient?” He bottomed out and exhaled. Again, his reiryoku had prepared to open itself to Ichigo’s energy, only to meet with nothing. It howled, ravenous.
Ichigo cleared his throat. “Yeah, just…wanted to visualize.” There was a very low mutter that Ishida swore included the words ‘obviously blue’. He let it go with a fleeting lip curl.
“It's all the way inside, Ichigo,” Ishida panted. “I can feel where I’m clamped down on it.” He lightly traced where his rim gripped the base, muscle twitching.
There was a groan pushed through gritted teeth. “That must be so hot… How does it feel?”
“It doesn't feel as good since I had you,” Ishida confessed. Too small in length and girth, not the right shape, no fierce reiatsu emblazoning his guts that were drilled into the shape of Ichigo’s dick, ruining him for anyone else before they had a chance. It was a poor substitute. The fantasy of Ichigo holding the end to fuck him with it helped. “Use it already.”
“So bossy. One blue dildo fucking, coming right up.” Ishida would have hit him. “Ease it in and out for me. I can see your ass trying to hold it in when I pull. Mmf! Hell, I gotta do this for real.”
The dildo moved inside him at a steady pace. Not enough. “Faster! Like your fingers. And remember to—”
“It's angled up, don't worry. Right? Pull your knees to your chest. It's gonna kiss your spot dead-on, so you’re sure you want faster? Want me to jackhammer it in?”
“Yesyesyesyes.”
“Yeah. Fuck yourself hard, Uryuu. Let me fuck till til you’re shaking.”
Ishida stuttered out a moan and secured his grip on the base. He started drilling the dildo in, fast and shallow, aiming for his prostate without mercy. Jolts of pleasure set his nerve endings alight. After a short while, his vision started to go white when what he really craved to see was gold. In his mind, he saw Ichigo above him, eyes dark and blown. A tanned arm directed the toy into him, sweaty muscles flexing. His neglected erection bounced on his stomach, leaking precum into a puddle he knew Ichigo would stop and devour if they were together.
“Ichigo!” he whined. Ishida concentrated on hearing the faint, slick jerks and heavy breathing coming from the phone’s speaker. Soft, continuous groans were also there, muffled as if behind a hand. His spirit ached and began to reach out as far as it could to find Ichigo’s reiatsu by its own damn self. “Ichigo, let me hear you!”
“U-Uryuu, ohhh!” Still muffled. Ichigo’s hand must be locked over his mouth to keep from waking anyone. “I’m here! Keep—Keep going! I would be fucking you with all I had. Until my arm f-fell off. I’d make it so good. You're—Ah! Your dick! Sorry, work your dick for me! You must be so dripping wet, shit.”
Surprised by how he’d been so into the scenario that he waited to be given permission, Ishida grasped himself and pumped. He tried to find a rhythm in sync with his other hand. It became slightly awkward, so he concentrated on the head, palming it and stroking over the glands. “Could you—uhn—use your mouth on me again? On the head, just focus th-there.”
“Yes! My fuck-ing pleasure. I love how you taste. I’d blow you all day… You’d like that? Me ramming the toy into you while I worship the tip of your dick?”
“Mmhmm! S’why I asked for it, ob-viously!”
Out-of-breath laughter made Ishida tingle from head to toe. “Ask me to make you come, Uryuu. Please, I’m so close thinking about you like this. ”
“Make me come!” If Ishida hadn't gotten complaints from his neighbors after the past weekend, he figured he was safe to desperately shout out. “Make me come with you!” His soul was silently roaring. Despite being filled, he remained gaping and empty at his core. It was starting to taint the familiar excitement of his climax building.
“Fuck, Uryuu. Stuff the toy in and…and hold it there,” Ichigo strained out. “Come—Come for me. I would take you in my mouth—ah—give me all of it. I want it.”
Ishida could only comply and frantically slammed the dildo into himself, pushing against the rounded edge of the dildo with the heel of his palm in a fruitless attempt to move it as deep as Ichigo’s cock could reach. The image had him spurting into his hand mere seconds later, body folding in on itself as all his muscles tightened with the effort. He shuddered and moaned out a semblance of Ichigo’s name. Something within interrupted his bliss with a stab of disappointment, an overwhelming feeling of missing out on the intense blast of Ichigo’s orgasmic reiatsu. His own reiatsu still reached out in longing as it dampened his sexual high.
From the phone that had slid down to the mattress, he faintly heard Ichigo’s suppressed “Mmmm” exclamation, sounding rough and growly despite having to keep his voice down the whole call. He could imagine Ichigo coming apart on his bed, body bowing, hips stuttering, cum painting his torso. Regardless of the hand obscuring his lower face to silence his moans, Ichigo’s pleasured expression would be so erotic. One last shockwave made Ishida’s body twitch.
Tired all at once, Ishida fell back on the pillows. He cleaned up as best he could with tissues from his bedside before retrieving the toppled cellphone. It could get sanitized later. Ichigo’s panting sounded far off and blended in with the white noise over the speaker. Maybe he had lost the phone while twisting up in ecstasy too.
“Ichigo?” Ishida made sure to raise his voice.
Shuffling. Crackling. “Hey. Sorry, I… I had a pillow over my face.”
His first impulse was to laugh, although the previous image of Ichigo coming all over himself didn't exactly lose its appeal with the addition of last-minute pillow usage.
“Uryuu,” Ichigo sounded oddly tentative. “This was awesome, but… Now, I can't hold you or kiss you. Can't even smell you.”
“I assumed you knew the limitations of phone sex before you initiated it.” Ishida refused to let on that the yearning for physical connection was mutual, or that Ichigo’s want for it made his chest tight. The propensity towards scents, though, started to make him wonder if Ichigo’s Hollow was to blame.
“That’s it! Put the spell back up or don't; I’m coming over!”
“Wai—” Ishida began, then realized he didn't have it in him to protest. The suspicious spell wasn't an imminent threat, as far as he could tell. It worked; it kept them safe while indulging. One insignificant issue came to mind. “Should I wait around to open my door or…?”
“Nah, shunpo is faster. Leaving my body here.”
“At least put your body’s pants on.”
Giddy laughter. “I tucked it in and read it a bedtime story.”
“That’s going overboard.” Ishida put his glasses on and stood to open the window. Shinigami walking through his walls creeped him out. “If you hurry, you’ll catch me still awake.”
“Two minutes!”
Ishida’s reiatsu spilled out of the window as if it were a welcome mat. “Two minutes,” Ishida confirmed with a smile.
Fin