A/N: So this is a request from MoonNight's Mystic, and I must say, I'm very happy she requested it. I've been trying to think up a story with Ichigo with someone other than Grimmjow (don't get me wrong, I LOVE the pairing, but I just kind of needed a break from it, ya know?). So! Without further ado, let's get on with the more important stuff!

Summary: AU. College sort of sucked for Ichigo. In fact, he absolutely hated it. And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, his ex-girlfriend's venom-spitting brother decides to come give a lecture in his anatomy class. And guess who has him for two hours of the day? Ichigo. But when he unintentionally disrupts his lecture, a punishment is in order.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, yaoi (duh), mild Rukia bashing…the usual.

Because I Want You

Ichigo stared blankly at the front of the room, his eyes dangerously close to closing and his mouth hanging open, his pen having gone forgotten on his sheet of half-assed notes. Honestly, whoever thought that making teenagers suffer through lectures about the origins of Daoism was obviously off their rocker. Of course, it didn't help that his teacher was an old pervert that seemed more interested in getting the attention of the female students (who, even more disturbingly, didn't seem to mind at all) than actually teaching the class. How that guy still had a job was beyond Ichigo's comprehension.

Deciding that it wasn't worth putting up the effort to pretend that he was paying attention, Ichigo let his head fall to his desk, his eyes shutting in search of the much-needed sleep he'd been wanting since the semester had started. He could hear Renji and Ikkaku sniggering behind him and Ishida's scoff of disapproval, all of which he completely ignored. He was actually amazed that Renji or Chad hadn't conked out by now; off-season practice was killer for those select few students of the Karakura University rugby team. Ichigo was already beginning to regret that decision.

"Ah, Ichigo," the gentle voice of his history teacher called from the whiteboard, "I know that sports has got you all worn out, but please keep your head up during my lesson."

"Tch." Despite the orange-haired teen's negative response, he did as he was told, lifting his head so that he could glare at his easy-going teacher.

"Aw, don't look at me like that," he said with a slight pout. "You'll hurt my feelings."

If there was ever a cruelest, most unusual form of punishment, it was being subjected to sit through an entire year of Professor Kyoraku's world history class.

Ichigo turned to look out the window, thankful when Professor Kyoraku decided to ignore him rather than reprimand him again. He remained like this for the rest of the period, brushing off his teacher's attempts to recapture his attention with irritation and glaring daggers at his friends and their quiet chuckles. When the bell finally rang, freeing him for lunch, Ichigo couldn't get out that room fast enough.

He stomped angrily down the unforgiving spiral of one of the campus's many stairways. He noticed that he'd been more irritable than usual. Renji had said he was becoming more like a girl everyday and that he was probably starting his period soon (this had earned him a black eye and a bleeding nose). Ikkaku had said that it was because he hadn't been laid in months (Ikkaku had had to walk around holding an icepack to his genitals for two weeks). What bothered Ichigo most wasn't what his friend had said; it was the fact that he was exactly right (Ikkaku, not Renji, for Ichigo was the epitome of manliness). He hadn't had sex since Rukia had found out he was bisexual and broken up with him. Renji and Ikkaku had declared her a stupid bitch and ceased all contact with her, which was more than a little astounding since she and Renji had been friends since they were in diapers. They'd even gone so far as to roll her house and tag her car. Ichigo had had no part in it, but that still didn't keep Rukia from sicking her prick of a brother on him, whining that it was all his fault and his fault alone. As a result, Ichigo had begged his father for more money to stay in the college dorms to avoid the threatening visits to his house. The memory of it still brought shivers down his spine.

Once he made it to the cafeteria, he bought his ramen for lunch and retired to his usual table by the wall-sized window to wait for Grimmjow, Stark, and Nnoitora. They weren't his best friends like Renji and Ikkaku, but they were still fun to hang around every now and then and perfect for sitting around the lunch table and complaining about the day-to-day inconveniencies of the typical college sophomore. He stared out at the gray, wetness that was the outdoors, silently thanking God that he'd already had his outside classes so that he didn't get his favorite shirt ruined by the rain.

The loud scraping of metal on linoleum jerked him out of his revere, scowling at Nnoitora's snort of amusement.

"Daydreamin' again, Strawberry?" he teased, flopping down in the chair that was far too small to accommodate his long body. His wide grin was in place, his ultra-white teeth emphasized by his black-on-black clad body. His tray was, as usual, overflowing with food that only seemed to make him grow vertically instead of horizontally.

"Tch," Ichigo responded, reaching for his untouched ramen, "I wasn't daydreaming; I was sitting here waiting on your slow asses."

Stark, who was tray-less and slumped over on the table, raised his head a fraction. "I'm not always this slow," he protested, bristling. "It's only when I don't have any urgent need to get somewhere."

Ichigo grunted and glanced at the oddly silent bluenette directly in front of him. "So what's your excuse, asshole?"

Grimmjow growled at the insulting name. "I don't need one; I get here when I fucking get here." He ripped a sour cream packet open with his teeth and spat the piece of plastic at Stark, who cracked open a disapproving pale gray eye and frowned.

Ichigo sighed and changed the subject. "So how were you guys' morning?"

Both Nnoitora and Grimmjow grunted around their tacos but didn't elaborate. Their reactions expected, Ichigo rolled his eyes and turned to Stark, who had an uncharacteristic glint of wicked amusement in his eye. Ichigo raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

"We have a guest speaker in anatomy," he said, stifling a snicker.

Ichigo frowned. "What's so funny? Who is it?"

Stark stretched and turned his head in the other direction to hide his grin. "You'll see."

Ichigo slid into his seat between Hanataro and Izuru, purposely not glancing in Rukia's direction in favor of staring at the front of the room where Professor Unohana was speaking to their guest speaker. The visitor's back was turned, so the only thing Ichigo could see was black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, a white button-down shirt, and black pinstriped slacks. The hair was a bit long for a male, but there was no way that figure was female. However, had he have taken the time to look back at his ex, he would have seen the smug smirk she was throwing in his direction.

He slid his notebook labeled ANATOMY-UNOHANA from his backpack and clicked his favorite ink pen, scribbling a bit in the margin to make sure that it still worked. However, it did not, and he scribbled a little more, scowling when he tore a hole in the page, before cursing and digging around in his bag for another one.

Of course the speaker had by then began his lecture, his voice a deep, rich bass that somehow had Ichigo's insides melting as it bounced back off the walls and filled the room. He wanted to look up to see what the man looked like, but he still had yet to find a writing utensil. All of a sudden, the voice broke off, and Ichigo knew he had been noticed.

Hanataro generously slid him one of his extra pens under the table, his eyes not leaving the front of the classroom. He whispered a thank you to the smaller man and sat up, apologizing to the speaker as he flipped to an empty, not-scribbled up page. He dated and titled his notes before finally looking up at the speaker.

He stiffened and his mouth fell open as he locked eyes with a pair of gray-violet irises. There was no way…that couldn't be….

"Are you finished disrupting my lecture, Mr. Kurosaki?" the raven-haired Byakuya Kuchiki asked icily through stiff lips.

Ichigo swallowed convulsively and considered faking a sudden illness or some other kind of emergency to get him out of this room as quickly as possible. However, he highly doubted he'd be allowed to leave; Professor Unohana was all about manners, and was probably plotting his extra homework assignment in her head at that exact moment. So instead, he set his jaw, his chocolate brown eyes narrowing slightly, and said, "All done, sir."

Byakuya's eyes flashed dangerously, but he continued his lecture nonetheless, his eyes never once leaving Ichigo's face. Throughout the entire lecture, Ichigo couldn't help but fidget in his seat, trying in vain to fight the warmth flooding his cheeks and spreading to the pit of his stomach and his nether regions. As many times as he'd seen Byakuya while he and Rukia had been dating, he'd never noticed how devastatingly attractive the older man was with his shiny, silky-looking jet black hair, sharp features and piercing gaze. And those glasses. He'd never seen him with them on before, and he had little doubt that he didn't need them, but he didn't care. If Ichigo had a bit of a dark-hair fetish, it was nothing compared to how he felt about glasses. If he wasn't careful, he could easily find himself getting lost in the cold-mannered Kuchiki.

By the time the bell finally rang, a thin sheen of sweat had broken out all across Ichigo's face, his skin overheated. Somewhere in the middle of the lecture, Byakuya's stare had switched from cold irritation to calculating interest, practically undressing Ichigo with his eyes. It had caused Ichigo's dormant hormones to awaken with a vengeance, sending his body into overdrive as images of Byakuya's body pinning him to a mattress flitted through his mind. He was grateful that he was wearing loose sweatpants so that his painful wood wasn't too noticeable.

To his great dismay, he was easily separated from the group of rain-dampened students filing out and stopped at the door by Professor Unohana, her polite smile still in place even though her eyes shined with the promise of agonizing punishment. Ichigo sucked in a breath, bracing for the verbal lashing. However, none came. But what did come made Ichigo prefer that she had given him twenty lashings on his bare back with a whip.

"I want you to stay behind and apologize to Mr. Kuchiki for your impolite behavior earlier," she whispered gently in her fatally sweet voice. "I've left your punishment completely in his hands." And with that, she swept from the room, closing the door softly behind her, while Ichigo stared, dumbstruck, after her.

There were a few minutes of silence before Byakuya cleared his throat. "I believe I am over here, Mr. Kurosaki."

Ichigo gulped and shuffled over to the dark-haired man, keeping his eyes on the dingy carpet the whole way. He stiffened when he felt his backpack slide off his shoulder without his consent. His head snapped up in time to see Byakuya stash it behind the desk.

"You won't be needing that; you're going to be here a while."

Ichigo wanted badly to back away, but the violet of Byakuya's eyes tangled with the brown of his own, rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move even as the older man shifted closer to him, and a blush deepened the red already staining his cheeks.

"I'm waiting," Byakuya murmured.

"Wh-what?"

"My apology, Ichigo. You didn't forget, did you?"

The heat drained from Ichigo's body so quickly that it raised goosebumps on his arms. His jaw clenched in annoyance. "I don't owe you any damn apology. I didn't do anything wrong."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed. "So insolent. It seems that I'm going to have to punish you after all."

The next thing Ichigo knew, he was sprawled out on the desk with Byakuya leaning over him, serene as ever, as if he didn't have someone pinned to a desk that wasn't his with the door unlocked for anyone to just walk in whenever they wanted. Ichigo swallowed convulsively as his body reheated, squirming in an attempt to escape. However, without batting an eye, Byakuya pressed all of his weight onto Ichigo pinning his arms above his head with one hand. The compromising position had the images from earlier flashing across Ichigo's mind and he felt the unmistakable twitch of his cock in response.

"Wh-What the hell?" he spluttered. "G-Get off!"

His objection was completely ignored. Instead, the older man ran his free hand through Ichigo's flaming locks, mild curiosity tilting his head to the side. "You grew your hair out," he commented. "Did you do this because of Rukia?"

Ichigo glared, and the sound of his ex's name had his erection flagging once again. "What the hell does your psychotic sister have to do with my hair?"

Byakuya blinked. "So you didn't know that Rukia prefers men with short hair?"

"No."

"Hmmm…. You do know that Rukia felt bad about breaking up with you, don't you?" Ichigo didn't answer, so he went on. "She actually wanted you back until she realized that you were planning to grow out your hair. But then she saw Kaien, and he reminded her so much of you that she 'fell in love with him' at first sight." He didn't use air quotes, but the scathing tone of his voice implied them.

Ichigo sighed in annoyance, but his expression softened. "You're her big brother. Stop letting her do stupid things or she'll get hurt."

"The best lessons are learned through experience, Ichigo." Dark humor abruptly flashed in his eyes. "So let's see how well you learn yours."

Ichigo was suddenly flipped onto his stomach, his arms pulled behind his back and bound by something warm and soft. A glance over his shoulder told him that it was Byakuya's hair tie; the unrestrained black hair now spilled over his shoulders, longer than Ichigo remembered it. Just as quickly as he was flipped previously, he was turned onto his back once more, his wriggling useless as the raven ridded him of his sweatpants, raising a thin eyebrow when he discovered that Ichigo wasn't wearing any underwear and was already half erect.

"Well then, it seems that this won't be much of a punishment for you at all, will it?"

"Sh-shut up!" Ichigo gasped, still reeling from the sensation of being exposed to the cool air of the classroom. Before he could fully recover, he was engulfed by something warm and wet, making his back arch and shocked cry spill from his lips.

"H-hey, what the hell? Cut that out!"

The dark haired man chuckled around the flesh in his mouth, making Ichigo hiss from the vibrations it caused.

He shivered as Byakuya brought his head back up, stabbing the slit with his tongue before taking him back in to the hilt. And then the cycle began; Byakuya would bob his head, moving an inch or so in either direction before coming all the way up to flick his tongue over the tip, and then go all the way back down; just when Ichigo thought he was getting what he wanted, the cycle would start over again. The redhead groaned in frustration, eliciting another laugh from his punisher.

He twisted his wrists a bit, realizing that if he'd tried to free himself sooner, he would have noticed that the ties weren't very tight at all. It took a bit of squirming, but he eventually freed himself, just as he felt himself beginning to peak. He groaned again and yanked on Byakuya's hair trying to get him to pull away. For a moment, all Byakuya did was stare at him, but by the time he pulled off, it was too late.

Ichigo shuddered and moaned as he was overcome by an orgasm, shooting his load all over the unexpecting Kuchiki's face. Ichigo's breath caught as he caught sight of what he'd done.

Was it even possible that he was already getting hard again from the sight of the older man's cum-splattered face? Apparently it was.

For a split second that seemed longer than it actually was, Byakuya Kuchiki just sat there, staring at Ichigo with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He then reached around the flustered red-head to get a couple of tissues, taking his time wiping his face clean without a word. When he finally looked back at Ichigo, his eyes were like black fire, smoldering with the promise of rough, punishing penetration. He stood and loomed over Ichigo, their faces mere millimeters apart.

"I'm going to make you pay for that, Kurosaki." He accented his words with a sharp smack to Ichigo's ass.

A wonton moan filled the room, and it took Ichigo a while to realize that the voice was his.

Everything from that point was like a wildfire, swift and heated. Byakuya tugged off his and Ichigo's shirts and shoved three fingers into Ichigo's mouth, making sure to get them as wet as possible, before pushing all three inside Ichigo's tight, unused hole. Ichigo's cry of pain only had a sadistic, uncharacteristic grin spreading across the Kuchiki's face. "Don't forget that this is supposed to be a punishment," he said in response to reproachfully questioning look in Ichigo's watery eyes. However, he felt a small twinge of guilt at causing the boy so much pain and reached down to stroke his deflating cock, licking away the stray tears that slid down his reddened cheeks.

Ichigo whimpered as fingers brushed lightly over his prostate and pressed himself down on the stretching fingers, begging silently for more pressure. Byakuya chuckled darkly and withdrew his fingers, deeming Ichigo ready and ignoring the whine of protest from the man beneath him.

He pulled away long enough to unzip his pants and take out his purpling erection before gathering the pre-cum dribbling down Ichigo's cock and slathering it on his own. He took Ichigo by the hips and tugged so that his bottom half hung off the desk.

"Wait!" Ichigo said as he was about to push in.

Byakuya glanced up to see Ichigo's eyes widened, looking unsure and nervous. He smiled gently and leaned over Ichigo. "If I gave you what you wanted, it would no longer be punishment, correct?"

"Yeah but—AH!" Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, his muscles clenching as he was breeched.

The dark headed man sighed in exasperation. "Relax, and it won't hurt as much."

Ichigo whimpered again and tried to do as he was told. His breathing slowed and gradually, his muscles relaxed. He opened his eyes to find violet gray eyes staring down at him patiently.

"I thought that this was supposed to be punishment, Mr. Kuchiki?" he teased, a belatedly confident grin nearly splitting his face in two.

"Careful, Ichigo; that sounds like a challenge."

"And if it is?"

Ichigo's only answer was a thick cock shoved balls deep up his ass. Repeatedly. He noticed that the initial burn never really went away, especially not with Byakuya penetrating him so hard without a moment's chance of recovery.

And then that pleasurable bundle of nerves were hit, causing Ichigo to writhe beneath the body pinning him down, his hips rising eagerly to meet each one of the rough thrusts.

"F-fuck!" Ichigo said as he neared completion for the second time. He groaned and reached down to stroke himself, only to have his hand slapped away and replaced by a bigger, softer hand.

He moaned and his eyes rolled back into his head as he came, his back arching off the wooden desktop and his chest smacking against Byakuya's as he painted both of their abdomens with his essence.

He felt Byakuya bite sharply into his shoulder, Ichigo's name a low growl on his lips as he shuddered and filled Ichigo to the brim. He collapsed on top of the smaller man, trying to catch the breath coitus had stolen from him.

For a while, the only sounds were their gradually softening breaths.

And then….

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

Byakuya sighed again. Honestly, Ichigo could be so loud. "I believe we just had sex, Kurosaki."

"Yeah but…why? I mean, I'm your sister's—" He was cut off by a pair of soft lips claiming his.

"Even when you were with Rukia, you had always captivated me," the older man said, running a hand through the thick orange hair. "I only came by your house pretending to threaten you as an excuse to see you. But then you moved, and that upset me." He sat up and pulled Ichigo into his lap without pulling out, so as not to stain his pants. "So when my boss told us that the local university requested a guest speaker, there was no way I could pass up the chance." He planted a gentle, sweet kiss on Ichigo's neck, smirking.

"Rukia doesn't know, does she?"

"And why would she?"

"Well, she will eventually. I mean, she's gonna wonder why I come around so much."

Byakuya pulled away to give him an odd look, and Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I'm not one for one-night stands," he explained.

"Mmm," Byakuya hummed. "Then we might be able to make this work, as I'm no fan of them either."

Ichigo leaned forward to rest his chin on Byakuya's shoulder, completely content. And then something caught his eye.

"Hey, that door wasn't always open was it?"

Little did he know, Rukia Kuchiki was sitting outside, ripping a picture she'd drawn of her and her older brother to shreds.

A/N: So I know some of you are wondering why I haven't updated any of my other stories. The answer simply is: I haven't had time. But I'm working on it now, which is why I wrote this. It helped get me out of the little writing funk I've been in for a while. :)

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