Chapter 1 – Another Day …

My first try at a Bleach fanfic. Please be gentle with me.

A bit of gay sex, foul language, adult situations.

I'm just a fan. Grimmjow, I love you! But I don't own you. *cries*

It was dark when he woke up. Then again, it was always dark when he woke up, no matter the time of day. When you worked nights, sunlight was the enemy, something to be avoided at all costs. You did have to sink some yen into it, but you could make your home a dark-as-night sanctuary, sound-proofed against the intrusive sounds of the daylight-dwellers as they scurried about outside your peaceful haven. Ichigo Kurosaki had done just that. When he'd explained his situation and needs to the apartment manager, the man had been more than accommodating. Ichigo had been allowed to apply almost-opaque tinting to all the windows in his apartment. Only the barest glow of daylight penetrated them, and to counter-act that, he had black mini-blinds and light-busting curtains, to boot. It worked.

He turned his head to look at the softly-glowing red numerals on his alarm clock. 3pm. He stretched, then pushed the sheet aside and sat up, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed as he rubbed his face. Trying not to think about anything in particular, he stood up and stretched again, pulled on a pair of pajama shorts, then ambled to the bathroom down the short hall. It was dark – hadn't that been made perfectly clear? – but Ichigo had lived in this apartment for two years and knew it like the backs of his eyelids.

He relieved himself and washed his hands, then left the bathroom and made his way to the huge room that was a sort-of a combined kitchen/dining room/living room. A bar-like counter jutted out from the wall, delineating the kitchen area. Glowing green numbers marked the location of his coffee maker on the counter – mmm, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his senses. Having a pot that could be programmed was the best. Ichigo touched metal on the small lamp that stood adjacent to the coffee maker, casting a dim glow as the night-light bulb came on. He got a large mug out of the cupboard over the counter and made his first cup of coffee of the 'day'. He'd drink it until it was gone.

It took only a moment to unlock his door and pick up the newspaper that was lying on his welcome mat. The Karakura Gazetteer was only a local rag, but it would have what he needed. He shut the door without looking down the halls, re-locked it, and was grateful when the garish light outside his door was blocked out again.

Carefully schooling his thoughts, he ambled out of the foyer, back into the kitchen area, and from there he walked into the living room. Touching a rheostat switch on the wall, small lamps bloomed into faint light in the large, high-ceilinged area. He hated overhead lighting and refused to use it, even going so far as to remove the bulbs from the fixtures in his apartment so that errant visitors couldn't accidently turn them on. Putting his cup and newspaper on the coffee table, Ichigo pulled a large photo album out of a cubby underneath the table, holding it in his lap for a moment as he allowed the events of the previous day to wash over him for just a moment. He placed the album on the coffee table and picked up the paper, going to the obituaries before he could change his mind.

Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra Schiffer, aged 26. There it was. No picture, but the boy-man's face would be indelibly printed on Ichigo's memory for the rest of his life. The obit was short and to the point. "Ulquiorra Schiffer, 26, succumbed after a long battle with illness." Ichigo didn't care what words his family used to alert the rest of the world about Ulqui's death, he knew the truth, the whole truth. And that was enough.

He removed scissors from that same cubby and carefully cut the obituary out of the paper. He smoothed it with his fingers, staring down at Ulqui's name. Tears blurred his vision as he opened the photo album to the next available empty page, not looking at the others preceding it. This was Ulqui's time. A roll of tape came out of the cubby, too, and Ichigo used it to carefully place the newspaper article in the center of the page, taking the time to make sure it was centered perfectly. Then he sat there, staring at it.

He'd gone to Ulqui's funeral, of course (wearing black and the darkest sunglasses he could find), he always went, for his … charges? His loves? How to describe them? He always hit this wall when he thought about them. Still unable to define his relationship with those he loved, instead he closed his eyes and thought about Ulquiorra Schiffer. Small and pale, his little body lithe and graceful even in the state he'd been in. Black uneven hair, with a long lock that absolutely refused to stay brushed out of his face – it'd hung down right between Ulqui's eyes, ever since Ichigo had known him. Beautiful green eyes with straight black brows, almost always drawn into a frown. Those oddly attractive tattoos – the same green as his eyes, making long straight lines from his eyes to the strong lines of his jaw, as though the color was leaking out of his irises, as though Ulqui was crying green tears. Ichigo sighed heavily, tears prickling his eyelids. He'd thought he'd done all his crying yesterday. Once again, as always, he cursed himself for his inability to stay detached.

Some of the people who had known Ulqui near the end of his life never got to see him with his eyes open. Did they truly not understand that the light hurt them? At night, when the overheads were out and the lamps were softly lit, Ulqui's eyes would sometimes open, sometimes move, sometimes follow Ichigo as he moved around the room. Those big beautiful green eyes. Ichigo would look into them for minutes at a time, his own gaze loving and accepting, giving Ulqui a human interaction, whether he could respond to it or not. Ichigo had loved him. And now he was gone.

A small sob tore its way out of his chest, and he clamped the scrapbook to his chest, rocking back and forth. Ulqui. Ulqui. Ulquiorra. Wherever you are, I will never forget you. Never! For the next hour, Ichigo Kurosaki mourned Ulquiorra Schiffer, burning his face into his memory (even more than it already was), almost torturing himself with visual images of the boyish man.

XXX

When it got dark, Ichigo left his apartment and did all those little things humans have to do in order to survive in this world. He went to a street stand and had some ramen, he went shopping, he sat in the park alongside the river and smoked, staring at the black water as it rushed past. The stars shone in the inky blackness of the night sky, and Ichigo looked up at them, wondering if Ulqui could see him, from wherever he was. If all of them could see him. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky, a little smile curving his lips. "I love you," he whispered. A beat … then he opened his eyes and looked around. No-one there to see him, thank God. He always got maudlin at these times. It would take a few days for him to get back to himself, even though a small part of him would always be Ulqui's, just like little pieces of him had been sacrificed to all the others. He wondered, briefly, how much of him was left. Would he ever get to the place where he had no more to give? He hoped not. He was needed.

On the way back to his apartment, he bought a bento from the nearby convenience store. It would be his lunch later. Locking the door behind him, Ichigo glanced at the clock and realized he needed to start getting ready for work. He put the bento in the fridge and hit the shower.

At 10:30 he boarded the train for the outskirts of Karakura. When they'd built the huge facility on the outskirts of town, Ichigo had been one of the first applicants for employment there. He'd hated working at the hospital in mid-town – it was old and crumbly, in desperate need of renovation, and that wasn't good for anyone involved, be it patients, their families, or the workers.

It had been while he was in his first year of pre-med school that Ichigo had found his attention more and more fixated on the nursing staff. They were doing real patient care, not the doctors. The doctors would do little more than 'check-ups' … briefly glancing at the patients before scouring their charts and lab reports, then writing up a bunch of orders so that the real work could begin. Which was done by the nurses. Ichigo had found himself distracted from his studies, disgruntled with the course his life was taking, and thoroughly fascinated by the dedication these RNs showed as they cheerfully handled all the aspects of caring for the sick – no matter how dirty or gross the chore, they did it and smiled at the patient when they were done, soothing their embarrassment and fear.

So in the middle of his second year of pre-med, he'd switched his focus and entered nursing instead. He knew he'd found it – his life's work, his reason for 'being here'. Nursing was still a mostly-female field, and that didn't bother Ichigo one bit. He was gay, and had known this about himself since middle school. He'd made friendships among his fellow nursing students, and with the almost-lack of males, had virtually no distractions from his goals – romantically, that is. He'd excelled at his studies, and when he'd graduated with a Bachelor's in Nursing, he was happier than he'd been in almost his entire life. Now he could get to work doing what he loved.

His father hadn't been all that pleased when Ichigo turned away from being a doctor, but even he couldn't dispute the fact that Ichigo was happy … and he was good at what he did. Ichigo had tried working at his father's clinic for a while, but it hadn't suited him. He'd always be Ichigo Kurosaki, Isshin's son, the 'failed doctor', there. So he'd moved along to Karakura General. Ichigo had tried various areas of the hospital, different wards, from the ER to the OR to ICU to Psych. Although he loved caring for patients and enjoyed his time in all these areas, none really hit him as the one.

So when he'd found out about the new facility, and about 3C, he'd been inspired. The new hospital was state of the art, it was huge, and it included a long-term nursing facility – one aspect of this was 3C: the Coma Care Center. When called in for his interview, he toured the place and was particularly impressed. This was no ward where the patients would languish away until they eventually died … this was a place where coma patients would be cared for with a meticulous regimen, keeping their bodies fit and healthy until they woke up. THAT was the mission of 3C. Every coma ends eventually – either you wake up or you die – but on 3C death was not an acceptable option. Of course it happened -Ulquiorra- but the reaper didn't win on 3C without one hell of a fight.

When Ichigo walked through the doors of the department that evening, after clocking in he went straight to the nurse's desk. Orihime was there using the computer to chart, and when she looked up she gasped and rose to her feet. Suddenly Ichigo was enveloped in the soft plumpness of the girl's prodigious chest as she hugged him. "Ichigo … I'm so sorry about Mr. Schiffer," she said against his shoulder as she clutched him fiercely.

"Thanks, Orihime," Ichigo said, patting her back. She pulled away and held him by the arms, looking up at him.

"Are you doing okay?" she whispered.

"I will be," Ichigo replied, "like always."

"Yes … I know," she said. "You worked so hard to turn it around. I know. We all know. Even Dr. Aizen." She patted his arms and then let go. "They haven't filled the bed yet, you only have Mr. Hirako in that room. I don't know how long it'll take to fill it …." Her voice trailed off. They never knew. How could you? And who would want to?

"All right. Thanks, Orihime. I'm gonna go get changed now." Ichigo headed for the male locker room where he changed from street clothes to soft pale green scrubs. He slid on his special squeak-proof clogs and wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. Grabbing a shoulder bag from his locker, he headed for the lounge where he got a cup of coffee, then sat down to wait for report.

3C had a lot of staff. One thing the facility's owners had realized was that hospitals with a huge nursing staff did better … better care = better patient outcomes = happier patients and families = a great rep and success. Nurses were paid well and had small patient loads every shift. Ichigo had one large room he was in charge of, with three beds that could potentially be filled with coma patients. There were no CNAs on 3C, the nurses provided all of the patient care. As of today, he only had one patient to care for. He would, when not taking care of that patient (the Mr. Shirako Orihime had mentioned), go around to the other rooms to help. They all did things this way. It worked.

For Ichigo, report was over quickly. With only one patient, the evening nurse quickly caught him up. "Thanks, Renji," Ichigo said, pulling his notes together. "Anything happening in the other rooms I need to know about?"

Renji feasted his eyes on orange spiky hair and warm brown eyes. Why was it he always thought about caramel apples when he looked at Ichigo? Maybe because he looked good enough to eat? Whatever, he cleared his throat and answered his friend and coworker. "Yeah, kinda … couple things goin' on in the women's section, but nothing they can't handle. Ishida's got a new patient, accident, comin' in early tomorrow morning, you might still be around and Aizen said you could maybe help get him settled."

Ichigo schooled his face to reveal none of his inner feelings about Dr. Aizen. The man was … it was hard to describe. He was just plain false. No other way to put it. Ichigo silently thought that the man was in it for the money, no other reason. That disgusted him, with the example of Isshin Kurosaki in front of him his whole life, pouring his youth, his resources, his everything into keeping the clinic open, to help people. Aizen was the polar opposite.

He was also a fucking prick who knew about Ichigo's sexual preference and thought he should be allowed to explore that option whenever he wanted. It wasn't quite sexual harassment – the man had never touched him nor spoken grossly inappropriately – but his eyes. Ichigo would look up in a meeting to find Aizen's eyes glued to his crotch, or crawling suggestively over his body, with a little smile on his lips. The doctor had asked him out, several times. Ichigo always refused. That had been taken gracefully … so far. But who knew how long that would last?

"All right," he said to Renji. "You heading straight home tonight?" Ichigo folded up his notes and put them in his scrub top pocket.

"Nah … I'm goin' to Seireitei for a little bit with Orihime and Tatsuki … you been there yet?"

Ichigo shook his head.

"It's not bad," Renji said, smirking. "Let's go this weekend. I'm thinkin' you need a little distraction … and that's definitely the place to find it!" He laughed, the warm deep sound booming a little in the lounge. Some of the other nurses looked up and smiled. Renji Abarai was big, muscular, red-haired and tattooed … although he did the professional thing and covered most of them up while at work. A skull-type scrub-cap came down low on his forehead and covered the tats that shot upward from his eyebrows … his long red hair was down his back in a braid, and he wore a long-sleeved shirt that was pushed up to the elbows to cover the tattoos on his arms. Ichigo had seen him in the locker room – impressive.

"Maybe. We'll see, okay?" Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. The Seireitei billed itself as omnisexual … any and all types allowed … with the accent on the 'sexual'. Renji loved it – he was a true bisexual, he honestly didn't care what gender someone was, it was all about the person to him. Rare. But then again, Renji was a rare friend. He'd made it clear that he'd 'do' Ichigo in a heartbeat, but didn't press the issue again after Ichigo made it clear that in his opinion … friends didn't fuck. It only ruined things. He had experience in this, and didn't want it to happen again.

"Ichigo," Renji said, leaning in close and speaking softly, "ya need to get laid. All work and no play makes Ichigo dull as fuck. We'll talk. You're off Friday night, I get off at 11, and nothin' gets started there until midnight anyway. K?"

"I'll … think about it," Ichigo replied. He was still mourning, right now, and didn't want to think about partying. It was insulting to Ulqui's memory. At least, to Ichigo it was. "Anyway, gotta go. Thanks for taking care of Shinji tonight."

"My pleasure, Ichi," the redhead replied. "And heh … about Ulquiorra? – dude, we did everything we could. Sometimes, it's just fucking not enough." Death made Renji angry. It always did. Angry at himself, angry at the doctors, angry at Fate.

"Yeah. I know. Thanks, man." Ichigo got up and left the too-bright lounge. It was toned down for the evenings, but still too fucking bright as far as he was concerned. He stopped by the nurse's desk and picked up his laptop. In the room he would download any new orders and labs, etc, on Shinji Hirako. But that was secondary. First, he had to say hello.

He walked soundlessly down the left-hand hallway from the nurse' desk until he got to Room 313. He stood outside for a second or two and then pushed the door open, walking inside. The swoosh of Shinji's respirator was the first sound he heard. The lighting was dim, as of course this was the overnight shift. Ichigo put his laptop down on the room desk, then walked past Ulqu— no, past the empty bed in the middle third of the large room. Huge multi-paneled Japanese screens with painted cranes, mountains, koi, etc, separated the beds. Now Shinji was the only occupant in Ichigo's room. As he approached the bed, he saw that Shinji's eyes were open.

It was nothing new. Coma patients often opened their eyes, sometimes even seeming to follow movement … although usually it had no true direction from the brain. Ichigo leaned over Shinji, petting the blond hair back off his forehead. "Hello, Shinji," he said, in a low intimate tone. "I'm back." He stared into Shinji's eyes, filling his own with love, blinking slowly, petting the blond coma patient's face and hair. "Have you had your bath this evening? Mm, smells like it. Renji used that flowery stuff on your hair again, didn't he." Ichigo laughed softly.

He kept talking to Shinji as he did all the little things he did at the beginning of his shift. Turning on some light music, perhaps lighting a scented candle, setting up the passive-motion machines to work Shinji's legs. It was a constant battle, keeping coma patient's limbs from atrophy and contracture. Ichigo took it very seriously. Shinji had to be ready, for when he woke up. That was the only way Ichigo could look at it.

He set up Shinji's parenteral nutrition (liquid feeding through the PEG tube that went directly through his abdomen into his stomach), emptying his bladder and rectal bags, doing his finger and toenails, cleaning his teeth and mouth, caring for his tracheostomy, turning him every hour. Ichigo was meticulous and caring … and that's why he was the best at what he did. Every once in a while he checked with the other nurses and helped turn their patients, do their ROM exercises, things like that.

Roughly four hours into the shift, Ichigo was working Shinji's arms through some range-of-motion exercises. He said, "Shinji … I don't know how much you're aware of … but Ulquiorra is gone. He – he died three days ago. I miss him, and I know you will too. We were all together here for a long time, weren't we." He talked about Ulquiorra to Shinji, and this was as cathartic as putting Ulqui's obituary in the album had been. Shinji's eyes were closed now, but Ichigo didn't care. He'd talk anyway, sharing his day with this man that he loved.

At lunch break, Ichigo ate his bento up on the roof, staring at the night lights of Karakura, then had two cigarettes. (Okay, he knew, especially as a nurse! that he shouldn't smoke. But other than the occasional drink or two or three, it was his only real vice.) So quiet out here on the outskirts of town. That's what was also best about the night – the day time bustle had no place here. He was alone up here, too, most of the others preferring to eat their lunches in the lounge. That was okay.

When it was just about time for Mid shift to be over, Ichigo finished up by giving Shinji a massage, carefully smoothing the oil-free lotion into his muscles, talking to him as he worked. "Shinji," he said, working the smaller mans' pectorals, watching as his nipples tightened and grew, "You're amazing." The human body was amazing. Coma patients could get erections, too … Ichigo had seen it many many times. Ulquiorra was infamous for it – he'd get it up with the slightest touch below the waist. Ichigo had privately thought that Ulqui must have been gay, although his family had never said anything.

Time to finish charting and then head for report. Ichigo leaned over Shinji for the last time, this shift. He brushed the blond hair back from his face again after turning him back to lay supine. He kissed the man's cheek. Stimulus. Waking from a coma was not just about healing brain injury, it was also about stimulus. Ichigo firmly believed this. Another kiss on the other cheek. "Shinji," he said, "I love you." His eyes were still closed. No matter. "I love you."

XXX

After reporting off to Chado, the day shift nurse for room 313, Ichigo checked with Ishida and helped get his new patient settled. The man had fallen from a bridge during construction and hadn't awakened since. It had been 3 months since the accident with no end to his coma in sight, so here he was. He was tall – a special bed had had to be brought in – and had beautiful long black hair. Uryuu was going to cut it but Ichigo talked him out of it, reminding him that the patient – Nnoitra Jiruga – could wake up tomorrow, and if his hair was gone, he would be pissed. Uryuu had reluctantly agreed, and had let Ichigo braid it.

Now, with the new patient settled, Ichigo headed for the locker room. It wasn't empty. A tall black-haired man, half-undressed, stood in front of his locker, almost directly across from Ichigo's. Ichigo stopped in his tracks, recovered quickly, and pulled his eyes away from the pale expanse of muscular chest. "Dr. Kuchiki," he said by way of a greeting.

"Kurosaki," the man murmured, his smooth voice sliding into Ichigo's ears like honey.

Ichigo opened his locker, then caught sight of the doctor's beautiful back in the mirror that hung inside the locker door. God. Ichigo swallowed hard. He was the best doctor they had, in Ichigo's opinion, and his total package had held top spot in Ichigo's spank bank ever since … well … one memorable evening, Dr. Kuchiki had come out of the shower while Ichigo had been seated on the bench that ran between the lockers. He'd been wearing nothing but a towel and had sidled past Ichigo, turning sideways to get past, and his groin had been right in front of Ichigo's eyes. He hadn't been able to pull his eyes away until a throat had been cleared somewhere above his head.

Ichigo had raised his eyes – not knowing that his pupils were dilated with desire – and looked up into a wry half-smile. "Kurosaki," Byakuya Kuchiki had said, "working hard?"

"Not too bad," Ichigo had growled unintentionally. Then his face flamed red and he'd fled as quickly as he could.

Now, Ichigo shamelessly watched in the mirror as Byakuya Kuchiki put on deodorant and pulled his long black hair into a low ponytail. Pulling off his scrub top, Ichigo reached into his locker for his t-shirt and upon straightening, returned his gaze to the mirror. Just in time to catch the good doctor staring at his back. Ichigo froze. He could almost feel those gorgeous silver-gray eyes on his skin. What should he do? He knew what he wanted to do - turn around and fall to his knees and lick the fly of those pricey black slacks.

Nothing. He should do nothing. Doctor Kuchiki was married, everyone knew that, and however unhappy it was rumored to be, Ichigo wouldn't do something like that. Or, at least, he wouldn't start it. I'm a closet slut, he thought. I'd let that man fuck me in front of his wife if he wanted it. Such a slut. Instead of doing the falling to his knees thing, Ichigo slipped his t-shirt over his head and changed back into his jeans. By that time Dr. Kuchiki was putting on his tie. Ichigo bit his lip, chased thoughts of tying Byakuya's wrists together with that tie out of his head, muttered goodbye, and left.

XXX

Shit. When he returned to his apartment, Shuuhei was there, waiting, sitting on the floor outside his door. When Ichigo walked up, smiling diplomatically, the younger man scrambled to his feet. "I-Ichigo," he breathed, a wide grin on his face.

"Hello, Shu," Ichigo said, getting out his keys. "What's up?"

"Been a while since I saw ya," the tattooed man replied from Ichigo's elbow. "Thought I'd check in."

"Don't have work today?" Ichigo asked, opening the door and sighing silently as Shuuhei darted inside.

"In a couple hours," Shu answered. "Here … I brought cake." He grinned as Ichigo eyed the bag hungrily. All Ichigo's friends knew he was susceptible to cake. Okay, so smoking wasn't his only vice.

"All right," Ichigo said, closing the door and locking it, then hitting the rheostat on the wall that would bring the lights up a bit. "I'll make coffee."

"Should you drink it now? It won't keep you awake?" Shu said airily, looking in cupboards for plates.

Like you don't remember, Ichigo thought. "Nope," he said, as he readied the coffee maker. They talked about Shuuhei's work as a graphic artist until the coffee was done, then settled down on the couch with plates of cake and cups of coffee. Not a bad supper.

When they were finished, Ichigo picked up the TV remote, thinking to turn the damn thing on for Shuuhei, but the black-haired man put a hand over his. "I … didn't come here to watch TV with you, Strawberry," he said, smiling, his strangely-small irises almost eaten up entirely by his pupils.

Ichigo sighed again. Strawberry. God, he hated that shit. A "fruit". Ha. Ha. "Shu …"

"Don't love me anymore?" Shuuhei asked, the smile dropping off his face, sadness creeping into his eyes.

Shuuhei Hisagi. Former coma patient of room 313 on 3C. Former patient of Ichigo's, one of the success stories. His facial tattoos covered some extensive facial scaring – the car accident that had caused his coma had almost torn the left side of his face off. He was lucky to have the sight in that eye – actually, to have an eye there at all.

Ichigo had cared for him. And of course, he had loved him. When he woke up, Shuuhei remembered. His eyes had opened, on that memorable day, and Ichigo had looked lovingly down into his gray-violet eyes, saying again, "I love you." And Shu had croaked, "N-not. G-gay."

Shuuhei remembered. Ichigo's face had flamed with joy … he'd been laughing, crying, he'd grabbed Shuuhei up in a tight, incredibly tight hug … Shu was back! He'd kissed him, while his tears had fallen onto his face. And when it became apparent that Shu was awake for good, he'd been moved out of 3C, and he'd thought he'd never see Ichigo again. But those words haunted him. He'd heard them over and over as he was inching toward wakefulness … "I love you," repeated so fervently. The hands that had touched him with such care.

Ichigo turned toward him, putting a hand on his knee. "Yes, of course I still love you, Shu. I always will, I told you that. But remember? – you're not gay."

Shuuhei blushed again, looking away for a moment until his eyes were dragged back helplessly. "I … I know. But … Ichi … I want it. Please. Please? Please." He leaned forward, knowing that Ichigo could smell him now, knowing it was an unfair tactic, but unable to control his urges. He would use any weapon he had.

Ichigo inhaled his former patient's scent, eyes closing in memory. "Shuuhei," he breathed, leaning forward. He laid his head on Shuuhei's shoulder, breathing him in with his face tucked into Shu's neck. Ichigo's tongue came out and licked softly, tasting him, and Shuuhei gasped as a shudder made his whole body tremble.

Ichigo Kurosaki got down on his knees on his living room floor and unbuttoned Shuuhei's jeans as he looked into one of his beloveds' eyes. He pulled down the zipper as Shu's breathing hitched, then reached in and pulled out his dripping hard cock. "Shu," Ichigo breathed as he leaned in close to it, "you're already ready."

"Yess," Shuuhei gasped.

Ulqui, Ichigo thought with a spike of pain in his heart, watch me. If you had awakened instead of dying, I would have done this for you. I'd've done it over and over, until you were breathless and boneless in my arms. All of you – watch me.

He licked the swollen head of Shu's dick, using his tongue to capture all the pre-seminal fluid from the slit. He kissed it, over and over, licking, worshipping it, putting all his love into it. He took the head into his mouth, sucking gently, slathering it with his tongue. When Shu was shaking and had his fingers tangled in Ichigo's orange spiky hair, Ichigo slowly slid Shu's cock into his mouth, taking it all in as he sucked and licked at it, until his nose was buried in fragrant black pubic hair. Ichigo hummed around it, swallowed over and over, moved so that it would rub against his palate, until Shu cried out for more.

Ichigo started up a sensuous rhythm, sliding his mouth up and down on his former patient's throbbing penis, taking his cues from Shu for speed and depth. Shu's hands guided him, pushing and pulling his hair. His hips guided him, too, and when they began thrusting his cock into Ichigo's mouth, he relaxed and let the man fuck his throat, humming and sucking when he could, one hand caressing and pulling the younger man's balls.

Shuuhei was in ecstasy … Ichigo gave the best head he had ever had. It was like a drug … he couldn't go without it for long. This time it had been almost three months, but this morning he had awakened with that longing and it wouldn't go away. He looked down at Ichi's head, then half-fell to the side to watch him work his magic, those lips! … aw, gods, he couldn't hold it anymore! "Ichi! It's good, so good! I – I'm gonna come!"

Ichigo hummed in reply, came off the top of Shu's dick, and said hoarsely, "Shu … give it to me." Then he attacked Shu's cock, mercilessly, sucking licking stroking humming swallowing – and Shu was GONE. He shouted out his release, gripping Ichi's hair, grinding his cock into that mouth, keeping his eyes open because he had to see, he had to watch as Ichigo drank it all down. He gulped it, hungrily, eyes closed, humming like it was his beloved cake, for Christ's sake. Shu shuddered through it all, his muscles spasming, pleasure so intense he thought he'd pass out, GOD it was amazing, every fucking time. Every fucking time.

XXX

Ichigo kissed Shuuhei one last time, smiled at him, and closed the door behind him as he left, locking it carefully. He crossed the kitchen and went back to the couch, flinging himself upon it. He didn't care what anyone else thought about what he did. Shuuhei was alive, he was alive partly because of Ichigo's loving care, and he couldn't refuse making one of his beloveds feel alive, in the best way. Shu had come for him three times. He still had the taste of Shuuhei's essence in his mouth. He swallowed, knowing that he had a small piece of Shu inside him now, becoming one with Ichigo's body. It was enough.

Time for bed. The day was over. Ulqui, he thought. David, Ramon, Yuki, Sebastian, Leif, Timothy, Hayato, Keigo, and Kira. My beloveds. Good night.

End Chapter One

Hope you all liked it. More to come soon!

Ahvienda