A/N: First attempt at a Bleach fan fiction and honestly, the reason why I wrote this is because I'm a bit sad that this pairing isn't more common (Kudos if you get the pairing right. There's a small tiny hint towards the end). So I figured I'd write something on it myself! So enjoy, if you're into Yaoi/ Shonen-ai. If not, amuse yourself somewhere else. Ta!

The Difference between Chad and Sado.

"Sado, Good morning!" Orihime greeted warmly Monday morning.

Normally the 6'4 half-Japanese teen would respond with a silent hand in the air or, on rare occasions, a quiet "Good morning". However, this morning, he seemed disturbed by something and flushed a deep crimson. Orihime pouted and stood in front of him worriedly.

"Are you okay, Sado? You're awfully flushed this morning. Did you catch a cold?" She inquired. By now, the usual group was watching the tall teenager worriedly. After all, he almost never got sick.

"You are looking a bit red, Sado. Maybe you should sit down." Rukia suggested. Sado only turned a deeper shade of red.

He cleared his throat politely, still blushing. "Call me Chad."

"WHAT?" Keigo bellowed, dramatically stumbling away from the giant. "You must be deathly ill, man! We've been calling you Chad for ages and you were like "It's Sado." And now we're all li—"

"Shut the hell up." Ichigo grumbled, punching him in the back of his head before he became even more excitable. Everyone ignored poor Keigo, sprawled out on the ground, unconscious in favor of turning their attention back to 'Chad' who was still blushing. "Oi, are you sick?" He asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. His concern was evident, however, even if it was missed by everyone but Chad.

"No." He replied. Ichigo nodded and turned to everyone else.

"You heard the man, stop hovering around him!" He made shooing motions towards his friends.

"Don't 'shoo' me Kurosaki!" Rukia yelled, stomping on his foot.

"Ow dammit!"

Everything was relatively normal now. Though Ishida, who had been unnoticed and previously forgotten about at his desk, wondered what could possibly be the cause of Chad's change of heart. He smoothly adjusted his glasses, 'hmm-ed' to himself and continued re-organizing his sewing kit.

His hands were made for him, he decided. Though large, they perfectly cupped his lover's face, perfectly gripped his lover's waist, and perfectly gripped anything belonging to his beloved. Where ever he touched his beloved, he knew he left behind a pleasant burning sensation that left him wanting more; he told him so—no he could barely speak at the time; he gasped it out; eyes closed, hands grasping at him desperately, breathless. . .beautiful.

The burning feeling in his belly grew at the wanton moans that sang from those slightly chapped, strawberry red lips. He promised himself he wouldn't kiss them, not until he begged but he might be the one begging soon. It was all too much, the feel of his skin, the brush of their arousals against one another. He wouldn't last much longer and they hadn't even made it to the bed yet.

He watched with clouded hazel eyes as his beloved clung to him, on the floor in front of the bed, flushed with lips parted; thoroughly enjoying his ministrations, hips bucking, legs shaking. . .ah, but that's what he was waiting for. Those sinful lips were struggling to say something.

"Say it." He urged. And those lips moved forming the word he had been waiting for. The word came out as a low, breathy moan; a sound that only he would ever hear.

"Sado!"

Oh, sweet release.