Well, heres part two! Im sorry it took so long to put up for all you who waited for it, I know that I hate it when people leave it for ages to post, but I couldnt get it to sound right. It was a lot harder to write.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It was really uplifting to see that people liked it, especially (Squee!!) DelMarch, who's stories I love! and who corrected my bad habit of switching between past and present tense. I hope you all like this one as much.

Yumichika, as anyone who knew him even a little was well aware of, loved anything beautiful. However, possessing very strong views on the subject meant that quite a few things in life fell short of his expectations. There were some things however that he took great pleasure in.

He loved the squad. He loved the comforting noise of arguments and sparring, the yelps and growls which accompanied almost any interaction between Ikkaku and Yachiru. He loved sitting and drinking with his friends, except when Ikkaku got him drunk, which he would be willing to swear on his left arm that Ikkaku would do on purpose, just to laugh at him when he did something foolish in front of the captain.

But more than that Yumichika loved Ikkaku. He loved the way the bald shinigami would protest and splutter when he heard the rumours circulating the squad about their relationship, and then furiously seek out the source of the rumours and 'see to them'. He loved the way people assumed that, as he was the effeminate one, he would be the submissive one too, and he loved the fact that they were all completely wrong.

He loved Ikkaku's loyalty, something that he himself did not possess a wealth of, and found difficult to give out. He loved Ikkaku's undying loyalty to his captain, and to his squad and beliefs, and of course Ikkaku's undying loyalty to him.

He loved Ikkaku's sword, which was everything his wasn't. He loved the smooth feel of the steel and the feel of the well worn wood when it was released. He loved the pride Ikkaku took in his weapon, and that he was one of only two people who officially knew of Ikkaku's Bankai. At the same time it hurt him. He knew that, although Ikkaku confided an important secret to him, he would never be able to confide his secret in return, and he was jealous that Ikkaku's sword was so perfect, and so beautiful while his was his greatest shame, something which he had to hide from everyone, to the point that one day, he knew, it would kill him.

He loved how Ikkaku would take all the hardest fights, all the time. He loved how Ikkaku would grumble and growl and insist that it was because he was the higher seat, and it was first come first served, so Yumichika needed to move faster if he wanted a decent fight next time, but he knew that wasnt the real reason. He saw it sometimes, when he came back rumpled or wounded. The anger and not quite worry, but something close, in Ikkaku's eyes; that he might have lost him, and that he had allowed himself to be hurt.

He loved the way Ikkaku fought. It was a beautiful sight. He loved the way the supple and strong body would twist and turn, muscles straining and flexing as they were worked. He loved the way the fighter would bare his teeth in that trademark grin of his, and furrow his brows, even though he wasn't angry and then throw himself wholeheartedly into the battle, forgetting everything except what was right in front of him.

He loved the fact that Ikkaku, normally so aggressive and authoritative, would lie beneath him, panting and flushed, and submit to him utterly. He loved the way his lover's strong hands would wander over his body, worshipping every inch of it, the way those same hands would stroke and caress his hair until it was tangled and disordered, and then brush it out later. He loved the scars which covered Ikkaku's body, crisscrossing lines which told of his strength and will to live, and the sounds Ikkaku made when he traced them with his fingers and tongue.

He loved Ikkaku's kisses, especially those rare, utterly coveted kisses, full of love and tenderness which Ikkaku only rarely awarded. That didn't mean, however, that he didn't also love the fiery, impatient demanding kisses which were far more common and usually ended with rumpled uniforms and tangled hair (well, at leat on his part), but the special kisses were…well…special. They came from something that Ikkaku was well known for having very little of: gentleness and patience, and told Yumichika without a doubt that Ikkaku loved him, instantly dispersing all his worries, leaving only Ikkaku and that warm, content feeling only the powerful fighter could create.

He loved Ikkaku's taste; the slightly sharp, vinegary taste of sake which would linger in that warm mouth along with the earthy taste which was distinctly Ikkaku. He loved the taste of his skin and his sweat and could never get enough of it; sampling it like some rare delicacy to the point that Ikkaku would snarl and demand that Yumichika get on with it. Yumichika would only smirk against his skin, drawing a very beautiful reaction from the larger man.

He loved, although he would never admit it, the way that Ikkaku would wrap his arms around him in his sleep and hold him close, pulling the smaller man on top of him or resting his head on Yumichika's stomach and chest. He loved the twisted logic that Ikkaku employed to placate him after suffering the indignity of being used as a human blanket, and he loved that the twisted logic was correct, that Ikkaku knew him so well as to see past his insults and complaints. He loved the knowing smile which always settled on the bald mans face when Yumichika denied it and kicked him, promising the most unpleasant things if it were to ever happen again.

He really, really loved that Ikkaku took him as he was, accepted all his oddities as well as the good and would always manage to bring out the best in him. He loved that he could work himself into an almost frenzy of self pity and loathing, first of all over his hair, which had been rather unceremoniously cut short by the scything claws of a hollow, and secondly, and at irregular intervals afterwards, over the large and in his opinion ugly scar on his stomach, a souvenir of partial disembowelment at the hands of another hollow, but that Ikkaku would always knock it all away, more often than not literally, leaving him sprawled on the floor. Ikkaku had never been subtle. Another thing Yumichika loved about him.

It was a well known fact that Yumichika was not an easy person to please, and there were few things in the world which he loved on more than a superficial level. But one thing that he loved unconditionally and could never hold any displeasure over was his brash, coarse, short tempered, wonderful Ikkaku, and that would never change.

As always, the review button would love some attention, as would I! ^^