Title: I Tell Ya What, Man (Bookmark)
Author: Lys
Characters/Pairing: Ishida Uryuu/Kon
Rating/Warnings: NC-17.
bleach_15 Theme: #3, The Rain
Status: Part 2/10, word count 2413

01: Bookmark

a/n: Takes place at some nebulous time between the Soul Society and Bounto/Arrancar anime arcs. Bookmark was originally going to be a one-shot, but eh, it was kind of more interesting to expand on it. unbeta'd, and probably in need of a third look-through for mistakes as of yet, but finished. Anybody interested in general and bleach-cannon-checkery betary?



By the time Ichigo and Kon made it back to the Kurosaki Clinic, it was very deep into the night. Kon had offered to give Ichigo a piggyback ride back home, as they were on the other side of the city by the time Ichigo was finished hollow-hunting, but Ichigo refused. Piggyback rides were for five year olds, and Kon did not have indefatigable arms as well as indefatigable legs.

Ichigo had then promptly shoved his sweaty fist into Kon’s mouth.

They went to bed fairly quickly upon returning, Ichigo falling into bed and yanking the blankets up to his hairline. Kon laid on the floor, button eyes staring at the carpeting, listening to Ichigo’s body snore softly into the pillow. He managed to steal about four hours of sleep, trying not to think about what Ichigo’s mouth had been doing without Ichigo’s express content.

The next day, Ichigo regarded Kon with minimal suspicion, minimal meaning that there was a small amount of suspicion clearly evident. If Ichigo had any actual, concrete ideas concerning why he was suspicious of Kon, he didn’t bring them up in morning conversation. Ichigo quickly left second floor and didn’t return until evening, telling Kon that he was lucky to be a toy because it meant not spending his day helping his crazy old man disinfect shit. Outside the clinic, it started to drizzle forlornly, clouds thick and slate-grey.

Kon attempted to steadfastly ignore the general atmospheric malaise by reading some shoujo manga. It was hard to grip pages with just fabric and padding and Hana Yori Dango was selfishly reminding him that Rukia-nee-san had chosen to be where she belonged, as opposed to with anomalies like Ichigo and Kon. Kon gave up on the shoujo manga and resumed staring at the carpeting with plastic eyes.

That evening, Ichigo relaxed in his bed while glancing over some summer mathematics homework. Something pounded roughly on the window. At first glance, Kon thought it might have been a murder of crows there to be ominous, for all the silken black movement and whispering noise. Ichigo swore under his breath and slid to the end of the bed on his knees, unlatching the window and sliding it up. Abarai Renji crawled into the room, fabric billowing in the cross-draft, gathered magenta hair dripping down the back of his neck and down his serious, tattooed forehead.

The air from outside was chilly and it smelled of ozone.

“Problem,” said Renji, shaking off on the carpet like a big dog. “Think you could lend me a hand?”

Ichigo looked peculiarly hesitant, before stomping over to Kon and clapping him on his soft head with the small wooden memento mori sort of charm given to him in Soul Society by Ukitake-taichou. When Kon was conscious of his surroundings again, he was on his knees; the lion plush smiled up at him innocently. Ichigo was busily sliding out of his bedroom window, trying his best to maneuver zangetsu's ludicrous length through the small opening.

“Wait,” Kon said, scrambling to his feet.

“Hah?” Ichigo wobbled on the windowsill.

“Let me come with you. I want to help tonight.”

“No,” said Ichigo, steadfast. “You’ll break my wrist or something. I gotta go.” He dropped from the windowsill. Renji shrugged at Kon’s frustrated expression, giving the mod-soul a two-fingered salute before leaping fluidly after Ichigo. A chill ran down Kon’s spine from the draft. He slammed the window shut, watching the shinigami race weightlessly across the muddy lawn.

“Fine,” Kon shouted to nobody but himself, petulantly jamming his feet into a pair of sneakers and snatching a wooly brown beanie from the closet. He yanked it onto his head, storming out of the bedroom and down the stairs, headed for the front door with a deflated expression. Yuzu and Karin caught him from the kitchen as he passed.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Karin glared at Kon as he snatched a thick leather jacket from its hook at the door, sliding it one.

“Getting angry doesn’t solve anything,” Yuzu chirped, having noticed Kon's demeanor. Kon shot the girls a look that was a cross between guilt and anger, before pulling the door shut softly behind him.

Safely escaped from the Kurosaki household, Kon took off down the sidewalk as quickly as his legs could take him, which was 'very'. He only slowed down by the time the bottoms of Ichigo’s tight jeans had become so waterlogged from puddles and rain that the water was actually streaming back off of them with every running step, getting Kon even more wet than he already was.

Kon decided that he was significantly away from ‘home’ anyway, the cold breaking his bad mood. He was standing in the middle of the park in front of the chilled drinks machine, and so Kon dug around in the pockets of the jacket for some spare yen.

Finding an ample amount, he deliberated between cider and melon soda for thirty seconds, before deciding the melon soda was a better color. The plastic bottle fell to the bottom of the machine of the machine with a round sound and Kon retrieved it from the cage at the bottom with a little trouble, hands dripping and slippery. He held the soda away from himself, mindful of staining Ichigo’s shirt or jacket with the deep green liquid as he opened the small cap. It dripped down his hand, fizzing and filling the air with its cloying, sweet scent. Kon switched it to the other hand, drinking half the bottle in three gulps while shaking the wet one off. It was already feeling sticky from the sugar and corn syrup.

“Good Evening, Kon.”

Kon stopped before taking a second swig, capping the bottle distractedly. “Uryuu?”

Ishida Uryuu stood below a nearby tree, hands in his back pockets, sulphery street lights glinting off of the lenses of his glasses. He gave Kon a sour face at the use of his first name. Kon cleared his throat expectantly, surprised.

“I left the other night without apology or return-favor.”

Kon shrugged, sliding the bottle of melon soda into the jacket's massive pocket. Ishida walked over to meet him, hand reaching for Kon’s face. Kon backpedaled two steps.

“I told you I didn’t want to do this, the other night.” He looked Ishida in the face, eyes pleading. Ishida stopped advancing, but didn’t seem to be gracefully accepting Kon’s answer, either.

“I thought you mostly liked it,” Ishida said, defensively.

“I did,” Kon said in a pacifying tenor voice. “I can’t do this to Ichigo. I mean, this isn’t an issue of what I want to do. I can’t lend you somebody else’s video game, if you know what I mean. Ichigo doesn’t—he’s still a…”

“People treated like us shouldn’t worry so much about complex social ethics,” Ishida said, anger lingering in the edges of his eyes and the set of his lips. "I'm sorry you're having a crisis of conscience, but the sum of the lives of everyone we're close to being a psychological quagmire is a moot."

Kon's face plainly voiced his hesitant disagreement.

Ishida hooked his fingers into Kon’s belt-loops, cold, rain-wet hands brushing against a thin piece of exposed skin on Kon’s abdomen. Kon jerked involuntarily at the icy, brief touch. Ishida took the chance to start attacking Kon’s lips, tongue lingering on some melon flavor at the corner of the redhead’s mouth.

Kon didn’t like the position it put him in; somebody would be angry with him no matter what he did, Ichigo or Uryuu. His resolve to resist and go back home where it was warm and there was food was melting, unfortunately; Ichigo's body plainly enjoyed the mouth pressed against it. Kon’s ears hummed, like the sound of the planet rotating, heat pooling in his groin.

“Please,” Ishida cooed in his ear, breath hot against the small hairs left uncovered by the wet cap. "Let me thank you properly." Kon yanked Ichigo’s beanie off and frowned at it, shoving it deep into the jacket. It smelled like wet wool and sweat, and said ‘Stop Sucking Corporate Cock!.’ He ran a hand nervously through the mussed hair.

“Okay.”

Ishida’s hands slid between the wet, denim seat of Kon’s pants to cup both cheeks firmly. The cold hands gave it a squeeze, slowly warming to meet Kon's own body-temperature. Once warm, the hands began to knead, sometimes straying up the small of Kon's back to trace his spine.

“Like that, kind've” Kon sighed. Ishida began to move around to the front, grazing Kon's pointed hips. Suddenly, he stopped.

“Wait.” Ishida pulled one hand out of Kon’s pants and checked his watch. Kon noted the Quincy-patterned face with a loud bark of a laugh.

“It’s only a bit past ten-pm. There will be people out still, maybe even kids. We shouldn’t—“

Kon curled his arms loosely under Ishida’s backside, leaning his hips forward and gathering the smaller boy against his chest with a heavy bounce, adjusting the weight against his body. He sighed at the brief friction across his still flaccid cock, biting his lip as the startled Quincy dug his manicured nails into Kon’s asscheek.

“Kon—“ Ishida muttered, plainly irritated by the fact that the mod-soul didn’t have a last name to be employed in times of annoyance. “What are you doing with me?”

“Getting us some privacy so we don't scar any kids,” Kon said, quickly moving them into the public restrooms the soda machines were lined up along. He opened the swinging door up with his back, shuffling them out of the rain and into the small building. The lights flickered.

The bathroom was just as miserable as the park in the cloudy, stormy weather, but it was a the very least somewhat brighter, and the rain was not constantly pasting Ichigo’s bright hair over Kon’s ears, making them itch. Kon set Ishida down slowly, leaning against him as Ishida’s lower back molded along the cold ceramic of one of two sinks small sinks in the facility. He grunted against the side of Kon’s neck, staring over the mod-soul’s back, throat bobbing unsurely against the muscles of Kon's shoulders.

Kon’s sex drive purred at the back of his mind. Ichigo’s dick agreed.

“Ack!” Ishida gave a shrill scream.

“What?” said Kon, dumbfounded. They were supposed to be kissing right now, weren't they?

“A giant spider,” Ishida replied. He moved his foot to stomp on it.

“Leave it,” Kon said, moving to wrap his long leg around Ishida’s thin, hard thigh. “It's not bothering you or anybody else. Your hair smells like spearmint, Uryuu.”

“Organic shampoo.” Ishida unbuckled Kon’s belt. “I showered before I left my father’s house.”

Ishida slid the jeans off of Kon’s hips with a little difficulty, damp pants sticking to damp black boxers which were, in turn, sticking to damp young thighs. Ishida pushed Kon away from the sink bodily, until they were standing in the middle of the public bathroom. Kon blinked, steadying himself with Ishida’s shoulders as the other boy slowly began to kneel in front of him.

“What?” Kon asked, eloquently.

“I’m apologizing,” Ishida said, giving the jeans a violent tug until they gathered just below Kon’s knees. The sudden disrobing raised gooseflesh on Kon's legs, despite the full-body blush that was quickly spreading across his entire body. “And returning the favor.”

Kon looked uncomfortable for a moment, physically still while Ishida Uryuu carefully re-adjusted himself on the ground, resting one hand loosely on Kon’s corded calf and folding his legs daintily under himself. He nudged Kon’s left leg with his face, and Kon lifted it, allowing the other boy to move between them and wrap his own leg around Ishida’s right shoulder.

In the silence, Kon could hear the rain dripping on the aluminum roofing, gathering and running down in rivulets, splattering into puddles at the edge of the extended canopy over the door. He could hear Ichigo’s heart thudding strongly within his ribcage.

Without aplomb, Ishida pressed his lips against the tip of Kon’s cock as it rose and fell slightly, in time with Kon’s breathing.

“No,” Ishida said to himself, snatching something out of a pocket on his shirt, clipped there by an expensive-looking pen. “Not quite yet.”

Kon wondered what was missing. “What’s not quite yet?” Kon knew what he said didn’t make any sense, but right now there wasn’t enough sex happening in the sex. Kon slid one hand through Ishida’s hair, wringing some water out of it, astringent shampoo scent filling the air. He moved the other to his mouth, sucking on his sticky, melon-flavored index finger.

Ishida’s eyebrows furrowed at Kon’s nonsensical sort of question. He ripped the tip off of the small plastic pouch he’d produced from his breast-pocket, catching Kon’s attention. It was lube; strawberry-kiwi flavored lube. He squeezed the gel into his palm, tucking the empty plastic into Kon’s pants pocket, currently located somewhere near Ichigo’s rather fashionable shoes.

“I’m not going going to suck you off from the start. You’re barely hard, yet. I’d die trying.”

Seeing the sense in this, having recently given the dark-haired boy a blowjob of his very own, Kon didn’t argue. He sighed against his knuckles as Ishida coated one palm completely with the liquid, smearing two fingers on the other hand with it. He wrapped one effete hand around Kon’s slightly erect cock. Kon wondered, in the back of his brain, what the remaining hand was for.

“In theory,” Ishida muttered to himself. Kon looked down at Ishida quizzically. The hand with the slicked fingers moved around behind Kon, brushing against the orange down over the cheeks, sliding down the cleft of his ass to find the opening there. He ran the fingers gently around it. Kon clenched at the cold contact.

“Don’t tense,” Ishida said, sliding both fingers in and angling them upwards.

Kon snorted a breath in, so deep and rough as to be a lion’s growl, hips jerking forward involuntarily, searching for some source of friction in the air. His mouth hung open, eyes fluttering closed as the white points of light behind his eyelids slowly faded away.

“That was the sexiest noise I think I’ve ever heard outside of pornography,” Ishida said, voice deep. He slid his fingers gently out, plucking a seafoam handkerchief from his pocket and somehow managing to wipe them off on it, one-handedly. He tucked that into Kon’s jeans as well, drawing in to cup Kon’s testicles, drawing his tongue along the slight dip that separated Kon’s groin from his abdominals. He pumped roughly at Kon’s rising erection, sliding the foreskin along the length with aplomb, apparently enjoying the feeling of it.

Kon licked his lips, blood quickly rushing into his cock, making it heavy. “Iono what you just did, but it was kind’ve amazing.”

Ishida finally pinned Kon’s sensitive foreskin back smugly, careful of his nails. Kon sighed as the soft, wet lips surrounded the head for a second time, remembering how they moved when Ishida spoke; carefully, deliberately, forming his name into two distinct syllables.

‘Ko’, lips parted, ‘N’, tongue pressed sensually against the roof of his small mouth. As if even –Kon’s- name was worth the effort to enunciate.

Ishida bobbed up and down Kon’s length slowly, hair plastered to the crown of his dark head, pale scalp visible in some spots where it grouped into locks, still heavy with rainwater even yet. He stroked it once, before realizing what he was doing, Ishida’s hand working up and down the muscles of Kon’s calf, stroking the small hairs up and down. After little over a minute, Kon came gently, wishing maybe Ishida had been a little more violent at the end.

It would have given Kon more doubt about whether they were just having sex or not. The only alternative to having sex being, possibly, making love.

Kon didn’t love Ishida, even if the Quincy was one of the more beautiful people he’d ever met, when you got past all of the posturing. They could become friends easily, really. Both of them were creatures teetering on the edge of theoretical extinction. Still, Kon did not love Ishida. Kon loved Ichigo and Rukia-nee-san and Yuzu and Karin.

Ishida decidedly did not love Kon, either.

Which meant that Ishida loved Kurosaki Ichigo, who’s body Kon was currently babysitting for credit.

Kon hoped he wouldn’t lose the job over this.