Title: Push and Collide
Pairing: Ichigo & Uryuu, brief H!Ichigo & Uryuu
Warnings: mild violence, language, rough m/m sex, brief dubcon, slight psychological torment
AN: This is very closely-based on a delightfully devious prompt by Fireball-Fuchsia! Set between Soul Society and Hueco Mundo arcs, before Ichigo tracks down the Vaizard and before Uryuu runs into his father. This is also 90% lemon, so don't say I didn't warn you.

0

Whether it is the needs of the many or the few, science and magic are so often intertwined. Whether it is for pleasure or pain, the answers are almost always the same. You can't have one without the other, after all.

Urahara Kisuke has understood this for a very long time. When most condemn his methods and call him mad, it never bothers him. He knows his style is unusual but there is no one who rivals him in this matter. Not even the sadist who took his place in Soul Society, nor the wayward youth in Hueco Mundo, both so full of pride and ambition.

Kisuke does not discover and create for the sake of such trivial notions. No, he bends his mind to the questions which have the most profound impacts. Things that may seem frivolous at first but prove more useful than the most serious projects of others. That is why Kisuke focuses all of his concentration into emitting the perfect amount of kidou, whispering just the right words, and measuring a precise amount of chemicals into a small glass vial.

Placing the stopper, he exhales and relaxes at last. Four hours of hard work put into this precious formula's conception give him a deep sense of accomplishment. The only problem is how he will decide who to test it on. But he would be lying if he said he hadn't begun this task with a subject in mind.

I

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ishida?"

"I don't see how that's any business of yours, Kurosaki."

"Why are you out here when I'm already on patrol?"

"I'm not on patrol; I'm taking a late-night stroll."

Standing under the street lamp holding a shopping bag like he just came out of a sewing store after midnight, Ishida pokes his glasses back into place and gives him a blank stare. Ichigo scowls as he slings his zanpakuto across his back, quickly sheathed in its wide bandages. He takes three long steps towards Ishida and fights the vicious urge to grab him by the shirt and shake him.

"Inoue told me."

"Told you what, exactly?"

"She told me about your powers," he snaps, annoyed at this game Ishida insists on playing. "That you fought Kurotsuchi and had to do some weird Quincy thing that made you lose them."

"'Some weird Quincy thing'...?"

"I know you can't fight anymore and that sucks. I'm sorry. But you can't patrol anymore. If you can't fight then you're—"

"What? I'm a liability, helpless? Is that what you want to say?" Scoffing and turning away, Ishida expresses clear disdain and the beginnings of anger. "Inoue-san told you? You know nothing about it."

"What don't I know? Was she wrong?"

"Like I said, it's none of your business."

Pivoting on a heel, Ishida starts off in the opposite direction. One that Ichigo knows is not the way back to his apartment. He growls and lunges forward to grab his arm before he can stride away. Ishida slaps his hand away and frowns with sharply-slanted eyebrows.

"Do you really think I can't handle a couple of stray Hollows on my own? Or are you addicted to endangering yourself?"

"How are you going to handle anything, Kurosaki?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he cautiously fires back. Sensing his uncertainty, Ishida smirks.

"As usual you're the last to notice anything. We all know about your latest 'problem'. We were all there for your fight with Kuchiki-taichou." Ichigo's eyes widen at that. Ishida nods twice before continuing. "Although we couldn't see anything we felt how your reiatsu changed. How it got rougher, darker, heavier. We heard rumors from some of the Gotei 13 of how you were about to lose and you suddenly changed, getting the upper hand in an instant. But then you almost lost control. Did you think you could hide it from everyone?"

"That has nothing to do with killing low-level Hollows!"

"Doesn't it?" Ishida steps closer, leaning in and narrowing his eyes. "When was the last time you did anything more than drawing your sword? When was the last time you actually used your power?"

"I just haven't needed to yet," he grumbles. "I can still fight, unlike you."

"Can you? Have you tried? Because it seems to me that every time you do, something goes wrong. Like an engine sputtering into life only to die before you can get anywhere."

"Shut the hell up, Ishida," Ichigo barks, not appreciating the comparison. "My powers work fine. That's why you should stay home and leave protecting Karakura to me."

"Even when you weren't fighting a losing battle with your own reiatsu, I still didn't trust you to keep everyone safe. Why should I start now?"

"Because you are helpless! If I attacked you right now, what could you do to defend yourself?"

"Being a Quincy is more than firing arrows," Ishida snarls, verging on furious. "I may have lost the ability to summon my spirit weapon but I will never be helpless!"

"Prove it." When Ishida merely continues to glare, Ichigo draws Zangetsu and swings it fast, halting a hairsbreadth from his high-collared throat. "If I was a Hollow, you'd be dead."

"If you were a Hollow, I would have killed you before you even sensed me."

Hastily replacing his zanpakuto, Ichigo finally gives in and squeezes a fist into his pressed white shirt. Ishida sneers and mirrors the action in the folds of his shihakushou.

"Stop being so damn stubborn and stay home, damn it!"

"Don't order me around, Kurosaki!"

"Then don't act like an idiot!"

"Let go of me," he snaps as he shoves Ichigo back, breaking their contact. "What makes you think you get to tell me how to live my life? If I want to risk it for this town, that's my right. It's not your decision!"

"Ishida wait," he calls, watching the boy walk away. "Fucking wait a minute, will you?"

His entreaties go ignored. Ichigo clenches his teeth and his fists against the welling irritation. He's never had a more frustrating friend. Never known anyone more stubborn and proud than Ishida Uryuu. And the idea that it's going to get him killed some day makes Ichigo want to smack some sense into him. Even though he knows it's pointless.

II

Residual adrenaline quivers in Uryuu's fingers and quickens his breath. Leave it to Kurosaki to ruin a perfectly good evening jaunt. Making assumptions and starting petty arguments on a whim. There is a good reason he told the immature Shinigami that they are still enemies after Urahara dropped them off last week on the return from Soul Society. There's a reason he avoids Kurosaki at school.

"Good evening, Ishida-san," trills a familiar voice from nearby. Urahara steps out from the shade of a tall building and flaps his fan at Uryuu, who knows better than to be surprised by his sudden appearance. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I have a lot on my mind."

"I can imagine."

"Can you?"

Lowering the fan to give him a serious look, Urahara pauses. "No, I suppose I can't. Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you know something about the Quincy that I don't."

"You might be surprised." Not bothering to hide his surprise, Uryuu waits for the revelation. "I have something I think might help."

"What is it?"

Urahara produces a blue teardrop-shaped bottle, old and cut from what appears to be high-quality crystal. Inside swirls a clear liquid glinting in the dim halogen lamplight. He holds it up for Uryuu to see clearly.

"A lovely new product of mine, fresh off the workbench." Uryuu takes the offered vial and gazes into its depths before eyeing Urahara curiously. "Simply drink the contents before bed and wait about twelve hours. Free of charge, as thanks for your assistance in the recent Soul Society debacle."

"This is...?"

"Something to help regain what was lost. No, I imagine it will give you much more than anything you had before."

"I—how can I thank you, Urahara-san?" he asks, moved by this generosity.

Uryuu isn't one to accept favors of anyone, much less a mysterious Shinigami he knows almost nothing about, but he would do nearly anything to have his powers back. He would drink any serum, take any pill, or perform any ritual. Although his pragmatism has him doubting this miracle, it's worth a try.

"No need, no need!"

"Are there any side-effects?"

"None that you should notice. I took great care to keep the solution very pure."

He glances from the bottle to Urahara and back a couple of times. Then he offers a small smile that Urahara returns. Uryuu thanks him once more before they part ways.

Heading straight home, he changes into his pajamas and sets out his uniform for the morning. Brushes his teeth and pulls back the covers on his bed. Perches on the edge and pulls the stopper from the bottle. Uryuu takes a deep breath and pours the contents into his mouth, swallowing in one gulp.

It burns like sake all the way down.

III

The sight of Ishida sitting so primly at his desk pisses him off. As if he wasn't just gallivanting around the city last night looking for ways to get himself injured or worse. He keeps ignoring Ichigo now, as he has since they returned, pretending to be too wrapped up in his own life to bother showing interest in anyone else's.

Ichigo knows how easy it is to get swept up in your own troubles. He has spent almost every waking moment of this entire week brooding about the Hollow inside himself. It's been so distracting that he didn't even notice Ishida had lost his powers until Inoue pointed it out to him. Not that he can do anything about it. Not that Ishida would let him if he could.

The whole thing just rubs him the wrong way. None of it is Ichigo's fault, so why should he feel guilty? He didn't ask Ishida to go with them to rescue Rukia. He didn't tell Ishida to try and kill a captain on his own to avenge his grandfather. And he sure as hell didn't tell him to forfeit his abilities to do any of it.

Yet, if Ishida is going to make stupid choices like wielding a gun with no bullets and trying to bluff any Hollows he comes across into backing down or offing themselves, Ichigo is not going to stand by and let him do it. Obviously, he's suffering some kind of psychotic episode if he thinks that's a good idea. If Ishida needs someone to make him realize how reckless he is being, Ichigo will be friend enough to step up and tell him.

"Ishida."

"Go away, Kurosaki."

"I want to talk to you."

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Mired in heaps of files for some club activity, he gestures at the stacks of documents he's sorting. "I will always be too busy to talk to you. So, go away."

"Come up to the roof with me."

"Have you forgotten the meaning of the words 'go away'?"

Simmering at this childish exchange, Ichigo braces a hand on the desk and leans down to murmur into Uryuu's ear, "Follow me to the roof right now or I'll make a scene and pretend we're having a lover's spat."

The chair screeches as Ishida immediately stands from his desk, but not without a sharp glare at Ichigo. He notes with some amusement that his threat seems to embarrass Ishida enough to bring a light flush to his face. Hell, Ichigo is kind of embarrassed and he wasn't even serious about it.

Their classmates look on in mild curiosity as they quickly sweep from the room and down the hall to the stairwell. Shoving the door open to the school roof, Ichigo scowls at two underclassmen smoking near the corner until they scram, leaving the two of them alone. Ishida crosses his arms and leans against the fence, looking over his shoulder at the lawn.

"If this is about last night—"

"Damn right it's about last night. Don't think you can run off every time we disagree with each other."

"If I did, I would never stop running."

"Maybe we could stop fighting if you would stop treating me like a foe."

"Not going to happen."

Feeling the usual anger rising up, Ichigo purposely takes a calming breath and a mental step back. He's never going to get anywhere if he keeps letting Ishida bait him like this. It would be a lot easier to keep his cool if the boy would look at him properly. Ichigo steps closer to get his attention. But Ishida swivels around to stare as if he broke some important rule of conduct by invading his space.

"Listen, Ishida, I just don't want you to get hurt. There's no reason you should have to brave the battlefield with no weapons when there are other comrades watching your back."

"Comrades? I have no comrades. Shinigami killed them all!"

"I didn't kill your kin!" he yells back, instantly losing what tranquility he had mustered. "Why blame me for something I had no part in?"

"Because you're a Shinigami," Ishida coldly states as if that explains absolutely everything. "And I hate Shinigami."

Ichigo slams a hand to the metal fence post beside Ishida's shoulder. His eyes flare, arms dropping to his sides as he straightens into a wary stance. Even after everything they've been through, Ishida doesn't trust him; that much is clear.

"I told you that day we fought the Menos: there is no point in holding that tightly to the past. Isn't it better to bridge the gap between Shinigami and Quincy now to overcome previous mistakes?"

"What do you know?" he hisses, pushing into Ichigo's space this time. "They're your allies now that you've helped bail them out of their own mess. But what am I to them?"

"Give them a chance, they might—"

"Find a use for the former 'Last Quincy'? Be realistic, idiot! How long before they turn on you when they figure out you're as good as a lame horse now?"

"Stop talking about me like that, you bastard," Ichigo shouts as he shoves hard at his shoulders, rattling the sturdy links behind him. "I'm not a fucking 'lame horse' or a faulty engine!"

Ishida's face changes from one second to the next. As soon as Ichigo pushes him his eyes go from harshly unforgiving to softly unsure. He looks down and takes a shaky breath. That fine blush from Ichigo's earlier minor threat comes back brighter than before. The shift is so startling that Ichigo almost apologizes.

"Don't touch me." It comes out too quiet to be a command.

"Fine. Then don't insult me."

"Fine. How about I praise you instead?"

"What?"

"You want to hear the truth, Kurosaki?" he says like the words hurt coming out. Ishida's breath comes heavier as he inches nearer, no longer shy about making eye contact. "Maybe I don't hate you. Maybe I admire you."

"Don't patronize me, Ishida."

"I've always envied your strength, your resolve. The ease with which you face any new challenge." Ishida is so close that his words warm where they puff against Ichigo's skin. Ishida's slanted eyes are too large, taking up too much of his visual field. "I've often wondered if you ever have doubts or if you instinctively know the correct route every time."

"Of course I have doubts. I never know if I'm going in the right direction."

"I'm sure it helps to be blessed with ridiculous spiritual power."

"I guess..."

Ichigo is more focused now on what Ishida is doing than what he is saying. The longer he talks, the hungrier he looks and Ichigo can't figure out why. Then Ishida lifts a hand to place lightly over Ichigo's heart, fingers splayed over the plane of his chest.

"Not to mention the people you love; they care so much about you, too. Don't they?"

"What are you doing?" he asks, watching Ishida's hand steadily drift downwards.

"And physical strength, as well. What you had to do to get these kinds of muscles..." Ishida trails off as he traces over the rigid bumps of Ichigo's abdomen. "Although I don't covet them so much as appreciate them on you."

"What the fuck, Ishida?"

Finally breaking contact, Ichigo takes two steps back and peers at the boy as if he just sprouted wings. Ishida doesn't let him get far before moving back in. One hand slithers behind his neck while the other curls over his hip and holds.

"You wanted truth, Kurosaki? Truth is I think you're very attractive."

"In an objective sense," he firmly adds as he pushes Ishida's hands away. "Objectively attractive."

"Subjectively."

"Are you just getting back at me for what I said in class? I wasn't really going to pretend to be your lover!"

"What if I don't want to pretend?"

With that Ishida darts in, Quincy-quick, and kisses Ichigo on the mouth. Lasting just long enough to register a handful of new sensations, the unexpected attack fills his head with roiling confusion. He splutters and stumbles backwards. Ishida tries to follow but Ichigo is too stunned to argue or ask any more questions; he takes one last look at that unsettlingly intense expression before turning tail to flee.

IV

'The incident', as Uryuu has taken to calling what happened with Kurosaki on the roof earlier today, is still on his mind hours after he arrives home. He is still appalled at himself for the things he said and did without knowing why he was doing them. It was never his intention to kiss Kurosaki Ichigo!

So why does that notion keep urging him to go and find the boy? Kurosaki is stuck on his mind and Uryuu is about to lose it because of him.

Uryuu hasn't been able to work on any of his club projects, house chores, or schoolwork since then. Every time he tries to focus on anything else he winds up halfway to the door reaching for his jacket and keys. Subconsciously seeking some kind of closure or confrontation. But Uryuu doesn't think he can face Kurosaki again so soon...or ever. Not after what he did.

What's worse is that Urahara's potion has done absolutely nothing to revive his powers. Uryuu has tried summoning his spirit bow three dozen times with zero results. When he concentrates on sensing his own reiatsu, it remains nonexistent. It has been nearly twenty-four hours since he drank the foul substance.

Urahara must have lied to him. Not only is his invention ineffective, but the side effects may be manifesting in this foolish behavior towards Kurosaki. There's no other way to explain why he would suddenly make romantic advances towards him. The only solution must be to request an antidote of some kind from Urahara immediately.

Leaving with the intention of doing just that, Uryuu gets swept up in thoughts of Kurosaki as he walks the quiet streets. Halfway to Urahara Shouten, he ends up taking a detour. His feet refuse to heed him as they march resolutely in the wrong direction. Kurosaki Clinic comes into view around a narrow corner and Uryuu would sigh in annoyance if he wasn't suddenly breathless.

He walks boldly onto the lawn and gasps at the feeling of Kurosaki's burning miasma of a spirit emanating through his carelessly open window. A very small corner of Uryuu's mind gladly notes that his is the only soul in the building, but the majority of his attention is on sneaking inside.

Kurosaki's sleeping form is sprawled across the mattress half-covered in a light blanket. Shirtless, the thick muscles and fading scars of his chest and arms are on full display. Uryuu feels inhibitions gently sliding from him like languid eels as he watches Kurosaki's soft breathing.

He knows he should leave now, while he still might have a chance to muster the willpower. Turn tail and demand Urahara fix this before things get out of hand. Alternatively, Uryuu could observe a little while longer. Slake some of this burgeoning thirst for his pretend-enemy. Maybe if he is very quiet he can even move closer. Maybe if he is very careful he can lightly touch.

Maybe if he is very quick he can tie Kurosaki to his bed frame before he wakes up and kicks Uryuu out.

Before he thinks twice about what he is doing, Uryuu is snatching up long socks, wrinkled neckties, and whatever else is lying around. Knots them tightly to ankles and wrists as swiftly as he can. Pulls the blanket away from Kurosaki and drops it to the floor. Slides the wide window closed in case this gets noisy. Lastly, Uryuu sheds his shoes and crawls along the bed to kneel over slim hips.

Uryuu bites his lip on a low groan as he smoothes his palms over warm skin.

V

Ichigo blinks open his eyes to see hooded blue ones peering right back at him in the darkness. Ishida. Ishida is leaning over him, lightly rubbing at his chest and making the weirdest expression. His first instinct is to fling the boy away and start shouting. Ichigo doesn't get to do either because he realizes he is tied to his own bed and his questions are momentarily lost in the confusion.

"Go back to sleep, Kurosaki," he dips down to murmur near Ichigo's neck before kissing it. "You're dreaming."

"Like hell I'm dreaming! Ishida, what the f—?"

Ishida attacks his mouth. It really can't be called a kiss when there is this much biting and licking, can it? Ichigo tries to turn away from it but Ishida holds him steady with firm hands. He thinks to bite back after a few seconds, but it only seems to encourage his attacker. Moaning as Ichigo attempts to buck him off, Ishida finally pulls back to pant. Ichigo's complaints are once again stolen by the sight of him.

If the situation was unclear before, it becomes crystalline now. There is no mistaking the lust in Ishida's gaze as he looks Ichigo over like a juicy piece of meat. Or whatever Ishida eats when he's really, really hungry. As if sensing that thought, Ishida licks his lips and shifts forward to grind against his hips through jeans and thin pajama pants.

"This is your fault, Shinigami."

"How could this possibly be my fault!?" he cries, frantically yanking his limbs in a bid for freedom. "Are you drunk? Untie me!"

"Promise you won't kick me out?"

"Fuck no!"

"Then I'm afraid I can't comply."

"Is this a joke? Are you messing with me again? As if what you did at school wasn't enough...You've gone too far, Ishida!"

"Oh, but I still want to go so much further," Ishida purrs, fingers leisurely pulling at his pants' drawstring. "Now that I have you like this, it would be a shame to waste it."

"Stop that!" Panicking a little now, Ichigo strains harder than ever as Ishida sashays lower to align his head with the body part he is about to uncover. The binds don't budge and he does the only thing he can think to delay him. "Please! Please don't do that."

"'Please'? Strange, I don't think I've ever heard you speak that word before, Kurosaki. I was convinced you didn't understand its meaning." Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and snark something back, Ichigo heaves a relieved sigh as Ishida drops the strings and scoots back up his body to smirk at him. "The almighty Kurosaki asking politely...who'd have thought?"

"Please untie me."

"No."

"God dammit, Ishida, just fucking knock this off already!" he yells, patience depleted. "It's not funny."

"There's the Kurosaki we all know. Impulsive, loud, and self-righteous." As he speaks, Ishida continues to roll his hips against Ichigo distractingly. Those slim fingertips trace the lines of his bare chest and beyond. His hot mouth finds sensitive spots to lick, nibble, and suck between sentences. "When was the last time you couldn't have what you demanded? Your new limitations must be incredibly frustrating."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grits out despite a shocking wave of something he refuses to call pleasure.

"It's roiling inside you right now, eager to join the fun. Can't you feel it?"

Now that Ishida mentions it, Ichigo does feel it. The opening Ishida is creating in his defenses by confusing and stressing him is letting something else slip through. Gaps widening in the wall he built trying to keep the other out. And violent black energy is quickly solidifying on the wrong side.

"Ishida, get out of here!"

"We've established that your orders will not be followed, Kurosaki. Pay attention."

"I'm serious," he snaps, gasping when Ishida sucks hard at a nipple. "He's dangerous!"

"Are you going to lose control again? Give up so easily and let that wild thing within do whatever it wants? I never thought you were so weak."

Those words flip a switch in his mind. Somewhere between fury and despair, Ichigo's hold is shaken. The last thing he sees is Ishida's wicked amusement twisting into incredulous fear.

VI

The widened brown eyes below him abruptly spark yellow and flood with oil. A shudder runs through Kurosaki, and then he isn't Kurosaki anymore. The thing in his body leers at Uryuu and easily snaps the necktie binding his right hand in half. It catches him when he tries to retreat.

"Lil' Quincy," it coolly greets, "Come to play?"

"Not with you."

Uryuu fights the hold but it is soon joined by a second freed arm. The creature grins cruelly and flings him at the wall so hard it knocks his glasses off and leaves him dazed for several precious seconds. Pushing himself off the mattress and rubbing his bruised head, Uryuu looks up in time to see it deftly untying the fabric restraining its legs.

"But I haven't had anyone to play with in so long."

It captures Uryuu's wrist and shoves him back down, pulling its counterpart up to bind both of his arms together behind his back. He tries to fight back but this monster's strength is absurd. Vitriolic reiatsu leaks through Kurosaki's skin and leaves a tingling afterimage wherever it touches Uryuu, like chilled flesh under hot water.

It rolls Uryuu over and straddles him to complete the reversal of their previous positions.

"What are you?"

"Is that really what ya wanna ask right now, kid?" it scoffs with a wide smirk. "Maybe you should be askin' what I'm gonna do to ya."

"You feel like a Hollow," Uryuu grits as his tenacious erection pays rapt attention to the pressure of Kurosaki's ass settling near it. "How is that possible?"

"What ya don' know 'bout us could fill a library." Losing interest in conversation, he looks Uryuu over before darting a hand out to rip his shirt in half. Uryuu can't smother a groan as a rough hand drags down his front all the way to his crotch. "Ohhh, already rarin' to go, huh? I bet Ichigo doesn't even know what to do with somethin' like this. But I do."

"I didn't come here for you, Hollow. Get your hands off me!"

"Is that any way to talk to yer lover?" he croons, yanking open Ishida's belt and pants before he can get another word out. The Hollow laughs high and sinister. "And I was gonna be real gentle with ya, too."

Taking a breath to retort to that blatant lie, it gets trapped in Uryuu's throat when the Hollow clamps a hand around it. The other one curls around Uryuu's cock. Both hands squeeze. Pleasure and panic are injected into his bloodstream so powerfully that it takes a few seconds for Uryuu to react. All he can do is wriggle ineffectively and struggle to breathe in spite of those two firm grips.

The Hollow leans down to suck on a nipple, starting to stroke a harsh pace that has Uryuu bucking into it on instinct. Something inside of him is screaming in delight, loving every second of this attention even though it comes with the threat of injury and death. Even though he keeps trying to fight back and pull free, part of Uryuu wants to stay put and ride it out. Judging by the building ache in his balls, he probably won't have a choice either way.

Just as his vision begins to darken and blur, the hand restricting his air flow is loosened long enough to take a single quick breath and nothing more. Fire burns in his veins, the pleasure spiking tenfold with that little sip of oxygen. Soon endorphins rush in to sweep away any remnants of pain and most of his willpower with it. The Hollow's mouth closes over an earlobe and bites down.

Whereas Ishida started out intending to demand his freedom, now all he wants to gasp out is a request for release. Because Uryuu has a roiling beast within himself, too. The same monster that tugged him towards Kurosaki and forced him to kiss the boy on the roof in the first place. It has only grown since he stepped foot into this house. Now it rampages in Uryuu's mind, decimating his concentration and all sense of propriety.

He knows he should be outraged. Terrified. Mortified. But when the Hollow finally releases his neck and buries those fingers into his hair to pull his head aside and drag blunt teeth over the new bruises, Uryuu arches his spine and moans out a fresh gasp. The arm still working between his legs slows. A wide thumb brushes over the slit and stimulates another fat drop of viscous fluid. Uryuu is so close he can feel a simmering wave rising up to wash him under. He braces for the break.

Then the Hollow stops stroking altogether and dives down to roll his tongue into Uryuu's gaping mouth. He responds to it as best he can despite a fierce jolt of disappointment. This kiss is sloppy and chaotic, wholly devoid of finesse and affection. It leaves Uryuu more frustrated the longer it continues; he almost misses the annoyed groan he utters into it.

His tormentor pulls away to laugh at him.

"Apparently ya didn' want gentle anyway."

"Shut up and finish what you started," he rasps from a sore throat, "Bastard!"

"Why should you get to have all the fun?" The gleam in those narrowed, flickering-flame eyes flashes malicious and Uryuu swallows. "It's my turn."

"Wait," he says, doing his best to hide an unsettling surge of trepidation. "What are you going to do?"

"Now if I was Ichigo, where would I keep it..."

The Hollow reaches a long arm over to the bedside table and opens a drawer to scrabble around for something. Uryuu tries to jostle his legs from under those strong thighs but he still can't manage it.

"Enough already: let me go!"

"Ah! Here it is."

Leering like the villain Uryuu suspects he truly is, the Hollow shows him a little plastic bottle with clear contents oozing slowly down from one side. It sparks a revelation and suddenly Uryuu is a lot more suspicious of Urahara's twice-damned experiment. But he doesn't have long to consider that as he realizes what this substance is for.

"No, you can't do that—I won't let you!"

"How're ya gonna stop me? I've got ya all tied up."

"I don't want this," he yells, equal parts angry and afraid. "Not with you. Kurosaki, come back, you coward!"

"Ichigo isn't home right now...Feel free to leave a message."

"Kurosaki!"

Shifting off Uryuu at last, the Hollow tugs off his pants and underwear. He keeps one leg trapped and pushes the other up out of his way. Uryuu tries to kick him off but one of the unbroken ties from before is promptly knotted around the fold of his shin and thigh, rendering his attacks useless. He hears the bottle creak open.

"Don't worry," he soothes as he sidles closer and gives Uryuu a patronizing wink, "If you behave, I might even let you come."

A desperate whimper almost slips out. In spite of himself, Uryuu is more turned-on than he ever thought possible, burning for release even if it's at the hands of Kurosaki's Hollow. But not even a potent serum can make him forget what he really wants: Kurosaki the stupid Shinigami and not his feral counterpart. So he does the last thing he hopes will work. Something he would never stoop to doing otherwise.

"Please, Kurosaki," he locks onto the Hollow's glowing eyes to beg. The words twist a scowl onto the Hollow's formerly smug face. "Please come back. Don't let this thing use you like this. Use us like this!"

"Shut up, you—"

"Please, Kurosaki!"

Growling, the Hollow snarls at him like an enraged wolf. He raises a fist and Uryuu closes his eyes to brace against the blow he expects. It never lands. Stilted breaths are the only sounds in the small room for several tense seconds. Uryuu looks up to see Kurosaki shuddering and shaking his head. He blinks confused brown eyes open and gasps at what he sees.

"Ishida, what—?"

"Thank the gods," Uryuu sighs and lets his entire body relax. "Your Hollow almost raped me, you shameless bastard!"

"My...what the hell did you do, Ishida?"

Just like that, he tenses back up. "What did I do? Were you not listening, Kurosaki? Do you not see the position we're in right now?"

Kurosaki's gaze skates over his body then, mouth falling open and brows rising in something like realization. Knowing what this must look like from his perspective, Uryuu turns his head away with a blush. It was never his plan to end up on this side of the field, but now that he is he almost feels guilty for doing this to Kurosaki earlier. Almost.

VII

There is something extremely wrong with Ichigo's life if this is the sort of thing that can happen to him without warning. One minute he has Ishida sneaking into his bedroom, trying him up, and touching him in weird places while saying weird things with this weird look on his face. Next minute Ichigo is somehow leaning over him with lube in his hand and a hard-on in his pants.

"This is so fucked-up," he mumbles mostly to himself.

"You think? Untie me, Kurosaki."

Feeling more than a little lost, Ichigo follows the curt order and frees Ishida's leg. But before he can move on to his wrists he is side-tracked by the swollen dick practically screaming at him to notice it. Ishida sees him looking and glares.

"You're still hard."

"I said unt—"

"You said he was going to rape you," Ichigo talks over him because this seems important. "But you're still hard."

Ishida doesn't attempt a lie or some dumb explanation. Neither does he turn away in shame or embarrassment. The longer they stare at each other, the clearer Ichigo can see it. His black hair is tousled beyond any semblance of neatness. Faint bruises dot Ishida's long neck. Light scratches form stark pink lines on the pale skin of his chest. The working bellows of his slim stomach denotes short, rapid breaths. And the persistent jut of his erection drips small beads under his belly button.

He jerks his eyes back up to Ishida's and scrunches his brow even deeper. Things begin to fall into place in his mind. Too many things at once and Ichigo can't keep track of them all. Taking a steadying breath, he focuses on one thing in particular and keeps eye contact as he reaches for Ishida.

"What are y—Ah! Fuck! Kurosaki..."

Ichigo watches closely. The way Ishida's eyes roll back as his hips arch up. The reddened circle of his lips parting on a startled moan. He listens to the pleading, ascending timbre of it and works his hand faster over Ishida. Legs pull up to bracket Ichigo's hips and he can tell it's subconscious. Ishida is too lost in the imminent implosion to do anything but writhe and groan and pant for him.

It doesn't take long. It's obvious that Ishida is too wound up to retain any sort of stamina. Ichigo leans in close as Ishida starts to come, hips thrusting sporadically. He shouts a jumbled curse, then a low keening moan, and starts shaking all over. If all of that isn't enough, the intense expression on Ishida's face undeniably sets Ichigo's heart racing. Glancing down at the diminishing erection in his palm, he marvels at the copious streaks painting Ishida's chest and stomach.

"You really wanted it, huh?" Several seconds pass before Ishida cracks open his eyes to glare but he is still too breathless to reply. "Is that why you did all of this? Pretending to be on patrol last night, messing with my head at school, and breaking into my room tonight. Belittling me until you triggered my Hollow. Did you plan everything just so I'd fuck you?"

"Of course not!"

"Liar."

Choosing not to validate that with further comment, Ishida wordlessly rotates to present his binds for untying. Ichigo complies with an irritated scowl. He sits back to watch Ishida rub at his wrists before pulling his tattered shirt off to wipe at the mess on his front, even combing fingers through his frazzled hair to straighten it. His hands are still trembling.

The way he does everything with such composure pisses Ichigo off. The fact that he looks kind of sexy while doing it does, too. And as soon as he decides it's Ishida's fault he's aroused right now, Ichigo loses whatever uncertainty he had. There's no way this kind of clever, meticulous person would just happen to act on his instincts and attack Ichigo like this. Ishida manipulated him, seduced him to get what he wanted whether Ichigo wanted to give it or not.

He is not about to let that slide by unpunished. Ichigo is many things, but 'gullible martyr' is not one of them. If Ishida wants to play this game, he can play, too. So, when Ishida goes to step off the bed and presumably back into his remaining clothes to leave, Ichigo stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Let go of me, Kurosaki," he demands with a sharp look.

"Why should I? You got what you wanted but what did I get?"

"Your life, in spite of your Hollow's actions."

"Not good enough."

Ichigo wrestles him back to the mattress, pinning his arms beside his head. But he doesn't want to tie him up; they're past that now. Ishida snarls something into the kiss Ichigo forces, though he returns it. Ichigo pours all of his lust into it. Ishida responds by sucking on his tongue when Ichigo pushes it inside. The fingernails he sinks into thin forearms are mirrored by Ishida's teeth sinking into his lower lip. A purposeful thrust against Ishida's hip results in him bucking up into it.

The message is clear: whatever Ichigo gives, he will get in kind.

"You really think," Ishida huffs darkly when Ichigo briefly pulls back for air, "That I'd be dumb enough to get myself caught like this if I was in my right mind?"

"What're you saying? You really are drunk?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Give me a fucking break," he mutters with rolling eyes.

Ichigo avoids the light bruises along Ishida's neck in favor of nibbling at his wide collar bone. Finally letting go of Ishida's arms, he reaches down to part his legs and rest their hips together. He immediately uses this new freedom to tug Ichigo's hair, pulling his mouth away so he'll look at Ishida.

"Urahara-san duped me."

"Riiight," he nods patronizingly, knocking Ishida's hand aside so he can dip down to lick into his shallow belly button. He tastes Ishida there, musky and vital. That gets a muted groan and a lapse in Ishida's concentration. "Urahara would totally trick you into stalking and harassing me just for the hell of it. As if! Just admit you're a scheming deviant, Ishida."

"I'm not—Gah!"

He flips Ishida like a pancake, ignoring his reproachful mutterings, and pulls up his hips to expose his ass. The lube he once got from Keigo as a gag gift rests near his left knee. Snatching it up, Ichigo hurriedly squeezes some onto his palm before Ishida can push himself up.

"This is payback," Ichigo calmly declares, "For your devious scheming."

"Kurosaki…"

Surely more lies and complaints are forthcoming, but whatever Ishida was going to say is forgotten when a slick finger nudges against him. Ichigo listens curiously to the various sounds Ishida makes as he slowly pushes inside. Sheets bunched in his fists, Ishida presses his forehead to the fabric and struggles for each breath as his recently-relieved erection begins to revive.

It's strange. So very strange, but no more so than this entire situation is to begin with. Ichigo only knows what to do because he has had too many dirty-minded friends and too much time to spend on the internet. He's thankful for them now because without that knowledge Ichigo wouldn't be confident enough to do any of this. Wouldn't be leaning over Ishida and extracting the most intriguing noises, the most fascinating twitches of his lanky body. Wouldn't be preparing Ishida in order to do something he has heard is memorably fun, to say the least.

"Have you done this before?" Ichigo asks, making idle conversation.

"Are you simple? Of course I haven't done th—" Finally deep enough to reach it with two fingers inside, he grazes Ishida's prostate and smirks as the boy cuts himself off on a startled moan. "Oh, my—how do you even know about that? Fucking hell, just get on with it, will you?"

"Even like this you never shut up."

"Well, who asked you to do it in the first place?"

"You wanted me to just shove it in? That's a little masochistic, don't you think?"

"I wanted you to let me leave," he snarls and twists at the hips to reach up and shove Ichigo onto his back. Ishida quickly climbs over him and glares with all the flushed fury of a pissed-off cat in heat. "But since you insist on tormenting me, you could at least hurry the fuck up!"

Ichigo licks his lips and stares, raising his hands in surrender. "Then go ahead: do it."

With a frustrated growl, Ishida swiftly snaps the string of his pajamas in two and yanks them down. Ichigo watches his face soften and melt into something made of pure want as he sees what those pants were blocking. Then the unthinkable happens and Ishida is bending over to suck him into wet heat on a low moan. The unexpected rush of pleasure has Ichigo biting his lip with closed eyes and clenched fists. Asking him to stop from a handful of seconds, Ichigo tugs gently at his hair to emphasize his request. Ishida pulls away after a few more languid licks and gives him a knowing look.

"I thought you weren't interested. Yet, here you are, ready to blow."

"I didn't say I wasn't interested," he argues as he regains his breath. "I said I didn't understand. You can't just spring this shit on someone, Ishida. Give some kind of warning before you force yourself on them!"

"Forgive me if I'm acting out-of-character, Kurosaki," Ishida fires back, sliding into position and taking a lubed hold of Ichigo's cock to align with his ass. "I told you I was coerced."

"Coerced into flirting with me at school? Kissing me like you've been thinking about it for years? Tying me up so you could—Oh, shit!"

Losing all of his words, Ichigo's hands fly to Ishida's hips as he settles them slowly downward. Their breathing instantly goes ragged. Ishida makes it all the way to the end, muttering his name among choice curse words, and it takes everything Ichigo has to reign it all in. Sweat dots along his temples and down his neck, tickling where it shifts over Ichigo's skin. He keeps still because he doesn't know what else to do.

Ishida resolutely shuts his gaping mouth and moves. Starting with subtler motions, he quickly becomes comfortable enough to roll his hips in a smooth arc, hands braced on Ichigo's tensed stomach. His slatted eyes sweep over Ichigo's face as if confirming his participation. Though he looks away before their gazes can meet.

"I don't care if you don't believe me," Ishida practically sighs, leaning his head back as his whole body begins to rock. "I don't care if you think I did it all on purpose. None of it matters anyway."

"'The hell is that supposed to mean?" Ichigo manages to slur back despite his intense concentration. If he hadn't been focusing so strongly, he would have come as soon as Ishida sank onto him, so tight and soft. Even though he doesn't really understand why, Ichigo is not ready for this to be over just yet.

"It means that after tonight we won't be associating with each other, so—"

Inexplicably upset about that, Ichigo yanks Ishida closer by the arm to force eye contact. "You saying you're gonna go back to avoiding me? Don't fuck with me, Ishida."

"Why shouldn't I?"

They both make sounds of discomfort as Ichigo pushes him off and disconnects them. Only so he can straddle Ishida and shove roughly back inside, wringing groans from each of them. Repositioning Ishida's legs for him, Ichigo bends his knees and leans in close, so close that they are forced to share air. He kisses Ishida to stem the imminent flow of griping. Then they get carried away with it, thrusting against each other with hips and tongues. Ishida's fingernails bite at his shoulders and Ichigo snaps that much harder into him.

Breaking away on a loud moan, Ishida's expression darkens with the pinch of desperation as he reaches a hand between them to grip himself. He gasps when Ichigo slaps it away.

"You did this, Ishida. You caused all of this," he murmurs and matches Ishida's half-lidded glare. "This is your punishment, remember? That means you don't get what you want when you want it."

He starts to rebel, pushing at Ichigo's shoulders and making another try to finish himself off with a few quick strokes. But Ichigo is faster. Between one harried breath and the next, Ishida's wrists are pinned hard to the bed on his right by one of Ichigo's hands while the other throws an ankle over his shoulder to bring a thigh to rest against Ichigo's front, rotating Ishida's body to the side. The sharp twist in the angle of their hips has them both gasping. As soon as he is able, Ichigo resumes his previous pace.

"Kurosaki," he whines, although it's probably meant to be a snarl. "Bastard!"

Watching the way Ishida's brows furrow even deeper as he bites into a corner of the pillow almost ruins him. He realizes belatedly—through the oddly rhythmic meter of Ishida's strained moans—that he is hitting Ishida's prostate on almost every single thrust. That would explain why he is quivering all over as though deathly cold. That would also explain why his heavy hard-on is steadily leaking clear fluid onto the sheets in a spreading spot.

Ichigo comes with a hoarse shout and a stuttering set of arrhythmic thrusts. This time Ishida really does whine, struggling against Ichigo's slackened hold. He lets him go and eases out but remains braced above him.

"Don't, Ishida," he orders between long breaths. "Don't touch yourself."

Miraculously, Ishida obeys. He turns fierce blue eyes up at him and scowls, but he keeps his hands off.

"Why shouldn't I?" he snidely repeats.

"Because if you don't, I'll do it for you. But you're going to have to be patient."

"'Patient'? Kurosaki, this goes past patience and into cruelty, you stupid—Unnh!"

Taking gentle hold of him with a light stroke, Ichigo shuts him up long enough to get a word in.

"You can't come without being touched here, can you?" It's a rhetorical question because even Ichigo isn't too dense to figure it out after everything he's put Ishida through. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the head and a smothered whimper is the only answer. "I don't really get why you couldn't do this the normal way. Written me a letter or confessed in person with that blunt phrasing you love so much. Even if you only wanted sex you could've just told me. You know I'm not the petty kind of person to hate people over shit like that. Instead, you planned this elaborate sequence of actions that ended up backfiring anyway."

"I didn't plan anything!" It comes out choked and halting as Ichigo slips two fingers on his free hand in to tease Ishida more. "U-Urahara-san…he…"

"Even if it was his fault—even if he did some weird Shinigami voodoo or whatever—you're saying you were powerless to resist? That you didn't want to fuck me? It never crossed your mind until today?"

"No, I—"

"Truth, Ishida," he demands with a move that makes Ishida's back arch against his will. "Or I'll keep you like this until the sun comes up."

"God damn it, Kurosaki! Yes, okay!? Yes, I've thought about it before. But I was never going to act on it!"

Breathing hard with the effort of simultaneously maintaining anger and arousal, Ishida closes his eyes and begs with his expression. Ichigo knows he'll never plead aloud, and this was never about that from the beginning. So he scoots down to end Ishida's punishment at long last. The salty tang of his release is not half as shocking as the wild sounds Ishida makes as his orgasm lasts for nearly a full minute. By the time Ishida relaxes in a boneless sprawl, Ichigo's bedding has become a sloppy swirl hanging from three sides of his bed. He doesn't even have the energy to glare when Ichigo drops to the bed beside him.

Minutes tick by and neither of them is willing to break this new silence. Ichigo is expecting him to get up any second and storm out, vowing never to speak to him again or some bullshit. And he keeps thinking about what's going to happen tomorrow when they see each other at school.

"Now we're even," Ichigo grumbles.

"In what sense?"

"In every damn sense!"

"I wish my outlook was as clear as yours, Kurosaki," he snarks without heat. "My life would be so much simpler."

"It won't work, you know."

"What's that?"

Slowly sitting up, Ishida eyes him disdainfully until Ichigo pushes himself to lean against the wall.

"Ignoring me. I let you get away with it this week because I was dealing with some other shit, but it's not going to work anymore."

"As if I need your permission to ignore you. How slow are you?"

Revolving around their own little merry-go-round of insults and circular logic, Ichigo almost wants to smile. His life is so fucked-up and some things never change.

But other things do.