[Bleach] Never Been Kissed

Ichigo was fascinated by Byakuya’s lips. Out of everything about the somewhat cold man, they were the most expressive. His anger, his irritation, his pleasure, all of it could plainly be seen on those plump bits of flesh, usually set in a firm line and embraced with impassivity.

He had wondered from time to time what it would be like to kiss those lips. Whether the shinigami captain would welcome the action or coldly dismiss him with eyes as warm as Hyourinmaru. Would they be heated and pliable, parting slowly beneath his touch?

Byakuya would have to take the lead, of course. Having been married, Ichigo could only assume that the man had at least kissed someone before.

Unlike Ichigo. Poor Ichigo. He’d never been kissed in his life. Unless he wanted to count his mother’s soft, doting touches to his forehead or his father’s rather terrifying attempts at affection that only made him ball up his fist, reach way back, and knock the life out of him. Not that it ever deterred Isshin in the slightest. His father was much like a cockroach.

Now, the very fact that he stood on the edge of a field, watching the sixth division captain easily disperse a hollow and internally wondering whether or not he should attempt to kiss Byakuya should have disturbed him on some level. After all, despite his vaguely feminine and downright pretty exterior, Byakuya was above all things a man, and Ichigo never really took himself for the type of guy who went for other men.

If it hadn’t been for Rukia, he probably never would have even thought about it.

She had gotten it in her mind one fine spring day that Ichigo scowled because he was lonely and was lonely because he hadn’t met the right person. And in a grand gesture of her usual genius, she had decided that the best way to resolve the issue was to stick him with someone else who suffered from equal bouts of loneliness and scowling… aka her brother.

She had smiled sweetly, eyes darkened with a hint of danger that he should have recognized as she tilted her head to the side. Her arm had threaded through his, and she had dragged him off to some unknown location. He would later learn that she had deposited him off on the edge of the field where Byakuya was fighting, only to disappear without another word, leaving him gaping in confusion.

“You see,” she had chirped, sounding treacherously serious. “Poor nii-sama hasn’t had sex in fifty years, and you’ve never been kissed. You have something in common!”

Obviously, she had overheard Ikkaku and Renji when they had been ruthlessly mocking Ichigo for his lack of experience. He was fifteen, according to them, and should have at least made a move on someone by now. Why not Orihime with her sweet smile and absurdly large breasts? Why not Tatsuki, if he was into the whole she could kick his ass thing? And if he was gay, Ishida seemed particularly receptive, if they squinted.

Anyways, he never would have even thought about kissing or Byakuya or any combination of the two, which involved him staring at the sixth division captain’s lips with little subtlety, if it hadn’t been for Rukia and her damn ideas. And now that it was in his head, it wouldn’t leave, and he was staring, absolutely staring at the graceful movements of Senbonzakura and wondering what it would be like if Byakuya kissed him.

He had also never expected the noble man to take a trip down to Karakura for anything less than an emergency, which the pitiful Hollow that he easily dispatched was not. Why Byakuya was impassively watching one of the weakest Hollow’s Ichigo had ever seen dissolve away as he slid his zanpakutou back into its sheath was a mystery.

And why couldn’t he stop staring at those lips?

They were pink, rose-colored almost like a woman’s, and they looked soft, petal-soft as he once read Shakespeare describe. He wondered what they would taste like. Rukia had said that Byakuya liked spicy food.

Spicy. Hmm.

His skin prickled, and Ichigo raised his gaze, startled to find that Byakuya was looking at him now, his beautiful face strangely contemplative. Unconsciously, and overcome with this strange desire to suddenly shunpo across the field and come through with his secret wonder, he licked his lips.

Byakuya raised a brow.

Ichigo flushed redder than his hair.

Byakuya disappeared.

Only to reappear directly in front of the substitute shinigami, mere seconds later.

Something glittered in grey eyes, and for a startling moment, Ichigo had the sudden and slightly worrisome thought that maybe, just maybe, Rukia had shared the same conversation with her brother that she had with Ichigo.

He wondered if Byakuya was wondering, too.

“Kurosaki Ichigo.” His voice was empty, displaying no emotion.

“Byakuya.” He tilted his head in greeting.

Byakuya stepped towards him. Ichigo fought the urge to step back and battled with himself for the strange desire to pull closer. Damn Rukia and her ideas. Damn Renji for his suggestions. And damn himself for his stupid eyes wanting to zero in on Byakuya’s stupid lips.

Which were moving…

Closer.

Ichigo blinked. A hand settled on his shoulder, and then, lips were pressed to his.

He was right. They were soft. And slightly shaky. Was the great Byakuya nervous? Maybe, just maybe, he had been wondering, too.

The lips pressed further. Ichigo leaned forward and pressed back. What was supposed to come next again? And his hands, they were just dangling there all useless. Wasn’t he supposed to do something with them, too?

Kissing was just too damn hard. And spicy.

Ichigo wobbled a bit, balanced so precariously, and to his horror, his teeth slid from between his lips of their own accord, biting down none-too-gently on the great Kuchiki’s bottom lip.

Brown eyes widened in unrestrained embarrassment as heat suffused his cheeks when Byakuya drew back from the kiss, a faintly bemused expression on his face if Ichigo actually deigned to look hard enough. As it were, he was far too mortified, and it showed.

“Uh…” He was at a loss for words, surprisingly enough. His first kiss, and he had screwed it up. He could just hear Renji and Ikkaku chortling now, imagining their back-breaking slaps of torture and teasing. “I… uh… sorry. Didn’t mean to, um, bite you.” He was starting to babble now, which was probably only making things worse.

“Kurosaki Ichigo.”

He raised his head.

“Uh… yeah?”

And Byakuya kissed him again. His last thought was that Rukia would have been ecstatic.

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