Ichigo startles out of a half-doze when a warm weight suddenly straddles his hips. Warm hands plant themselves on his abdomen, palms flat, fingers splayed. A familiar reiatsu teases at his senses.
“I know you’re awake,” a female’s voice purrs as she shifts atop him. “You might as well open your eyes.”
He does so, peering through the dim of his and Kisuke’s bedroom at the person perched on him. He should probably be reacting with more alarm, but his brain is not operating at full capacity.
Ichigo doesn’t recognize this woman. She’s in a plain, dark kimono, her bare knees visibly pale. Her hair is a shock of curly white, her eyes almost glowing and noticeably blood-red. She seems young, or at least, barely out of her teens.
“Who are you?” he asks even as his gaze shifts to Kisuke, sleeping peacefully beside him without so much as a twitch. He doesn’t sleep this heavily. Ever.
Her palms slide up his bare abdomen with a sensitizing caress.
“Oh, he’s not going to wake up, my dear,” she whispers near his ear. “Don’t worry about that. And you should know who I am, Ichigo. I’m a bit insulted you don’t.”
His skin prickles where she touches him. But strangely, Ichigo is not disturbed.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he says cautiously, very aware of the dangerous edge to her power. Which does seem vaguely familiar. And probably would be even more so if he were more awake.
She chuckles. Her voice is warm and smooth like honey.
“Oh, we have. Though I’ve always been in another form.”
Reiatsu washes over Ichigo, making him tingle.
Both familiar and foreign, recognition finally stirs Ichigo’s muzzy thoughts.
“I knew you were smart!” she declares with a self-satisfied smirk.
Confusion settled, Ichigo still wonders the most important question: namely, why she is here, straddling him.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
She leans forward, hands sliding up his bare chest, resting over his nipples. He shivers again.
“As a matter of fact there is.”
Ichigo can’t seem to look away from her face. “And?”
“It’s not fair,” Benihime murmurs, and her hips lightly shift over his. “Zangetsu’s gotten to play, but I haven’t.”
Ichigo’s breath stutters in remembered ecstasy.
Oh yes, that night. When he and Zangetsu had pinned Kisuke between them, wringing cries of pleasure from the shopkeeper.
His cock stirs at the vivid memory. Ichigo feels his face burn.
“I… see,” he replies. “So you want to…”
Her fingers scrape his skin, a teasing touch that makes his skin prickle. “Play,” Benihime purrs, blood-red eyes brightening. “Just you and me this time. Ki-chan can join us later.”
Ichigo, for the life of him, can’t and won’t say no. Fair is fair, and Benihime is utterly beautiful as he looks at her. Seductive. And she’s a part of Kisuke that Ichigo will always want.
Cautiously, Ichigo rests his hands on her hips, feeling the warmth beneath the thin fabric. “That sounds fair to me,” he offers, and his pulse throbs at the mere thought.
Benihime performs a wiggle of pleasure. “Good,” she breathes and reaches for her obi, one hand pulling open the knot so her kimono gapes open enticingly.
Ichigo’s gaze stays riveted on the spot, the shadows of her breast an alluring invitation. Kisuke is the man he’s quite certain he loves, but Ichigo can appreciate women as well. He’s not inexperienced. Also, not being attracted to Benihime is not an option.
“I’ve a good idea how this is supposed to go.” Benihime toys with the length of fabric hanging from her shoulder. “But I know for certain being naked is a good start.”
A flick of her hands and the kimono slides off, leaving her nude from the waist up. Ichigo’s mouth goes dry as he admires while logic struggles to focus on her words. His hands glide upward from her hips, fingers gently stroking her sides.
“You’ve never done this before?”
“Never liked Ki-chan’s choice before,” she answers with a visible shiver. “I know the process by peripheral experience, but I want to know for myself. I like you.”
He swallows. “I’m honored.”
Benihime smiles wickedly, grabbing his hands and boldly placing them on her breasts. “I may be untouched, but I’m not shy.”
“I noticed.” Ichigo can do nothing less than touch her, cupping the soft weight of her breasts, gently rolling her nipples with his fingertips.
She arches into his touch, sighing with satisfaction.
Ichigo says nothing, his gaze consuming her nude frame as his hands gently explore. She’s soft and warm, her reiatsu a tangible vibration under his fingers. Her face flushes a pale pink with arousal. Within the confines of his sleep pants, Ichigo feels himself throb.
Benihime rocks atop him, one hand flat on his abdomen as the other grabs her kimono and completely whisks it side, leaving her entirely bare. Not an ounce of modesty about her. Ichigo doesn’t mind.
Eager to touch, Ichigo releases one breast and drags a hand across her pale belly and to the trim of white hair at the apex of her thighs. He can hear her breath hitch as she widens her legs, giving him room to slip his fingers lower.
He’s gentle as he explores, fingers teasing at her damp folds before one slides inside her. She’s oh-so-wet for him, slickness easily coating his finger. His thumb ghosts across her, and a breathy moan escapes her lips.
“Yesss,” Benihime encourages, nibbling on her bottom lip as she slants her hips toward his fingers.
His gaze is riveted on the motions of her body, the way her eyes darken with arousal. He adds another finger.
“Better than.” She curls a hold around his wrist, holding his hand in place as she grinds down on his fingers. “Want you inside of me though.”
Ichigo breathes a curse. He twitches in agreement and soaks the fabric of his sleep pants.
“Okay.” He pauses, years of Isshin’s lecture making him hesitate. “But is it…”
“Safe?” She supplies, a shiver making her visibly shudder. “I’m not human, Ichigo. So… yes. Safe.”
Well. All right then. Because as much as Ichigo adores Kisuke, he doesn’t want to contemplate the possible complications of a human-Shinigami-Zanpakutou love-child.
“But first,” Benihime says with a hip wiggle as her free hand tugs at his waistband, “I need you naked.”
Ichigo has no argument with that. Benihime rises up on her knees, helping him wriggle out of his pants, before she straddles him again. Her wetness settles on him, and she shifts her hips, smearing her juices over his length. Ichigo bites back another curse as he grips her hips and hopes not to leave bruises behind.
“Eager?” he asks, heat coiling in his belly and the room.
And still, Kisuke hasn’t stirred, locked in his dream land however Benihime managed it.
“Very much so.”
Benihime grins down at him, dragging a hand through her hair. She reaches with her other hand and guides him to her wet center. Ichigo’s fingers flex on her hips, every sense focused on her movements. His breath catches, heart pounding a mad rhythm. He nudges at her dripping folds, and Ichigo’s patience snaps. He pushes up into her, hands pulling down as he slides into wet, clenching heat.
Benihime gasps; Ichigo moans. Reiatsu surges in the room. Her hands fly down, gripping his arms.
“Now who’s eager?” Benihime teases, her hips doing another small dance that drags a shudder from Ichigo.
“Sorry,” he gasps out and rocks, small slides in and out of her.
Benihime smirks. “Didn’t hurt.” Her fingers squeeze his arms. “Now show me what ya got, Ichigo.” Her eyes flash as he grinds down.
A small growl builds in Ichigo’s throat. He thrusts upward, pushing deep, and she matches his rhythm. She’s so very wet around him and enjoying it if the soft noises are any indication.
Ichigo himself feels ablaze with pleasure. Her reiatsu washes over him in tantalizing tingles, both familiar and foreign, somehow both Kisuke and not. It teases at his own energy, swelling to blanket the room, practically a beacon for any spiritually sensitive person in the area. Ichigo can’t be bothered to care; she feels too good.
Benihime sucks in a sharp breath. Her hips work and seek her own pleasure.
“Mmm. Ki-chan’s got good taste.”
“Thanks… I think.”
Desire strips him of all witty repartee. Ichigo only wants to feel.
He pushes up into her, muscles straining. Pleasure ripples through him from all directions. Their reiatsu twines together, amping up the volume. Benihime feels so good, hot and wet, each gasping moan sensual in his ears.
And yet, it’s not enough. He needs more. He needs leverage.
Eyes flashing, Ichigo tightens his grip on Benihime and suddenly tilts them both to the side, away from the slumbering Kisuke. She gives a little squeak of surprise as she lands half-on, half-off the futon, knees clamping down on Ichigo’s waist.
He wastes no time in sinking back inside her, going much deeper than before. They moan simultaneously, and Benihime arches up to meet him. She grips his arms as his hands land to either side of her head. Her fingers dig into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks behind.
Ichigo snaps his hips, her muscles rippling around him, and the curl of arousal in his gut tightens. He grinds down, buried inside her. Benihime gasps, fingers kneading, body arching up to meet him. Their reiatsu twines and knots before finally syncing, pulsing in harmony.
A curse spills from Ichigo’s lips, sweat trickling down his spine. Benihime’s face is flushed, her eyes ruby bright. Coherence abandons Ichigo. It leaves only pressing need that pounds through him at the same rapid rate of his heartbeat.
“Oh, I’m close,” Benihime moans, throwing her head back as she writhes beneath him. “Kiss me! Let me taste you.”
He complies without question, lowering himself so that their mouths are in proximity. Benihime surges up to meet him. Her lips crash over his, and her tongue eagerly sweeps inside. Her mouth is hot, and she tastes of licorice, the good kind. Ichigo moans into the kiss, thrusts increasing in pace as he drives the both of them to climax. He’s determined to have her undone first.
His body, however, seems to have no inclination to listen. The pleasure is dizzying, their entwined reiatsu intoxicating. She feels too damn good, and when Ichigo comes, it takes him by surprise and slams through his body.
He releases with a muffled shout, his world-view whiting out briefly before clarity returns. Benihime arches beneath him. Her fingers squeezes, and her reiatsu is wild.
“Not fair,” she moans.
“Not done,” Ichigo gasps and slides out of her, scooting down until he’s between her legs.
His hands grasp her knees, pushing her legs apart and his mouth falls over her. She all but whines, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as he works her with lips and tongue. She’s so very wet, and the taste of himself mingled with her is unexpectedly erotic.
He laps at her lower lips and applies delicate pressure. He licks inside of her, struggling to pin her bucking body down. Benihime’s cries of pleasure are loud, reigniting Ichigo’s own passions.
Benihime’s fingers dig into his skin as she writhes and trembles. Ichigo’s mouth works furiously, tasting and teasing, and when she comes, it’s with a resounding keen that makes Ichigo’s desire spike.
She tangles a hand in his hair, dragging him upward for a sloppy kiss that tastes of them. Benihime purrs into the kiss and lazily shifts beneath him.
“Very nice.” She nips at his bottom lip. “Thank you.”
A pleased hum echoes in Ichigo’s throat. “My pleasure.”
Benihime laughs. “I noticed. We should do this again sometime. With Ki-chan. And Zangetsu if he can be convinced.”
A spike of desire rises from within Ichigo. “He’s interested,” he reassures.
“Good.” Benihime’s hands stroke down his arms. “Now how about round two?”
Behind them, a groggy voice interjects, “Only if you share the fun with me.”
Both Benihime and Ichigo turn their heads to the sight of an awake Kisuke with desire gleaming in his eyes. Arousal vibrates in his reiatsu.
“It’s only polite to share,” the blond adds.
The idea of being trapped between them makes Ichigo heat up all over again.
Benihime nuzzles against his cheek. “Sounds good to me.”
“Fair is fair,” Kisuke says and crawls across the futon to join them.