#HHmmmmmmm i am also now not sure...

[white--moon]

He smirks. "I know." He knows how to deliver a compliment, he wasn't trying.

Oh. "I really thought you were enjoying watching me bleed and be painful. I was actually really fuckin' annoyed by it." Well. He had been really fucking annoyed about the fact that Ichigo was there at all, after refusing to help him out in the first place. But after he was done being stitched up and had found Ichigo basically passed out in a stranger's bed, he was mostly just tired and ready to go home. Belatedly, he realized Ichigo called it a fucked up wet dream. His brows go up a little. "D'you get off to seein' me shirtless and bloody in a dirty bathroom? Because that's kinda hot."

He watches the way Ichigo chews his lower lip and wants to do the same. Ichigo's got to be tired, between healing, running around so much today, and riding Shiro not that long ago. It's impressive he's still so ready to go. And also hot as fuck.

He loves how readily Ichigo follows that tugging motion, heat stirring in his stomach when a thigh comes to rest between his legs. He hums a quiet, rough sound at the way Ichigo tastes his lip like he's looking for Shiro's drink.

A smirk tugs at his lips when he feels fingers slip into his hair, then that grip. Ichigo really seems to have a thing for his hair. But then Ichigo's mouth is on his throat and the amusement from that thought scatters. He groans, pushing up onto his toes a little, a hand dropping back to brace against the edge of the counter. He had every intention of fucking Ichigo until Ichigo couldn't get up, but every time Ichigo naturally takes the lead it gets Shiro going and now is no different. The air freezes in his lungs for a second, breath hitching, when Ichigo bites down.

Being lifted onto the counter takes him by surprise and the hand not anchored on the counter's edge snags against Ichigo's shoulder like he worries he might get dropped. But as soon as Ichigo's standing between his legs, his knees tighten around Ichigo's middle and he hooks one calf behind him. He reaches blindly to push the two shot glasses out of the way, but instead pushes one away and grabs the other. He tips his head back and takes the shot while Ichigo's licking teeth marks, liking the mix of burning alcohol and hot tongue.

He pauses, frowning a little, and sets the empty shot glass down with a quiet clink, when Ichigo does a not quite but not not a hug thing and mutters against him in that tone. He opens his mouth to speak, but that seems really harsh and he's not sure what to say, so he puffs out a short breath, swallows dryly, and tries again. "Damn. I thought you liked me now." He grabs that other shot that he'd pushed aside, and holds it up in front of Ichigo's face in offering. "I didn't think I was that bad."

A corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “Not rubbin’ it in, just sayin’. You did it better than me, that’s all.” And by better, he means Ichigo got stabbed way more thoroughly than he did, which is actually much worse. He snorts. “You made it seem like you had it pretty figured out. I was pretty convinced you were either an actual sadist and were gettin’ something out of standing in that doorway watching me get sewn up or you were really just that much of an asshole that you were glad I went got myself bloodied without your help.” But Ichigo was drunk and high that night and Shiro was sore and quickly wearing out after the adrenaline of a good fight wore off. Ichigo’s acting might not actually have been as good as either of them thought it was.

That warm, light touch makes him feel like he might melt. He’s been touched and treated gently before, but mostly because it was their thing. He never much cared, in fact, he likes most things rough. But when Ichigo does it, it makes him feel a little light and fluttery. It doesn’t make him fragile or breakable, but valuable, maybe.

His fingers slide against the warmer skin hidden behind Ichigo’s loosened waistband. It’s pretty hard to misinterpret what Ichigo wanted when he came out of the bathroom half undressed already, but that just amuses Shiro and there’s a little half smirk on his lips when he takes another long drink, glancing up to Ichigo’s features over the rim of the glass. His alcohol tolerance is pretty high these days, and one shot and most of this glass isn’t nearly enough to get him tipsy, but it is enough to remind him that he didn’t eat much of what Ichigo brought to him before the scampered back to the morgue and that he’s drinking on an empty stomach. He finishes his drink in another quick swallow, until it’s just ice clinking in the glass, and blindly sets it down on the counter behind him, pushing his other hand around behind Ichigo to dip into the back of his pants and also tug him flush against Shiro.