#heck they couldve both rebounded with him

[black--sun]

Ichigo wonders if that wording is supposed to sound so pointed. Especially after that remark about keeping promises. Maybe Shiro has some caustic commentary for him after all. Or Ichigo’s just reading into things. Either way, it sends a sharp ache bolting through his chest before he exhales it on a breath. 

Shiro seems so sensitive, he can’t help spreading his other hand out to flatten on Shiro’s stomach, feeling out smooth skin as it passes over his breastbone. He gets it. There’s a constant urge to touch Shiro buzzing around the back of his mind, like contact alone could fix everything wrong between them. It won’t. It’s just drawing it out. His forearm brushes Shiro’s cock, but he doesn’t pay it any more attention than he pays Yuu beside them or the ruffled blankets, because he is a prick. He smirks at that complaining, though the expression is mostly in his eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ll be glad for it anyway in a second.” Glad for the extra stretch, even if Ichigo was being a dickhead. 

He slicks himself with that lube, one hand twisting all the way to the tip, then clicks the bottle shut and tosses it aside. He’s already lined up with the way he has Shiro spread in his lap, and Shiro looks more than ready. Ichigo pauses just long enough to contemplate rolling him onto his stomach. Just for the distance of it. But he’s already had Shiro’s hands and mouth all over him tonight. Maybe it won’t hurt anything. 

He’s aware he’s too still while he thinks it over, stretching the moment out while Shiro’s already impatient, so he presses into him. He bites back a groan as he pushes in slow but steady, only pausing halfway through, teeth locking against the desire keep going while he gives Shiro a moment to adjust to his size, closing his eyes against the instant spike of need that bubbles up.

He's breathing a little harder than he should be, between just fucking Yuu and the anticipation of what's to come. His brows furrow when Ichigo says that, thinking for a moment that he's making fun of Shiro and his habits or something, before he realizes he's probably talking about himself. Too sober to be that big of a jackass. Lucky for Shiro's ass. Which also means he's too sober to blame any of this on anything other than it being exactly what he wants. Which, he supposes, is the same as yesterday. So his only excuse is that he wants it, and nowhere Shiro is, overthinking it while he's about to get fucked in all the ways he likes most. He shakes himself from his thoughts but wonders if he's not too sober for all of this, not just taking a dick cold.

He scoffs. "I don't charge my mind once I commit. About anything. You know that." He's stubborn like that, and wants exactly what he decides he wants. But that finger teasing a second before pushing in earns a small shudder. His dick is so hard from being inside Yuu and now saluting untouched between them it's genuinely maddening.

The second finger and the way Ichigo looks at him like a starved man looking at a whole meal has him groaning, as much as frustration and want as appreciation for the added stretch. And then there's a third finger and, "Goddammit, Ichigo you prick-" it's an exasperated, huffed out curse. They're not together, he doesn't have to be nice. In fact, it's probably better for both of them if he's not.