Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Look into My Eyes, Stupid ❯ One-Shot

Look into My Eyes, Stupid

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: This story is not by Kubo Tite, the creator of Ichigo and Ishida, but by me, someone who makes an emotional, not monetary profit, from fanfiction.

Description: NC17. Pure PWP. Per request, Ishida, Ichigo and a camcorder.

Warning: Boysex.

for bordge

"The difference between pornography and erotica is lighting. ~ Gloria Leonard

Nude, supine, his head elevated on two pillows, Ishida shot Ichigo a disinterested look. "I don’t think this is going to be pretty."

"You’re always pretty." Ichigo leapt onto the bed, crossed his legs and pointed the remote at Ishida’s ancient, seldom-used television.

The screen showed static.

"I told you," Ishida said. "The disc is old. The camera is old. Everything’s disintegrated."

Ichigo reached behind his back and caught Ishida’s foot by the toes. Ishida kicked the hand away. At the moment, his enthusiasm for affectionate touching did not match Ichigo’s.

"Let’s go borrow your dad’s new camcorder," Ichigo said.

"Are you kidding?"

The old camcorder was a hand-me-down from Ryuuken. Every Christmas, the Karakura Hospital director received myriad presents from wealthy board members, and this year he’d gotten a fancy camcorder. Because he disliked shopping, it was Ryuuken’s habit to re-gift items from previous Christmases.

"Did your dad know he was giving you a piece of junk?" Ichigo asked.

"I doubt he ever used the thing." Ishida turned to his side, hugged a pillow, and seemed ready to go to sleep. "It’s not like he has many family celebrations to record for posterity."

"Damn it, Uryuu," came a loud voice from the television. "How do you keep this thing from falling over. It’s going to shoot us upside down."

"All the more interesting." Ishida’s recorded voice was a soft and insinuating. "Leave the camera alone, Kurosaki, and pay attention to me."

"Oh no," said Ishida into his pillow. "It’s working."

"The resolution sucks," Ichigo said. "Let’s borrow your dad’s equipment. It uses those little state-of-the art discs, doesn’t it?"

"I’m not asking Ryuuken for anything, and besides, you don’t want to store information on a mini-disc. Those things warp easily. They don’t last a year."

"Does that mean…." Ichigo’s voice was playful. "You want to keep sex footage of us for years and years to watch over and over again?"

"I doubt that we’re going to be together for years and years." Ishida closed his eyes. "You’re going to morph into some super Shinigami with muscles coming out of your ears, and you’re going to leave me for Renji."

"Strip," said the on-screen Ishida. "Face the camera and do it slowly."

"Man," said Ichigo at the foot of the bed. "I’m orange--haired all over. You can even tell in the bad lighting."

"Your turn," said the on-screen Ichigo. His mocking voice chanted, "Strip for the camera, little hot butt. Strip, strip!"

"Woo, you do it like a professional," said Ichigo watching. "Look at that. Very fluid, Uryuu."

"It’s because," Ishida said, not deeming to look at the screen, "my clothes aren’t clumsily designed. They’re easy to remove."

There was a long moment during which Ichigo didn’t say a word and no sounds came from the television. Curious, Ishida turned to look.

The on-screen Ishida was masturbating himself. Head hung and black hair swaying, he stroked the underside of his cock with his palm.

"We only have forty minutes of recording time," said the on-screen Ichigo. "This isn’t the Ishida Uryuu show."

"Fine," said the on-screen Ishida, and his hands took Ichigo’s shoulders and pressed him gently down onto the mattress. Noisy kissing ensued, and the television showed a stationary view of Ishida’s white ass.

"This isn’t turning me on." Ishida returned to his pillow and closed his eyes.

"Why not?" Ichigo moved closer to the screen. His interest was rising and soon his cock would be. He tilted his head to one side to get a better look at the rosy balls hanging between Ishida’s white thighs. The legs were thin but their musculature showed plainly. The soles of Ishida’s long feet were pink, and his toes were curled.

"Forget it," Ishida mumbled. "This session was very amateurish. We’ll have to try better next time."

Because the sound quality of the recording was poor, it was hard to make out what a murmuring on-screen Ishida was saying. Something about Ichigo’s tasting like teriyaki. Ichigo was the noisy one--he made appreciative moans as Ishida sucked on his neck.

"Damn, Uryuu, let’s get on with it. Forty minutes, you know."

"That’s more than long enough. We want to give ourselves something to watch, right? What’s your issue with foreplay, Kurosaki?"

"Nothing. This is hot and all, but we’re sixteen. We’re not supposed to be going at it like an old married couple."

"Stop… ohh …" The on-screen Ishida took deep sexy breaths. "You’re trying to sabotage my plans here…. Listen, you’ve got to be patient. I’m going to fuck you hard in a minute, but first you’ve got to--ohhhh. Stop that. Mmmm, that’s too fast."

"Turn around, Uryuu!" complained the Ichigo at the foot of the bed. His cock was in his hand now, churning up and down with impatience. "This movie so far has been about Uryuu’s ass."

"Told you," said Ishida from his pillow. His eyes were still closed but then a moan from Ichigo made him look.

Ishida’s gaze went from Ichigo’s pumping himself at the foot of the bed to the television where on-screen Ichigo had rolled on-screen Ishida over and was giving him a fierce hand-job… and biting the Quincy’s red nipples for measure.

"This is where you lost it," said Ichigo.

"I don’t think so," said Ishida.

On-screen Ishida’s hands were clutching the sheets and his neck was thrown back. He looked lost to pleasure, but then, in a brisk movement, he jolted his body to a sitting position and kissed Ichigo hard on the mouth.

"I thought I had you down for longer than that," Ichigo said.

"Maybe later," said Ishida. "It went back and forth for a while."

And so it did.

Ishida stared at Ichigo masturbating to the images. "You’re really getting into this," he said, discounting his own swelling arousal. "It’s not a surprise, though. You’re a very visual person."

Ichigo was maintaining a steady pace with his hand. His face was red but his expression was controlled. "What are you, then? An audio person? Do you like hearing stuff better?"

"I must," said Ishida, "because you’re the loudest person I know." His eyes narrowed with interest at the screen. "I’m a more cerebral person. I get excited by the … idea of sex. I have this imagination that allows me to--"

On-screen Ichigo had pushed on-screen Ishida to the headboard and was now ramming his cock into Ishida’s mouth.

Ichigo pointed his chin at the screen. "Ever imagine stuff like that?"

"Well…." Ishida’s voice was soft. "The picture isn’t clear in my head but I can imagine the gist of it."

On-screen Ishida spread his arms wide and held onto the headboard with white-knuckled hands.

"Turn around, damn it." Ichigo was frustrated. "Looks like it’s the Ichigo ass show now. C’mon me, turn around. I want to see Uryuu suck it."

"As I recall, Kurosaki…." Ishida was sitting up now. "You weren’t exactly allowing me to do much. It was hard to breathe with your body hitting my face like that. One of these nights you’re going to break my nose."

"Aww, you love it, you little bitch. Watch how crazy it makes you."

On-screen Ishida’s legs were bicycling against the mattress.

"I was trying not to choke," Ishida said. "You’re so impatient."

"You like it when I jump you like a dog. Admit it."

"Oh here we go," said Ishida of the new action on the television. On-screen Ichigo had slowed, but his forceful thrusts were making the headboard wobble as Ishida’s head hit it over and over.

Ichigo stopped masturbating himself. "Did that hurt?"

"No, but it’s nose-breaking time. Look at you go."

"Uryuu, you know I wouldn’t do anything to mess up your face." Ichigo turned around and looked from Ishida’s face, which was shining with interest, to Ishida’s cock, which was shining with something else.

That was all it took.

Ichigo fell across Ishida’s lap and began licking. Upper groin, the penis head, the full and dark pink testicles. Ishida lost his balance and fell from a sitting position to a lying one. Clutching Ishida by the hips, Ichigo rolled him over and sucked cock right away.

"Kuro…sa … ki …." The name strained through Ishida’s teeth, and he repeated it with effort as he grabbed Ichigo’s hair. "Too fast, Kuro … Kurosaki."

On-screen Ichigo was grunting the way he did when he swung his sword. He seemed on the brink.

Ichigo took his mouth away from Ishida’s groin. "That’s it," he panted. "You can’t get any harder than this. Fuck me."

"No."

"What do you mean? This is why we watch porn, Uryuu. So we can have sex. Ichigo’s fingers were kneading Ishida’s outer thighs. He landed a wet, affectionate kiss below Ishida’s hipbone. "Don’t tell me you still want to go to sleep."

"I’m not ready," Ishida said a little grouchily. "Keep doing things to me. Get … get the lube and rub it all over. You know--sensuously."

"Fuck sensual." Ichigo yanked Ishida’s elbows so that Ishida’s body slid down the sheets. At the same time, on-screen Ichigo orgasmed with a loud and throaty uuuugh.

"What--?" Ishida slipped off the edge of the bed and braked jerkily with his face at Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo put his hand under Ishida’s chin.

"Look into my eyes, stupid," Ichigo said. "I’m impatient and you love me this way."

Ishida’s chest heaved as he stared at Ichigo.

"Say it or you don’t get any, Uryuu." A curled hand stroked Ishida’s cheek and then ran into tousled black hair. "You love me this way," Ichigo said in a gentle, undemanding voice.

Ishida’s lips lost their cynical tension and his blue eyes softened.

Ichigo looked triumphant. Lucky for him, a look of triumph made him appear especially handsome.

Ishida’s resistance fell away completely.

"I love you this way," he whispered right before Ichigo silenced him with a ferocious kiss.

The on-screen Ichigo was kissing on-screen Ishida with post-ejaculatory enthusiasm. "Uryuu, Uryuu, Uryuu."

Ichigo ignored the television. "Get up." He yanked Ishida by the upper arm. "Let’s see. I don’t want to break your nose or bust your head." He furrowed his brow and considered the mattress in front of him. "Okay, lie on your back here," Ichigo patted the foot of the bed. "With your feet opposite the headboard, see? Throw your head back so I can fuck your mouth from…" Ichigo knelt at the foot of the bed. " … here."

Ishida complied with the requested position. "This won’t work, Kurosaki." He hung his head over the edge of the mattress and looked at Ichigo upside down. "You’ll break my neck," he said.

"Push up."

Ishida scooted himself up the bed so that his head didn’t dangle off it anymore. "If you’re going to rape my mouth, then you better do it while sucking my cock."

"Okay!" Ichigo threw himself on Ishida, and the two melded into a familiar 69 position. The liquid sounds they made were quieter than murmurings coming from the television.

The noises on-screen sounded … interesting. At least to Ichigo.

Ichigo pulled his mouth away. "What’s happening in the show?"

"Idiot." Ishida sighed across the head of Ichigo’s cock. "You recently orgasmed in this cheap movie, so what else could possibly be happening now?" He gave the cock a hard, scolding lick. "You’re sucking me off."

From the television came the sighing sounds of Ishida’s "ah’s" and "oh’s."

"I don’t remember that. Didn’t I fuck you? I remember fucking you."

"We have digital evidence to the contrary."

"No, I don’t think so." Ichigo scrambled off Ishida with the intent of proving himself right. The screen verified Ishida’s scenario, so Ichigo said, "In a minute. You’ll see."

Excited to the point of madness but not looking at one another, Ishida and Ichigo watched the television.

On-screen Ishida’s hand reached for the night-stand. On-screen Ichigo’s hand stopped him. "No you don’t. You’re going to come in my mouth."

"But I wanted to fuck you."

On-screen Ichigo considered the proposal for a full second. "Okay."

During the blur of flesh on-screen that was the repositioning, on-screen Ichigo was knocked down, face to the mattress. On-screen Ishida massaged his buttocks for a long time, and Ichigo didn’t complain about the forty minutes. Ishida applied the lube with an expert hand and made Ichigo smile with anticipation and open his legs wider. Then Ishida grabbed Ichigo by the hips and thrust inside with one expeditious motion.

"Woof-woof," said the other Ichigo sitting on the foot of the bed. "You always love it doggie style."

"You’re the one who called yourself a dog earlier, Kurosaki."

Ichigo didn’t take his eyes off the screen. "God, you’re beautiful."

On-screen Ishida fucked with a rolling, fluent motion, and he tossed his long hair this way and that. His torso stretched, and he put his arms behind his head.

"I didn’t think I made faces like that." Ishida looked displeased.

"What? You thought you didn’t make faces? You’re not as in control as you think you are."

On-screen Ishida accelerated. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth and turned his ecstatic face to the camera.

Then the forty minutes ran out. The room went dark as the disc popped out of the DVD player.

"Damn," said Ichigo.

Ishida stared at the blank screen, on which two naked boys with raging erections were reflected. "You really don’t have any memory at all, do you, Kurosaki?"

"Huh?"

"You said it was you who fucked me. This was just a couple hours ago. It was me who fucked you."

Ichigo put his arm around Ishida’s waist. He was looking at his television reflection too.

"You know what this means, don’t you?"

"Hmm?"

Ichigo pressed Ishida down on the bed, put a hand under Ishida’s knee and lifted one long white leg. His erection rubbed against Ishida’s.

"Wait."

"I can’t wait," said Ichigo.

"The camera," said Ishida as Ichigo kissed his neck.

"Huh?"

"The camera … turn it on."

Ichigo jumped out of bed and did just that.

END