[Bleach] "Popular Culture" [Yumichika/Ikkaku] [NC-17]
Title: Popular Culture
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Yumichika/Ikkaku
Length: 875 words
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Eh. Probably should have read up to the 200's in the manga, maybe.
Crossposted: bleach_yaoi and yumikkaku
Notes: Requested from my campfuckudie drabble meme, here. "Yumichika/Ikkaku with a side of bring me a sammich, bitch." It was originally a long-ish drabble... then I wrote a sequel... and they fit rather nicely together into one story. So I wrote a third part, just to balance it all off. And because I wanted porn.


Take One

"Ahhhhh~!"

Yumichika was sprawled out in a cushy armchair, head hanging off the edge, an incredibly smug smile on his face. "Ikkaku!" he exclaimed, "isn't this place wonderful? Look! The box! Makes sounds!"

He fiddled witih the radio next to him until it began to play a fuzzy sort of classical; Yumichika looked happy enough to die.

Ikkaku shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don't like it," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and eying the television set in Keigo's living room with deep suspicion. "All this new-fangled stuff. What was wrong with it before? Nothing, I say! Yumichika. What."

Giggling, the Fifth Seat curled up in the chair, flipping through a stack of magazines with unholy glee. "I'm not leaving this chair all day!" he crowed. "Look, Ikkaku! Cream to reduce the visibility of wrinkles and other signs of aging."

"... Yumichika. You're already... dead."

"Beauty waits for no-one!" Yumichika sniffed, glaring at Ikkaku over the top of Teen People. "Now. Go get me a sandwich."

Ikkaku stared at him. "What."

"From the kitchen. You like the kitchen. I like the shiny... things. Magazines!"

"NO. I am not. GETTING YOU A SANDW-asd;fklj!" He cut off abruptly as Yumichika beaned him in the face with the remote control, making the television flicker to life.

They both stared at it in fascination for a moment.

"... Ikkaku."

"... yeah, Yumichika?"

"... no mayonnaise."


Take Two

Once Ikkaku got over his initial distrust of the television set, he couldn't seem to get enough of it. He sat in front of Yumichika's chair while the other Shinigami ate his sandwich (no mayonnaise) and read magazines, glancing up at the television every so often - usually to watch the commercials.

"What show are you watching, now?" Yumichika asked after a while, having decimated the magazine stack down to Oprah and National Geographic. "You've been watching a lot of different - woah."

Ikkaku had the remote held up, but wasn't making any move to change the channel. They both stared in fascination for a long moment. One of Yumichika's magazines slid off his lap to land, glossy and bent, on the carpet.

"Are people... allowed to do that in public?" Yumichika asked slowly, when it seemed that Ikkaku was too stunned to say anything.

"... not really in the public. Now is it? But. Uh."

"... what is she putting there?"

"... well, that's. I don't think I want to know."

Yumichika shifted uncomfortably in his chair, swallowing hard. "I read about this in a magazine," he said. "They call it pornography. I don't think it's... a good thing."

Ikkaku didn't turn his head away from the television, but he did tilt it slightly. "... bad thing? Don't. You know. See how."

Yumichika blinked. The woman on the screen was doing... bad things now, involving a chair, and her lover, and something that Maxim had identified as a "sex toy" when Yumichika had found a copy of it hidden between Seventeen and People.

That was... oh, my.

Swallowing hard, Yumichika slid one leg over Ikkaku's shoulder, hitting the power button on the remote control with one blue-painted toenail.

"OI!" Ikkaku turned it back on again, but was officially thwarted when Yumichika jammed his toe into the power button once again, then kicked the remote all the way across the room. "... Yumichika. I was watching tha- ah-"

Yumichika's hand covered Ikkaku's mouth, and he had maneuvered his legs so that Ikkaku was sitting between them; one still rested over his shoulder, and Yumichika used that one to reel Ikkaku in tightly.

"One of the benefits," said Yumichika, holding up one long finger, "of pornographic material. Is to lend the skills observed to practical applications."

"... ohgod," Ikkaku said, voice muffled against Yumichika's hand, before he gripped the edges of the armchair and pulled himself up, straddling Yumichika's lap and pushing the other Shinigami back against the pillows. Yumichika threw his arms around Ikkaku's neck and kissed him, laughing all the way.


Take Three

Yumichika's body was lean, slimmer and smaller than Ikkaku's by quite a bit. However, this didn't stop him from pressing Ikkaku down into the armchair, straddling his thighs and doing whatever the hell he wanted because, shit, it wasn't as if Ikkaku was going to say no.

Ikkaku couldn't remember when he had lost his clothes, or what they were using for lube, or if they were even using it at all (Yumichika was crazy, sometimes). There was heat, and incomparable tightness, and Yumichika's mouth at his neck and his hands on his chest as he rode him until the springs squeaked beneath them. Ikkaku gripped Yumichika's slim hips between his hands, feeling too rough, out of place, but then Yumichika nipped as his ear and murmured something, pleasingly, about him being graceful, always, you know; after that, it become a lot easier.

"... ah. Ah. Yumichika- ah, what are you -" Ikkaku panted, as Yumichika shifted positions just slightly, resting one hand on the side of Ikkaku's neck.

"There was this article," Yumichika practically purred, driving himself down and wringing an incoherent noise from Ikkaku's throat. "In Cosmopolitan. I really liked it. How did it go... ah! The Top 15 Ways To Make Your Man Come Screaming Your Name..."

"YUMICHIKA!"