（ his watch going crazy with messages, it's all he can do to read them without just quietly losing his mind, thanks. because he remembers — or his body does — all the little touches in the tunnels. the way her hair smelled, the way her body yielded against his hand when he'd stopped her at the dolls. he can't say he hasn't thought about it.
he hates that he's thought about it.
it only ever feels disrespectful to him to think about women that way. and inoue —
(in ways, she's always been more practical than him. she wouldn't want him to suffer. she'd accept that being somewhere like this means making a few sacrifices.)
but he doesn't know quite what to think about this. he hadn't... ）
i didn't mean to put you in a position where you felt like you needed to offer.
（ is the first thing he sends. sombre, and serious, and maybe just a little heartbroken. she's a good person. ）
[ The thing is, she knows he's absolutely full of shit when he tells her he's okay, and still, she leaves it alone for a good ten minutes, pacing around her room and trying not to kick herself for sticking her neck out like that. ]
Do you think I'm a pushover or something? [ Going out on a limb like this is hard and more than enough to get her hackles up. ] Why would I feel like I had to? You're not that impressive with a flashlight.
You're my friend, stupid. I'm telling you to come over because of that.
（ for a moment she sounds so much like rukia it's dizzying. she'd say just the same, wouldn't she? and he'd hate it just as much if it came from her, because he's — he's not good at it. relying on others, accepting help. acknowledging his own weakness. all of those things are a work in progress for him.
but if he closes his eyes, he can remember how he felt, when rukia told him off after he'd dismissed chad's feelings so easily, how he'd cared more in the moment about keeping his friend out of danger than protecting his heart and his pride, and how fucking wretched he'd been afterwards.
he closes his eyes for a long moment.
if their situations were reversed. if nami had come to him like this...
he would've said yes in a heartbeat, he knows. he would've set his own reservations and uncertainty and fears aside and said yes, and meant it. and it — matters, that she's doing that for him.
it matters. but there is still a tight clench in his chest and a hot feeling at the back of his throat, a weight behind his sinuses that feels like he's holding back tears. he's hot all over, even the pressure of clothing against his skin hurts — but pain is just something to stand, and he's no stranger to that.
it's a long time before he replies again: ）
okay.
but can you come here? and i don't have any condoms or anything （ as much as he's an easily scandalized youth, when it comes right down to the wire he's deeply, ruthlessly utilitarian. his father is a doctor. he grew up around a clinic. he's no stranger to safe sex practices, even if he regretted every minute he ever spent in isshin's presence discussing it. ）
not that we have to do that
just
in case.
i'm sorry. you're my friend too. it's hard for me to accept help.
If Nami has her way, neither he nor anyone else here would ever have the faintest idea of how profoundly those words resonate with her. Arlong Park is a fresh and painful memory still, as is the harsh lesson about trying to fight alone. ]
I'll see you soon.
[ The lie he told for her sake sits heavily on her mind, weighing on her enough to distract her from how her heart's beating faster than it was before she responded. He is a good person, and allowing herself to let that endear someone to her is as new of an idea as asking for help, a feeling that's left her perplexed when it's crossed her mind since the last time they saw each other but this - having a direction, makes the awkwardness she can't quite put a name to, easier to handle, somehow.
She's too preoccupied with rolling her eyes at herself to pay much attention to the sexy art in the elevator, fingers idly fussing with the hem of her dress right up until she steps off and onto his floor.
Pausing in front of his door, she stops and takes a deep breath before finally knocking. ]
Hey... [ Does she sound stupid? She feels like she sounds stupid. ] It's me. [ Who else would it be?? ]
（ it takes him a minute to figure out how to navigate the watch and let her in — she'll come into a room that's almost sterilely clean. it barely looks lived in, the blankets neatly folded, no visible clothing except for a hoodie that's been frantically unzipped and carelessly thrown over a chair.
she'll find him sitting on the floor furthest from the door, one leg drawn up. the other one is stretched out in front of him, and he's got one arm braced on his propped up knee. but he doesn't — look at her as she comes into the room, instead biting one lip with his head faintly turned to the side, as if he's worried that looking directly at her will just make everything worse all over again.
should he say something? should he say nothing? his fingers curl in against his palm, and then uncurl with an effort. ）
Hey.
（ comes finally. his voice is a rasp, coloured by shame and general discomfort. but he's trying not to just freak out on her. ）
[ Taking the place in after she shuts the door behind her, Nami lingers by the entrance for a moment, trying to figure out a way forward even though she's failed at forming a plan every step of the way so far.
It's hard to miss how he's avoiding looking in her direction, and while that makes her want to keep her distance, she came here to help him. Doubting herself isn't going to do anything for anybody.
Lips curved in a tentative smile Nami crosses the room, taking a seat beside him on the floor.
She looks ahead, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs, as she tilts her head to the side, considering. ]
What are you worried about? [ She can't tell him to relax, or that there isn't anything to worry about. He's the one with the tattoo that's gone dark enough to work him into this state after all, but, one thing at a time. ]
（ it's the first, immediate thing he says, and his jaw tightens as he says it, casts his gaze a little further to the side. having her close like this is making it worse in unspeakable ways, and he reflexively tries to twist his hips a little so the fact he's half-hard is a little less obvious in the fold of his pants. ）
You saw it, I'm powerful. It's physical strength, too. So I need — I need to stay controlled. I've hurt people before without meaning to. （ hastily — ） Not like this. （ not sex, not anything like this. ） Just — people I care about.
（ his left hand, being overtaken with a semi-transparent blue stone, streaked with black obsidian is tucked in against his other thigh. he seems to still have a bit of mobility to it, though, evidenced by the faint twitch to his fingers.
that his voice stays more or less even keeled, except for having picked up a very faint tremor, is a testament to his willpower. ）
What's going to be easiest for you? Can we do that?
[ It's the same variety of oddly touched that she felt while watching him pretend not to have understood a word that ghost was saying about her. They don't know each other that well when it comes down to it, but even when they knew even less about one another, he was still sticking his neck out to try and show her a little grace after those voices made it fairly clear she wasn't worth all that trouble. Maybe she's jaded for it, but hearing things like that about a stranger in the dark would have at least gotten more than a few questions out of her.
She's not the best at being kind, but Ichigo makes Nami want to be kind to him. ]
Easiest for me...
[ Nami repeats the words quietly, watching as he twists himself around in his seat, sure he's trying to hide from her on more than one level. There are probably a lot of simpler routes she could take, and the grimly goal-oriented part of her that's figured out how she's going to play this game for the sake of those she cares for seems to speak up in the back of her head, reminding her of that. Nami is still learning her way around sex, but she knows she could tell him to sit still, slide a hand down his pants, and get him off - probably quite quickly if the tension and awkwardness in the way he's sitting is any clue. It would count as being a good friend, but the fluttering in her chest pulls her forward, rising onto her knees so she can reach out and touch his shoulder, wordlessly trying to get him to look at her. ]
It's not an issue of easy or hard. [ A pause, a frown, a deep, deep sigh. ]
I think I want you to know I would have slept with you anyway, even if it wasn't...like this. [ Did she want him to know that? Yes, it's the truth, but, getting the words out leaves her so shaken there's a moment where Nami's quiet, reassembling herself after her honesty rattles her in new and thorough ways. Before affording herself the luxury of letting other people in, the idea that something could be so scary and so gratifying simultaneously would have made her roll her eyes, but she's not the person those ghosts were talking about anymore - she hopes. They can fumble through this together. ]
If we say we're going slow for my sake, would that help you?
（ the touch to his shoulder makes his entire body go rigid like he's braced for a blow.
but it's the the statement that's honest enough, and raw enough, that drags him out of the mire of his self-imposed shame. his attention flickers to her, and a furrowed brow expresses all the things he doesn't say in that moment. he's never really been good at hiding anguish in his darkest moments, and it — kills him a little that she's here and she's trying to be gentle to him, for him. that she's countering the physicality of his vulnerability with the verbal offering of her own.
he wants to touch her back so badly in that moment that he has to squeeze his fingers in tight against his palm until he can feel nails puncture skin. he doesn't realize he's bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood too until he tastes it. it's such a little hurt alongside the way he feels like his bones are molten on the inside, like he's standing within the radius of zanka no tachi as the old captain burns the world around him. ）
I don't know. （ he says it honestly. emotion is heavy in his voice — and it's audibly, identifiably fear — but it's not for himself. his gaze slants away from her again. ） I'll try.
（ he has the horrible, sinking suspicion that if they get anything started where they're at they're just going to stay on the floor, so he sort of scoots away from her awkwardly and pushes his back against the wall, feet braced, mostly using the wildly unsteady strength of his thighs as he forces himself upwards. normally, he'd give her a hand as well — but these aren't normal times. ）
Bed's clean. New sheets.
（ mostly because he's been a gross, sweaty, hypersensitive wreck for a couple days now and also he likes being tidy, so. ）
[ Waiting for him to rise before getting to her feet, she spares a look over her shoulder at the bed, privately marveling over the wonder that is a man who changes his sheets before turning back to Ichigo. By the time she bridges the space between them, her stomach has worked itself into knots. The feeling that she's tipped her hand is unavoidable, it almost always is when Nami pushes herself to be open like this, but she does what she can to shove it aside and reach for him again, now that they're both standing. Nami touches his arm, the pad of her thumb absently brushing over his skin as she leans in, carefully hedging into his space while she looks up at him through narrowed eyes. ]
I promise if you do something that makes me upset or hurts me, I don't mind punching you in the face.
[ It's a vow issued so gently, it's almost comical for all its contrasts, but, she thinks he needs to hear it. He's not afraid for himself, or afraid of what she came here to do - she thinks - but he's worried for her and Nami knows no amount of convincing him it's okay is going to work. She can promise to kick his ass though, a strategy that's worked with her crew back home enough times to give her a spark of hope that it might help now. ]
Come closer? [ He is very tall, and while she's not above it, Nami doesn't think climbing him is the way to go right now if they're being mindful about trying to keep him in control of himself as long as they can be. ] It would be weird of me to start enjoying your new sheets without you. [ When will she stop saying such stupid things to people she likes? When? ]
（ her irreverence actually makes him laugh, the levity easing the strain of the situation. because it's easy, because it's something that's familiar — a friend threatening him with physical violence has never really failed to land with him. ）
Okay. Deal. Actually, you're probably better off kicking me in the — well.
（ an embarrassed little upwards jerk of his shoulders. she's a girl, she probably knows what he's implying. not that he really wants to take a kick to the balls, but he's been punched in the face a lot more than he's taken a blow to the junk, and he's pretty sure he'd just ignore the former if sufficiently motivated, so. you know. safety measures.
but he does obey her, taking first one halting step and then another until they're almost breathing the same air. ）
I — you should. Can you be on top? If we're gonna — if that's what you want to do.
（ look he cannot even bring himself to be direct about it. he's too ripped apart by lust and a pain so alike what he felt after the dangai, after aizen. his focus is slipping, and the only thing he knows is that he wants to touch her bare skin. unbidden and without permission, his good hand goes to her hip, fingers bunching in the fabric there. something in his mind that feels so much like shiro is a bleak whisper, telling him how easily he could just rip it apart, off of her, reveal the skin he almost feels like he wants to devour beneath the haze of wild desire. he has to make himself let go of it, and it's an effort.
he swallows, audibly and painfully, and then he steps around her. is it. should he — get undressed? he hooks his hand along the bottom of his shirt and peels it off in an easy gesture, and then he drops a hand against his belt. breathes out hard. ）
Are you — are you sure. Please. If you're not I need you to leave right now.
[ It's her turn to laugh at the suggestion, shaking her head and pushing it aside, still trying to shake the feeling that she's out of her depth just being alone with Ichigo.
The improvisation she's relied on to get her through this casino until now doesn't hit the same right now. The sense that she's flying by the seat of her pants hasn't gone anywhere, and Nami's sure it won't until she's home again, but this time it's rooted in something different. She's figuring it out as she goes not for her sake, but because she wants this to be something more than the source of apprehension that it is for him. Selfishness is easy for Nami, but this? Uncharted waters.
He gets closer, and though Nami isn't conscious of it, she holds her breath all the same, nodding gently at the request that she be on top, before the hand that he fists into the fabric of the dress she wore over here tightens, sending a spike of anticipation through her. ]
I don't want to go anywhere. [ She'll tell him again if he needs to hear it further down the line, but for now, Nami reaches for him, gently nudging his hand off his belt before she grasps hold of it, pulling him back to her while she rises onto the balls of her feet, drawing herself up enough to press her lips against his. ]
（ she touches his hand, and then the belt, and there is a sense of electric shock like a livewire across every nerve ending in his body. he grits his teeth against the sudden surge of pleasure, and where he'd been fighting down a hard-on earlier, now he's just so hard it hurts, pants uncomfortably tight. he's about to tense up again and spook away from her like a startled deer when she presses her mouth against his and all thought of flight evaporate out of his mind.
he hasn't kissed — anyone before. so his reaction is wildly clumsy, unpractised, driven by the vivid red diamond etched on his wrist. but his lips part under hers, and the drive of his tongue into her mouth is only matched in pure physicality by the fact that he's suddenly shifted his hands — both of them, even the left and its slow transmuted crawl to a vivid aquamarine — to her hips and picked her up.
there's no effort to it, no indication it's a strain to him, and the promise of putting her on top is immediately forgotten. indeed, it's all he can do to make sure they hit the bed as he steps forward, and his hands are frantic, unsteady as they shove the hem of her dress up. her skin is so cool by comparison to his, fever-bright and burning, and the skin he bares isn't — it's not enough, not enough.
he doesn't even realize he's ripped it, split the seam along the side halfway up along her ribs, until he smooths his hand against her midriff, pushing the fabric out of the way. ）
[ With all the dexterity of a pickpocket, his belt is unfastened and pulled free in the span of heartbeats, barely getting a chance to delve lower and run across the firm line of his cock through his pants before she's lifted off her feet. If there's anything clumsy about the way he's kissing her, Nami doesn't seem to notice or mind - too caught up in the heat of his body against hers and the thrill that parades through her, feeling his tongue lick into her mouth.
Her arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand, lightly calloused from a life at sea, flattening against his back, roving over his skin and greedily mapping his shape out, while the other sinks into his hair, humming low against his mouth as she tugs it gently.
Their collision with the bed and her dress giving out seem to happen in the same rush of motion, her thighs finding purchase on his hips, holding him against her while she arches herself up enough to press the heat radiating between her thighs against him. He's the one left reeling from the effects of his suit, but that need does nothing but urge her on, leaving her seeking more of him and the notion of trying to go slowly forgotten so thoroughly that she doesn't even care about him ruining her dress. ]
Pull it the rest of the way. [ She mumbles against his mouth, reaching back to unclip her bra and tug the sleeves of her dress down enough that he can just rid her of the garment with one more tug, grinding her hips against his and leaving herself shivering from the teasing contact. ]
（ that appears to shock him enough that he is staring down in dismay at the pieces of dress in one hand, blinking as if he has no memory of why it's abruptly torn. but he isn't given long to consider it — instead, he obeys her and gives the garment a yank, taking it the rest of the way off. it bares more skin, and between that and the quest of her hand across his back and the twining of her fingers in his hair, he lets out a sound that is rough and fractured, forehead pressed against the crux of her shoulder like breathing her in is the only thing keeping him steady. it hurts to be touched in his current state, but it's worse not to be. it's as if every point of contact between them is sizzling the way hot metal does when it touches water, and he knows almost instinctively it will lead to relief if he can just bear it out now.
her thighs are tight around his hips, and he's suddenly pissed off he's wearing pants, that there's anything between them at all. the mindless urge to rut against her rises, and his hips buck against her, responding to the heat of her body and the press of her thighs and the manic, frantic need that's seized him by the fucking throat. still, the fragmented thread of him that's still rational hesitates to get undressed, to make this something real and solid, to step forward into something he can't take back.
he should — say something, he thinks. apologize for the dress. ask permission to keep touching her like this. he'd said she should be on top, right? he should —
but she's mostly naked now, bra pushed up. he's — seen breasts before, thanks, has seen both yoruichi and rukia naked, has imagined inoue in moments where he's alone, but those tepid dips into fantasy never get much further than just laying on a bed together before his mind clenches on the thought and drives him to a cold shower or some other method of distraction. nami's skin is paler where the sun hasn't kissed it, and her breasts are a soft swell against a body that's been made lean and hard by sailing life, and he should — get the bra off the rest of the way first. shouldn't wreck more of her clothes.
so the strap gets tugged, clumsy, down the length of her arm and then off the other, and the bra flung elsewhere in the room. one hand is flat, braced on the bed, and the other — when he touches her breasts it's neither gentle nor particularly polished, the inexperience showing in the fact he doesn't really seem to know what to do with them now that he's here. what results is an inarticulate series of otherwise valiant attempts, fingers kneading at her in a way he doesn't realize is bruisingly hard. ）
Did you — （ talking is So Hard right now. he's breathless. ） condoms?
[ There was a moment during their first conversation where the fleeting thought that his disinterest in the game this casino wanted them to play was a good thing purely based on how deeply intense he was in those initial messages they exchanged. If she were more clear-headed now the memory of that assumption might be enough to laugh, but there's little to no room for anything beyond the heat that almost crackles its way through the dwindling space between them. She hadn't been wrong in her initial assessment of him, but the intensity rolling off him in waves isn't something she would be content to miss, not after being here, lips already swollen from the force of those clumsy but ravenous kisses, the shape and the heat of his body pressed against her so consuming it's enough to make her body buzz with giddiness.
Ichigo drives his hips against hers, leaving Nami gasping against his mouth, her thighs tensing against his sides, trying to pull him closer despite being painfully aware of the barrier their layers of clothing present. It's that awareness that keeps her moving with him as he fumbles through getting her bra straps down her arms before pulling it off, her hands pulling away from his body for barely a second before she's touching him again, one hand cradling the side of his neck before sweeping over his shoulder blades as the other moves to cover the one cupping her breast. ] Not so hard, not so hard... [ Her voice shakes, even when it's nothing more than a shiver of a whisper against his mouth, raking her nails down his back to pull his attention to her. ] I'm not going anywhere, neither are they. [ If he leaves marks, she might care tomorrow, but today Nami can't imagine giving a damn about anything beyond surrounding herself with him and trying to soften the edges of the urge that's taken such firm hold of him, still - ouch.
Drawing back far enough that her eyes can catch a fleeting glimpse of his face, her own flushed and lit up with a breathlessly lopsided grin, Nami tilts her chin, bumping the bridge of her nose against his before pressing her lips to his again as she shifts beneath him and moves like she means to sit up. ] Move this way– [ One of her thighs lifts and pushes against his side, making an effort to steer him off of her and into swapping positions. He's earnest and eager, and it's enough to make her thoughts swim together in a heady haze of want, but she's got enough sense to know he was onto something when he asked her to be on top.
Nami's thighs stay against his hips as she rolls them both to the side and settles on top of him, her mouth still on his as her hands run down his body, pulling his pants open before lifting herself enough to push them down. The sight of his cock so painfully hard is enough to leave her similarly aching, fighting the urge to touch him as she first pulls the condoms she'd brought with her from their hiding place between her hip and her panties, and then gets rid of her underwear altogether, fairly sure she should be the one to do it if she wants to keep at least some of her clothing intact (maybe she doesn't, considering how thunderstruck and thrilled she is already). Her eyes sweep up his body, settling on his face again as she moves over him, straddling his hips as one of her hands pulls open the wrapper on a condom before moving between them. ]
Ichigo– [ There's so much weight and want in the way she says his name it almost feels like it should be louder than the whisper it is, a reflection of the gentleness in her touch as she rolls the latex sheath down the length of his cock, and moves again, this time to bring their bodies closer, her hand gently stroking down to the base of his cock before guiding him towards the slick heat of her entrance. ] Still okay?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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i don't know if it's safe to be around me right now.
i can send you money instead and you can take your friends if you want?
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What stuff? What's wrong? Of course you're safe, don't be stupid.
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（ wow, when someone busts out the 'hahas' in a text message you know there's some weird shit going down. ）
i haven't... you know. and i think it's starting to get to me.
（ please don't make him talk about this he is like three steps from death over here??? ）
1/a bunch
I remember you said you weren't interested. [ And since then she's put it out of her mind - mostly - he's interesting and kind, which is a problem. ]
Do you want to come over?
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You can come here if you want to. If fixing that is fixed the same way everything here is fixed then we'll fix it.
Or something.
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he hates that he's thought about it.
it only ever feels disrespectful to him to think about women that way. and inoue —
(in ways, she's always been more practical than him. she wouldn't want him to suffer. she'd accept that being somewhere like this means making a few sacrifices.)
but he doesn't know quite what to think about this. he hadn't... ）
i didn't mean to put you in a position where you felt like you needed to offer.
（ is the first thing he sends. sombre, and serious, and maybe just a little heartbroken. she's a good person. ）
i'm okay, nami, really.
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Do you think I'm a pushover or something? [ Going out on a limb like this is hard and more than enough to get her hackles up. ] Why would I feel like I had to? You're not that impressive with a flashlight.
You're my friend, stupid. I'm telling you to come over because of that.
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but if he closes his eyes, he can remember how he felt, when rukia told him off after he'd dismissed chad's feelings so easily, how he'd cared more in the moment about keeping his friend out of danger than protecting his heart and his pride, and how fucking wretched he'd been afterwards.
he closes his eyes for a long moment.
if their situations were reversed. if nami had come to him like this...
he would've said yes in a heartbeat, he knows. he would've set his own reservations and uncertainty and fears aside and said yes, and meant it. and it — matters, that she's doing that for him.
it matters. but there is still a tight clench in his chest and a hot feeling at the back of his throat, a weight behind his sinuses that feels like he's holding back tears. he's hot all over, even the pressure of clothing against his skin hurts — but pain is just something to stand, and he's no stranger to that.
it's a long time before he replies again: ）
okay.
but can you come here? and i don't have any condoms or anything （ as much as he's an easily scandalized youth, when it comes right down to the wire he's deeply, ruthlessly utilitarian. his father is a doctor. he grew up around a clinic. he's no stranger to safe sex practices, even if he regretted every minute he ever spent in isshin's presence discussing it. ）
not that we have to do that
just
in case.
i'm sorry. you're my friend too. it's hard for me to accept help.
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If Nami has her way, neither he nor anyone else here would ever have the faintest idea of how profoundly those words resonate with her. Arlong Park is a fresh and painful memory still, as is the harsh lesson about trying to fight alone. ]
I'll see you soon.
[ The lie he told for her sake sits heavily on her mind, weighing on her enough to distract her from how her heart's beating faster than it was before she responded. He is a good person, and allowing herself to let that endear someone to her is as new of an idea as asking for help, a feeling that's left her perplexed when it's crossed her mind since the last time they saw each other but this - having a direction, makes the awkwardness she can't quite put a name to, easier to handle, somehow.
She's too preoccupied with rolling her eyes at herself to pay much attention to the sexy art in the elevator, fingers idly fussing with the hem of her dress right up until she steps off and onto his floor.
Pausing in front of his door, she stops and takes a deep breath before finally knocking. ]
Hey... [ Does she sound stupid? She feels like she sounds stupid. ] It's me. [ Who else would it be?? ]
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she'll find him sitting on the floor furthest from the door, one leg drawn up. the other one is stretched out in front of him, and he's got one arm braced on his propped up knee. but he doesn't — look at her as she comes into the room, instead biting one lip with his head faintly turned to the side, as if he's worried that looking directly at her will just make everything worse all over again.
should he say something? should he say nothing? his fingers curl in against his palm, and then uncurl with an effort. ）
Hey.
（ comes finally. his voice is a rasp, coloured by shame and general discomfort. but he's trying not to just freak out on her. ）
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It's hard to miss how he's avoiding looking in her direction, and while that makes her want to keep her distance, she came here to help him. Doubting herself isn't going to do anything for anybody.
Lips curved in a tentative smile Nami crosses the room, taking a seat beside him on the floor.
She looks ahead, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs, as she tilts her head to the side, considering. ]
What are you worried about? [ She can't tell him to relax, or that there isn't anything to worry about. He's the one with the tattoo that's gone dark enough to work him into this state after all, but, one thing at a time. ]
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（ it's the first, immediate thing he says, and his jaw tightens as he says it, casts his gaze a little further to the side. having her close like this is making it worse in unspeakable ways, and he reflexively tries to twist his hips a little so the fact he's half-hard is a little less obvious in the fold of his pants. ）
You saw it, I'm powerful. It's physical strength, too. So I need — I need to stay controlled. I've hurt people before without meaning to. （ hastily — ） Not like this. （ not sex, not anything like this. ） Just — people I care about.
（ his left hand, being overtaken with a semi-transparent blue stone, streaked with black obsidian is tucked in against his other thigh. he seems to still have a bit of mobility to it, though, evidenced by the faint twitch to his fingers.
that his voice stays more or less even keeled, except for having picked up a very faint tremor, is a testament to his willpower. ）
What's going to be easiest for you? Can we do that?
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She's not the best at being kind, but Ichigo makes Nami want to be kind to him. ]
Easiest for me...
[ Nami repeats the words quietly, watching as he twists himself around in his seat, sure he's trying to hide from her on more than one level. There are probably a lot of simpler routes she could take, and the grimly goal-oriented part of her that's figured out how she's going to play this game for the sake of those she cares for seems to speak up in the back of her head, reminding her of that. Nami is still learning her way around sex, but she knows she could tell him to sit still, slide a hand down his pants, and get him off - probably quite quickly if the tension and awkwardness in the way he's sitting is any clue. It would count as being a good friend, but the fluttering in her chest pulls her forward, rising onto her knees so she can reach out and touch his shoulder, wordlessly trying to get him to look at her. ]
It's not an issue of easy or hard. [ A pause, a frown, a deep, deep sigh. ]
I think I want you to know I would have slept with you anyway, even if it wasn't...like this. [ Did she want him to know that? Yes, it's the truth, but, getting the words out leaves her so shaken there's a moment where Nami's quiet, reassembling herself after her honesty rattles her in new and thorough ways. Before affording herself the luxury of letting other people in, the idea that something could be so scary and so gratifying simultaneously would have made her roll her eyes, but she's not the person those ghosts were talking about anymore - she hopes. They can fumble through this together. ]
If we say we're going slow for my sake, would that help you?
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but it's the the statement that's honest enough, and raw enough, that drags him out of the mire of his self-imposed shame. his attention flickers to her, and a furrowed brow expresses all the things he doesn't say in that moment. he's never really been good at hiding anguish in his darkest moments, and it — kills him a little that she's here and she's trying to be gentle to him, for him. that she's countering the physicality of his vulnerability with the verbal offering of her own.
he wants to touch her back so badly in that moment that he has to squeeze his fingers in tight against his palm until he can feel nails puncture skin. he doesn't realize he's bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood too until he tastes it. it's such a little hurt alongside the way he feels like his bones are molten on the inside, like he's standing within the radius of zanka no tachi as the old captain burns the world around him. ）
I don't know. （ he says it honestly. emotion is heavy in his voice — and it's audibly, identifiably fear — but it's not for himself. his gaze slants away from her again. ） I'll try.
（ he has the horrible, sinking suspicion that if they get anything started where they're at they're just going to stay on the floor, so he sort of scoots away from her awkwardly and pushes his back against the wall, feet braced, mostly using the wildly unsteady strength of his thighs as he forces himself upwards. normally, he'd give her a hand as well — but these aren't normal times. ）
Bed's clean. New sheets.
（ mostly because he's been a gross, sweaty, hypersensitive wreck for a couple days now and also he likes being tidy, so. ）
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I promise if you do something that makes me upset or hurts me, I don't mind punching you in the face.
[ It's a vow issued so gently, it's almost comical for all its contrasts, but, she thinks he needs to hear it. He's not afraid for himself, or afraid of what she came here to do - she thinks - but he's worried for her and Nami knows no amount of convincing him it's okay is going to work. She can promise to kick his ass though, a strategy that's worked with her crew back home enough times to give her a spark of hope that it might help now. ]
Come closer? [ He is very tall, and while she's not above it, Nami doesn't think climbing him is the way to go right now if they're being mindful about trying to keep him in control of himself as long as they can be. ] It would be weird of me to start enjoying your new sheets without you. [ When will she stop saying such stupid things to people she likes? When? ]
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Okay. Deal. Actually, you're probably better off kicking me in the — well.
（ an embarrassed little upwards jerk of his shoulders. she's a girl, she probably knows what he's implying. not that he really wants to take a kick to the balls, but he's been punched in the face a lot more than he's taken a blow to the junk, and he's pretty sure he'd just ignore the former if sufficiently motivated, so. you know. safety measures.
but he does obey her, taking first one halting step and then another until they're almost breathing the same air. ）
I — you should. Can you be on top? If we're gonna — if that's what you want to do.
（ look he cannot even bring himself to be direct about it. he's too ripped apart by lust and a pain so alike what he felt after the dangai, after aizen. his focus is slipping, and the only thing he knows is that he wants to touch her bare skin. unbidden and without permission, his good hand goes to her hip, fingers bunching in the fabric there. something in his mind that feels so much like shiro is a bleak whisper, telling him how easily he could just rip it apart, off of her, reveal the skin he almost feels like he wants to devour beneath the haze of wild desire. he has to make himself let go of it, and it's an effort.
he swallows, audibly and painfully, and then he steps around her. is it. should he — get undressed? he hooks his hand along the bottom of his shirt and peels it off in an easy gesture, and then he drops a hand against his belt. breathes out hard. ）
Are you — are you sure. Please. If you're not I need you to leave right now.
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The improvisation she's relied on to get her through this casino until now doesn't hit the same right now. The sense that she's flying by the seat of her pants hasn't gone anywhere, and Nami's sure it won't until she's home again, but this time it's rooted in something different. She's figuring it out as she goes not for her sake, but because she wants this to be something more than the source of apprehension that it is for him. Selfishness is easy for Nami, but this? Uncharted waters.
He gets closer, and though Nami isn't conscious of it, she holds her breath all the same, nodding gently at the request that she be on top, before the hand that he fists into the fabric of the dress she wore over here tightens, sending a spike of anticipation through her. ]
I don't want to go anywhere. [ She'll tell him again if he needs to hear it further down the line, but for now, Nami reaches for him, gently nudging his hand off his belt before she grasps hold of it, pulling him back to her while she rises onto the balls of her feet, drawing herself up enough to press her lips against his. ]
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he hasn't kissed — anyone before. so his reaction is wildly clumsy, unpractised, driven by the vivid red diamond etched on his wrist. but his lips part under hers, and the drive of his tongue into her mouth is only matched in pure physicality by the fact that he's suddenly shifted his hands — both of them, even the left and its slow transmuted crawl to a vivid aquamarine — to her hips and picked her up.
there's no effort to it, no indication it's a strain to him, and the promise of putting her on top is immediately forgotten. indeed, it's all he can do to make sure they hit the bed as he steps forward, and his hands are frantic, unsteady as they shove the hem of her dress up. her skin is so cool by comparison to his, fever-bright and burning, and the skin he bares isn't — it's not enough, not enough.
he doesn't even realize he's ripped it, split the seam along the side halfway up along her ribs, until he smooths his hand against her midriff, pushing the fabric out of the way. ）
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Her arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand, lightly calloused from a life at sea, flattening against his back, roving over his skin and greedily mapping his shape out, while the other sinks into his hair, humming low against his mouth as she tugs it gently.
Their collision with the bed and her dress giving out seem to happen in the same rush of motion, her thighs finding purchase on his hips, holding him against her while she arches herself up enough to press the heat radiating between her thighs against him. He's the one left reeling from the effects of his suit, but that need does nothing but urge her on, leaving her seeking more of him and the notion of trying to go slowly forgotten so thoroughly that she doesn't even care about him ruining her dress. ]
Pull it the rest of the way. [ She mumbles against his mouth, reaching back to unclip her bra and tug the sleeves of her dress down enough that he can just rid her of the garment with one more tug, grinding her hips against his and leaving herself shivering from the teasing contact. ]
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her thighs are tight around his hips, and he's suddenly pissed off he's wearing pants, that there's anything between them at all. the mindless urge to rut against her rises, and his hips buck against her, responding to the heat of her body and the press of her thighs and the manic, frantic need that's seized him by the fucking throat. still, the fragmented thread of him that's still rational hesitates to get undressed, to make this something real and solid, to step forward into something he can't take back.
he should — say something, he thinks. apologize for the dress. ask permission to keep touching her like this. he'd said she should be on top, right? he should —
but she's mostly naked now, bra pushed up. he's — seen breasts before, thanks, has seen both yoruichi and rukia naked, has imagined inoue in moments where he's alone, but those tepid dips into fantasy never get much further than just laying on a bed together before his mind clenches on the thought and drives him to a cold shower or some other method of distraction. nami's skin is paler where the sun hasn't kissed it, and her breasts are a soft swell against a body that's been made lean and hard by sailing life, and he should — get the bra off the rest of the way first. shouldn't wreck more of her clothes.
so the strap gets tugged, clumsy, down the length of her arm and then off the other, and the bra flung elsewhere in the room. one hand is flat, braced on the bed, and the other — when he touches her breasts it's neither gentle nor particularly polished, the inexperience showing in the fact he doesn't really seem to know what to do with them now that he's here. what results is an inarticulate series of otherwise valiant attempts, fingers kneading at her in a way he doesn't realize is bruisingly hard. ）
Did you — （ talking is So Hard right now. he's breathless. ） condoms?
the most niche sad country song ever
Ichigo drives his hips against hers, leaving Nami gasping against his mouth, her thighs tensing against his sides, trying to pull him closer despite being painfully aware of the barrier their layers of clothing present. It's that awareness that keeps her moving with him as he fumbles through getting her bra straps down her arms before pulling it off, her hands pulling away from his body for barely a second before she's touching him again, one hand cradling the side of his neck before sweeping over his shoulder blades as the other moves to cover the one cupping her breast. ] Not so hard, not so hard... [ Her voice shakes, even when it's nothing more than a shiver of a whisper against his mouth, raking her nails down his back to pull his attention to her. ] I'm not going anywhere, neither are they. [ If he leaves marks, she might care tomorrow, but today Nami can't imagine giving a damn about anything beyond surrounding herself with him and trying to soften the edges of the urge that's taken such firm hold of him, still - ouch.
Drawing back far enough that her eyes can catch a fleeting glimpse of his face, her own flushed and lit up with a breathlessly lopsided grin, Nami tilts her chin, bumping the bridge of her nose against his before pressing her lips to his again as she shifts beneath him and moves like she means to sit up. ] Move this way– [ One of her thighs lifts and pushes against his side, making an effort to steer him off of her and into swapping positions. He's earnest and eager, and it's enough to make her thoughts swim together in a heady haze of want, but she's got enough sense to know he was onto something when he asked her to be on top.
Nami's thighs stay against his hips as she rolls them both to the side and settles on top of him, her mouth still on his as her hands run down his body, pulling his pants open before lifting herself enough to push them down. The sight of his cock so painfully hard is enough to leave her similarly aching, fighting the urge to touch him as she first pulls the condoms she'd brought with her from their hiding place between her hip and her panties, and then gets rid of her underwear altogether, fairly sure she should be the one to do it if she wants to keep at least some of her clothing intact (maybe she doesn't, considering how thunderstruck and thrilled she is already). Her eyes sweep up his body, settling on his face again as she moves over him, straddling his hips as one of her hands pulls open the wrapper on a condom before moving between them. ]
Ichigo– [ There's so much weight and want in the way she says his name it almost feels like it should be louder than the whisper it is, a reflection of the gentleness in her touch as she rolls the latex sheath down the length of his cock, and moves again, this time to bring their bodies closer, her hand gently stroking down to the base of his cock before guiding him towards the slick heat of her entrance. ] Still okay?
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ugh i edited and still missed that weird space apols
no worries!!
the vulnerabilities flying around his room could choke a bear
literally...
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