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Craving Strawberry Surprise	By : roguebitch Category: Supernatural > Crossovers Views: 1274 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and make no money from this story. I likewise don't own Bleach and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 3
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- 5
When they got back to Kurosaki Clinic, Ichigo led Sam upstairs to his bedroom and opened the door. For a teenaged boy’s room, it was weirdly neat. There was a closet next to the door and a bed across from it directly under the window. The last thing was the desk, which was right next to the bed. A couple of posters on the wall advertised bands Sam had never heard of. The bed was made, the desk was clean, the chair pushed in, and the computer screen was black. It looked nothing like the rooms Sam had shared with his brother and grown up in, with unmade beds and piles of laundry (both clean and dirty) hastily straightened up when Dad came back from his hunts. If anything, it looked more like the motel rooms he and Dean used now.
The only thing out of place was the futon on the floor for Sam.
“Will you be okay here if I go take a shower?” Ichigo asked, looking anywhere but at Sam, scratching the back of his head nervously.
“Let me go to the bathroom first,” Sam replied, amused at the resurgence of Ichigo’s shyness. He used the facilities, relieved to get his dick out of the constriction of his briefs. They were more uncomfortable than ever now that his initial excitement at kissing Ichigo had worn off.
He washed his hands and face, and side-eyed the combination shower/bathtub that took up half of the room, wondering how exactly the whole apparatus worked. Then he headed back to the room. Ichigo left as soon as Sam returned, brushing past him wordlessly, head down.
Sam lay on the futon. His feet dangled off the end far enough that he could rest his heels on the floor, but that wasn’t anything he hadn’t been expecting. Mattresses that he could fit his entire body on were rare.
He closed his eyes and cataloged the sounds of the house. He heard Karin and Yuzu’s voices in the kitchen over the clinking of dishware: safe. He heard water rushing through the plumbing as Ichigo took his shower: safe. He heard the sounds of Karakura settling down for the night, which sounded like any and every city: safe. Nothing out of place, nothing that sounded like it needed his attention. He could relax.
At some point, without intending to, he dozed off.
Sam woke at the door opening, light from the hallway washing lemon-yellow across his closed eyelids. He heard Ichigo shut the door and step over him, and then the futon slowly dipped down as Ichigo settled next to him. His body heat was a long warm line down Sam’s side.
“This is a narrow futon,” Sam said, without opening his eyes. “But I think we could make it work.”
Ichigo huffed a nervous-sounding laugh that Sam felt across his lips. He rolled onto his side slowly and fitted his front to Ichigo’s. He smelled like soap and was wearing a towel around his waist. Only a towel. Sam marveled at Ichigo’s brashness, impressed at his initiative. He felt overdressed.
He wondered where Ichigo’s clothes had gone.
Ichigo stretched against Sam, his lips against Sam’s, his hips against Sam’s hips, his toes on Sam’s insteps. His dick was hard and insistent against Sam’s belly, whose cock was starting to show some renewed interest in events.
“What if somebody hears us?” Sam murmured, acutely aware that they were in Ichigo’s father’s house. He was uncomfortably reminded of awkward high school groping sessions that had masqueraded as study dates.
“We’ll be very quiet,” Ichigo enunciated in a whisper. When Sam didn’t immediately respond, Ichigo grabbed his left wrist and pulled his hand down to the front of the damp towel. He pushed Sam’s hand against his dick, mediated by too much terrycloth, and let go. Sam, amazed at Ichigo’s boldness, fumbled around the knot. The towel fell open and suddenly he had his hand wrapped around Ichigo’s hard, slender, and rather moist cock. Ichigo gasped and arched, breath hissing through his clenched teeth.
“Oh, god,” Sam groaned. The situation felt hyperreal. He was actually touching Ichigo. Ichigo wanted him to. Ichigo wanted it enough to overcome his own reticence, enough to force Sam out of his immobility.
Sam rolled onto his forearm so he curved over Ichigo. He gave Ichigo’s dick a gentle squeeze, and Ichigo’s surprised exclamation echoed around the room.
“I thought we had to be quiet,” Sam teased, stroking Ichigo rhythmically, hot skin moving and sliding under his hand, growing slick with sweat and the precome Ichigo was producing.
“Shut up,” Ichigo snapped, staring down to where his hips followed Sam’s hand. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his own hands until he grabbed the top edge of the futon, holding on for dear life.
“You shut up,” Sam replied, lowering himself so he could kiss Ichigo again. Ichigo kissed back frantically, letting go of the futon and gripping Sam’s biceps in his hands, thumbs digging into the skin. He moved in fits and starts: first kissing Sam, then stopping to groan into his mouth, then desperately rocking his hips as Sam worked his dick remorselessly in his fist. It was sloppy as hell, but even Ichigo’s raw inexperience left Sam hot and aching.
It didn’t take very long before Ichigo’s hips thrust up hard one more time, and he froze there for an instant. He gasped, mouth wide open against Sam’s, head thrown back against the pillow, eyes tightly shut. Sam didn’t stop. He kept his grip on Ichigo, hand moving faster, his mouth covering Ichigo’s to catch his quick startled cries as he came all over Sam and the towel, hips jerking helplessly.
Sam’s motion slowed, and Ichigo’s sounds into his mouth tapered off into pants, and then his head dropped onto the pillow. Sam released Ichigo’s dick and lay his hand flat on Ichigo’s belly, squarely in the puddle of come. He spread his fingers, spanning the expanse of Ichigo’s stomach, his pinky finger at the base of Ichigo’s cock, palm covering his navel, and his thumb reaching the middle of Ichigo’s solar plexus, feeling his breathing slow.
"Ichigo," said Sam. Ichigo twitched, his nostrils flaring as he caught his breath. The long silence unnerved Sam. "Ichigo, are you okay? Did you like that?"
“Majide,” Ichigo breathed, eyes still closed. He took a deep breath and said, “Definitely.”
“You sure?” Sam taunted. Ichigo’s eyes flashed open and he glared up at Sam. He pulled Sam down for a quick, aggressive kiss that left Sam’s lips feeling bruised.
“Yes,” Ichigo said firmly. He pulled the towel the rest of the way off and lifted Sam’s hand to clean it. Sam was a little nonplussed at the attention. He would’ve just wiped his hand on the comforter. Then Ichigo swiped at his abdomen and dropped the towel on the floor next to the futon.
Ichigo rolled onto his knees and pushed Sam onto his back by his shoulders. “I want to take your clothes off,” he said.
“Yes, please,” Sam murmured, happy to let Ichigo take the lead, especially if it meant both of them ended up naked. He felt hot and prickly and everything he wore chafed.
Ichigo fumbled with the buttons on Sam’s shirt, hands trembling and clumsy.
“You aren’t nervous, are you?” Sam asked, grinning.
“No,” Ichigo retorted, voice flat, not looking at him.
“Of course you aren’t,” Sam drawled. “Haven’t you done this before?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Ichigo snapped, finally getting one button undone. “You know I haven’t.”
“Have you ever even kissed anybody?”
“Not since before I became a Soul Reaper. When the hell would I have time?” Ichigo replied, irritated. He started fighting with the next button, clearly running his mouth out of sheer nerves. “There’s nobody interested and no time to look. I’m either at school or killing things. Dammit!”
Orihime’s interested, Sam thought about saying, but decided against it. That was a conversation for another time. Or maybe never.
Sam enjoyed the sight of Ichigo without bravado as he flung his hands away from the button in exasperation, but decided to take pity on him. He pulled Ichigo’s hands back down, holding them flat against his chest.
“It’s okay. You aren’t doing anything wrong. I want this,” he said. “Do you want this?”
“Of course I do,” Ichigo said witheringly.
“Then relax. Just go with it. I’m not going to critique your unbuttoning skills. I just want you to take my clothes off.”
That got a slight smile from Ichigo, and he seemed to settle. He took a deep breath and started over again on Sam’s shirt buttons. They came undone quickly, and Sam took the opportunity to run his eyes over Ichigo’s body.
The pale orange glow of the sodium streetlights seeped through the cracks in the curtains to wash over Ichigo’s bare torso. He was slender, lithe, and muscular. He had light hair on his arms and legs; scant and silky tufts in his armpits, and a faint trail leading down from his navel to a sparse, rust-colored thatch around his balls. He was broad-shouldered, but he had that unfinished, slightly raw look that young adults had when they hadn’t entirely grown into their frames. He was actually paler than Sam, his skin a light honey color, which was unexpected. His face was longer than Sam remembered, his chin sharper, cheekbones more prominent. His hair kept falling into his eyes and he kept tossing his head to get it out of the way.
He had gone from attractive kid to arrestingly handsome young man in the two years that had elapsed from their first meeting. Sam couldn’t stop staring.
Ichigo stopped what he was doing to glare at Sam.
“What the hell are you leering at?” he hissed, eyes narrowed.
“You. I’m allowed, right? I mean, after giving you a handjob I can look, can’t I?” Sam found needling Ichigo kind of irresistible. He couldn’t stop himself from provoking him when was already pissed off at his ignorance.
Ichigo grumbled, “Jerk.”
“You’re uncircumcised,” Sam said.
“So? Does it matter?” Ichigo frowned, but didn’t look up from his work on Sam’s shirt.
“No. Just an observation. It’s not my first.”
Ichigo's expression soured further. “Your bedside manner sucks. Is it your first time for anything?”
“Sorry,” Sam replied, chagrined. He'd meant to reassure Ichigo, to let him know that he had enough experience to put him at ease. Instead he'd sounded like a total jerk.
He knew how cheesy he would sound, but he wanted to make up for saying something so thoughtless, so he offered, “It’s my first time with Ichigo.”
Ichigo rolled his eyes, but he ducked his head down and Sam could see his small, appeased smile. He finished unbuttoning Sam’s shirt and spread it open. Sam lifted up slightly so that Ichigo could pull the shirt down and off his arms and drop it on the floor.
Air hit Sam’s chest, stiffening his nipples deliciously and he gave a happy groan. Ichigo’s hands hovered over Sam’s chest uncertainly.
“You can do whatever you want,” Sam encouraged. “Touch me where you want. However you want. I just want your hands on me.”

Ichigo nodded and swallowed hard without looking at Sam’s face. He ran his fingers across Sam’s ribs, and swept his thumbs down Sam’s sternum. Sam lay perfectly still, not wanting to distract Ichigo and make him self-conscious again. Although being touched, especially being touched by him, felt amazing.
“You can go harder,” Sam said softly. “I like it a little rough. Pinch my nipples, or pull them, or scratch me, if you want. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
At that, Ichigo dragged blunt fingernails across Sam’s skin, leaving pink streaks and raised skin in their wake. When he got to one of Sam’s nipples, he closed his fingertips around it and pinched, twisting it slightly. A jolt of pleasure zinged right down to Sam’s cock and he moaned and shifted, nerves alight and skin tingling with longed-for contact. “Oh, shit yes, Ichigo,” he gasped, hips spasming upward briefly.
He felt something in him, something he had kept clamped down and boxed in, relax and unfurl at Ichigo’s willingness -- his eagerness -- to be with him. At some point in their friendship Sam had unconsciously started straining all the stimulus he got through an Ichigo-calibrated filter, making sure that he didn’t betray his own ethics by getting too excited or thinking too much about the wrong thing. He hadn’t realized how much he had separated a part of himself from regular feeling until he was able to let it go.
Letting it go felt really good. Letting it go felt awesome. He exhaled a shuddering breath.
“Good?” Ichigo asked, and Sam nodded. Ichigo smiled briefly, satisfied, and scored Sam’s skin until it was uniformly red and sensitive, yanking on and rubbing his nipples until they were flushed and tight, intently watching Sam’s reactions.
“Yes, yeah, perfect, Ichigo, do that more,” Sam whispered, shifting. “Could you use your mouth?”
Ichigo directed an annoyed glance at Sam, and then leaned over, putting his lips on Sam’s collarbone. Sam felt the heat of Ichigo’s skin as it arched over him. Ichigo flickered his tongue across and down into the hollow of Sam’s throat, moving downward. Sam shivered, his sensitized skin rising in goosebumps, and moved restlessly underneath Ichigo. “Oh yes, oh Ichigo, Ichigo, yeah,” he moaned, arching his back. He groaned louder and louder, forgetting himself in all the sensation.
“Sam, damare!” Ichigo said, stopping what he was doing to glare at him.
“What?” Sam panted, trying to gather his wits.
“Be quiet,” Ichigo admonished him, a half-smile on his face. They both froze as the sound of pounding feet approached the bedroom door and then passed it, accompanied by chattering girl-voices, cut off when Yuzu and Karin went into their bedroom.
“Oh fine,” Sam said, needled, and Ichigo smirked at him. "Shut up."
Sam flopped back and stared at the ceiling, biting his lips closed as Ichigo kissed and nipped his way down to the waistband of his jeans. He pressed himself back into the futon, gripping it on either side, to remind himself to keep the noise to a minimum.
Ichigo hesitated over the top button of Sam’s fly, lips barely touching it.
“God, just do it, please,” Sam begged in a low voice.
Ichigo unsnapped and unzipped Sam’s fly, hands shaking once more. Sam lifted his hips as Ichigo pulled Sam’s jeans and briefs down and off him completely. Sam groaned again in relief as he was freed. He was surprised that he felt a little anxious at what Ichigo thought about his body now that he was completely naked and his total arousal was evident. Sam looked down to see Ichigo’s gaze riveted on his erection.
“What?” Sam said, quirking his eyebrow and resisting the urge to cross his arms defensively across his chest. Instead he put his hands flat on his stomach, enjoying the way Ichigo’s eyes tracked the movement. “See something you like?”
“Circumcised.”
“Punk,” Sam said, amused. “Is that really all you have to say?”
Ichigo folded his arms and huffed. He kept flicking looks over at Sam’s crotch, then away, scowling, his face bright red. “Well, what should I do?”
“What do you want to do?” Sam wasn’t going to order Ichigo around. Like the kiss, Ichigo had to decide where his boundaries were and what actions he felt comfortable taking.
Ichigo didn’t say anything, he just regarded Sam’s dick, frowning, nervously scratching the back of his head again. He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t say what he wanted or didn’t even know what to do first. Like he needed permission to try.
Sam reached up and pulled Ichigo down on top of him, his breath puffing out as Ichigo’s sudden weight compressed his ribs and lungs. Skin met heated skin and Sam arranged them so his already-hard cock rubbed alongside Ichigo’s softer one. Ichigo’s eyes went wide and dark and surprised as the friction hit him and he fell hungrily into Sam’s kiss, holding Sam by the shoulders, his kisses still frenzied and uncontrolled. The unconscious way Ichigo moved his hips into the grooves of Sam’s threatened to derail his train of thought entirely. He broke the kiss and lifted Ichigo’s chin so he was looking Ichigo in the eyes. Ichigo stared dazedly back at him, panting, mouth open mid-kiss, the tip of his tongue sticking out, which Sam found strangely endearing.
“I really want to feel your mouth on me,” he said. “But I only want that if you want to do it.”
Ichigo shivered and pulled back. His gaze cleared and his eyes darted down, up, to the side, then back to Sam’s face. His eyes blazed with desire, a burning hot amber, contrasting with the angry twist of his mouth and eyebrows and the way he gripped the comforter in one fist, knuckles whitening.
“Okay,” Ichigo capitulated, releasing the blanket. “Okay.”
Ichigo slid slowly down Sam’s body. He felt every inch of Ichigo’s hot and sweaty skin moving on him as Ichigo spread Sam’s legs wider and knelt between them. Sam felt his heels thump on the floor on either side of the futon, and winced a little at the noise. His breath caught in surprise when Ichigo stroked his hips with his thumbs, and he arched up off the futon slightly. Ichigo explored him carefully, taking his time, running long cool fingers around Sam’s balls and further back, and then finally, lightly, over Sam’s dick. Sam was damn near hyperventilating by the time Ichigo finished his initial investigation of his pelvic region.
Then Ichigo bent over and slowly, experimentally, licked the side of Sam’s cock, from root to crown.
“Oh fu-” Sam slapped both hands over his mouth to prevent his exclamation from escaping and tried to think about walk-in freezers, meat lockers, landfills, anything to keep him from coming right then and there. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch Ichigo, hoping it would distract him.
Worst. Idea. Ever.
It wasn’t distracting in the slightest to watch Ichigo toy with his dick, holding it in one hand while licking up the sides in swirls and spirals. Sam clenched his fists slowly in the comforter and gritted his teeth, feeling sweat break out on his skin as he held himself still. Every nerve ending he had was engaged in what Ichigo was doing, he felt the slightest breath Ichigo exhaled on his skin, the lightest scrape of teeth dragging on the thin flesh of his dick.
Sam saw Ichigo keeping one eye on his reactions as he made his way up to the flared head of Sam’s cock. He tried not to worry about the size of his dick versus the possible size of Ichigo’s mouth. He didn’t want to gag Ichigo or get bitten.
Ichigo slipped the head into his mouth and held it with his lips, flickering his tongue around the slit, tasting Sam’s precome. Ichigo’s delicacy in doing this went a long way towards alleviating Sam’s worry. It felt great, but he wanted more, wanted to slide his fingers into Ichigo’s hair and urge his head further onto his cock, so he reached down. Ichigo slapped Sam’s hand away without even looking. He took his mouth off Sam and glowered at him.
“Don’t,” Ichigo said.
“Sorry. You don’t like that?”
“I’m the one doing this. Let me do it,” Ichigo snapped, and then took Sam’s dick into his mouth as far as he could, which wasn’t actually very far, just the head and a little bit more. Not that Sam was complaining.
The head of his cock bumped the ridges of Ichigo’s hard palate in gratifying wet friction and Sam stifled a grunt, trying not to thrust any deeper. He reached down again and Ichigo stiffened, but Sam only wrapped his hand around Ichigo’s, and showed him how to move it up and down his dick in time with his mouth, using saliva as a lubricant.
“Just like that. Oh shit, oh god, Ichigo, oh faster, harder,” Sam pleaded, his voice strained to stay at a whisper. Ichigo went faster, and squeezed Sam’s dick a little bit harder. Sam forgot completely about the knot he’d visualized.
“That’s good, Ichigo, your mouth is so fucking good. I’m going to...you’re going to make me...” Sam rolled his hips, working his dick through Ichigo’s hand and into his mouth as fast as he could. He felt his orgasm build, electricity racing over his skin and sizzling down his spine, as he arched and moaned, “Ichigo,” drawing the last vowel out as he squeezed Ichigo’s hand tightly around him, pulsing and shaking in his grip.
Things went white and staticky for a while.
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Craving Strawberry Surprise