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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Sam woke up to a room that was bright in spite of Ichigo’s blackout curtains. He had no idea what time it was.
Because there was no room for him on the futon with Sam sleeping on it, Ichigo sprawled bonelessly across Sam’s chest, head tucked under Sam’s chin, arm dangling off the side of his ribcage, and one leg thrown across Sam’s thighs. Which was all pretty wonderful, but Ichigo was heavy and hot, which made Sam sweaty. He also had to pee, his mouth tasted terrible, and the previous night’s dried secretions had matted his pubic hair, pulling the skin of his balls uncomfortably. He tried to slide out from under Ichigo without waking him, but Ichigo raised his head, alert. Sam tried not to snicker at how Ichigo’s hair stood up all over his head in a bright orange corona.
“Hey,” he said. Ichigo gave Sam a sleepy smile. Sam caught his breath, stunned at how uncharacteristically adorable Ichigo was that way.
“Where are you going?” Ichigo asked, voice drowsy and soft and also adorable. Sam mentally slapped himself, telling his inner romantic to take a hike.
“The bathroom, to shower. Where are the towels?”
Ichigo told him, and Sam retrieved his shaving kit. The comforter, rucked up at the bottom of the futon, became a makeshift robe.
“I’ll be right back,” Sam said.
“Wait,” Ichigo stood and pressed his completely naked self against Sam, initiating a slow, languid kiss, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck. Sam, surprised, automatically put his arms around Ichigo, pulling him closer, and the comforter fell off. Ichigo made a satisfied sound, wiggling against him. Sam snorted, half-amused and half-irritated. Also half-hard, and Ichigo was obviously ready to go, too.
“I must taste disgusting,” Sam said when Ichigo finally let him come up for air.
“I didn’t notice,” Ichigo replied.
“Well, you don’t taste bad either, but I want to brush my teeth at the very least,” Sam replied, retrieving the comforter and rewrapping it around him. God forbid he run into Yuzu or Karin when he had an Ichigo-inspired semi. He’d have to kill himself.
Or Ichigo’s father, for that matter, who would probably just kill him.
“Hmph,” Ichigo said, stepping away from Sam and flopping onto his own bed, sulky.
Sam smiled and shook his head slightly. He remembered the first times after sleeping with someone new and the insatiability it unleashed. He also knew, now, the value of delayed gratification. But how much could he reasonably teach Ichigo, even over a long weekend? Was he doing Ichigo a disservice, opening him up to this experience, then leaving?
Was he being a totally selfish bastard doing this?
Sam willed himself to stop perseverating. If Ichigo hadn’t seemed like a willing and enthusiastic participant, he wouldn’t have done anything.
Sam got towels from the hall closet, and then went into the bathroom. He faced the odd bathing arrangement and saw with relief that the shower was relatively intuitive, even if it was totally separate from the bathtub.
When he stepped into the spray of water, the steam rising around him smelled like Ichigo for the briefest instant, and Sam was distracted again by trying to figure out what the complex scent reminded him of. Then it rinsed away and Sam soaped and shampooed quickly. Afterwards, he brushed his teeth and shaved, and then wrapped the towel around his waist to head back to Ichigo’s room, carrying the comforter with him.
When he got back into the bedroom, he noticed Ichigo laying on his stomach on his own bed, pillow over his head. The air was thick and sex-funky.
“We need some oxygen in here,” Sam sat next to Ichigo and leaned over him to slide the window open more widely. The air flowed in, warm and humid, but relatively fresh.
Sam trailed a fingertip down Ichigo’s spine, delicately tracing around the vertebrae and the definition of the muscles. He was stupidly entranced by the length and beauty of Ichigo’s back.
“Do you think anyone heard us last night?” Sam asked. Ichigo’s muscles tensed, and then he shivered and arched as Sam drew circles and spirals around the base of Ichigo’s backbone, moving lower to his ass. Slipping one finger into the cleft, Sam stroked the skin lightly. “And have you had any thoughts on what we’re going to do about this?” Sam queried, fingertip circling Ichigo’s anus, tickling the soft, tissue-like skin.
Ichigo lifted off the bed a little more, ass a little higher in the air. He pulled his head out from under the pillow and glared at Sam over his shoulder.
“I can’t think at all when you do that,” he grumbled.
“What a shame,” Sam said with zero sincerity, and leaned down to kiss Ichigo, fingers still lightly touching, circling, and stroking him. Ichigo’s breath came fast into Sam’s mouth.
Someone pounded on the door, shouting, and Sam and Ichigo flailed away from each other. Ichigo yelled back, the teenager resurfacing for a moment. The person outside the door, most likely Karin, Sam mused, since Yuzu didn’t seem like the yelling type, went away.
Ichigo looked down at himself, glowering at his softening dick.
“What did she say?” Sam asked.
“She said to get my lazy butt out of bed so that Yuzu could make us breakfast.”
“Lazy,” Sam eyed Ichigo, letting his gaze roll slowly over him. “Not the descriptor I would’ve used. Other words come to mind.”
Ichigo scowled and blushed, turning his head to the side. Sam chuckled.
“I guess I’d better get dressed, then. I really don’t want to disappoint Yuzu.” Sam got up.
“I’ll meet you downstairs. I need to shower,” Ichigo said, still avoiding Sam’s gaze.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Craving Strawberry Surprise