Ginger Kiss

Ichigo stared morosely down at the bento balanced on his knee, prodding at the eye of his cold fish warily with the tip of a chopstick. Sure Yuzu always made an effort, and her older brother loved her for it, but there’s only so far that miso, steamed rice and –insert fish here- could go. He was a growing boy and needed more…exciting food to eat. He could eat this kind of stuff when he was old and had lost his tastebuds.

He glanced jealously over at Ishida’s bento, brimming with all kinds of things that the substitute Shinigami had never seen before. He figured that the Quincy must occasionally shop at one of those western supermarkets that were dotted around for the tourists who couldn’t stomach Japanese food. It made him kind of envious that Ishida lived by himself, so he could eat whatever he liked for lunch without being told it was unhealthy. There were definite downsides to living with a supposed doctor.

Ichigo eyed the bento, sitting on the other boys lap, innocently cradled in one hand as the other dipped into it.

Ishida always had interesting things for lunch. Not interesting the way Orihime’s lunch was interesting, but just filled with things that were unusual and looked to be very tasty. Like now, for instance, Ishida was picking up some kind of tan colored biscuit. It looked soft but firm, a creamy white filling sandwiching the two halves together. Ichigo could smell the ginger in it from where he was sitting, across for the Quincy. His mouth watered as he watched the other boy bring it to his mouth, his own mouth parting slightly as Ishida’s pink tongue flicked out to catch some of the filling where it had spilled over the edge. Ichigo twitched slightly, unsure why the sight of the Quincy calmly licking the creamy sugar from the side of the biscuit was a sight he wanted to keep seeing.

The Shinigami didn’t know why he couldn’t look away after that. After all, it was just Ishida eating. But as the Quincy slowly pulled apart the twin globes of the biscuit, his tongue darting and unknowingly seductive, slowly working his way up the crease between them; Ichigo found himself shifting, uncomfortable, unconsciously adjusting himself in his school pants.

It quite suddenly seemed very dirty, what Ishida Uryuu was doing to his lunch.

Conversation still carried on around them but the Shinigami didn’t even know they were there as Ishida surprisingly agile tongue, dipped and stroked, his silky lips sucking enticingly, driving Ichigo mad with thoughts of what else they could do. Small amounts of filling were carried back into his suddenly tantalizing mouth, the corners of which were licked slightly while the Quincy savored the taste, the pale skin of his throat making small enrapturing movements as he swallowed.

Ichigo was transfixed. Body and soul.

It seemed like an eternity, that the biscuit was cleaned of filling and Ishida finally started on the remaining halves. His straight, white teeth slowly sunk into one and Ichigo twitched, his breath coming faster as Ishida chewed thoughtfully and swallowed with an erotic-sounding, noise. Time passed by in centuries instead of minutes as Ishida finished the rest of the biscuit, flashes of white teeth and pink tongue between those beguiling lips making the Shinigami shift even more.

A tiny bit of filling still remained at the corner of his mouth and the Quincy lifted his thumb to delicately wipe it off, slowly sucking the tip of the digit and making a satisfied noise. The rest of his fingers quickly followed in succession, each accompanied by some small noise of relish that sounded to Ichigo’s ears that the Quincy had enjoyed his lunchtime dessert far too much.

Ichigo had never wanted to be a bakery product so much in his life.

The bell rang and Ishida’s index finger left his mouth with a wet noise, a sound that would haunt the Shinigami for the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening. Everyone packed up their respective lunches, Orihime making a fuss over why Ichigo hadn’t eaten much of his lunch. He waved her away and watched Ishida’s perfect posture as he strolled to the door, the Shinigami’s eyes roving over previously uncharted territory. Ichigo took a few deep breaths and collected himself before going to class, a slow smirk on his face.

He couldn’t wait for lunch tomorrow.