Beta: goldensprite. ILU FOREVER, SHINYFACE.
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo (Ichigo POV).
For: figaro_figaro, all the way. It's been in the works ever since you'd given me the phone sex prompt a forever ago :D (which explains the length T_T). Plus you're awesome :3
Word Count: 5,000.
Summary: Letting go of his cock to answer the phone had been enough of a feat, he didn't think he could handle the sound of the coarse redhead saying his name.
A/N: The unexpected sequel of the voyeur fic!
Oh yes, this was hella fun. It's been so weird to write such a kink, but I think it turned out great and I hope you all will enjoy it :D (oh god, , Ukeface is such a good little ukeface in this one, I felt a little dirty).
Ichigo wanted nothing more than to stab his cell phone with Zangetsu. He'd have settled for throwing it out the window, or just turning it off for the rest of his life. He'd already been on edge; the phone starting to vibrate next to his hip didn't help any.
His only comfort was that he didn't have to press any buttons; he had the earphones in, so the call would be answered automatically if he slid the phone open. Which was a very good thing, as his hands were busy. He used the heel of his hand to open the slider, still cursing. It was hardly a good time, but he knew the call could be important.
"What?" he asked, and immediately regretted even opening his mouth. Of course he couldn't get his damn breathing under control; his voice deeper than anyone on the other line should have ever heard.
"Ichigo?" Renji asked, sounding surprised. Oh, of fucking course. Ichigo squirmed and hated himself for it. Renji's low, rumbling voice was the last thing he needed to hear if he wanted to cool down.
Letting go of his cock to answer the phone had been enough of a feat, he didn't think he could handle the sound of the coarse redhead saying his name. Actually talking to Renji right then made Ichigo feel even guiltier for thinking about him while jerking off. Like Renji could somehow tell, and was calling to berate Ichigo. Shit, he didn't even care.
He contemplated rolling over to rub against the mattress, anything to get the friction he needed, to take the edge off—shit, he needed to come.
"You there?" Renji asked, curiosity seeping into his voice. He can't know… there's no way…
Ichigo cleared his throat, like that would work. Renji sure could pick his fucking moments—Ichigo was still sweating, his whole body stretched on the bed. This close. It fucking hurt. "How the hell did you get a phone?"
Renji hummed. Ichigo shut his eyes and bit his lip until it hurt. It didn't help either, as he just pictured Renji doing the same with his sharp teeth.
"Got one from Urahara-san, so he could call me whenever he needs something scrubbed. Can you believe a captain still has to do that shit?"
"Oh," Ichigo said, not really listening and not really caring about it. He was already thinking of a way to get rid of Renji.
"What're you up to?" Renji asked, and Ichigo could see him arching a tattooed eyebrow. Then he could see more; down Renji's sweaty, taut neck, black lines traversing his bloody chest as he lay there, panting and exhausted after a long sparring session.
Ichigo only realized he’d made a... noise... after it went past his lips and through to Renji. Well, shit. Determined not to freak out, he spluttered an answer. "I'm busy with school, moron. I gotta catch up with all the classes I'd missed before you got stationed here. You know how crazy it was around here after the war."
"You're jerking off, aren't you?"
"I'm not." Thanks to you, jackass. He tried to will his erection away—hell, he tried to will Renji away. He just wanted to listen to his music, come, and go to sleep.
Renji chuckled. Ichigo wanted to die.
He refused to give Renji any credit for knowing what he'd been up to; instead he just prayed Renji would let it drop. Fuck, Renji would probably tease him about it for the rest of his stay in the living world. Yeah, that's right. We'll laugh it off and move on, just like last time.
He nearly kicked the phone in surprise when Renji spoke again. "Keep going."
The humiliation was almost forgotten as Renji's low voice crept into Ichigo's head—fuck, his body was on fire—and triggered something in him. Wait, his voice was too low. Ichigo realized two things, then: Renji was doing it on purpose, and it was making Ichigo even harder.
He couldn't stop himself. That depraved need resurfaced, the one he'd discovered that night, almost a month ago, when he couldn't stop staring at Renji jerking off in his chair.
This time he wasn't taking any chances, and bit his knuckle to stifle any sounds he might make as he wrapped his hand around his cock again. A jolt shot down his spine at the contact, making him shiver.
Calm. Calm. "I'm not gonna…" he mumbled around his knuckle. "It's too weird, Renji, there's no way—"
"I heard that little sound you made, Ichigo." Gonna hear fucking more if you keep saying my name. "You wanna keep going."
Ichigo heard a sound from the earphones, like a sigh. Like Renji was sitting back. Like he intended on staying. Ichigo felt excitement rise in him. Fuck.
"I could do it too, if it'll make you more comfortable," Renji offered.
Ichigo bit hard and tried his best to keep a groan in, his hand stroking his cock almost by itself. Wouldn't call it more comfortable.
"W-why?" he dared uttering, cursing himself for sounding so… helpless. Torn between Renji's gruff voice, sounding so fucking close to him, and the friction his hand was supplying, he couldn't even focus on what was coming out of his mouth.
"Because you watched me. I might as well listen to you, eh, Ichigo?"
Fuck. That was the first time that issue had been addressed by either of them. When Ichigo had imagined this conversation, he’d thought he'd be scared shitless. He definitely hadn't anticipated the wave of heat crashing over him, or that his mind would replay images from that night, of Renji; panting, writhing, twisting his hair…
Like he could stop now. He pushed into his hand, heels digging into the mattress. "Oh, fuck me," he cursed, frustrated with himself.
Renji's breath quickened, so close to the receiver Ichigo felt like Renji was breathing down his neck, felt his voice travel from the earphones to his spine. Renji must have taken what Ichigo had said the literal, wrong way, but then again, Ichigo had no idea what wasn't wrong at that moment so he didn't give it that much thought.
"Keep talking," Renji coaxed. More like demanded, his voice sharper somehow. Fuck, Ichigo liked that. He tightened his fist around the head of his cock, swiping at the tip with his thumb to collect the pre-come and smear it over the silky skin. He was paying a lot less attention than he should have to the sounds he made in the process.
"No," he said, not sure whether he wanted to prove something to Renji or just not fuck up the situation even worse. As confident as he was, this was new territory for him. What if he embarrassed himself? More than getting off on Renji's voice, that is. Shit.
"Alright, then I'll talk."
Yes. Ichigo shuddered, Renji's quiet, deliberate tone working like a charm on his body. His back slightly rose from the bed when he thrust into his hand, rocking his hips.
The shock from Renji's educated guesses started to fade—or maybe it didn't, maybe it just triggered something else. Because Ichigo did get caught, and now Renji had… control. Again. He groaned aloud, head swimming.
"Stop touching your cock," Renji instructed. Ichigo obeyed without thinking, as though his body was ahead of his willpower and judgment. Guess that's kinda why we're even in this situation. He let out a small whine and fisted the sheets instead, breathing harshly against the finger in his mouth.
"Good." Renji sounded a little surprised, his voice heavier. Honestly, Ichigo was surprised he did what Renji had asked, just like that. He was surprised he could. (He was surprised he didn't come anyway.) "Didn't think you liked being bossed around in bed," Renji added. "This should be fun."
The way he said that caused another shudder to cross Ichigo's body, his cock pulsing in his hand. Renji shouldn't just say things like those—shit, Ichigo shouldn't be enjoying it. "I… shut up," he murmured, way too hot to keep his voice in check.
"Yeah right. I wonder if you're clothed. I can just see you twisting in your bed, hand stuffed down your pants like you don't care about staining them, getting yourself fucking dirty. Or maybe you took the time to undress, to lock the door, get some lube, to touch yourself."
Ichigo moaned, shuddering uncontrollably. His hand flew to his cock again—only to be stopped by Renji's dangerous voice. "I said, don't."
"Fuck, Renji, I have to—"
Renji growled in annoyance, which really did nothing to help if what he wanted was to keep Ichigo from touching himself. The fact he knew Renji was probably jerking off on the other end himself, and what he was obviously thinking about, didn't help either. He wondered if Renji could just turn that voice on and off, or if he had something to do with it.
"Answer me," Renji demanded.
Ichigo tried breathing more slowly. When that failed, he gritted out, "I'm naked." Family's out of town, he can't blame me.
"Good. Would've asked you to strip for me anyway. I bet you look good right now—all hot and bothered. Wanna know what you're gonna do for me instead?"
Ichigo knew he should have been panicking around then, instead of letting himself drown in Renji's smooth voice. He tried to fight it, if only for the sake of what he thought was normal for their friendship, let alone for him. "I… we shouldn't do this." I can't just do whatever you say.
"If you weren't moaning so loud I would buy it."
Shit, Ichigo was almost breaking the skin of his finger. "Fuck you," he managed.
Renji chuckled, low and mirthless. "Later, if I feel like it. I want you to get that finger out of your mouth."
Oh, god. He knew there was no way Renji could have seen him, but he couldn't help a shudder at the thought of Renji being there with him, watching him from the chair, red eyes gleaming with arousal as he talked Ichigo through—
Fine. Fuck it. He released his knuckle and wiped it on the bedspread mindlessly, careful not to move his hand any closer to his body. He knew he really would have lost control if he had.
"Ichigo, talk to me," Renji enticed. His voice sounded softer somehow. It helped Ichigo get a hold of himself, at least momentarily. He took a deep breath, well-aware Renji was just waiting for him.
"It's out." He couldn't help but smirk before adding, "My hands are free."
Renji chuckled again. "You're catching on. I want you to start from the top. I wanna listen this time. Do you have some water?"
Ichigo looked sideways at the water bottle sitting on his desk. His very, very far away desk. "I don't—"
"Do it. You gotta relax, make it worth my while. It's only fair, after the show I gave you."
Ichigo didn't need to know that right then. Didn't need to think about the fact Renji had known Ichigo had been standing there all along; it made the whole thing even more fucked-up. He certainly didn't want to consider Renji had done all that for him. Performed.
Ichigo should have felt guilty, but with Renji obviously not minding the attention, he couldn't pretend to care either.
"Alright, I'm drinking." He reached out, rolling over slowly. Fuck, his hands were shaky.
He could finally breathe easy, once the cold water went down his throat. It cleared his mind well enough, made him feel more in-control. So why the fuck don't I wanna hang up?
He nearly choked on the water when Renji let out a feral growl in his ear, this time of pleasure, rather than frustration. Ichigo had heard that one before. It was unmistakable. He spluttered, spilling some water on his chest and jerking.
"Don't fucking go on without me—" He shut his mouth quickly.
Damn, he really should have felt more embarrassed about what he'd said, but he’d finally reached the point where he didn't care anymore. He wanted to hear Renji make some noise again. Fuck, he remembered what Renji sounded like just before he came, the look he got in his eyes.
Renji chuckled, but it sounded more breathless than anything. "Sorry, couldn't help myself." There's some normal Renji. "Are you calmer now?"
Not while you're here. "Yeah."
Renji hummed his approval. "Didn't wanna take advantage of you just 'cause I caught you at a bad time. Now, will you do what I say?"
Was he asking for permission now?
Ichigo didn't even have to think about it. The decision was fairly simple, all of a sudden. He did trust the fucker. And by then he was turned-on enough to just say 'fuck yeah' if it meant Renji would keep talking.
"I will," he answered. Probably the wrong choice, probably fucked up the friendship, and he probably wouldn't have anything to blame. Again.
"Okay. Now, back to your fingers."
He probably didn't care. Ichigo meant to laugh, but all that came out was a smothered grunt. Renji's voice was thick as honey again, sliding from Ichigo's ears down his neck. After officially agreeing to this, what the fuck did he have to lose?
He put the bottle on the desk and lay on his back, waiting for further instructions.
"Are the tips still wet?" Renji asked.
Ichigo ran his thumb over his forefinger. "No," he replied, thinking ahead. Could use the fucking water I spilled. Or the sweat, damn it.
"Then put them in your mouth again. I want them nice and sleek. You can suck them if you like, but let me hear it."
Ichigo did. He couldn't believe he did, but before he knew it he was closing his lips over two of his fingertips, sucking them in and making sure to be loud, to make obscene sucking sounds, until Renji grunted in his ear and made his blood hotter. He nearly moaned when Renji whispered, "Feels good, Ichigo."
Fuck. Ichigo shut his eyes and curled his tongue around his fingers, sucking harder, moving them like—he didn't even want to think about it. After all he'd done that night, all that mattered was doing the best he could to please Renji so he would let him come.
"Stop," Renji said harshly, grunting again. Ichigo was suddenly embarrassed at having trouble letting go of his fingers. He knew he was blushing—fuck, he hoped he was. "Take them out and move them lower. Are your nipples as stiff as your cock, Ichigo?"
Fuck, it was killing him. A part of him wanted nothing more than to grab his cock again—it would only take a few strokes—but a far more stubborn part of him knew he had to do as Renji said.
The worst thing was that he actually wanted to do it, to play along with Renji's demands. It felt fucking good to start all over again while his skin was still burning with sensation, to run his fingers over his sensitive collarbones and even lower (Renji had tattoos there, he thought for no reason), until he ghosted them over his nipple, his other hand rising shortly after that. This time, he was… performing for Renji. It was Renji's doing; Renji touching him like that, just like he'd pushed Ichigo over the edge when their eyes had locked last time.
He hadn't realized he was groaning until Renji chuckled, just like he hadn't realized his head was pushing into the pillow, or that his legs were rising slowly. "Close your eyes and picture it's my tongue," Renji whispered. "I'd tease you just like this, Ichigo. I'd wanna see how you tick. Wanna push you."
Ichigo's teeth clamped down on his lip when he pinched his nipples, hard, his head shooting back. "Ah, Renji…"
"Fuck yeah, that's it," Renji encouraged him, his tone slightly aggressive, dominating. "Do you have any lube, Ichigo?" he asked, and Ichigo pushed himself off the bed again, his heels digging into the mattress. He knew what was to come, and fuck—he wanted it.
Flavored fucking lube. Ichigo had never thought Keigo's gag gift would turn out to be this handy. He hadn't even opened the tube. "I do," he said, quite proud of not stumbling over the words.
He reached for the bottom drawer of his desk when Renji added, gruff as ever, "So you can get ready for me."
"Fuck—" Ichigo nearly dropped the narrow tube in surprise.
Renji laughed in his ear, slow and heavy and dirty. "Relax; I'm not gonna come all the way over there. You're gonna fuck yourself for me."
That would be new. Ichigo didn't argue, and his body sure as hell didn't, either; he shivered from head to toe in anticipation.
"Will it hurt?" he asked, though he couldn't say he was particularly hesitant to examine the liquid he squirted from the tube to the tip of his finger.
"You can take it. I'll make you feel good, so relax already." He could hear Renji's smirk. Like hell I could relax.
His dick was still just as hard. He wondered if Renji would somehow know if he touched it; by then he was willing to believe Renji was a mind-reader. Warrior's instincts, maybe, or maybe he just knew Ichigo inside and out. Probably better than anyone, after all they'd been through together. It didn't make this any less fucked-up; Ichigo had never considered having sex with one of his best friends. Then again, given recent developments, that was probably out the window. Fucked-up was okay too. It was familiar.
"Ichigo?" Renji asked. It wasn't especially soft or comforting; it barely even required an answer. Ichigo knew Renji would go on even if he'd back out. Ichigo also didn't really mind; he didn't need any fucking cooing.
"I'm good. Let's fucking do it." He'd hoped to sound more convincing, but his voice was still low and almost worn-out. Renji didn't seem to object, going by the way he grunted. There were some static noises, like the phone was being rattled. Ichigo suddenly wondered how Renji was holding the phone to his ear. He wondered what Renji's hands were doing.
He didn't ask.
"You're just too eager, aren't you?" Renji finally said. "Fine. Raise your knees and spread your legs."
Ichigo did just that, trying not to let it make him feel vulnerable or weak or—Fucking dirty…
"You look good like that, Ichigo," Renji nearly purred in his ear, causing him to squeeze a little too tight and getting lube spilled on his fingers. He was about to wipe it on the bedspread before he realized, well, isn't that kinda the point?
"What should I do?" he asked, getting more restless the more time he spent waiting, the more he looked at his wet fingers, the heavier Renji's breaths had become—oh, Ichigo noticed how much Renji was letting on by then.
"I need you to relax," Renji answered, sounding more controlled than ever. Ichigo knew what it really meant. Renji was straining to hold himself back. Ichigo felt that strange pride again at getting Renji worked up. "Try going slow, run your fingers up and down your thighs. Nice, isn't it?"
Ichigo was panting now, hoping it was enough of an answer. His muscles quivered and clenched under his touch. Fuck, he was sweating again. Yes, nice.
"Slick up your other hand," Renji instructed.
Already have. "Mm-hmm," he let out. Don't wanna talk anymore. Can't.
"Touch your balls now, gently. The skin's drawn there, isn't it? You're still so fucking hard…" Ichigo bit harshly on his lower lip, but the pang didn't make his mind less hazy—it made it worse.
He still did as he was told; ignoring just how badly he needed to touch his cock and instead focusing on the winding pleasure the slow touches were giving him. It was almost too much; it felt like his whole body was in knots.
"Move lower, slow. There's a—"
Ichigo let out a surprised grunt at the pleasant sensation, keeping his fingers pressed to the area he'd discovered, massaging it. He didn't even care about shutting his mouth anymore. He was moaning for Renji.
"You're quick on the draw, Ichigo." There was that chuckle again. Ichigo was losing it. "Ready now?"
"Yes," Ichigo breathed, already stroking lower, running a slicked finger between his cheeks. He froze only when he felt puckered skin, and even that was because he had to wait for Renji's say-so. He wasn't afraid; his body was screaming for it.
"Push the tip in."
Oh god. He wasn't sure whether he was doing it right or wrong, he just knew it… wasn't what he'd expected. He thought it would be more painful (right then what hurt most was his nails digging into his thighs), but it was uncomfortable, stinging. He clenched down and hissed, trying to get used to that… pressure, there.
"Breathe," Renji reminded him, and Ichigo realized he was gasping for air. "Try moving it a little. It'll feel a little funny, but I know you'll like it."
"Fuck, Renji," Ichigo uttered, his voice unrecognizable in his own ears. Like he was breathing out the name. He moved his legs to get more comfortable, willed himself to breathe steadily, to relax his muscles, to—
"Oh," he whispered, and moaned again—fuck, he whined—it was getting good. Damn.
Something unbearably hot swept over him, thick and heavy; a different kind of pleasure taking hold of him, sharpened by the pain coming from his thigh.
He suddenly realized he wasn't the only one making sounds. Renji was groaning; throaty, powerful, as though even Renji's satisfaction was made to leave a mark on Ichigo. With that low, gravelly voice of his right in Ichigo's ears, Ichigo felt surrounded by him, and it felt good.
"Slower, Ichigo," Renji warned. It took his a moment to make out the words. Then he realized what he was doing—thrusting his fingers inside him to the second knuckle. You can take it. "Go slow," Renji added. "I'd go slow. After all that, I'd make you squirm on my finger. I'd make you say please."
"Fuck! I can't…" Close your eyes and picture it's my tongue.
And Renji was fucking him with his finger, but Renji's finger was bigger, like every other fucking part of him, so—so Ichigo added a second finger, not all the way in, as slow as Renji wanted. He was probably leaving bruises on his thigh, be he couldn't care less. He arched his back, pushing deeper, harder.
"You sound so good," Renji whispered in his dirty voice. "Fuck yourself good for me. I want your body to remember it."
Ichigo whimpered, moving his hips without thinking. The only thing that mattered was the intense heat coursing through him, heady, deeper…
"It…" Ichigo arched again, throwing his head back, gasping. "It feels good," he finished, trying not to choke on the sentence.
"Mm, it does… You're tight around me," Renji said, voice rumbling, making Ichigo's body—fuck, he had to come.
He was right there, one more touch and he would be done for. He could've just let go, but he wouldn't. It would've felt like cheating. He hung on every word coming out of Renji's filthy mouth because he owed him—because he was guilty; he had watched Renji that night.
"Can you do one last thing for me before I let you come?" Renji asked quickly. His voice was uneven now; he was close too. We'll come at the same time. He's making me wait till he's done. And it's good.
"Yeah," Ichigo said, already bracing himself.
"I want you to turn your palm face-up, and crook your fingers. If you wanna come, I better hear you."
Ichigo did, wriggling with effort. "What's—oh," was all he managed as his hips bucked up to meet his hand. "Fuck…" His breath was shaky, his muscles trembling as he pushed more insistently against the spot he found. He cursed some more, struggling to control himself. He couldn't even… It felt amazing.
He was losing it; he was losing it to the sensations, heavy and needy and way too much. "R-Renji… Renji, please…" He moaned, panting into the phone. He was sure Renji could feel it against his skin.
In Ichigo's fantasy Renji was kissing him roughly, fucking him hard with his fingers, pounding into him just right, clutching his thigh to keep him in place because Ichigo couldn't stop moving his hips, his whole body shifting into overdrive. He couldn't take it anymore.
He knew the sounds weren't only his own now; Renji was done for, lengthy groans and deep growls, wild and consuming.
"Fuck!" It was Renji this time, the most affected he'd sounded during the entire conversation. Renji breathed raggedly against his lips. "Touch your cock, now. You can come in my mouth."
Oh, fuck. Ichigo's hand shot to his cock and he didn't waste a second before tugging roughly. He arched his neck and cried out, eyes shut tightly. And Renji was there, crouching between his legs and still fucking him, only now he was staring, narrowed red eyes hooded, his long, gorgeous red hair sticking to his sweaty face and just barely brushing his mouth, his tongue peeking out between puffy, sticky lips. He swiped his tongue over the head of Ichigo's cock, and something else struck him; the real Renji, moaning out Ichigo's name.
Finally, he gave in. He thrashed wildly and came with a hoarse shout, his whole body in spasms, clenching around his fingers painfully tight as pleasure finally overpowered him. He didn't know what more he could give, until it finally ran out.
He'd been reeling for a few more minutes when Renji's voice trickled through the fog in his mind. "That's the second time I made you come," he said in a deep, lazy voice, drawling over Ichigo's ear. Satisfied. Ichigo wondered if that was what he was feeling, too.
He slipped his fingers out of his body, wincing at the sound it made. He was drained, couldn't even roll over or get himself cleaned. "I could say the same thing," he replied, shutting his eyes again.
"Yeah, you could."
That was a reply Ichigo hadn't anticipated. Torn between shame and… smugness, Ichigo was relieved when Renji spared him the need to answer by asking, "What were you thinking about?"
Ichigo wasn't sure an answer to that was any easier to come by. Well, fuck it. No point in acting chaste now. Not with the sweat and come still all over his skin. "You," he stated, simply. Renji didn't say anything, waiting for more. Ichigo huffed. "You were on top of me, fucking me with your fingers and… kissing me." Shit, it was embarrassing, but… he had to know too, for some reason. "Did you…?"
"I was sucking your cock. Not on top of you, but on my knees. You were looking down at me with your big brown eyes, all needy and pleading." That was way more than Ichigo had asked for, and Renji knew it, the bastard. He was chuckling dryly.
Ichigo had no fucking clue how to take that in, and let out a humiliating little grunt at Renji's words. Enough. "Could we not—"
"Fair enough," Renji said, humor still in his voice. "Night, Ichigo."
Wait, what? "Just like that?" He knew it sounded ridiculous even as he said it, and would have punched himself if he'd been able to move.
"Well, yeah." And then he wanted to punch Renji. Talking to me like I'm the difficult one. "We both had fun. Doesn't always have to mean anything."
Like that answered anything. Will it happen again? Do I want it to? "Still—"
"You disappeared fast enough last time," Renji cut him short, sounding playful. Ichigo was thrown off again. Was that really the appropriate moment to mention that time?
Will we mention this time?
Ichigo considered his words as carefully as he could have. "If I'd have stayed, that night, would you have… y'know?"
"What, fucked you then and there on my desk?" And it was Renji's normal voice, because the moment had clearly passed, which meant… Oh, Ichigo should not have been affected just by that notion. "Probably not," Renji finished. "This is fucking new for me too, y'know. You're not just some guy to fool around with."
Ichigo snorted. "Flattering."
He was never quite convinced this was just fooling around. Because fooling around meant something casual, not coming like that without even being touched by another person. They weren't even in the same fucking room. He wondered what real sex with Renji would be like.
No, wait, he didn't. "Should we talk about it? Y'know, work something out?" So I'll know what to say when I actually face you.
"Don't get all girly on me." Renji was laughing at him. Great.
So we're not gonna talk about it. Ichigo wasn't sure whether it was manly or just plain stupid, but this was Renji, so it was probably a little bit of both.
"Alright. Good night, Renji."
Ichigo was grateful when Renji hung up immediately, ending the call without Ichigo having to fish for the phone himself. His hand was still dirty, but he couldn't be bothered to take a shower. He grabbed some tissues from his desk and wiped his skin clean. Finally, he removed the earphones.
The silence surrounded him, almost comforting after all that had just happened. He figured he should at least stay up all night to think about it, but the truth was he wouldn't even know where to begin, and he really wanted to sleep. He'd worry about facing Renji when it was absolutely necessary. He would worry about it all tomorrow.