She tried to shove away his head that had fallen atop her breasts. He'd already begun snoring with quiet comfort. (And drooling…)
Matsumoto was quickly beginning to feel ultimately helpless and miserable.
So much for stamina and stance of men.
After some rather embarrassingly futile tries to get free of her burden she gave up on it. Today's drinking had been a little much even for her standards and she couldn't find the pools of strength she usually was able to draw from. She let her forehead drop atop Shuuhei's hair, instantly regretting her movement. The deafening noise of blood pounding in her head filled the next seemingly endless minute. The answering sigh escaping her lips echoed in her ears repeatedly.
When the drumming had finally ceased and she dared to slightly open her eyes, she saw the lights of the living room through the door left slightly ajar. No matter if it was only a few candles burning there, to her eyes it was far too bright.
Kira would probably be lying in one of her chairs or on the floor. She couldn't remember the position he had been in when she had left some time ago to further drown all her memories – alcohol alone just wouldn't do this time to clear her mind from thoughts efficiently. And she had tried hard.
So, Kira sprawled in her living room and Shuuhei…
No, she'd better not think about anything as complicated as getting up… Or getting someone off her…
She just couldn't think of a way of getting into her bed. Masumoto found herself thinking of her mattress, that would comfort her now aching back sooo nicely, soft pillows underneath her instead of a male body, heavy in his sleep, slumped over hers. Such perfect luxury just out of her reach…
She tried again to lift the weight to be able to breathe freely once more.
No chance…
But she let all that be as it may – everything before her eyes had started spinning again, so she let her lids fall down and gave in to unconsciousness.
In what she thought to be the middle of night (it was actually almost time for the sun to rise) she partly woke. By the realisticy of what she sensed, she guessed the scenery to be dream-made.
She heard rustling of soft fabric against the wood of a bedpost. The long time of being Shinigami and her familiarity with several high-level Shinigami had taught her to recognise the barely audible noises caused by a dangerous person's carefully hidden stride. The person had to be tall, measured by the long interval between each step.
Not that she did consciously notice them. Being almost asleep her subconscious mind kept mingling ordinary dreams with memories and her body's senses.
She drew in a deep breath. There went another expensive bra… Strangely though she could still feel it's constriction. Still she enjoyed the free air around her.
A silvery shadow glided through her dreamscape and caressed her brow. She shivered comfortably and leaned further into his touch.
"Fool… Why do you always care so much?"
"You're gone again. Forever this time..." she answered whisperingly in a thought.
Matsumoto sighed as the pain in her back she had somehow managed to mostly ignore before eased all of a sudden. She opened her eyes a little, at least one of them, she was sure, intending just to let in the sight of his silvery hair, she intuitively knew she'd find in this part of her dream as well. She moved the lid(s) just to add another sensation to the impact of his smell and the quiet sound of his movements, the deep timbre of his voice.
This closeness combined with her former inability to reach him at all was too much even in a dream. She dared acting on her desire this time. Matsumoto touched his face with a finger. Following a invisible path over his right eye she continued towards his chin. Feeling the soft skin of his cheek she drew a line across the edge of his almost serious lips. She smiled sadly.
"I know you're not really here. It's not like you to come this close and stay for longer than a moment.
"You fear…"
He disappeared from her view.
"As I thought. Just a dream."
She could see him standing where he had that day and experienced the same terrible events all over again. He was following Aizen through a shiny gate leading up into the sky. She struggled to run after him this time, but her feet had grown roots, deep and strong. Every of them had a name and a face, Hitsugaya Toushiro being the strongest holding her close to earth at all times.
He turned to watch her, only an arm's length away, interest shining in his crimson eyes.
"Maybe I am afraid of this dream." He whispered. "But then, so are you."
She whimpered and quivered when he reached his personal door to heaven. Again.
"So long, Rangiku…"
Two men awoke the next morning on the floor of the main room. Both were a tiiiny bit nervous about finding themselves in an embarrassingly intimate position to each other, their bodies tightly entangled. None of them was eager to ask about the events of the past night.
Matsumoto was not sure she could have given them an explanation had she tried to detangle her memories of twisted nightly shadows. She did prefer not to think too deeply about her own awakening either, for she had found herself tucked thoroughly into bed, wearing her nightgown (that pink 'next to nothing'-ness she used to clothe herself with at night) with all it's strings properly knotted.
No, she should not think of what possible explanation could be given for the later events of the previous night. She had simply had too much to drink, she decided.
Or too little.
Self-deception was such a handy aspect coming with her personality…
Unfortunately it tended to be quite brittle sometimes.
Would he come for another visit?