AN: So here is a whack at yet another theme. We're going to get a little bit of Byakuya/Rukia spiciness up in here. This is my first attempt at writing a smutty little piece for this unconventional and underappreciated pairing. Come on, you know you have sick fantasies about these two. R&R! No flames please. You don't like this pairing; don't read it.

BTW: To all of those that are waiting patiently for the return of my updates to Something Still Worth Fighting For, I am currently in the process of writing the next 5 chapters or so. That way, I will be able to update it much more frequently. I've just been battling a lot of issues in my life and had to take a break. Hopefully, you will al understand and be very thankful that I didn't leave you with some kind of torturous cliffhanger. Lol.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

It is a secret.

A masquerade.

It is a dirty little covenant that they have created for the sole purpose of finding that temporarily tantalizing little escape from reality that so many before them had sought in others.

Sure, it is taboo. Inappropriate. Foolish. Scandalous even…

But that never matters.

All that matters is the high, the rise and fall of the irresistible sensation. It is the addiction that none can shake from their bodies, minds, or very souls; the feeling of warm, soft flesh gliding against cool, tightly formed muscles in a forbidden dance of ecstasy.

They are fully aware of the consequences when they begin. Every time they will come back for more, they know that nothing more should be expected, lest one decide that it is becoming detrimental to the cause.

It is masochistic, cynical, self-loathing…a sin greater than any life they had stolen in combat.

And it is sweet.

Sweeter than any delicate sugar that has melted on the tongues of the noble or the peasant, it is more powerful; more intoxicating. It is something that neither find any pride or satisfaction in, but instead a deeper meaning; a solace that cannot be found elsewhere.

"Byakuya…"

"Shh…don't speak."

A row of finger tips lightly grazes piping hot, feather soft lips in an erotic gesture of foreshadowing. A peasant's lips should never be this soft. Because that is all she is and all she will ever be. No amount of schooling, training, adoption, marriage, rebirth, or death can cleanse her soul of this filth that she was born into. It is a fate that even her noble sister could not escape; even in marriage to the head of the Kuchiki Clan.

It is something that she will never escape; even in the silky, smooth coolness of this head of the Kuchiki Clan's bed.

It is as if they have to minds, two souls, and two bodies. One that goes about the daily, mundane life; taking and giving orders, training, living…

And another that is reserved for the simpler pleasures, the sadistic torments they wreak on one another in the solitude and darkness of that pristine room.

It is true that they both need it, want it, and succumb to it ultimately.

Large, lean hands explore the already well mapped out contours and textures of the petite, lithe form beneath them. Wanton, desperate moans escape those peasant petals as those nimble digits find their purchase in the searing folds of her womanhood. Straight, biting teeth nibble gently at the soft lobe of her tiny ear, licking and sucking her lingering doubts away. She is lost to this madness…

He knows in his heart that this is unacceptable. That every touch, kiss, bite, lick, glance…it's all terribly wrong. It's a desecration upon his wife's cold, lonely grave; the wife that brought this poor, stricken angel into his home with her dying words.

But he cannot and will not stop. It is no longer in his power to do so. He gave that privilege away a very long time ago. The moment their lips collide, there hands entwine, their bodies grind against each other; the second their tongues begin to duel and their hearts begin to beat in a synchronized cadence…that is when they both sacrifice the opportunity to turn back and atone for their transgressions against one another, themselves, and those that have gone before.

All he can feel are her arms wrapped around the quickly heating skin of his shoulders, begging him softly to take what he has claimed so many times before. All he can feel is the heat of her breath against his cheek as he attacks the sensitive flesh of her neck, marking her as his own for the…God, he lost count of the number of times so long ago.

All he can smell is the scent of her jasmine perfume filling his nostrils and penetrating to the very core of his being, fueling an already dangerously kindled fire of desire. He hates that smell because he hates what it does to him…

All he can taste is the sweet, salty, bitter taste of her succulent flesh between his gnawing teeth.

All he can hear are the strangled moans and ragged breathing, the frantic beating of her feverish heart against his chest as he does wicked things to her achingly begging body.

"Ahh…Byakuya…I…hate you…for this…"

These words are not news to him for he understands and the feeling is mutual. She hates him for letting her do this with him and he hates her for being so goddamn inviting. She wants it as much as he does, and who is he to deny her something that he is already adamant on taking for himself? Who is he to tell her that she is a filthy little whore for allowing him to take advantage of her this way? Who is he to reprimand her for a crime he is committing just as heinously as she? He is no one…

His title, lineage, and rank mean nothing at this moment. He is just any other lust-driven man in a quest to quench his insatiable thirst for the willing flesh. He is a shell…just a vessel for the soul that once thrived on life, on living. But no more…

As he positions himself at her entrance, her sweet, tight folds of heaven, he pauses for a moment as he always does. "You promise…?"

The words fall softly from his tight, breathy lips, asking for confirmation that is also nothing new; confirmation that this is just a courtesy fuck to one another, a release, a meaningless business transaction devoid of any expectation or request.

He receives a moaned answer, "As I always do…Byakuya."

Allowing a small selfish smirk to twitch at the left corner of his mouth, he obliges her every heathen whim, sliding himself into her heat, sheathing his manhood to the hilt in her velvety inferno.

This act is so familiar by now, memorized and anticipated by both participants. Their bodies are so used to one another that no thought is needed as they thrust in tandem with each other, the creaks of the bed lost in the thick sheets and down mattress.

His teeth find the pert buds on her damp chest, glistening with exertion and need. His tongue swirls around the sensitive little pearls, suckling them ravenously as he thrusts mercilessly into her accepting body.

Her hands glide down his sides; raking her nails against the ribs and tight muscles beneath them, leaving angry red trails, before coming to rest on his lean, perfect hipbones that are grinding against her own. Her teeth bite like an animal down onto the creamy, pure skin of his shoulder, ruining the untainted flesh beneath them.

Letting out a low, sensual groan at the damage, he lifts his body up to gain more leverage before grabbing her small wrists, pinning them above her head, and pounding with an unforgiving force and desperation into her waiting heat. Strangled sobs and broken cries escape her lips as she fights to hold onto what little control and restraint she maintains over the situation, failing miserably as he moves his right hand to cup her breast, capturing her gasping mouth with his own before thrusting his probing tongue inside to war with her own.

It is a battle, just like any other they have fought. Neither is willing to allow the other the satisfaction of knowing that they have total power over each other in this setting. The noble grins as he watches the emotions play across the smaller one's face as she bucks up to meet his thrusts, trying to pretend that she isn't thoroughly enjoying having his cock buried deep within her. The attempt is betrayed, however, by the blush on her cheeks, the irregular breathing, the wetness leaking from between her thighs down his swollen member that is thrusting in and out of her, and the light sheen of sweat that covers her body, dampening the hair hanging across her forehead.

He reaches a hand up to stroke the hair from her eyes, feigning tenderness to spite her. He knows she hates it when he's gentle. She hates it when he pretends that she actually means something to him more than a decent fuck and a late wife's broken sibling.

Neither of them had expected it to feel this good. They had started this by accident several months ago. Too much sake, not enough cool air, and too much pain and desperation to resist the temptation fueled the mistakes they knew they were making. After that it had just become sort of a routine. He would pass by her on the way to meetings and whisper a time and place in her ear. She would nod and that was that. Everything was understood and nothing was expected but submission.

He takes a hold of her right hip; thoroughly enjoying the broken cries of frustration and pleasure the woman is making and the look of hated satisfaction on her face.

"Dammit, Byakuya…faster…" she whimpers, tossing her head back and letting him dictate the pace, knowing that he wants it too.

"Damn you, Rukia…" he growled, gripping her hips more firmly, knowing with sick satisfaction that there will probably be bruises there later.

Taking this opportunity, he rolls to the side, flipping her writhing body on top of his own. She braces her hands against his chest, pushing herself firmly down onto his erect organ as tightly as she can, letting his thrusts rock her body into oblivion.

Her nails rake painfully along his pectoral and abdominal muscles before slamming down on the comforter on either side of his head, tangling their digits in his silky black hair, free of their usual jewelry. Sure that she has braced herself well enough with her elbows, he lifts his hands up to grab her small, firm breasts, thumbing her nipples with practiced ease, drawing more needy moans from her trembling lips.

"Fuck…harder…"

The tone of her now low and primal voice drives Byakuya wild, causing him to remove his left hand from her breast to slide behind her, grabbing the back of her right thigh, helping her to impale herself fully on him, knowing he is dangerously close to losing his own rhythm. "Okay…but remember that you asked for it….Rukia…" he nearly purrs her name with his lustful, velvety voice, thrusting up into her as hard as he dares.

He watches as her eyes widen a bit before turning into her characteristic glare, the thrusts rocking and bouncing her body as he controls the movement with his hand and hips, not allowing her to take any more control than she already has.

It isn't long before he can feel the muscles in her thighs start to twitch from the exertion, her chest beginning to heave uncontrollably, her eyes squeezing shut and her chin tucking towards her chest, causing her hair to conceal her face. He can hear the sounds of her whimpering and moaning in pathetic frustration, as she is about to reach orgasm. He knows it, can feel it, hear it, and see it in everything that she is doing. This is not unfamiliar territory.

Hearts are pounding and breathing is growing louder.

It is times like this that he is thankful that his quarters are farther away from the others in his division, given the fact that he is the leader of a royal clan. It relieves both of them to know that they will most likely never be caught in their promiscuously sinful acts.

Finally, knowing that they are both dangerously close to losing themselves, he rolls her back onto the bottom so he can retake control. He hooks his hands around her calves and pushes her legs back to open her body wider, pounding relentlessly into her. She begins to arch her back, pressing herself hard onto him as her muscles began to clench and spasm around him, a full-fledged cry falling from her lips, the sign that her climax is beginning.

He thrusts with unforgivable force into her contracting canal, feeling his own body tense up. With a few final thrusts his eyes slide shut and a low gasping moan escapes him as he seizes, spilling his seed into her womb, feeling her own juices gush around him.

This is the reason they keep returning to this place, this disgusting scenario.

This is the pinnacle of all that they have worked so hard to avoid.

This is proof that they can never really be a family.

Here they will lie for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours…wondering what they should do, now that they have ruined each other once again.

But the answers will never come; at least not in the form of words.

But they both know the unspoken answer…

Get up, get dressed, go back to work, and do it all again tomorrow.

Because that's what sinners do…and God, is this sin ever so sweet…