Taboo: Yoruichi/Suì Fēng:

Disclaimer: If I did own Bleach . . . well, you'd know.

A/N: Well, this has been hanging around for a while . . . and I was actually reluctant to post this . . . seems kinda cliche to me . . . . But it was written well (I think) so, oh well. Oh yeah, 101yearsago!fic (you know, I'm actually confused. Did Yoruichi leave 101, or 110 years ago, lol?) Hoping this can stay under the T rating (it's really not a lemon, I swear!) . . . Although anyone is welcome to tell me otherwise.

"We shouldn't be . . . doing this, Yoruichi-sama . . . ."

These words, all the time, every time they're here, like this, are always uttered from her throat, even as she's writhing beneath her, even as her face flushes and she calls her name like that. She can always detect the hint of annoyance within that golden gaze, discern that disheartened flicker of emotion, and understand that whenever she says this, she's treading on thin ice, bordering on irritating her goddess. However, this . . . this needs to be said, needs to be addressed for each time they share a kiss, each time they touch, each time they lie here like this, unclothed and sweating, hot with lust.

"There isn't a problem," comes a purred reply, lips grazing tantalizingly down the side of her neck, and it takes her all to resist sighing blissfully.

"There is," she insists instead, shifting herself so that dark hands can hardly touch her, just hardly because perhaps she actually wants this touch . . . .

"How so?" Somehow, they wind up kissing, something ravenous and longing, the contact wiping her mind blank for a moment. "I want you, you want me . . . . There isn't a problem."

And she hates how she's so weak at times, trembling involuntarily in her intimate hold as she tries halfheartedly to keep the older woman at bay. She should have more resolve than this. This shouldn't be impossible.

"You know, Yoruichi-sama," however, is all she can manage to gasp afterward, gazing up into cloudy, hot lava, gazing up at the short wispy strands of red violet brushing her cheeks, at the exposed breasts pressing into her own chest, only feeling that this is so wrong, that this is so right. "This is a problem . . . ."

"This is a problem for you?" Her tone is offhanded, noble fingers trailing low, low, lower and the other girl can only squirm, an unwilling attempt to keep the prodding away as she shakes her head of raven hair.

"No." Why is her voice so hoarse, so desirous? "No, but it . . . it can be a problem for you."The only response is a tongue across a particular hardness on her chest, causing her to inhale sharply, fingernails digging into the earth beneath her.

"And my sole purpose is to . . . eliminate your problems," she continues timidly, and perhaps unnecessarily, as the woman above her seems not to be listening, lips now against her collarbone. Her royal fingers shouldn't be down where they are now. "So . . . so we should stop this here."

"Here?" Her breath hitches, a lingering jolt of ecstasy blossoming within her core. No, not there.

"Yoruichi-sama," she groans, though is instantly appalled, as it sounds mortifyingly like one of those kinds of groans, despite that she really has meant for it to sound a tad annoyed.

"Just hush, Suì Fēng . . . ."

Except, she really can't hush. She has to try again, ignore the stirrings of pleasure, ignore the beautiful, lantern eyes full of love that shouldn't be there. In a way, Yoruichi is her responsibility, so she cannot allow this continue.

"These shameful acts—"

"I'm not ashamed, Suì. Are you?"

"Your clan—"

"—Doesn't have to know."

"But I—"

"You," it's murmured against the softness of her mouth with a wistful grin, "mean so much to me, Suì Fēng. Don't I mean as much to you?"

It's not the question that causes her to falter as she searches the ethereally exquisite face, silhouetted by the exposure of the moon, for why such a question needed to be asked. It's the dismay present in her Commander's tone.

"Of course, Yoruichi-sama." For the life of her, she can't find the confidence to look her straight. "You're everything to me . . . and I— that's why I can only concern myself over you— I'm your bodyguard, not—" She swallows thickly as glimmer of pain passes over the elegant features of the one above her. "I mean, your well-being should be the priority."

Not this. Not their petty, human feelings. It shan't prevail over their professionalism, over their duties and the noble clan she's sworn her life to. One wrong word, and Yoruichi shouldn't snap at her family. In the midst of battle, Yoruichi shouldn't have one eye on her.

There's a painfully audible silence before she's met with the chilliness of the night air once her commander rolls slowly from her body with a sigh, and finally, finally she can breathe, can talk without this note of strain in her voice, as she's trying to suppress the most immodest of sounds from passing through her lips. However . . . a split second later, she realizes that she doesn't care to breathe, that she's much more content with drowning in these lovely sensations, in these unbecoming actions.

Though her mentor doesn't leave her completely, for their fingers are instantly intertwined.

"Happiness is also a factor of wellbeing, you know," she tells her softly, eyes bright like the stars filling the skies overhead.

"I do know." The younger girl glances off elsewhere, feeling awfully exposed without her goddess as her divine blanket. She reaches over for the top of her skintight uniform, however, her hand is halted by another, darker. "I didn't know what else to say . . . ." It's mumbled more to herself, really. What else to convince you, what else to save you . . . from me.

Yoruichi seems to have heard what's been left unsaid. "I promise you, Suì Fēng, it's not like that. You don't have to feel that way. It doesn't matter to me that you're more important to me th—"

"I shouldn't be!" She blurts urgently before she can stop herself, fists clenching around a clump of grass. "I don't want to be a hindrance to you, the reason why you cannot preform your duties to the fullest! I don't want to hold you back . . . ." She's insignificant, really, nothing compared to the Shihouins, nothing compared to the responsibilities of a captain, of a commander, so why . . . is she being treated this way? "It's—"

She's only blinked, really, but suddenly, she's silenced with the application of a pair of rapturously tender lips to her own, stealing the breath from her lungs so that she's drowning once more . . . .

"I thought you were aware, Suì," Yoruichi whispers gently after a pause, eagle eyes appearing liquid-like, compassion churning within the deep pools of honey, "that nobody can determine who they'll fall in love with . . . not until it's too late and they're already head-over-heels beyond return. I can't stop this and you can't stop this, so please . . . why won't you just enjoy it?" One hand cups her cheek, so marvelously warm, thumb circling in ginger strokes, and she does enjoy this, she really does, even as a pang resonates in her chest, empathetic towards the note of disappointment featured in her commander's voice . . . . "Why won't you cherish this with me?"

She's silent for a good minute, heart throbbing with this love, yet how come it's so painful? So hard to endure, such a weight on her small shoulders? Perhaps the real problem is that she can't handle these foreign emotions. There's . . . too much insecurity.

Finally, she finds her tongue. "Would . . . would you really love someone like me, Yoruichi-sama?" She winces afterward, lip between her teeth. This display of weakness . . . she can't bear have her goddess see her this way, where their signs of strength are most comparable.

However, Yoruichi only affectionately brushes her bangs away from her face. "How would you define 'someone like you,' exactly?"

"Just," a hand passes wearily over her eyes, "someone insignificant to your existence. Someone who you don't have to acknowledge, who you're not obliged to look at twice."

Her mentor releases a light chuckle, cracking the smile that raises her temperature. "I'm not just playing around with you when I tell you that too many stressful thoughts buzz around in your head, Little Bee."

She can feel the blush in her cheeks as she focuses only on the sky above her. "Perhaps, though they're essential . . . for me . . . wouldn't you think? When you're who you are, why should I matter . . . ?" The fatigue in her tone cannot be missed, and she doesn't care either. She is tired. Tired, of all this . . . this beating around the bush. Tired of this uncertainty. Her chest burns with everything she wants to say, everything she wants to accuse her "lover" of.

Surprisingly, while she sits up, eyes lowered to the ground and grabbing again for her shirt, it escapes her lips in only two words: "Tell me."

Yoruichi watches her solemnly.

"Yoruichi-sama, tell me that what you say you have for me is real, then. That this— this whatever we have is strong enough to prevail over your commitments and family!" She's shouting now and she hasn't an idea why. There's a wetness running down her cheeks, and she wonders what it is, how it got there, and why it needs to be there now. "That out of all of that, I am more meaningful to you!" The back of her throat aches and she inhales one fast, shuddering breath after another before inquiring quietly, "Can you even do that?" There's a fistful of grass between her fingers. Her shirt isn't as warm as she's thought it would be, so she takes her pants as well. "Because its alright if you can't. That is exactly how it should be."

Yoruichi stares at her in silence with an expression disarmingly severe, jaw clenched, eyes solid, and this face . . . reminds her of a battlefield, of the look of warning she sends her opponents prior to an unforeseen fist breaking a nose. Before she knows it, she's pounced upon yet again, releasing a startled shriek as bare skin rubs against the cloth of her uniform, and she's on her back, gazing up into gold. She attempts to roll away (already aware that would be futile), however the goddess seats herself on her legs and pins her hands above her head. This position isn't unfamiliar to her . . . .

However, she doesn't prefer to be in it now. "Yoruichi-sama, p-please get a hold of yourself . . . ."

"No. No, because you don't understand." In her words is a sharpness that shuts her up, a slight fragility that makes her . . . sorry. In her eyes, there is the shimmering of— no, no, it can't be. "I can. I can and I will sacrifice anything for you, Suì Fēng." She turns her head, snorting bitterly. "Although, is this how it is now? Something like love can't even be considered?"

Something wet drops onto her nose. Oh . . . Oh, please . . . please, don't be tears.

Her forehead lowers to Suì's. "Are you one of those who question love's existence because of the world we live in? Well, that's why I tell you, Suì Fēng, I'm done with this world. I'd defy it, give up my family and my career just to hold onto this—" she kisses her nose, "what I call love; hold onto you—" she squeezes her hand, "who I call my love, but it's no good . . . if I'm doing it all for nothing."

Yoruichi smiles at her, even as the heel of her tan hand comes up to gently swipe away the moisture still falling, and Suì Fēng is in awe. In awe of her strength, of her ability to cry and still smile, still be so strong. In awe of what was said and how it was said with so much conviction. So much sincerity. She's in awe of the way Yoruichi's words have touched her, touched her heart, fondling it with a comforting, loving, determined caress . . . similar to the way Yoruichi touches her herself. It awakens, rekindles the flames of ardor that's been on the verge of snuffing out because of all the doubt and worries in her heart that shouldn't have been there in the first place.

"I . . ." There's an uncomfortable lump in her throat, a dryness that rasps her voice as she chokes, "Is it really alright, Yoruichi-sama? S-Safe for me to say . . . I love you?" Because you'll defend me if there's disapproval, stay on my side, despite what others may think?

"Of course, Suì Fēng." She doesn't think she's ever seen a smile quite so alive, so genuine and honestly adoring. "Because I love you, too."

I love you . . . she thinks she's uttered this unthinkingly and shamelessly to her lover on numerous occasions, at the peak of sensual euphoria, or . . . or as an unintentional mistake, but now she wonders how she's ever missed that look in Yoruichi's eyes whenever she does, that soft expression of sheer elation— contentment.

It makes her happy. She does love me.

And if Yoruichi is happy, then something lifts pleasantly from Suì-Fēng's shoulders, draws a smile from her lips— something can can only be labeled as her inevitable happiness as well, and really . . . only now is she considering her earlier words: "I want you, you want me . . . . There isn't a problem."

There isn't a problem. Because with all that she feels, and all what Yoruichi evidently feels too . . . this can't be a mistake.

They can't be a mistake.

They can't be a taboo.

A/N: Yeaaaah, R&R, if you will, please. Really. If you thought thick anything at all, then tell me. ;)