Disclaimer: So, I don't own Bleach (it belongs to Tite Kubo) because if I did there would be more HitsuMatsu moments and someone shouldn't have 'died' in the manga. Also, I don't own the parts in italics, it belongs to Josh Whedon, more especifically to Angelus in the second season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Warnings: Is not beta-ed so don't be too hard on me. Also is rate M only because ...well, I was trying to do a M rate fic. It didn't turn out quite the way I want it but I do hope you enjoy it and let me now what you think.
Passion
Passion.
It lies in all of us.
They didn't know how they ended up in her quarters, in her bed, without any clothes on.
Both of them intertwined in a soft and sensual dance.
Moans of pleasure and need could be heard in the room.
It wasn't love.
It was an irrational desire that compelled them to act, to do something to placate the strong feeling of fire burning inside of them.
A fire ignited by them.
Then, something happened. His big aquamarine eyes, filled with lust, found hers.
Sleeping...waiting...and though unwanted...unbidden...it will stir...open it's jaws, and howl.
She tilted her head to the side, evading his eyes.
Deep down both of them knew they shouldn't be intimate. They knew their unbidden passion was mean for an unrequited love.
He felt his heart clenched in a painful manner when her eyes evaded his.
Why did the important women in his life evade him?
With a growl of frustration he lowered his mouth once again, this time connecting his cold tongue against the skin of her neck biting slightly. Marking her.
Her gasped of surprise was followed by a movement of her hips, making their centers touch for a pleasurable moment.
Another groan filled with lust and frustration.
It speaks to us...guides us.
His mouth was moving again. Just like his hands.
It made her wonder where (when and with whom) he had learnt to move his hands and kiss with such a passion and abandon. To make her gasp every time his hand moved to the right place while his mouth was working wonders against her skin.
Her thoughts were interrupted when his mouth closed around her nipple and she let out another gasp of surprise. He didn't seem in a hurry as his tongue moved lazily around her nipple and she shuddered slightly at his other hand squeezing gently her other breast.
Passion rules us all.
And we obey.
What other choice do we have?
They didn't have a choice.
Did they?
He was tired of being Shiro-chan the boy trying to be a man, instead of Toshiro the man who was trying not to be involved in a one-side relationship.
She was tired of being Ran-chan the starving and lone girl, instead of Rangiku a woman with strong feelings and tired of solicitude.
Did they understand what they were doing? What it meant every time he touch her, kiss her, mark her?
"Matsumoto…"he said with a low and husky voice. The need and lust in it was so obvious, so palpable.
"Taichou…" and then her voice was cut of and replace by a moan of ecstasy when she felt him trailed kisses up her tight to her heated center.
When had he moved there? When had she sounded so…desperate to find a satisfying end? To find something to fill her and made her scream until she couldn't reach her voice anymore?
Why was her voice sounding so needy? Why was she crying?
This is what she wanted!
A moment of passion.
Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love...the clarity of hatred...and the ecstasy of grief.
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip while her hips tried to free themselves from her taichou's grasp. His talented tongue was the source of a brief moment of ecstasy.
Maybe what they were doing to forget was wrong.
Maybe they would regret it in the morning when they woke up in the same bed without clothes.
In the morning, in the tomorrow, they would realize they didn't love each other. The little joy of the night before was by a shadow of what real happiness was.
They would look into each other eyes and hated what they had done to themselves, to their friendship.
And in the end, they would grief for the loss of trust and affection.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
Her heart clenched painfully when his eyes found hers for what seem to be the third time that night. His breathing was hard and erratic. Just like hers.
Time stood still for a moment, until her hand closed around him, making him closed his eyes and drop his head near her neck.
He bit her neck once again and let her guided him to her entrance.
She wanted to see his face. She wanted to see his reactions, but he kept his head on her neck, hidden from her.
Moving his hands to her hips to keep her in place, he entered her in slow motion. In the same way he had been doing all night.
There was not rush after all.
Her name left his lips the moment she wiggled her hips and he started moving inside of her. Slow and hard strokes that took moans of pleasure from her.
It really felt good.
Then, why was she feeling so hurt?
If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow.
Her hands roamed his back while she wrapped her legs around his hips.
He started moving faster and harder inside of her, picking a pace that would made them both gasp and mumbled each other name.
She couldn't hold any longer and she was sure he was about to explode too.
But it wasn't enough, she needed more. And she would probably regret it later but…
"Kiss me…" was her silent pleaded through shortened breaths. "Please…kiss m…"
Her words were cut short when his mouth meet hers in a searing kiss, his tongue invading her mouth while his length entered her one more time, pounding inside of her with renovated passion.
And then it happened.
The kiss was the last thing she needed to go over the edge and let her screamed of pleasure faded in to a moan as Toshiro kept kissing her until he too reached completion. He silenced his sounds of passion by making the mark on her neck deeper than before.
They didn't say anything to each other when everything was over.
He didn't want to look at her. He didn't know why but he did know he would hate to see rejection in her eyes.
She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see the same apologetic look she had seen on Gin every time they were intimate. Every time he left.
Without saying anything, he stood up as fast as his body could move.
She laid there a single tear falling down on her cheek while her eyes were looking at a spot in the ceiling.
He was leaving.
She was staying.
She shouldn't be crying for the now empty space on her bed. On her heart.
After all, it was just a night of passion.
Matsumoto Rangiku turned around putting her sheets closer to her body and closed her eyes, trying to sleep and forget the night events.
To forget that she want him to stay beside her.
How stupid she had been?
Passion was mean to relief the heavy desire and want over a person.
It was a mean to an end.
Passion wasn't love.
Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.
Without passion, we'd truly be dead
Author's Note:
I'm not sure where this one came from. I do know I was remembering the words of Angelus at the end of an episode from Buffy that's were the little monologue about Passion comes from.
This is like a prologue to a story I've been working on for quite some time, but since today is my first day at work and I'm back to my studies I don't think I would have the time to keep working on this one for some time. So I decided to publish tis.
Hope you like it and thanks for reading!
Review, tell me what you think, but do not flame.