It is downright indecent, Byakuya thinks, disgusting and shameless even.
Except it's not.
Renji is idly lying about on the floor of Byakuya's room, snacking on cherries when he really should be working on the monthly paperwork with his captain like the good lieutenant he is supposed to be.
The redhead drops a whole cherry, stalk and all, into his mouth. After a while, a knotted stem emerges past cherry-stained lips. That is usually when Renji flickers a quick glance to Byakuya, silently urging him to abandon the very-important paperwork to go redden those lips with something other than cherry juice.
Indecent, disgusting and shameless, thinks Byakuya for the seventh time, once for every cherry so far.
Renji, as though sensing that he has underestimated his captain's will, shifts into a sitting position. Byakuya tries to not look at or think about how the yukata falls open.
He tries.
He cannot help but to take a quick look, just to trace thick black lines on tanned unimaginably soft skin for the barest of moments.
Instead, it is a single drop of the damned cherry juice that binds his attention, gathered on Renji's bottom lip, glistening, taunting in its endless temptation.
Byakuya's brush snaps in his hand, but the fact that it is his father's favourite brush is soon chased from his mind as Renji's yukata is torn open.
Indecent, disgusting and shameless.