Notes:

Secretly I think Tōshirō has a kink for chaos. The thought of disorganisation, chaos and being a dirty little boy arouses him. Momo is dominate, especially with Tōshirō, because I mean if someone had stabbed you, backhanded you and generally crushed your spirit, twice, you'd want him to suffer at least a little.

Tōshirō was in his element. The chilled streets of the Seireitei were now a paradise for him. While others kept indoors out of the cold, he revelled in it. Scarf wrapped snug around his neck, he took a brief break from his duties to wander around outside and stretch his legs. The wind swept up in a gust, and perhaps that's why he hadn't heard her intentions.
"Shiro!" He heard it, but only just. Turning, he spied Hinamori racing up the street behind him. He'd known it'd be her, no one else in Soul Society would have the nerve to call him Shiro and if they did, they certainly wouldn't be running towards him. Pausing mid step, he waited until his childhood friend caught up to him.

She looked better, the deep circles under her eyes which had become a common fixture over the last two years had eased. She seemed healthier, the skin and bone figure now replenishing back to the look of a beautiful, plump young woman, the same as she had been before Aizen's corruption.
She looks damn good, he thought off-handedly, the curves of her body showing through the thick layers of her winter uniform. He paused in his assessment: did she always have breasts? Or was it just the chill from the cold that caused them to catch his eye? She blew out an enthusiastic breath and gave him a huge smile. Heart of ice, he'd been called that countless times over the years, and if indeed his heart was carved of ice, it melted simply from her smile.
"Is there something on my face?" She asked jokingly when he realised he'd been staring at her.
"No," he grumbled, looking away and walking forward. "What are you doing out? You hate the snow." She kept pace with him,
"That's not true, I don't like snow storms, or getting snowed in. I like snow, I like you, don't I?'' Blushing slightly, Tōshirō turned his head and huffed.
"I'm not snow." She just giggled.
"You're close enough." They fell into a comfortable stride, the icicles lining the tiled roofs catching the fading sunlight in the late afternoon. Turning the corner, they arrived at a large communal gathering area. Stalls, eateries and a small stage were all piled almost orderlessly into the area.
"Ohh!" Momo exclaimed, dragging her smaller friend forward. "Its the mid-winter festival!" Groaning inwardly, Tōshirō remembered Matsumoto explaining she needed time off to attend the festival, with no other reason given. "Come on Shiro, lets take a look."
He was pulled along as she began scanning the stalls.
"Momo, I have to get back to work." She turned to face him, pouting...how could he say no?

Securing a small table close to one of the large open pit fires, Tōshirō keep an eye out for Momo. She'd dragged him all over the market and even forced him to sit and watch the performance of the Soul Society Drama Association. Now she exclaimed she was hungry and that he should secure them a seat while she found something to eat.

Sitting back, slumped against the cold, he watched the evening roll in; what little sun there was had been blacked out by rolling clouds heavy with snow. It brought a smile to his face, it was as though the atmosphere was calling out to his soul, as his own bankai could cause the same effect whatever the weather. It was soothing, putting him at ease; no wonder his patience withstood Momo's bossing.
"Shiro, shuffle over, got no hands." Standing up to assist her, she shooed him off, dropping their platters on the table and taking up the seat closest to the fire. Tucking in, the platter of sweets was devoured hungrily as more people gathered around the fire, singing in chorusing groups with the wind picking up. Tōshirō's scarf whipped out behind him as he munched on a chocolate dumpling, the rich chocolate paste running past his lips, dripping down his chin.
"Dear me Shiro, you are a mess." Before he'd processed her actions, she leant across the small table, the soft pads of her fingers trailing across his chin, once and twice, both times retreating back to her mouth, the girl sucking the chocolate clean from her fingers to tidy his face.

He was mesmerised, connecting the movement and feeling of her touching his face and licking her fingers. He was frozen, stiff as a board. Momo appeared to completely ignore his blank expression, instead choosing to join in with the verse of the next song. Blood rushing to his head he turned away and stared off, trying to cool his head and racing thoughts. Standing up suddenly, he walked off.
"Shiro, Tōshirō wait, are you alright?" She went to get up, but he waved her away.
"It's okay, stay there. I have work to get back to." Her beautiful face twisted in a frown,
"I'll pop in later," she called after him, as he shunpoed back to the Tenth Squad offices.

Sliding open the door, he walked in and shut it with a quick click. Settling at his desk, he shuffled several files and began a re-read of a summary of the latest missions in the field. A short rap at the door saw his head jolt up,
"Come in," he said a tad sharply, his mood unpleasant after leaving Momo. The door slid open as the cause of his mood appeared. Momo walked in, her white socks making no noise as she strode across the room. Standing at his desk, he pulled a face at her.
"Momo, what are you -" A soft finger was pressed to his lips, the same warmth as he'd felt before when she cleaned the chocolate from his mouth rendering him silenced.
Leaning over his desk, she gently pushed his shoulder, forcing him back in his seat. With a wide sweep she pushed sheets of paper, ink pots and cups off the desk and onto the floor. Going to stand and berate her for her actions, Tōshirō found that he couldn't speak, he could just watch as she stepped up on the desk, kneeling in front of him, her uniform rising to thigh length as she leant back and began untying the sash at her waist.
Oh my god, he thought, what is happening? Why is she doing this? He was pinned to his seat by some invisible force, watching as the robe fell from her shoulders, her breasts exposed.
They were like everything about her: small and sweet and he loved it! Being constantly surrounded by the smothering Matsumoto, Tōshirō had a very plain and undisrupted view when it came to breasts until now. The pale colour of her skin was highlighted by the soft pink coloured nipples. He could reach out and wrap his entire hand around them, he thought wickedly, then shook his head at the thought, the brashness of the situation rubbing off on him.
"Momo," he said suddenly, and she stopped pulling her shirt down. "Stop this, what are you doing?" Cocking her head to the side, Momo pushed forward off the desk, her legs coming down either side of his waist on the chair.
"What am I doing?" She questioned, her innocent expression lost as she leant down and kissed him. The softness of her lips meeting his was magical: his body was riveted to his seat, hyper aware of the heat radiating from her legs enclosing him.
"I'm happy, Shiro-kun; don't you want me to be happy?" His eyes grew wide, and he gulped hard as he nodded.
"Of course I do Momo, I'd do anything to make you happy." Her smile was anything but innocent, those usual soft brown eyes were lit with a curious fire he'd never seen, but wished to see again.
"Good," she said finally, flicking her bangs from her eyes, "Then suck my tits."
The blood rushing to his ears made it nearly impossible to hear her. Suck her... He sprung forward, clumsily latching on to her nearest nipple, lips tentatively gripping the hardened flesh.
"Mmm, harder," she moaned, her hands working their way into his hair and pushing his head hard against her chest. He sucked harder, opening wide and engulfing more of her flesh. "more," she demanded, wrapping her legs around his torso and dragging him impossibly closer. "Use your teeth." He paused for a moment, unsure of her request. He was a boy genius, and so he worked it out. Nipping slightly around the sensitive flesh he heard her cry out, her fingers tugging at his hair. Swapping nipples, his hand groped her hard, feeling the soft thud of her heart against his outstretched palm.
"Oh Shiro-kun," she arched back, seeking his attention, moaning and driving him wild.
"Momo," he groaned, breathlessly, sweat leaking down his forehead to drip onto her chest. "Momo, am I?"

A sharp knock sounded at the door.

Jolting upright quickly, Tōshirō pulled his face from the desk where he'd been sleeping.
"Captain, come have a drink with us!" Matsumoto's slurred words called through the door. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he exhaled deeply.
"No, Matsumoto, go away.'' The lieutenant knocked again.
"But Captain..."
"No, Matsumoto."
Watching the shadow of his lieutenant leave, Tōshirō fell back hard against his chair, the sticky wetness in his underwear covered by his robes. Head aching with sleep, he frowned and cautiously stood up. Another wet dream prompted by Momo. Sighing, he shook his head; at least he could be thankful for the snow.