Disclaimer: I do not own bleach
It's the slide of our skin that wakes me up. The soothing heat emanating from his flesh and seeping into my bones. Times like this are when I think that I am the luckiest man alive, to have gotten my little piece of heaven at my age, with my past.
It's humbling and enthralling all at once. Like I'm drugged and every day I need more and more to survive.
His warm breath blows over me and I snuggle closer, wanting to somehow crawl under his skin and breathe like I never can without him.
He is my anchor and without him, I feel marooned.
Breathes deepen and eyes flutter softly. I hold my own as he wakes up slowly, shifting fluidly against my sleep-warm body, nestled together with his under the covers.
Stormy eyes blink open, dark with emotion. It is a rare moment to find him so unguarded, and I savour it.
"Do you need help, Kurosaki? You are entirely too restless."
Bastard.
Despite that, I feel a small smile quirk my lips. "Maybe you're just getting old, grandpa," I breathe, enthralled by the tendrils of wispy hair fluttering softly around his pale face. "I've never seen you sleep in so late."
He laughs, and once again I am left breathless by the soft tinkling that surrounds me. My hand moves on its own accord, lifting up and trailing softly down the soft skin of his face, over the harsh planes and dips that is uniquely him, stopping finally at his parted lips.
"I should think I deserve it, especially after last night." The soft flesh moves languidly against the rough pads of my fingers, hot puffs of air flowing over my skin.
It takes a minute for the dry comment to penetrate my sleep-fogged brain and then I can't help but blush, biting my lips as I think back on last night's rigorous activities. We'd come back late from Renji's surprise bachelor party, and I was pretty inebriated to say the least. It had been Renji's last night as a single man and even though he was over the moon about getting the woman of his dreams to finally say yes – not to mention crossing the fire pit that was asking her brother for her hand in marriage – he'd shared a collective wince with everyone present (except a certain someone of course) at the thought of living the rest of his life with such a…forceful woman to say the least. Not to mention violent.
Besides, how else could she have gotten the densest man alive (or was it dead?) to get down on his knees and pop the question?
Anyway, the night had gone off without a hitch, made even better by the fact that sometime during the night Byakuya had stolen me from the craze and proceeded to ravage my mouth for what seemed like hours, before nonchalantly drawing away and rejoining the rest of rowdy bunch, a smirk fixed pointedly on his face. That left me a drunk, not to mention extremely horny, mess in the dark hallway, and it was there that I'd sworn revenge on my lover for leaving my high and dry when he knew even the smallest attention from him left me aching.
That revenge came in the form of jumping his bones as soon as we got home, practically ripping away his clothes and having my way with him. Surprisingly – or maybe not so – he'd barely put up a fuss as he usually did, going along with my attempts at wooing him even though I could barely see my fingers through my blurry, no doubt red-rimmed, eyes. I'd gotten as far as removing our clothes – and let me tell you what a difficult task that is when you can't even feel your fingers, especially since I had a sneaking suspicion that Byakuya was secretly laughing at me – when he toppled me over, pinning my shoulders against the silk sheets and bearing down on me with all his naked glory.
Byakuya, I think, is the most beautiful man in the world, and I'm not just saying that because I'm barely out of the hormonal teenage phase – and fuck, did I enjoy that while it lasted – but it's a feeling that's grown over the long time I've known him. When I saw him evolve from a heartless, rigid bastard to a softer, more considerate man, willing to forsake his duties and obligations to do what was right. There is a certain glow around him now, as though his heart is no longer carved out of ice and the newfound warmth can't help but permeate out of his skin.
He's still a bastard though.
Especially that night, when he pinned an inebriated me to the bed and proceeded to show me just how determined old guys can be sometimes, especially when it comes to taking advantage of their young, handsome lovers.
Pervert.
Thought was something I wasn't capable of at that moment, as his warm hands traced down my body, pinching and swiping everywhere he knew was a sensitive spot. In minutes, I was a gasping, moaning mess, arching almost wantonly off the bed as he smiled down at me, completely at ease with how well he could string my body along, and enjoying every second of it no doubt. I would've scowled at him, demanded he hurry the pace and just get to the rutting already, if it wasn't for the fact that I had just swallowed my tongue from how utterly beautiful my lover looked right then, stormy eyes sparkling with lust, body flushed lightly as he watched me make a fool of myself, hair falling perfectly just so across his shoulders, caressing his skin like I longed to do. For an instant, I felt insanely jealous of the hair, and how the strands got to touch him constantly, mold themselves to his skin like I was only allowed to do in private. But then, the hilarity of the situation hit – me, the hero of the Winter War, the guy who'd taken down multiple Espadas and finally Aizen, jealous of some measly strands of hair.
I'd laughed, chuckled more likely because my body still couldn't get enough air, stopping only when I'd felt a heavy but welcome weight settle on top of me, driving my nether regions insane in their want.
Hey, a guy can't be blamed for his urges, right?
Those gun-metal eyes had looked down at me with curiosity sprinkled with amusement, and I had immediately stopped functioning, stilling under him and watching with wide eyes as Byakuya winked and oh so slowly – too slowly, dammit! – swiped the tip of his naughty tongue against my lips.
I broke and you know what, there is no shame in admitting it. I broke and I begged, silently of course, for him to fill me up completely like he always did, until he was me and I was him and the only thing that existed was us. Soft whimpers escaped me as he repeated the motion, the tease never once letting his lips touch mine. I'd have hated him if I didn't love him so much, hated him for the embarrassing noises, for the way my traitorous body reacted, bucking against him, length hardening to almost impossible degrees.
This was what he did to me, and the stupid bastard knew it too, using the knowledge to his every advantage. That night, he'd let a small grin stretch his lips, before grinding back, closing his eyes at the delicious friction it created. I felt that he was hard too and I was glad, that even in my alcoholic state I was desirable enough for him to want me as he did so few others. I was special and being special to Byakuya is a prize all in itself.
It was then that I dared to wrap my arms around his neck, trembling as they were, tugging him down insistently so that at last, hot pair of lips met mine. Flavour exploded in my mouth and I moaned, clawing deliriously across his back and marking him for mine, as our tongues battled, sliding wetly against each other. My lips were nipped and suckled at hungrily as if the man above me had just gained an appetite, just realized how ferociously hungry he was for my taste.
Huh, I guess I can be a little poetic sometimes. Byakuya always says so, but then who knows what to believe when everything he says is uttered in that goddamn same tone –
Anyways.
It didn't take long for me to become desperate, and I said so (or was it screamed?), giving him my best smoldering look. It seemed to work, because after another bruising kiss, Byakuya sat back and grabbed the bowl of fragrant oil on the bedside table, dipping two delicate fingers into it and drawing them coated. We locked gazes as he approached with all the grace and agility of a wolf, capturing me completely with one strategic swipe of his hand. His fingers curled around my leaking erection, circling the throbbing flesh loosely while the other with its oil-coated fingers tapped against my twitching entrance, drawing a long eager moan out of me.
And then he was inside, slippery digits swirling and massaging my passage until the sensitive flesh quivered in anticipation, ached for something bigger, something longer, something harder to fill it. My legs slid apart unconsciously, spreading themselves wide as if presenting a feast to the lecherous eyes of its predator.
The results were instantaneous, and actually I'm rather proud of how I got the usually stoic man to react. Our bodies surged together, fusing themselves skin to skin as if loathe to let go. I hummed in contentment, raking my hands through plush hair, enjoying the way our voices blended together in the hot, still air to create a heady melody.
My hips leaned back as his surged forward, and suddenly I had the blunt head of his cock pressed up against me. It was all I could do to exhale shakily as he nuzzled my neck and pushed forward, skin and flesh melding together until I didn't know where he ended and I began.
Seconds passed as we caught our breath, and I couldn't help but capture his lips in mine again, rubbing our swollen mouths together lovingly. I gasped as he kissed back, his enthusiasm quickly overpowering mine and I was left quivering under him, reduced to a sweaty pile of goo.
When he moved, it was like a supernova had just exploded inside my body. Everything was a haze of mindless pleasure and sinful touch as he rammed inside me again and again, loathe to give me time to rest or even attempt to participate. My hips were locked in a steely grip which would no doubt leave bruises come morning, but I simply could not care. I could only scream my throat raw, shuddering forcefully at the sheer power behind his thrusts, hands digging claw-like in the abused sheets.
You cannot say we made love that night, indeed the more apt word for it would be fuck. We fucked, me and him, for hours, he twisting my body this way and that to afford a deeper angle, a harsher thrust. I was putty in his hands, but who was I to care when the man I loved was claiming me in such a fierce, animalistic way. When he was marking me for all the world to see, proclaiming me as his and his alone.
It was a side, this more possessive side, which rarely ever broke through the smooth exterior he'd built himself over the years. But when it did, the results were always…explosive.
I was lost in the state of delirium for kami knows how long, happily suspended in a world where there existed only white-hot pleasure and him. And when finally he allowed me to come, explosively and all over my chest while I relished his own hot seed pumping into me, I could only gape, chest heaving for air, while him, the bastard, took in almost dainty puffs of air, exhaling calmly as he looked over me with a self-satisfied smile.
Smoothing back my sweat-plastered hair, he'd whispered hotly, "What's the matter, Kurosaki? Cat got your tongue?"
I would've snorted had I the energy, imparted some snarky comment or other, but all the energy seemed to have been snapped out of me, leaving me a boneless pile against the covers. Instead, I closed my eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep, missing the fond smile thrown my way and the gentle hands that tucked me in.
Now, I was shaken out of my memories as strong arms pulled me closer, and I sighed as I was surrounded in my lover's scent.
Who needed memories when you had the real deal laid out in front of you?
"Besides, I think it is rather you who should be worried about getting older. Your performance last night was absolutely abysmal."
But then again, memories didn't insult you either.
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