A/N: Guess I should have planned ahead and grouped some of these short ones together. Sigh. I own nothing apart from the words.
Claim
It began innocently enough, a friendly offer after working out.
Blossoming into a routine [or fetish?], it happened every subsequent visit, of which there were many.
Byakuya adapted quickly; he stopped searching for his clothes soon after Renji started hiding them, realizing they would appear freshly laundered and folded…eventually.
There were a few muted colors in that overfull wardrobe, after all, that suited him fine.
Renji didn't apologize or mask his intent.
The sight of his lover in an old Metallica tee and swim trunks, curled on the couch and peering through a soccer magazine, said it all.
Mine.