Title: The Substantiality of Weights
Pairing: Byakuya x Rukia
Disclaimer: Bleach will forever belong to Tite Kubo
She can barely think under such weight.
Or more accurately, any logical or coherent thought is thrown out of the window whenever she is underneath him.
Damn these all. He could be heavy amidst his passion, despite his restraint on not crushing her. Still, both of them find these purloined moments deliriously delightful.
When spent, they would succumb to sweet slumber; his hand resting atop a small pale breast. His hair splayed gloriously on the pillow. What an incredible bishie, she thinks before sleep closes her eyes into dreams full of sakura scents and caressing blossoms.
She, at times, would be amused if ever she manages to rise before he does. Seeing his splayed hair – free of the constricting kenseikans, looking grossly more effeminate than hers could ever achieve - is an endless source of fascination for her.
And when they do go to their respective divisions at the morning, none of the previous night's passion is traceable on both their faces and actions.
Everybody, therefore, is still oblivious to this recent twist to their relationship.
To name a few - Ukitake would still send her on errands to the sixth division if Kiyone and Sentaro are their bickering selves. Renji would still land a hand on her head if he catches her spaced out - earning the well-known death glare from his captain. Rangiku and the rest of the Shinigami's Women Association would still egg her on stolen pictures of the bishounen sixth division captain. Even for Ichigo, he would now unfortunately earn a similar death glare if he fails to attach an honorific to Nii-sama's name (which he always does).
Thus, if these nightly passionate rendezvous would ensue in the weeks – no, years to come – the little shinigami wonders how she would bear the credence of her current situation. That, and if female shinigamis in general – also get pregnant depending on the frequency and the cycle that they are in.
How she shuddered at these thoughts. But whenever darkness descends and the little shinigami would quietly begin her walk home alone, she would be joined by this very same person along the way, who is the source of her current discomfiture. He would hold her hand, or if feeling particularly extra amorous and nobody happenstance is around - an arm would go around her waist; dispensing whatever perturbing thoughts initially forming inside her head.
And more.
"Rukia," he whispers in her ear. "I love you. All will soon be fine, this I promise you," he finally said one humid night, serious gray eyes glinting intently at deep blue-violet ones, and took one small slim hand in his. He then gently tugged at that hand, faintly amused at her stupor.
Eventually by which, the little raven-haired shinigami would find herself burdened several years after - the weight of their unborn child, the Kuchiki heir looming like a watermelon in front of her.
A weight, she mused, now worth carrying.