Author's note: Now is probably the time for me to question why I fixate so much on Renji in my stories. This isn't healthy. I don't understand. I have to stop writing about these two losers.
Disclaimer: Character with gender dysphoria/genderqueer character. It's really all up to your interpretation.
Sometimes I wonder if you know what a puzzle you are, if you do it on purpose to disguise yourself or it's just in your nature to be infuriatingly confusing. Still, I love a good puzzle. I wonder if you'll hate me for trying to figure you out, when you haven't really solved yourself.
Neither of us should have been surprised. I noticed the shift in your behavior before you do, and I had a lot of time to ruminate on it by myself while you're gone. Out on the frontlines, fighting the good fight in the thick of battle, while the rest of us heel on the commands of our superiors until told otherwise. I know you can't help it- it's in your nature, it's one of the reasons I'm so fond of you- but it makes me worry sometimes. Maybe one day you'll follow Kuchiki and her human friends into another perilous situation and leave me behind, waiting for the casualty reports.
You always manage to come back to me, though, and you're always the same. Another reason I like you; fighting doesn't change you. Sure, you mature with each experience, but in the end you're still as loveable and dense as I remember.
Maybe that's why it was so easy to tell that you were starting to act differently.
First of all, you started looking at girls. That should have been a dead giveaway, because you never looked at girls. I'll admit, at first when I noticed it I was pretty jealous, but that's because I couldn't figure you out. Why women all of a sudden? Why didn't you look at men the same way? Was I boring you?
But no matter who held your eye for the briefest of moments, you always stayed by my side. The way that you looked at those girls was nothing like the way you looked at me, so I decided to be content with this development and let my petty envy go. All that mattered was that at the end of the day we were faithful to each other and you were still in my bed.
And in that respect, you certainly stayed the same. Since we've been together you've been nothing less than affectionate and attentive, an enthusiastic lover by any measure. I love the things you only do for me, the private performances that only I get to attend; the little noises of pleasure you make, the heat of your breath on my neck, the catch in your voice when you practically command me to fuck you.
That was another telltale. Not that you asked me to fuck you, exactly, because that happens often. Very often, in fact. I started to realize that I'm almost exclusively topping you, save for when you're either sucking my cock or riding me often enough that I don't catch on to the fact. I don't mind you delving into your submissive side, in fact I like that its a part of you that only I get to see. But it does bother me when you try to hide yourself, and when you lie to me and I can't figure out why.
I wish I could say I put together the final clue like this, by noticing your most personal traits in our most intimate moments. But no, the last clue came out that time when we had that huge fight. Do you remember it? I certainly don't. All I remember is what I said that ended it, and I'm not even sure what possessed me to say it.
One moment we were both red in the face, yelling at each other about something stupid and quickly running out of ways to call each other names. Frustrated by your stealing all my best insults, I announced that you were a bitch. You seized up like your entire body functions just shut down with anger, glaring at me with pure venom before snarling and stomping off. Just as I was beginning to worry that calling you a bitch was too close to the common stray dog allusion that people have been known to attribute to you and that I've strayed too close to personal territory, you charge back into the room and pounce me against the wall.
Instead of breaking my nose, which was the expected response, you dropped to your knees and took my hakama down with you. Things get a little blurry after that. I remember having my cock sucked and coming so hard I thought I'd never be able to get an erection again. I must have found a way, though, because the rest of the night was a haze of hard, rough sex.
I've observed that sometimes while fucking, you enjoy some dirty talk to a reasonable level. Hey, you're an open-minded and adventurous individual, and I can't help but appreciate that. Yet even in your horniest moments, I have never pegged you as the type to skip directly from having a slur angrily thrown in your face to jumping on my dick. I had a number of theories bouncing around in my head until then, but I think that was finally the breaking point where I could put it together. But if my suspicions were correct, it wasn't enough just to deduce. I wanted to be sure.
You and I aren't good at subtly. I get nervous too quickly and you put up hint-proof walls too well. You prefer a direct approach, honest and open. That's another thing I like about you. This isn't really the kind of subject one can just dive right into, though. I wanted to be direct, but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. That would lead to hasty excuses and possible shouting and, if I'm lucky, an incredibly awkward conversation about boundaries and the dangers of making inferences.
That's why the last time you came back to Soul Society, I took you out to dinner. You were impressed, and for good reason. You of all people know I'm rarely so frivolous with money. It's also a little odd for us to be in public as a couple together. We prefer to keep our relationship to ourselves, in the comfort of our own privacy. Less likely to receive harassment that way.
That time, though, we went out to a nice restaurant in a nice part of Seireitei and immediately order a nice bottle of sake. We didn't bother to change out of our uniforms beforehand, which you question but I easily deflect with the reassurance that it doesn't matter as long as you're enjoying yourself.
Then you get suspicious and I begin to regret all the paychecks I'm anticipating having to spend for this one attempt at lowering your guard. You started to wonder what I've done to go to all this trouble to treat you. You see, you couldn't know that the only reason you're suspicious is because I'm acting suspicious so that I can address my suspicions about you being suspicious. It's a vicious circle, really.
A good meal and a fair amount of alcohol later, you'd forgotten about all of that. We were too busy catching up with each other, trying to make up for time spent apart apart. You had drunk to the point where the volume of your voice had risen inexplicably beyond your control. I wasn't much better, all of my focus going into not giving away my ulterior intent for our outing. Besides, your good mood was infectious, and I found you charming even if the patrons of the surrounding tables don't.
It was only a matter of time before we were forcibly ejected from the restaurant, which we both agree wasn't that great anyway and I should have gotten my tipping money back from the rude hostess who kicked us out. The sudden influx of fresh summer air is sobering, so it was only natural for us to go back to your place to recover our happy buzz.
At that point, I'd reached the crossroads. In the privacy of your home, I had no excuse but to address the matter head-on.
I told you I have something important to ask you and I want an honest answer. Through your confusion, you agreed to be frank.
"Renji, have you ever felt… uncomfortable about your body?"
For a second everything freezes in time. You didn't move, I didn't move, it was agonizing. You gaped at me, big brown eyes blown wide and color draining from your face, leaving it a sickly pale. You looked like you were stuck like that for a minute, unable to function or regain words until you forced them out with a sneer drawn tight across your face.
"What? No, of course not!"
Only too late did you realize your mistake. It was in your hesitation, your defensive tone. It's a neon sign over your head announcing you a liar.
"Alright, alright." I said gently, trying to pacify you before you can incriminate yourself further. "It was just a question."
I made you mad. Your smile was flirtatious but your eyes narrowed down to angry slits, and I probably would have been more concerned about that if you weren't also pulling me over to sit on my lap. "I'm sick of talking, Shuu. How about I thank you for dinner by showing you exactly how comfortable with my body I am."
You then proceeded to show me how much you aren't. You kiss me and it started out well enough, even though we both taste like sake. It starts to go downhill when you immediately pulled me on top of you, when you pulled off my clothes in record time but for some reason it took unreasonably long to coax you out of your own. At some point in the middle of me prepping you, you stopped meeting my eyes. You hid your face in a curtain of red hair and suddenly we felt like strangers. I wanted to stop, wanted to talk to you but you gave me a warning growl not to cease so I gave in and thrust into you until those growls turned into moans. I reached for your cock, focused on making sure at least one of us experiences some pleasure here, but your hand wrapped around my wrist in a vice-like grip.
"Don't." You hissed before you realized what you've done and finally meet my eyes again to see my bewildered expression. Your face flushed as deeply as your hair and your gaze slid away as you searched for an appropriate excuse. Your fingers reluctantly grasped your cock, but I could tell you wished they were mine. "I'll do it. I want you to watch."
The whole thing happened too fast, and its not at all what we wanted. It's all my fault that this happened, I don't need you to tell me that. I exhumed something inside you, something that made you pull away from me. You went back to the human world after that, and you haven't been back for three days. I wonder if you think of me and what I said.
So now, the way I see it, I have two choices. On one hand, I could forget this experience ever happened. Forget I ever noticed something different about you. It might be too late, the damage I've done to your protective walls too severe for me to just forget what I almost saw, but we could try.
Or I could do the very opposite. Which is where I am right now, sitting in your quarters because you never lock your door despite my repetitious warnings. That's dangerous behavior, you know. You claim you have nothing worth stealing anyways but gods help me if someone were to break in and hurt you in your own home I'd never forgive you. I've thought about what I'm going to say to you, how I'll apologize but nothing I've come up with seems right. My best bet is to bring presents and improvise from there.
I'm not sure how long I've been waiting. Certainly long enough to get a little spacey and second-guess myself. Maybe you're taking long because you're avoiding me. Maybe you don't even want to see me again. Even so, I have to risk it. I can't stand you thinking I don't accept you.
I jolt back into the present when I hear the sound of the door sliding open, of you grunting as you kick off your sandals and shutting it behind you. You haven't noticed me yet but I can clearly see you, watching you stretch worn muscles behind your back and rotate a kink out of your neck.
Mid-stretch, you seem to suddenly notice you aren't alone. Your eyes snap open as you absorb my very unexpected presence. Your gaze sweeps down to my arms, the hearty bottle of sake in one and the bouquet of flowers in the other. They're purple- carnations I think. I don't care about flowers and neither do you, but I brought them in the hopes you'd see the symbolism I'm trying to convey.
You give me a strained smile, which at least is better than shouting. "Wow, this is fancy! Wait a second- are you dying?"
"Not any time soon." I joke back, because I've made myself nervous again and don't want to be the one to bring drama back to the conversation.
"Am I dying?" You ask, coming close to be and very pointedly taking the sake out of my hands. If you have any further interest in the flowers, you don't give me any indication.
"I should hope not. This wouldn't be a very good apology if I had to tell you that." I twist the bouquet by the stems in my hands. You're already going to the cabinet for sake dishes and I have little choice but to follow you.
You set the bottle down on the counter. Your voice is suddenly tense. "It's a pretty shitty apology anyways. You got nothing to apologize for."
I try to keep calm, level-headed. I never want my emotions to betray me- that's your spiel, after all- but I'm regretting not having something to say planned beforehand. "I am sorry though. I'm sorry I pushed you out of your comfort zone. But mostly I'm sorry that I let you go through this alone for so long when I knew something was wrong. I should have figured that it can't be easy for you to accept that sometimes you feel-"
You move like lightning, like the sound of a whip cracking, too fast for me to follow. One minute you're three feet away from me, engrossed in the meager stock of your Tupperware, and the next your face is inches from mine. Your fist hits the wall next to my head and you lean in over me, using your height to cage me in. Ridiculously, my primary concern is suddenly that the petals of the carnations are getting crushed between our chests.
Your face is drawn in a scowl, but when you realize my focus is on the flowers and not your intimidation tactics it look more like a pout. "It's fine. Just let it go."
I'm not deterred very easily. "You know, some people believe we're all born with a two sides in us, one masculine and one feminine. Over time, these parts in us grow, sometimes to the point where one overshadows the other. But in certain people both sides are strong, and it's impossible to only pick one permanent side." I take one flower from the bunch and twirl the stem around my fingers. "I personally wouldn't know about that very well, since I've never felt the need to question anything about my identity. But to have a part of your personality that you feel like you can't express… I can't imagine it feels very good."
"Shuuhei, I think you're forgetting who you're talking to. I don't need any help with my 'feminine side' and I can express myself just fine, thanks." But your voice wavers, and I can tell I'm reaching a breakthrough. Instead of rejection or apathy I've confronted you with the one thing you couldn't imagine: understanding.
If the look in your eyes is anything to go by, it terrifies you.
I shift the flowers to cradle them in one arm, using my now free hand to tilt your chin in my direction. My lips press softly against yours, but you don't react. When I look you in the eyes again your brows are furrowed, perplexed. Like you're still waiting to see what I'm really trying to do.
Your self-consciousness is endearing and I can't help but smile a little bit. I brush my hand past your chin, to the back of your head where I undo the knot on your bandana. I wouldn't be so heartless as to just drop your favorite accessory onto the floor, so I set it between my teeth as I set upon the more arduous of undoing your hairtie.
You let untie the knot around your ponytail, though it's probably because you're growing tired of working against me. You do, to your credit, roll your eyes at my antics and take your bandana out of my mouth to stuff in your pocket.
I've finally succeeded in letting down your hair, in the literal sense at least. Rivers of silky red tumble down your back and shoulders, and the way it frames your face makes it look a little softer somehow. The harsh lines of your jaw, the bold strokes of your tattoos and the peculiar pattern you shave your hair around your forehead get muffled under a cover of scarlet.
"You know, for having so many wonderful qualities, you seem to like showcasing how completely dense you are the most. It's one of the many reasons I'm fond of you." I muse to him, picking one of the violet flowers from the bouquet and snapping the head off the stem. "And when I say I'm fond of you, I mean I'm fond of all of you. Even parts of you that you think are weird or embarrassing; I'll accept them because they're parts of you."
Before you can articulate a response, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, tying it in place with the flower. The red and violet make a nice contrast together.
"There." I announce when I'm satisfied with my work. "You look nice."
Your cheeks glow pink, and your hand drops from its hold on the wall to check the flower. You don't remove it though. When you finally speak again your voice is laced with sarcasm, and maybe a hint of cold, brutal bitterness. "Not everybody can pull this look off, you know."
It's true that physically you don't have a stereotypically feminine bone in your body. When you get right down to it that's probably one of the reasons why you're having such a hard time with this, but that doesn't change my mind. "I just said that you look nice. Weren't you listening?" I point out. "I might go so far as to say you look beautiful."
Your fist hits my chest. If you wanted to, that would have really, really hurt and ruined my efforts at being touching and sensitive. Instead, and much to my preference, your knuckles just bat against me, kittenish and resigned. You fall forward, just enough that your forehead hits my shoulder. "Fuck. You really piss me off, you know?"
"I know, sweetheart." I purr, comfortingly stroking your back. I don't miss the way you shiver a little at the endearment.
Your voice is muffled through my shoulder, and you sound so fragile. "You probably think I'm a freak right now. I'm disgusting and creepy, right."
"Of course not. No one in their right mind would ever think that."
"I wish I didn't feel like this, Shuu."
"And why the hell not?" I pull your face away from my shoulder, holding you up to eye-level so you can see the seriousness of my face. "Renji, there is nothing wrong with you, I promise. Anyone who says otherwise is-"
It's a good thing you kiss me before any more sappy shit sneaks out. Your arms wrap around my neck, deepening a kiss that's infinitely better than any during our previous night together. It's hot and needy and so vulnerable, and I sink into the rhythm almost instantly.
Gods, you're like a fire, all warm and vibrant and utterly entrancing. You press your body against mine, crashing our lips together, finally unguarded and without reservation. I drag my fingers through your hair, mussing up the perfect strands of red. When I force us apart, your face is flushed and your breaths come in rapid, shallow pants.
I'm struck with an idea, and although it could go horribly wrong I choose to ignore that. You make a noise of surprise as I sling one of your arms over my shoulder. You don't catch on until I'm crouching for leverage, pulling you forward so I can hoist you up over my shoulder. I pray you don't squirm, because although I have the mechanics to make carrying you work without hurting myself, your height and weight aren't making it easy. Luckily, it ends up being a lot easier than I expected, although the walk to the futon could have benefitted from less wobbliness.
"Showy jackass." I hear you mumble. You probably would have said more if I didn't make a point to set you down and distract you with another kiss.
Here now, this feels right. It feels open, not clouded with doubt and hesitation. We're so close to a breakthrough and I'm surprised how much I want you to tell me what you want from yourself, what you want from me.
You let me pull the top of your shihashuko off halfway, but you're reluctant to expose yourself further. You know that this time I'm aware of what you've been thinking, and that makes you vulnerable. Delicate, even. In a million and one other situations that word would have no relation to you at all, but this is different, isn't it. So your top just hangs there, halfway off your shoulders while you bite your lip and search for the right words.
"Shuuhei, I…" You stop yourself, giving your hands in your lap a frustrated glare.
I hush you, pulling you closer to me so that I can press a kiss to your bare shoulder. Your head falls against me, nuzzling into my neck. I use my most calming voice, because I know this is hard for you. "What do you want, Renji?
You suck a breath in through your teeth like a hiss. I admire that you don't betray your fragility in your voice. "I want you to imagine that I'm a woman." You add a forced chuckle before I can respond. "I know it's hard. Just pretend, okay?"
"Who has to pretend?" I say as I lower you onto the mattress. I want to stay in control, reassure you that this is okay. In reality, I'm starting to panic a little bit, because what am I even supposed to do? When I touch you as I would a woman, is it supposed to be different from the way I touch you as a man? You've just admitted a deeply personal desire to me, so how can I avoid disappointing you?
When I kiss you, I imagine your lips coated in slick, shiny gloss, and I think that helps. Before I pull away, I swipe my tongue over your bottom lip, imitating the image in my mind. To really drive the point home, though, I have to be a little more direct. I have to talk.
"You know," I coo, using one hand to adjust the flower still tied in your hair. "You're wrong. I think you can pull of this look pretty well, as a matter of fact. Pretty as a picture, all fluttering lashes and kiss-swollen lips."
You try to hide your gasp by pressing kisses on my jaw, but we both know I saw. That's why you've left my mouth free to speak. "So pretty. Such a pretty girl."
We've known each other for a long time. As far as anyone else needs to know, in that duration Abarai Renji has never faltered in his masculinity, never responded to feminine descriptions, and certainly never whimpered with pure, raw emotion from something I've said. When it's just you and me, though, its very different.
You finally let me pull your uniform down, off your torso to hang where its tied off by your obi. My arms wrap around your waist and back, and now I can clearly understand why you're so frustrated with this particular desire. If you were smaller, slimmer, had gentle, soft curves untouched by muscles and scarred tissue, maybe then you wouldn't be so ashamed. But by the grace of your body type and years of physical training, to pass as femme even temporarily would be impossible. But to me, that's not important.
You make a noise of discontent when my hand glides over the hard, flat, unmistakably male plane of your chest. You're probably thinking the same thing I'm thinking, but I rub your hip in an attempt to comfort you.
"It's cute to see you get shy, baby." I chastise, and you relax at my tone. "But it's really not necessary. Lots of beautiful girls have small breasts."
You groan with exasperation, although whether it's at me for what I'm saying or at yourself for liking it I'm not sure. "You're so embarrassing."
I can't help the grin tugging at my lips, even as I busy myself by undoing your obi and pulling the rest of your uniform off with a few skillful yanks. You kiss my neck, burying your face under my chin and I reward you by squeezing your thighs until your breath hitches.
"Your clit's so hard already, gorgeous." I hum, unwrapping your fundoshi to reveal your rising erection. After last time, I don't know if I'm meant to wait for some kind of signal from you or not that this is okay. I realize I'm supposed to be focusing on you right now, and I am trying but rejection in any form carries its fair share of sting.
This time you don't shy away from my touch, which is a greater load off my shoulders than I care to admit. My hand strokes your member, keeping a purposely slow pace so I can watch you tremble, watch the way you buck your hips, desperate for more friction.
It's beautiful-you're beautiful- The way your hands curl into fists full of twisted sheets, the unsteady heaving of your abdomen as I drag you closer and closer to your edge. There's a familiar heat in my stomach that tells me what I already know, which is that you're amazing and I'm aroused just by watching you react to my touch.
I'm fully content to ignore my own need, and just focus on you. But I guess if sometimes I know you better than you know yourself, I shouldn't be surprised that the same is true vice versa. You don't physically stop my hand, but your voice commands and I am bound to listen.
"Shuuhei, I want you." You grit your teeth as you struggle to regain control of your speech. Your hands tug impatiently at my obi, urging me. "Please, Shuuhei, fuck me!"
Well damn, I don't need further instruction than that. I can't resist getting the last word in, as you well know, so you're probably expecting it when I chuckle and tell you "I couldn't dream of saying no to a lady."
While I'm still undressing, you've already turned halfway on the futon and slip your hand under the mattress. After a few precious seconds of searching you make a sound of satisfaction and pull out the small container of lubricant. Without waiting for me to catch up, you coat two of your own fingers in the substance, which drip and leave a thin trail of shiny, translucent liquid down your body as you reach between your legs.
By the time I've thrown my clothes to join yours in an indiscriminate pool of black and white fabric on the other side of the room, you've slipped your fingers into your entrance. I hesitate for a moment, watching the way you rock your hips forward and ride your fingers. I tear my gaze back up to your face, a little caught off guard to see your eyes meet mine. I must have a hungry look on my face, something you've always told me never fails to turn you on, because your eyes flutter and your lips part in breathy sigh.
You pull your fingers away and motion for me to come closer, spreading the remainder of the lube on my cock for me. I release a deep breath at the touch of your hands, overshadowed by your gasp when I hoist your legs up and around my waist.
I push in, the head of my cock sliding into your ass and you release a raspy moan, one that's both breathy and growly at the same time. It's simply a sound of pleasure, one followed by many more moans and whines like it after I start to rock my hips.
Your eyes start to go hazy as you near the edge for the second time. Uninterrupted this time, I stroke your cock in hard pumps to match my thrusts, watching as each one turns you more and more into a writhing mess.
Your spine arches, pushing yourself off the mattress, and I can't imagine a sight more stunning on any other man or woman as you spill over my hand. You shudder, deep breaths racking your whole body as if you've had the wind knocked out of you. I tumble over my climax almost immediately afterwards, moaning your name and gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. I hope you won't be upset about that later- maybe you'll even appreciate those marks as a lasting reminder that you aren't as hard and untouchable as you had worried you are.
Exhausted, your body fails you as you collapse in my arms. You let me wrap my arms around you, curling into the warmth of my body as I cradle you. I don't know at what point you fell asleep or for how long you stayed that way. But I do know that if you woke up before I had finished weaving the rest of the purple flowers into your hair in a thick braid, you didn't try to stop me.
