Here's a short one-shot. It's a little side salad to distract me from the story I'm currently trying to finish. These two stories have no relation to each other....I think.
Disclaimer: SOP disclaimers apply.
The summer night was sultry and oppressive, the setting of the sun did nothing to dissipate the heat emanating off the earth. It had been hours since the full moon had risen high into the sky, yet the dark haired shinigami continued on with his self imposed punishment on the training grounds of the Sixth Division taisha.
Meditation no longer kept the thoughts at bay.
Physical exertion and mind numbing repetition were now becoming his salvation.
The scarf had been removed over 2 hours ago.
The sleeves of his shihakusho had been rolled up to his shoulders and tied back.
In a rare fit of irritation, the kenseikan, too, had been removed a mere 10 minutes ago.
Now, there was only the noble, sweat drenched, hair plastered against his neck and back.
The thoughts and images were coming into his subconscious more often these days. Blood-red hair, gregarious predatory grin, stark black geometric tattoos begging for the eyes to follow….the images of his fukutaicho were wearing at his resolve. Soon, all he would have left would be his famous Kuchiki pride to prevent him from giving into his desires….and he was sure his pride could not take a blow like that.
His fukutaicho had rushed onto the office earlier in the afternoon, looking a little aggravated. A sudden summer downpour had all but soaked his exaggerated second in command. The audacious lieutenant had then proceeded to pull his hair out of its tie, and remove his top, to then use it to dry his hair, which was now dripping water everywhere.
"Abarai…why are you dripping on my floors?"
"…got caught in the frickin" rain on my way back from lunch, Taicho."
Renji turned his back towards his leader, walking back towards his own desk, oblivious to the effect that it was having on his captain.
Byakuya sat mesmerized, watching the black stripes bend and move as the muscles beneath them raised strong arms to delicately pat dry the water soaked red hair.
It didn't matter that it was a subordinate, nor was it his baseborn origins that kept the aloof noble away. Renji had proven himself to all those around him that he was indeed strong, dependable and loyal. His reiatsu had sharpened and grown exponentially in the last five years since the Aizen incident. It was only a matter of time that he would be a captain in his own right.
No, what had disturbed the decades' celibate noble, was that he had wanted this man's hands on him. That he wanted to plunge his hands through that crimson curtain, and run his tongue over those full lips and pearly white teeth, wanted to taste those obscene black feline markings, and to feel those muscles bunch and strain beneath his own.
Byakuya had never been attracted to any man in his centuries long shinigami existence. He had never wanted to touch any man, nor be touched by one….until now….and it troubled him greatly.
Sweat ran down the pristine white chest, drenching the top half of his hakama.
thump. thump thwack. In rapid repetition. Fast efficient footsteps, muscles stretching, straining, weight leaning, reflexes autonomic and infallible. He continued with his physical flagellation into the dark night.
A giggle, a chuckle….
"oooh Renji-kun…" she cooed, "show me where you do all this fancy shinigami stuff!..."
Renji, Ikkaku and Shuuhei had decided to go for drinks after work, not bothering to change out of their uniforms, as it was, much of the time on Friday evenings. This night however, had gotten rowdier than usual, and while Ikkaku had called it a night with Yumi a few hours earlier, ole' Shuu and Renji found themselves with a couple of ladies wanting to spend some quality time with some fine shinigami-ness.
Shuu had turned toward his own apartment with the blonde in tow, but Renji's "date" had requested a personal look at the "members only" taisha. Not minding a bit to indulge the lady who would soon be indulging him, he led her towards his home base.
As they neared the 6th division headquarters, Renji carefully brought down his signature reiatsu, then sealed it altogether, as not to announce himself to anyone who may be in the vicinity. Although, as he thought about it, there really shouldn't be anyone around at this late hour…but, shit, you never can tell what the hell goes on sometimes at the Gotei 13, and he was really in no mood to explain himself to anyone. He had belly full of warm sake, and an even warmer willing body rubbing up against him…begging to get naked….what more could he ask for on such a humid summer night?
The redhead was the first to hear it….thump thump thwack. Thump thump thump thump thwack.
Quick, precise, echos of two solid objects coming into contact with each other.
"Stay here…" he murmured, as he went to investigate. Cautiously stepping around the corner.
He was stunned.
His captain was on the far end of the training grounds, near the series of training posts. There were four of them staggered together, two feet wide, ten feet high, fifteen feet apart.
Byakuya was going thru the standard set of swordsmanship intervals, using a bamboo sword, and rapidly picking up the pace with each set he completed. Although he started slow and deliberate, in a few minutes, he was a blur of images, as he completed the set for what must have been the hundreth time.
The redhead was enthralled with the rapid staccato beat of each sword hit to the posts, mesmerized by the beauty and fluidity of his captain's movements. Each stretch of muscle, each flick of the wrist ending in a flourish of extended thigh. Each breath, exhaled…Renji could almost feel himself breathing the same pattern, such that he was captivated by exquisite display.
He shunpo-ed over.
"Tai…"
No sooner than the first syllable was exhaled…Byakuya snarled, and turned…sword forceably sweeping in a downward arc…
Renji quickly raised his right hand to stop the blade, feeling the sting against his palm, barely halting the stroke to his neck by mere centimeters.
Was it him, his ubiquitous subordinate? The noble inwardly growled, couldn't he have one night where he did not have to see, in either his dreams or the in the flesh, his fukutaicho? Frustration at being interrupted in his self imposed discipline got the better of him. The captain glared at his interrupter, "It seems late for you to be here, Abarai."
Renji was startled to see in his taicho's eyes, fury, frustration, and before it was masked…desire.
Renji had always had an attraction to his captain. At first, he wrote it off as wanting to surpass him…until he realized it was because he wanted him. As the fukutaicho observed his captain over these last years, there was never any sign that his taicho thought of him in any other way than in a working relationship...and Renji had respected that.
But here…tonight…the man was undeniably gorgeous—alabaster skin gleaming…nay glowing, in the moonlight, lightly panting through a slightly open mouth, onyx hair framing the large icy gray eyes, a slight flush to the upper cheekbones-- a sign of the physical exertion the precise captain had put himself through….and the sweat, sluicing down his neck and chest…the scent of the noble ignited a fire low in his belly that quickly burnt its way past all logical thought.
He was powerless to stop himself from reaching out, snaking his hand around the noble's long elegant neck, and bringing those undeniably kissable lips toward his own.
He breathed in through his nose, inhaling the heady scent of salt, sweat….Byakuya, and pressed his lips against this taicho. This kiss was not tender or solicitous. It was heated and rough. Renji's desire was escalating with the scent of the shinigami standing before him. His captain's reiatsu, tonight so agitated and restless, so unlike the often vacuous reiatsu he was used to, only added to his own impatient and easily combustible desire. He had wanted this man for years, and tonight, he had seen a little bit of that want directed right back at him. He grabbed at that little morsel, as a starving man did for the last scrap of bread.
His tongue entered the sweet cavernous wet heat of his captain. It quickly traced perfectly smooth pearly white teeth, it mapped the soft sides and the smooth palate of the noble's mouth, it contacted the other warm delicious tongue and led a sensual and erotic dance…promising so much more…
"Renji-kun…?"
Oh Fuck.
An icy wall immediately raised itself between the redhead and his captain… Renji was physically pushed back by the arctic blast.
"Greedy tonight aren't we….Abarai-fukutaicho?" the angry noble sneered, as he as he sent a scathing glance at his subordinates other companion.
Renji licked is bottom lip, not wanting to waste any bit of the taste of his captain, knowing this was probably going to be his first and last opportunity to do so.
"Heh…uhh.." he stumbled, either way he was the loser tonight. He could tell his captain that the woman meant nothing to him (which was the truth), but that would make him appear callous and shallow to the one man he didn't want to appear that way to. He could say that they were just old friends…who met at a bar…and were going to…he sighed. Fuck. He just needed to take his beatings and try to walk outta here like a man.
"Nothing to say…Abarai-fukutaicho?"
Renji winced. That voice was cold.
He let the fire in his eyes speak for himself, "Nothing, sir."
The captain was taken aback. Again, the audacity of this young firebrand. He could see the want, the desire still in those ruby coloured eyes, his fukutaicho didn't bother to suppress it….telling him without words, that this was not over.
Oh yes, it was.
The noble walked over to the side of the training field to pick up his kenseikan and scarf. He fingered the headpiece, tracing the ivory heirloom with slim delicate fingers. A sign of his nobility. A sign of him not falling into the gutter with his base desires.
"Goodnight, Abarai fukutaicho."
There was finality in those words.