Warning: Sexual content. 18+ only.
It all starts with a look. To a third party, it is entirely innocent. A pair of brown eyes, calmly watching a pretty young woman. To anyone but you. To you, it's the pin that holds the butterfly down for examination. It's like a physical touch.
You pretend not to notice, even as your hand creeps to the back of your neck. You smooth down the hairs that have stood up. Your eyes remain fixed on the words in front of you, moving mechanically across the page. A cool breeze floats in over the balcony, stirring your hair against your face. The lazy gaze from across the room is deceptive. It burns against you.
You try to remain composed, but your heart is thundering against the bone cage of your ribs. A tingle begins in your feet. Is that his reiatsu? Or just the power of the man himself? You know if you turn your head, you'll see him sitting at his ease in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, his chin braced on his elegant hand. Eyes fixed on you.
You don't turn your head. The air feels thick, charged, and you're finding it harder and harder to breathe. He does this every so often. You'll barely see him for days, and then he'll appear out of nowhere during one of your quiet moments -reading, dozing, sewing, painting, whichever you feel like doing- and focus all of his attention on you.
For a man who sometimes fades into nothing more than the occasional warm presence at your back when he deigns to sleep, his sudden appearance can be startling. You're never quite sure what to say when he pops up out of the blue. Normally you just quietly carry in whatever you were doing while he fills his eyes with you. If he wants to, he will speak.
'_.' The syllables slip free in a quiet, resonant baritone. Goosebumps flood your back. You close your eyes, breathe in slowly. Steady.
'S-Sosuke…' You still stutter, even with all your breathing exercises and mental reinforcements. It doesn't matter what you do. You can't get used to him, to being here, to being his. Yours are the only lips allowed to call him by his first name and you can scarcely manage it.
Cloth rustles. You close your eyes. A mixed rush of intimidation, exhilaration, and want, floods your system. It's been a little while and you can barely remember the last time he kissed you. He has much bigger concerns than you, so you're often torn between extreme flattery and slight guilt when he pays attention to you. Not that you would ever push him away.
Your hair is lifted from the nape of your neck. It's good that you're sitting. The first brush of warm air against your skin makes you tense. It's quickly followed by the lightest press of something warm and pliant. Lips. Heat melts your insides. Your hands loosen around the book. It slides free and clatters to the floor.
You shiver. His reiatsu blankets you like a cloak of lightning. He rarely suppresses it these days, not even for you. In fact, he amps it up when it's you, because he loves the way it makes you tremble. He can being Grimmjow to his knees with it. He can make you a needy mess with it. There's no more pretending now. You turn around on the padded window seat, turning to face him.
There's a glint in his eyes. They are focused on you, that labyrinth of a mind is fixated on you, and only you. Long fingers curl under your chin, tilting it up. 'Did you miss me?'
The answer is obvious. 'Yes.' Not much changes in those cool patrician features. His eyelids lower a fraction, his mouth curves up at one corner. Your stomach still drops. He bends at the waist, lowering his six feet of height so his face is level with yours.
'How much did you miss me, _?' he asks, his eyes staring into yours, thumb tracing your lips to feel the shape of your words.
'Very much,' you get out, breathless and shaky. It's not fear. It's all-consuming awe. Want. Lust. Need.
His voice lowers an octave into a purr. 'That's what I hoped.' His head lowers further. The strand of hair that falls over his eyes brushes against your jaw moments before his lips close on to soft skin of your neck. He sucks gently. You reach out, daring, and put your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers tighten in the heavy white cloth. He takes it as encouragement.
You're small. It doesn't take much for him to scoop you up. He does so in the most graceful, efficient way possible, and the world tilts on its axis. Before you know it, there is a soft mattress sinking below your weight. Sosuke cages you in with his arms, his knees either side of your hips. You're practically humming with excitement. His fingers trail from your neck into the collar of your garment.
He pops open the ties, each with a proprietary little jerk that makes you jump. His expression is as calm as ever. He looks more amused than anything. He never lets his wants show on his face. Only when…
'You still blush?' he asks mildly, opening the two halves of your shirt. You have nothing underneath. He can see just how far down your blush goes. Your nipples pucker in the cool air, begging for attention.
'I…' You fail to string together an explanation or a defence. He doesn't seem to mind. Hands smooth down your bare waist, shrugging the cloth further aside. He lingers on the waistband of your long skirt, thumbs sliding underneath to stroke the jut of your hips. You fidget, face and chest growing hotter. He eyes you, smirking faintly.
He slides your skirt and underwear off in a mere eyeblink. You yelp, expecting to be forced down against the bed and ravished. However, now he has you naked, he's spent all his impatience. Sosuke likes to take his time, when he has it to spare. He doesn't just conquer, he needs to usurp. He wants your head full of him, every sense.
Finally, finally, he lowers himself over you. The cloth of his coat is rough against your bare skin. It rubs against your aching breasts and you press yourself harder into him. A chuckle ghosts against your ear. He kisses you, at last. Thin lips slant across yours with a hint of teeth.
You give yourself up to it completely as the heat sears you to your toes. You card your fingers into his hair. He murmurs against your mouth, shifting his weight over you in a way that puts pressure in all the right places. An ache blooms. His hand slides under your head, cupping your skull. He wants you at precise angles. His tongue sliding into your mouth is so dizzyingly intimate, you whimper.
Your hands pull at his uniform. A needy gesture. He is all heat and hardness wrapped in Hueco Mundo white. The king. The god. You sometimes wonder what other women he has enthralled in his past, but what do they matter? You are under him right now. He is the only one that can touch you. Nnoitra, Syazel, Grimmjow…none of them are even permitted to look in your direction. Aizen keeps you for himself. His alone.
It's as though he can read your mind. 'Whose are you?' he asks in your ear. He cups your breast, feeling your nipple tighten against his broad palm.
'Yours,' you pant. The heat of him burns your skin. You keen as he retracts his hand until just his fingers surround the rosy bud. He tugs and you arch from the bed. Sweet, fleeting bolts of pleasure. He rolls the tender flesh between his calloused fingers. The sensation twists you into hot knots, low down deep. Your eyes are shut, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
You don't notice he's moved until damp heat surrounds you. He sucks. You moan, startled. 'S-Sosuke…'
He doesn't reply, busy with his latest game. With a hand braced by your head for balance, his other traces a journey over your stomach and between your shaking thighs. Your stomach clenches. Desperate anticipation. He needs only a single finger to feel how soaked you are. His digit slips over your clit with negligent motions. Enough to torment, to titillate.
Your hips jerk up. He pulls his mouth from you. His voice is cool. 'Behave yourself.'
You chew your lip, and obey. He adds a second finger, stroking in a lazy rabbit-ear motion that has you seeing stars. He nibbles your other breast, looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes. His eyes are darker, the brown pushed out by expanded black pupils. He circles your clit until your eyes are ready to roll back, stroking you slicker by the second.
You cry out when his finger pushes inside. No warning. None needed, since you're drenched. His fingers are long, deft. He knows exactly what sweet spots to hit, where to press, where to rub. Your hips roll up to grind on his digits. One, then two. He lifts his head to watch the dazed, pleasured expression on your face. You might be embarrassed if you didn't know this is exactly what he wants. He wants your submission and your wanton need for him.
Just before you reach your peak, he pulls his fingers free. You ache with disappointment. Until he sits up and tugs open his uniform. Smooth skin, broad shoulders, lean muscle. His clothes hit the floor with a muffled thud. You run your fingers down his arms. He doesn't object to your tentative caress. Instead he leans down into you, allowing your touch to run across his shoulders and down his back. His hair is mussed, falling loose around his ears. He bites at your shoulder, nothing more than a scrape of teeth. He likes you perfect, unmarred.
'Open your legs, _,' he orders. You choke back a needy plea and do as he says. Cool air kisses your damp flesh. You can feel his eyes there, eyeing what he's done to you. You close your own eyes, unable to handle the intensity of that stare. Until: 'Look at me.' You do. He smiles. A full one this time. 'You're all ready for me…'
'Yes, Sosuke. Please?'
'When you beg so nicely, how could I refuse?' he replies, already grasping the backs of your thighs to lift your hips. There's a brief moment where he slides against you, blunt, hot, and then pressure as he pushes inside. You clench around him, already so eager to be fulfilled. He chuckles, low, pressing the rest of the way in until your hips are flush to his. He deigns to kiss you now, hips torturously still. You want to push back, push up, but you can't bring yourself to do it.
Without any warning, he cants his hips back, then forces back in. Your feet lift from the mattress, toes curling against the cool air. You squeeze your thighs around his narrow hips. A soft grunt leaves you as he does it again, and again. Slow, hard, deep. It's like the air is forced out of you with every thrust, a prickling pleasure burning deep. You need to cling to something, so you dig your hands into the sheets. He's not having any of it.
He jerks hard against you. You gasp. 'Touch me,' he demands coolly. Your hands fly up and land on his chest. He wraps one of your legs around his waist, spreading you wider for him. You link your arms around his neck. He has ridiculous self-control. He can slide in and out of you for over an hour if he feels like it. You love that, but hope today isn't one of those days. You're so close it hurts. He basks in the luxury of your sex wrapped around him, three of your limbs twined around his lean body.
It hits you slow. You're half-hypnotised by his stare, since he never looks away, and don't notice until your inner walls ripple around him. Your eyes start to slip closed as the pleasure radiates outward, burning slow paths through your limbs. Your moans are faint, breathy, and your head kicks back on the pillow, exposing a long, white throat to him. He barely even sighs at the tight, pulsating way you pull at him. Through a haze of pleasure, you only just notice how his hands are clenched in the pillow either side of your head. His dick shoving harder, in and out, only pushes you to a higher plateau.
'Sosuke, ah~'
'_, look at me,' he says again, voice full of gravel this time. You open your eyes with effort, trying to focus on him above you. He is showing the first signs of strain. A faint wrinkle over his nose, a tightness around his eyes, at the corners of his mouth. His gaze is intense, fixated on you. His thrusts are harder, driving you into the mattress. You're trapped between soft sheets and lean muscle and there's nothing to be done but lose yourself.
Your legs are locking up from continued shaking, your sex burned raw by pleasure and friction. You ache all the way through a second climax, dig your fingers into his back. There are white edges on your vision and your throat hurts from moaning. You can't even say his name any more. It's just broken syllables and whimpers. 'So-su-ke…So-suke…'
He enjoys the litany. The intimate sound of his name being forced from your lips. No-one else dare call him that, especially not in such a hedonistic, desperate way. He loves driving you to this. From calm, pristine woman to mewling kitten clawing at his back in ecstasy. At last, a quiet grunt forces itself from his throat, and he pushes your legs as wide open as they go for his last few pumps. His lip peels back from his teeth, his frown deepens. A shiver vibrates through his back.
He stays inside you while he catches his breath, eyes half-lidded and almost distant. He leans down on his elbow and traces a kiss over your cheekbone. His words are slow and warm as honey. 'I should let you miss me more often, _.'