The night was cool as the storm intensified outside but Byakuya Kuchiki was in a hell of his own making. His body shot through with tension and need that made it impossible for him to get any rest. His mind was no better. It's as if he's the target of an unrelenting barrage and he was losing. His own body was turning against him because all he could think about was Rukia lying beneath him, her sexy cries in his ears as he possesses her repeatedly with his stiffen flesh; her heeled boots digging into his back.

"Dark gods!" He curses with a miserable groan then turned from his back to his side, his breaths shallowing. Just envisioning that had his body thrumming.

No! Ashamed at his thoughts, ashamed that he couldn't stop. Fucking powerless to get this under control...

Hours drained on yet his erection insisted doggedly. The swollen head jutted past the waistband of his hakama, the top glistening with beads of precum it had already offered up from the unbidden thoughts that streamline nonstop to his mind. Byakuya didn't know what else to do at this point. He already spent too much time in his shower, allowing the icy water to cascade over him and 'it'. If anything, he grew harder which frustrated the hell out of him! He had thought about touching himself and trying to release into his fist but to do that meant that he would have to think about Rukia, the very thing that he was trying not to do and failing! He removes the top half of his night attire and sweat rolled off his bare chest down his torso. His sack was so heavy, aching tremendously.

Damn it! Why the hell was he feeling so strongly about this now? Byakuya has not had to deal with this sort of thing in over fifty years so it felt nigh foreign to him to be sexually starving for release. Plus, the shame of masturbating to the image of Rukia, his sister, by marriage, yes- but still... it was sending him reeling as he obstinately acknowledges that he almost didn't feel any shame at all and he wondered what that meant. Perhaps the feeling was delayed and only his honor which he was holding on to with teeth, nail and some good old fashion Kuchiki stubbornness was preventing him from wrapping his fingers around his cock (again) and thrusting until his eyes rolled back while thinking about screwing Rukia's brains out.

Spent, up to my chin. I didn't even know I could cum so hard. Byakuya had thought dazedly on the second night in this week of sexual torment. Not even with Hisana-his late wife- had commanded such a reaction from him and Byakuya felt awash in dishonor anew for lusting after her sister like he was.

Disgraceful. Deplorable! Disgusting! He berated himself vitriolically constantly for allowing this to go on for as long as it has. His mood grew markedly more malodorous by the hour.

For the last few nights, ever since that crazy encounter between them in the Kuchiki Osen, he had found himself unable to sleep the night through. While at the barracks, he dives into his work, attacking reports with a lethal stroke of his quill terminating stacks of paperwork that might have taken days in hours. His mind kept thoughts of Rukia's naked body- of the steamy water sluicing over taut nipples, hanging from their pink edges like jewels, prisoner. Or on the backburner, as they say in the World Of The Living. But at night, his body was in utter torment. So much so, that on more than one occasion he had awakened to himself thrusting into the sheets or in his fist. The shameful acts confounded him but the pleasure-indescribable! Impossible to deny. Too much to bear. To his eternal disgrace, he continued each time unable to stop himself until there was release so violent, so intense that his shuddering torso was awash with sweat and seed with each episode. His teeth bit into the pillow to reduce the roars tearing from his throat as he climaxes.

Byakuya closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Hisanna would turn in her grave if she knew the traitorous thoughts I'm failing to keep at bay." He said softly, his voice drowning in a blast of thunder.

With his eyes still shut he tries to think of nothing. Tries to feel nothing. By all the Gods, it's been a long horrible day for him. He had a feeling he should have stayed home but then that bastard Ichigo came and made a mess of things and then Rukia just had to be involved with him. Why did that boy get him so annoyed especially when it came to Rukia? He chose not to acknowledge the answer to that question. He should have let Renji handle the barracks for the remainder of the time he had to be away from it.

"What is wrong with me?" He questioned himself.

What was the sense of having servants and people to assist him if he didn't allow them to do their jobs? Why couldn't he let everything be as they should? He had to ensure that they were up to his standards. The Kuchiki in him demanded it and sometimes, he hated that aspect of himself. He looked down the length of his body, to 'that' opinionated part of his anatomy and commanded very slowly,

"Go. To. Sleep." He hissed at it. He wasn't hoping for much anyway and when his cock just continued throbbing to the point of bobbing as if mocking him, he miserably grabbing one of the pillows, buried his face in it, and groaned a long-winded groan.

No! He couldn't continue to masturbate to Rukia's image. Why her? Of all the women in the Soul Society. Of all the high-born picks the Elders had tried to butt into his life with. Why did it have to be Rukia his body reacts so strongly to? It wasn't right! He knew that it wasn't. The breath-taking scandals that would sweep over the Kuchiki name if someone even suspected he was having feelings like these for his sister. Tarnishing his clan all because of these emotions...

A muffled frustrated yell fired from deep within the soft padded pillow after starting life as another long-winded groan. Five minutes of useless strangling yells, long streams of invectives, and blasphemously invoking gods long forgotten passed before Byakuya decided to remove the pillow from his face. His chest heaved for breath after his shouting purchased all the air out of his lungs. He got up from the bed endeavoring one more method to grasp the sleep he so badly needed. And to, maybe, just maybe, kill the part of his anatomy that's now earned his enmity.

He got to the closet and opened the right side and parted the line of white Captain coats to a built-in small cabinet he had a hidden sake rack that he kept locked at all times. A man of his status couldn't be seen drinking like a fish as much as he should be with the kind of responsibilities that he has as the head of the clan and the shit he had to deal with daily, less he got a disreputable reputation like a certain flower Captain. For any other stresses, he could meditate, indulge in his hobby, or train and work off some steam. He only indulges on occasion when it was necessary.

He walked back to his bed and sat on the edge of it. In the morning he could regret his decision but tonight he needed this. No one would dare disturb him this night, not with the mood and the spiritual pressure he unleashed an hour before as he had that argument with Rukia. Thinking about that he didn't bother with a glass, he just removed the cork from the bottle with an audible 'pop' and put his lips on the rim, drinking deeply.

It burned his throat like liquid fire but he welcomed the new feeling, anything to distract him from his increasing need to think about the woman that he shouldn't. The indecent acts he wanted to do to her over and over again and how that same woman hated him now. He continued to drink until his inner voice told him that he's had enough. It didn't feel like he's had enough. It didn't feel like he was now a free man from the claws of reality but with practiced restraint, he set the sake bottle down on the bedside table and cradle his face in his hands before running his fingers through his thick long mane. With his head bowed, he took deep breaths. Rukia hated him now and in retrospect, he would hate him too despite his reasons.

Why was nothing simple when it came to her. She threw him at every turn, pushed his buttons like no one else in his very long life has ever done, and yet none has ever thrilled him more. Made him feel so alive.

She is barely a full-grown adult and I have done my share in damaging her as if the slums had not given her their best efforts. And now I want to fuck her? His thoughts reached such a level of self-loathing it should have qualified an upheaval from his stomach, he was so disgusted with himself.

For a man who worshipped logic, it was completely illogical for him to want to be with someone that he ignored, was jealous of for some time because she was the reason his wife couldn't love him completely, tried to kill, and then resigned to kill himself because of the confliction of the whole thing.

Too much, Byakuya! He swung a narrowing glance at the bottle of sake.

Fuck it! He drained the bottle, gulping down the contains quickly and relishing again the raw burn of it then went for a second. The food from his dinner staved off the effects of the liquor, delaying the bliss that he so desperately needed right now. He flashed stepped back to the closet to get another bottle as soon as one emptied, then again.

About a quarter way through the fourth bottle of sake, he started feeling the seeds of buzz blossoming, numbing reality into a dull hum at the back of his head.

Finally!

His vision swam a little in the darkened room lit only by the slim reach of the light from the lamp on his desk. He felt a little dizzy from drinking too much too fast, the weight of the bottle in his hand seemed to have double, penance for his rebellion against his sound judgment but he needed the escape if only this once.

Over the roar of the storm outside, Byakuya could have sworn that he heard a knocking somewhere, perhaps on his door.

But that's impossible, he thought hazily, feeling like his head and his body was separate from one another.

He was still seated on the edge of the bed staring out into the nothingness of his bedroom, a perfect reflection of his life. Just walls of responsibilities and they were so hard to climb. So empty within. He almost felt like breaking down. It was tempting to feel sorry for himself. To cry and just empty his lonely soul. To stop being the strong twenty-eighth head of the clan for a few moments and just-

"Nii-Sama." He heard Rukia's voice coming from the other side of his door.

"I'm drunk for sure now because I'm hearing things." He said to himself chuckling a little to the hollow joke only he knew about. Could he never escape this storm of temptation? Could he never escape from what he couldn't have?

He wanted to scream to the universe, 'I FUCKING GET IT, ALRIGHT! I AM ONLY QUALIFIED TO BE ALONE. YOU CAN STOP NOW!'

A mountain of built-up frustration made him hurl the bottle of sake against his door, shattering it into a thousand shards. Sake ran down the dark mahogany wood in thin rivulets unto the marble floor.

The door opens just then and the object of his miserable desires came rushing into his room. Standing before him like a damn paradox to his logic. Byakuya dilated pupils took stock that her face and hair were wet from the deluge outside. That the night yukata she wore, which was made from a thick material, was soaked through and sticking to her form perfectly outlining full pert breasts, the curve of her hips, and the "V" in the center of her thighs. His head lolled to the side then he rolls it on his shoulders - left to right. His need for her coming back tenfold.

Damn her for this!

The combination of his intoxication made all the reasons for not being with her blur away so easily even as anger shot through him and he rose to his feet. The alcohol in his blood making his movements sluggish as he straightened to his full height. He half-glowered, half-leered at her.

Why in the ever living hell was she here!?

Of all times when he was so hard and ready for her.