Warning: lemon in this chapter. if you are under 18, this is a warning to stop reading. i don't want to get hit with a corruption of a minor charge.
i debated with myself about whether to post the lemon part or not. Then i decided – what the hell. if you don't like lemons, don't read the last section. i'm not sure it matters that much to the plot, i mean i could have just implied a sex scene, but i like writing lemons and decided i wanted one in my story – and i can do that cause i'm the author.
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Nanao found herself sitting by the river again, staring at the branches swaying above her reclining body. She had put up a protective barrier this time and the petals that fell on the dome slid down its surface into small piles at the base.
Sneaking out of her room at first light, she left a note on her captain's desk explaining she would be out of the office for the day, taking no chance she would run into him. She then came to her favorite flower-viewing place trying to think of anything but her captain.
Last night she had taken the pill Unohana had given her, but it had no effect on the dreams and the only difference was that she didn't wake up in a panic this morning.
This whole thing was starting to boarder on obsession. Boarder? No, it was now a full-blown obsession. She'd never been so fixated on anything like she was with these dreams. Not even when she'd discovered demon arts as a small child in Rukongai.
That had been a hard time of her life but she knew her early life had been fairly easy compared to some of the other shinigami she knew. She'd had a family group she'd lived with for many years, living fairly comfortably in one of the better districts of Rukongai.
One day she had discovered an old man using some basic demon arts in an alley by her house. It fascinated her so much she had spied on him for days, listening carefully to the words he said and memorizing the things he did. She was absolutely amazed that one person could contain and control such power.
One afternoon by the river, she had tried using one of the spells to light a small pile of twigs on fire, but it literally backfired when she blew up a tree. The tree looked like it had been hit with lightening; what remained of the stump burned for hours while charred splinters of wood covered a 40-foot area. Most of the leaves and twigs were badly singed or in small piles of ashes. It had frightened her enough to approach the old man and beg for his help to regulate the power she now felt constantly coursing through her body. There was a fear in his eyes when he realized she'd seen him use his skills and he scolded her for speaking of such things where someone could have overheard them. It was only after she took him to see the burnt tree that he agreed to tutor her in controlling her spiritual power. His conditions were that they spoke to no one about their secret and that she not become a shinigami. Like most Rukongai residents, he held a grudge against the shinigami.
The old man soon joined her family group and became like a grandfather to her. They lived for a number of years without the rest of her family knowing their secret. She was very careful, knowing that using the demon arts not only had severe social repercussions amongst Rukongai residents, but a powerful reiatsu also unintentionally drew hollows. It wasn't until a group of those hollows killed her grandfather and many of her other family members did she realize she needed to do something more than just exist until it was time for her to return to the physical world. She had managed to kill most of hollows that attacked her family but she wanted to do more; she didn't want this to happen to other children. She also knew if she stayed with what was left of her family she would only cause more problems. Numerous hollows would be drawn to her reiatsu, killing whomsoever got in the way. So the next day, to prevent something like this from happening, she took her grandfather's book and enrolled at the shinigami academy.
Her demon arts were then and always would be her strength. She mastered kido quickly, to the extent that she rarely needed to recite the incantations for the most common of spells. Many shinigami had found that the effect of the spell diminished if the incantations were not spoken, but for some reason, Nanao never experienced this problem.
Like all zanpakuto, being a physical representation of a shinigami's spiritual power, Nanao's weapon reflected her strength with kido. The small wakizashi blade, while sharp and quite useful in close combat situations, had a more important characteristic. With shikai, the blade itself didn't physically transform like that of the average shinigami, more importantly, it increased the efficiency of the spiritual power behind her spells.
When she started at the academy, her biggest struggle had been learning to control her reiatsu and her temper at the same time. When she got angry, her anger flared white-hot for a brief moment, leaving her reiatsu fluctuating wildly. The anger would pass after a few seconds, but by then her reiatsu was unstable meaning she was unable to accurately use kido. With the help of her new friend and roommate Matsumoto Rangiku, she had learned to control her reiatsu and her temper enough to use the combination to her advantage. By increasing her spiritual energy the moment her temper flared, she was able to create an extremely powerful burst that, when used correctly, could work as a directed or precise explosion. This technique combined several spells and used the control of her reiatsu, creating a skill unique to her alone.
With hours of work, Matsumoto had helped her master both her temper and her reiatsu control. They had been quite a pair, complete opposites, yet the best of friends. Once graduating from the academy, they had both achieved the position of fukutaicho quite quickly and went their separate ways, still friends but not as close as they had once been.
And now they loved the same man. But no sane man would choose her over Matsumoto, and Nanao knew it.
She had to find a way to kill this desire, kill the hope that he could feel the same way. But that little flame of hope burning inside her refused to go out, no matter how hard she tried to extinguish it. Yes, hope truly was the cruelest emotion. She had to squash this dream, this hope, before it got beyond her control – if it hadn't already.
For one thing, physical relationships between taichos and fukutaichos were greatly discouraged. She could even list off the reasons why relations with superiors were a bad idea: it affected the way others in the unit were treated, emotions could taint decisions necessary in battle, it changed the whole working atmosphere of a division and if the relationship went bad, it could split a the loyalty of said division. It also put the subordinate in a difficult position with little recourse if things didn't work out between the couple. And that was only the beginning.
His tongue flicked hesitantly at her lips, and realizing she was willing, slipped into her mouth, gently caressing her tongue with his. The way his tongue moved caused shivers to run down her back. She couldn't get enough and she wanted more.
Damn it! The more she told her mind to avoid those thoughts, the more she thought about him. She had to ignore all the emotions, will herself to forget because she could never let them out. If he was with her friend, the last thing she wanted to do was add her jealousy to that relationship.
She would ignore these thoughts and she would do it because it was required of her. She didn't really love him and he wouldn't return her feelings if she did. Maybe if she repeated it enough, she could eventually believe it.
She closed her eyes and saw his face from last night's dream. His eyes, always his most expressive feature, spoke to her. His face had a look that was something she desired more than anything else but knew she would never see, at least not directed at her - it was a sincere look of love and not the overly dramatic act he liked to tease her with.
Rationally, she knew he cared for her as a friend and his fukutaicho, but not as a lover. Matsumoto could give him what he wanted, much better than she ever could. Where Matsumoto was an outgoing person with a bubbly personality, she was a cold and remote person, removed from life, viewing everything from a distance and rarely participating. A tear slipped down her cheek. She wanted to be with him so badly it hurt. At that moment, she would give anything just to hear his voice speak her name.
No. No, that was it. She wiped the tear from her face and struggled to hide her feelings, fighting to put them back into the box opened by her recent dreams. And the self-pity had to stop; she was her own person and was fine without someone else. It was better this way. She wouldn't say or do anything to reveal her true feelings and tomorrow, she would return to the office. Things would be like they have always been.
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She lay next to him in the bed, his chest pressed against her back and his hand resting at her waist. She had her arm draped over his, holding his in place with her own. His fingers were playing with the sash at her waist, carefully attempting to untie the knot without trying to seem overeager. By the feel of the bulge pressing into her the small of her back, his movements were caused by his own desire to touch more than just the cloth covering her body.
Her dark hair was fanned out over the bedding where he rested his cheek on the silky, hair-covered pillow. Her hand released the grip she had on his arm and helped him untie her sash. His hand slipped under her kimono, stroking the skin of her stomach lightly. She let out a soft moan as his fingers pushed aside more cloth, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.
His fingers, encountering a flaw in the delicate skin of her stomach, hesitated as he traced the long, rough scar running across her body, from the bottom of her ribcage to her opposite hip. He buried his face in her neck, brushing his lips where it met her shoulder. His voice was deep and with his chest pressed to her back, she could feel the vibrations as he spoke.
"Was this from that fight 40 years ago? When I let myself become distracted and wasn't there to protect you?"
"No, it was from 40 years ago when I was reckless and thought I could defeat a Menos Grande on my own." She said quietly.
"Always so stubborn." He said softly into her neck. His fingers left the site of the scar and moved up to her shoulder to brush her long hair out of the way.
He started at her shoulder, pulling aside more cloth and allowing his calloused hands to trace gently over her bare skin, down one arm to her hand, gently gliding over her fingers. He brushed over her hip, down to the strong muscles of her thigh and back up over her stomach to grasp her hand gently. Raising her arm, he continued running his fingers up the underside, pausing at her breast.
Moving backwards a little to make enough room, he pulled on her shoulder until she rolled onto her back. Lifting his upper body, he leaned over her and lowered his head, gently taking a nipple into his mouth. She inhaled sharply and winced when his teeth gently scraped the tip. His unshaven face was rough against her bare breast. Her fingers ran thru his hair, holding his head close to her breast, not wanting the delicious sensation to end. He gently ran his tongue around the areola and with a small nip, he left the sensitive peak and raised his head to look up at her face.
"Oh, don't stop, please..." She whispered softly and opened her eyes to watch his every movement. He pulled his body back, allowing himself a good look at her partially exposed form. To see her lying under him in his bed, naked and waiting for his next action, waiting for whatever sensation he would next arouse in her body was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. One hand gently pulled her kimono off of her hip, exposing all of her skin for him to see. His eyes played over the body he'd spent so much time fantasizing about, memorizing every swell and curve. His hand rested on her breast, fingers gently rubbing and squeezing a pale peak. She whimpered and her hand flew to his, begging him not to stop. He turned his gaze back to her face. The desire shone bright in her eyes, her pale skin contrasted with her dark hair that was spread out over the pillow, her teeth biting her lip and her perfectly formed breasts rising and falling with each breath.
Staring into his face, she could see the loving adoration and the raw desire, leaving her with a lovely heat that pooled in her belly. The warmth flowed through her veins, causing her skin to tingle in the most delicious way. He really did love her. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. He drew out every sensation, so as to not rush the emotions she felt welling inside her; not wanting to pressure her into doing something she wasn't ready for.
He'd seen her body and she now wanted to see every part of his. She reached under his kimono and ran her fingers over his chest, pushing the soft fabric off his shoulders. Understanding her intentions, he relished the feeling of her delicate hands running across his chest and over his shoulders. Without a hint of embarrassment, he removed his kimono, displaying his body for her to see. Admittedly, there was no reason for any embarrassment. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes flowed over his broad chest and the strong body he offered to her. Her hand rose to stroke along his cheek, the stubble tickling her fingers. With a hand at the base of his neck, she pulled him back down to press her lips to his, gently slipping her tongue past his lips.
One of his hands moved down her naked body, hardly touching her bare flesh yet still sending warm shivers across her skin. He ran his hand along the scar on her stomach, then continuing down to stop between her legs. She gasped with the intrusion of his fingers and spread her legs in the hope for more. He gently stroked the silky skin, watching her writhe and moan with every movement of his fingers. She rolled her head back and forth, eyes closed and spine arched, trying to push more of herself into his hands. She whimpered when one of his fingers penetrated her sweet spot. She cried out his name, begging for more; she wanted more than a finger, she wanted to feel all of him inside her.
With a quick twist, he laid back, pressing his shoulders to the bed while pulling her onto his chest. The absence of his hand was now filled by the swell of his flesh pressing insistently between her legs. The all-consuming need to feel his bare skin pressed against hers was finally fulfilled.
She brought her lips down on his, pressing with a bruising force. She felt an urgency, a desire to fill the empty space inside her with his body. Her tongue swept thru his mouth, swirling around with his own. His hands slid down her body, coming to rest on her hips. The deep kiss turned into a series of small kisses, running along her jaw line to her ear. With a final kiss, she leaned back, now straddling his stomach. Their eyes locked, and at the small nod of her head, he lifted her hips, and with her guidance, eased their bodies together. She threw her head back with a cry of pleasure. The feeling was exquisite, incomparable to any other sensation. She gently started rocking her hips against his, supported by his hands at her waist. He carefully thrust with his body, gradually finding a rhythm comfortable to them both. With her head still tipped back, her unbound hair brushed across her back grazing his hands with every move of her body. She wrapped her fingers tighter around his hands, rocking faster, every action setting off wave after wave of euphoric pleasure. Her face was flushed, her body glistened with sweat and her breasts bounced lightly in rhythm to her movements. He couldn't take his eyes off of the blushing, sweaty woman astride his body. She was breathtaking like this.
She finally felt full, no longer alone. She was breathing hard now, gasping with every roll of her hips. Her muscles clenched tightly around him, stroking him, squeezing him tightly within her.
The pooling heat in her belly started to surge, each jolt of her body causing waves to splash inside her torso, small at first but soon growing to incredibly powerful waves running throughout her entire body. His deep groans were coming closer and closer together, soon turning into one loud cry when the muscles of his lower body spasmed.
She could feel him coming, filling her with warm liquid. One of his hands left her waist and reached between her legs. With a single touch, the waves of pleasure finally overwhelmed her senses, her muscles rapidly tensing and releasing around him, milking him of everything he had. With a blissful cry, she slumped forward, resting her cheek on his now sweaty chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as close as possible.
"Don't let go," she whispered. "Just please don't let go."
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i know the first part kinda drags, but i hope the last section makes up for it. i had a tough time with writing it – it's supposed to be tender and passionate, let me know if i got it or not. i'm thinking i'll have the next and final chapter up by the end of the weekend.