Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Word Count: 586
AN: Gets a lil fluffy- squeeze a pillow!
Oh- and it was brought to my attention that I didn't offer a blurb about the intimidating looking name of my OC. I added the below guide to chapter 7 where her name first appears.
Xochitl: Is an Aztec (Nahuatl) name meaning 'flower' or 'flower of god' and I've heard it pronounced a couple of ways from S-oh-chee to Sho-cheet to even Sh-oh-cheel… I guess you can take your pick- I usually stick with the first pronunciation.
Sorry that this explanation was so late (and perhaps redundant at this point)!
A Kiss for Shelter
Unfair
Xochitl tried to catch her lord's eye that evening as she served their meal, but his gaze was steely and he looked beyond her.
By the time lessons rolled around she was flustered, ill-at-ease due to his purposeful inattention.
She moved gingerly around him, steeping the tea, arranging her bedding, and lighting the lanterns.
Byakuya remained seated by the open shoji, teacup in his hand, grey eyes intent on the moon climbing toward its peak. Oh, he could feel her vexation- it brushed along his own, but this, like the tentative glances she shot his way, he overlooked.
"You must be tired. Rest." The noble said without inflection.
Her hands fisted in her yukata, but she bowed her head.
She kneeled down on her futon only to pause. She then made a small sound of effort as she pushed back up to stand.
When she stood over him, he was sorely tempted to steal a glance at the expression she favored him with. Silence blanketed the room for several moments before she carefully situated herself at his side.
"I am used to your silences my lord, but this is altogether another degree." She commented, the light tone just bordering anxiousness.
"Hn." His eyes narrowed a fraction on the tree-shaded pond.
She took a fortifying breath and continued, "Some might accuse you of being petty. I might… But I would never suspect it of you."
Byakuya's spine stiffened, but he refused the prodding.
He listened as she again took a bolstering breath, but when it escaped her he saw her slump slightly from the corner of his eye.
"If you could just… speak to me… Tell me- whatever it is that you are keeping to yourself- I… would listen… Please."
The noble felt his knuckles pressing against the skin of his hands, could feel his jaw clamping against rash words threatening to tumble forth. But the silence stretched.
Her voice was little more than a whisper, and he couldn't quite place the emotions- remorse- sadness- acceptance? "You doubt me."
She nodded to herself and nibbled at her lip before she was rising and turning away from him.
His eyes followed her. She stopped at the futon and looked over her shoulder at him suddenly, "I won't apologize for my distant past. I won't submit myself before your ego."
That accent- it always grew thicker when she was frustrated- and it only managed to stroke along his nerves provocatively.
She had barely begun to stoop before her shoulders were between his hands and her body was yanked forward.
One hand moved to cup her jaw, the other caressed the nape of her neck. His eyes held hers firmly, before they roved her face slowly, studying her features. She could do little but steady herself with her hands against his chest.
Whatever he might be looking for, after a few moments he seemed to find it- his hematite orbs flickered with passing thought.
Finally he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding and his head dipped down.
Her forehead tingled where his lips pressed and this sensation seemed to spread- making her indescribably warm.
His fingertips were light but she tilted her head further back and his lips trailed down her face, just barely touching the skin until they hovered over her mouth.
There was no pressure in the light touch of his mouth to hers, yet she felt her breath stolen.
The sweet stroke of lips was brief and his breath tickled gently, "Good night."