Hey...sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I had to wrap my mind about what Shuuhei's going to do first. Also, I'm about to finish Breakfall, yey! And I've been working on some non-fic writing, which is a major victory over inertia on my part. No special warnings apply; there's some angst and sex and violence, nothing you haven't seen before.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.
REPATRIATION 4
His slick hands stilled in their path over Shuuhei's buttocks.
"You…you thought you'd top me." Kensei's voice was soft and incredulous.
The firm glutes under his palm wiggled. "Please…don't stop. It just feels so good."
The ninth division's taichou's eyebrows shot up at his fukutaichou's pleading voice. His half-hard member perked up within his hakama, unrestrained by underwear.
"What feels good, Hisagi-fukutaichou?" He husked. "Please be specific."
Shuuhei sighed.
"Your hands. The way you…Aaah! The way you knead my sore muscles. So good."
A dark-haired shaggy head turned, one eucalyptus green eye trained on him. "I'll have to go horseback-riding with Madarame-san more often."
Kensei bit back a growl, applying his well-oiled hands to Hisagi's tight hamstrings. He hated looking like a fool, and he sure made an idiot of himself in front of the 11th division earlier. Despoil his fukutaichou, indeed. His scowl softened at the gasps of pleasure and pain from the man under him.
Under him.
"So…you won't let me top you, then?" No need to beat around the bush.
"Yeaaaah…ooooh…Well I've never…Ah…never bottomed before." Hisagi's smooth, rounded ass appreciated in value hundred-fold.
"Not with Kira?"
"He likes to bottom."
"Not with Renji?"
"Nuh-huh…Ahhh."
"Kuchiki?"
"Thought about it." Shuuhei's voice sounded a bit too wistful for Kensei's liking.
"Ow! Way too hard!"
"Sorry." Kensei didn't sound sorry. His inner Hollow growled.
"Mine."
A wave of heavy reiatsu washed over Shuuhei's prone form; he felt pressed into the futon by it, his erect length trapped by his fundoshi. The heat of Kensei's energy permeated his body, melded with it, with his very spirit. It felt…ahhhh…so good. His abused, sore body soaked it up like a cat curled by the stove. He felt the large, warm, oil-slicked hands run up and down his legs, strong fingers circling over the overworked sides of his hips. He felt the tight, knotted muscles submit and relax, their tension diverted elsewhere. Soon, the talented finger traced the wiry muscles of his back, running up to his shoulder blades. He felt the warm heels of the palms press and circle in that tight triangle between his shoulder blades and his spine. A moan escaped him. His taichou was a man of many talents and the possessive, oppressive warmth engulfed him like a cocoon, blindfolded him with its darkness, the thick ropes of reiatsu binding him, possessing him.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
Kazeshini's voice held a note of caution.
"I am." Shuuhei relaxed, yielding to the powers that cradled him. Where did Kazeshini's caution come from? The heartache of the previous year felt distant now. He knew it would return later, but now, for at least a little while he had a respite from his painful shame. His current responsibility was limited to only feeling those talented hands, that deliciously dark force, letting it take charge and make him feel. That, too, was ephemeral, but who was he to turn down an oasis in the middle of a desert? He was bent on enjoying his freedom – no, his lack of freedom – for as long as Kensei was willing to let him. Involuntarily, his hips ground into the futon, helpless and loving it. The weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders.
There was no Ninth Division to babysit.
There was no guilt over Tousen's deception.
There was no newspaper to manage.
Rermorse over Tousen's death was but a distant memory.
Able hands flipped him over and, loosened, his fundoshi fell away.
Shuuhei closed his eyes and groaned. Those hands. So large, so generous. Warm, questing fingers and heated palms seared paths over his skin and he absorbed it all, welcomed it, submitted to it. He tried to lift his hands to reciprocate but his effort died young, battered down by the dark heat, brought in line by a throaty growl and the bottomless, yellow stare of Kensei's eyes.
It was like he didn't have to even think anymore.
It was like Kensei would do even that for him.
His taichou…
A hot hand palmed his erection and he arched into it, meeting every stroke with eager gasps of intense pleasure. The black light ensnared him further and he relished his weightless detachment from reality.
His taichou…would even think for him.
The thought hit him hard and he felt the peals of alarm bells ring inside his mind. Kazeshini growled, his reiatsu pushing back against the dark bonds.
"Like Tousen thought for you?"
Then there was panic and alarm and a desperate struggle to free himself and regain his mind – and amid flashbacks of the monstrous, blind captain who controlled him so thoroughly, and of Tousen's spilled blood - strokes of searing pleasure stilled his limbs and, unable to exercise his will in any other way, desperate, he cast out a long tendril of reiatsu.
Help!
Any help. Please…
He could not, would not, subsume his will and desire to anyone, not ever again, not after Tousen…
He felt his body seize as control slipped him and he spilled into Kensei's hand, his voice crying out for help, for someone, anyone, to help him find himself again.
XDXDXD
He felt his mask grow on his face, pleasurable urge coiling in his belly as he pinned his willing, yielding, gasping fukutaichou against his futon with all of his being. His hand stroked the incredible, silky smoothness of his manhood and he felt Shuuhei's pleasure like he did his own. He knew Shuuhei would let him turn his body over and pull those slender hips close to him, and then he would prepare him as he was instructed at the Fourth, before he sheathed himself in the depths of his soft heat, his smooth flesh.
Something changed – something unknown yet perceptible – suddenly this younger man who professed to yearn for him struggled from within his grasp, his eyes wide and unseeing. Kensei felt Shuuhei's reiatsu explode as his pleasure crested, his seed filling his hand with slick heat.
"Byakuya!"
His inner Hollow growled, its voice edged with bitter jealousy. Kensei suppressed him, his mask dismissed. His hand pressed Shuuhei's shoulder down and his legs pinned Shuuhei's legs as he stroked his softening length.
His heart felt like it would shatter. Had it not been for the panic in the unseeing eyes of his fukutaichou, he would have punched his pretty face. The temptation was still there – damn him for pining for that stuck-up aristocrat – yet his zanpakutou sent a wave of warning. Not all was as it had seemed.
He didn't care.
He let go of Shuuhei and wiped his hand on his bedding, straightened his clothing, and burst through Shuuhei's rice paper screen door without bothering to open it first.
XDXDXD
Renji strove to keep his eyes glued to the paper. His eyes glazed over, encumbered with bureaucratic language. Too many words. Words unnecessarily large and obscure. Repetitive phrasing. He snapped himself awake once again. Two o'clock in the afternoon was the hardest part of the day, and for that reason he would have preferred to be out training, had it not been for Kuchiki-taichou's clan meeting. There was extra work for Renji on days like these and he dared not slack off, unwilling to further irritate the already annoyed captain.
Kuchiki Byakuya, the scion and leader of an ancient family and the captain of the 6th division, jerked his head up and stood from his chair. Renji turned to him, alarmed. Kuchiki-taichou was not an expressive man. Not in public. Standing up like that…
"What is it, taichou?"
Grey eyes met Renji's concerned gaze.
"I just felt Shuuhei's reiatsu." He measured Renji with his eyes. "Did you feel anything?"
"No," Renji sighed. He had kept up with those meditation exercises Gabriel taught him, but his progress was painfully slow.
Byakuya strode to Renji's desk, gripping his shoulder with his slender, tekkou-clad hand. He felt Renji relax under his touch and his grey gaze softened. They were alone.
Renji leaned his head back, inviting an explanation.
Byakuya cleared his throat, and frowned. "I better go check this out."
XDXDXD
Despite his concern, Byakuya walked at a stately pace. Whatever emergency there had been must have passed, yet he felt obliged to at least investigate. Shuuhei had been making such good progress. He'd found the will to live. His work with his zanpakutou was ground-breaking. He seemed to be getting on quite well with his captain, if the latest flare of reiatsu was any indication. Byakuya allowed himself an inward smile. He well remembered the flavor, the scent, the heat of Hisagi Shuuhei's reiatsu at the point of climax. There still was a sense of despair to it, an emotion that had been Shuuhei's well-hidden default, one that Byakuya would be happy to see disappear. Yet, in those weeks when he and Renji kept Shuuhei company, never once did he recall the 9th division fukutaichou ask for help directly. That he should call out in distress – at a point of climax when he'd have been so vulnerable – Kuchiki Byakuya found the situation highly disturbing and allowed his pace to pick up the slightest bit.
He walked around the Ninth Division headquarters. Shinigami passed back and fro, greeting him with courteous bows and smiles. He had been a familiar presence in these parts, not too long ago. Byakuya stopped around the corner from Shuuhei's quarters and focused his inner eye on the energies within. Hisagi-fukutaichou was still there, his reiatsu turbulent even while the younger man was falling asleep.
No sense waking him up. I'll stop by later.
Byakuya detected residual traces of Muguruma-taichou's energy. The 9th division captain had been there recently – recently enough that Byakuya felt the dark, heavy undertone of his presence – yet now he was gone. The Kuchiki heir closed his eyes, tuning into the residual reiatsu again. It reminded him of something…no. Impossible. According to the energy spectrum left behind, the Vizard must have let his Hollow loose.
Byakuya's stomach flipped; he never quite trusted the Vizards' control of their inner hollows. Shuuhei might have been injured, or scared, or…
Byakuya approached the door around the corner, only now seeing the splintered wood and the torn paper of the sliding shoji screen. Alarmed, he eased his way in. Hisagi-fukutaichou's sprawled form was lying nude on his futon, his lips whispering confused words in his sleep.
"Shuuhei." Byakuya touched his shoulder.
"Shuuhei, I need you to wake up." He sent a tendril of his reiatsu to the sleeping man. Shuuhei's hand batted him away.
"No…no more. Leave me be."
'No more' what? Byakuya jostled the bony shoulder again. "Wake up, Hisagi-fukutaichou!"
Shuuhei's eyes flew open and he sprung to his feet, his nude form towering over the seated Byakuya. He looked left, then right. Realizing his unclad state, he made a motion to reach for the clothing still crumpled on the floor. His eyes were caught by the familiar black hair, the angular planes of the shiny kenseikan reflecting sunlight into his eyes.
"Byakuya. What are you doing here?"
XDXDXD
Kensei's rage had almost left his system. His breathing was just under control again. He was thinking the events of the past day through, step by careful step, yet he still could not discern a possible reason for Shuuhei's distress.
"It's not Senbonzakra's master's fault."
"He cried out his name."
Tachikaze remained silent, unwilling to interfere any further. The silence bothered him more than a heated argument would have. He needed to talk it out. He needed to know what was wrong with Shuuhei. He needed to take Shuuhei and turn him over and rip his hakama off, sinking himself between his hot, round cheeks and making him cry out his name in the throes of passion.
"Mate. Mine."
For once, the Hollow sided with him instead of his zanpakutou.
He headed back to Hisagi Shuuhei's quarters, resolved to talk about what happened and have Shuuhei's door fixed - just as Kuchiki Byakuya's graceful form slipped through the wrecked shoji screen.
Kensei's eyes glazed over.
He saw nothing but red. Kuchiki's hair was black red and his haori was bright red and his red scarf dripped around his throat like fresh-spilled blood.
Blood pounded in his ears.
He could feel his eyes change into that pale, cold yellow and his reiatsu grew heavy with portent.
XDXDXD
Byakuya left Shuuhei dressed, hugged, and with a cup of fresh-made tea. Their conversation yielded little fruit and Byakuya resolved to bring the issue up with Muguruma-taichou. Generally he'd be loath to interfere, but so much of his and Renji's energy- and emotion - had already been invested in Hisagi Shuuhei he found it most trying to exercise his customary restraint. He stepped out through the hole in the screen, only to be assaulted by a wave of heavy, ominous reiatsu. There, across the street, stood Muguruma Kensei.
His eyes were that bottomless, cold yellow he'd seen once before.
A mask began to materialize on his face.
Byakuya weighed his options and exited the street, taking his place in the middle of the 9th division training grounds.
Kensei took his measure of the arrogant man. He stood erect and calm, the wind playing with his hair and his precious silk scarf. Kuchiki's zanpakuto was still sheathed.
"Would you like to walk with me, Muguruma-taichou? We have much to discuss." The cold, polite voice sliced the air and the arrogance of it almost took Kensei's breath away.
Almost.
He drew Tachikaze and carved the air with her, sending a spinning blade of reiatsu in Kuchiki's direction.
He watched the younger captain slide sideways, evading his attack with ease.
"There is no need for this. We need to talk."
A growl and another spinning blade was his reply.
"Are you losing control of your Hollow, Muguruma-taichou?" Kuchiki's voice was unconcerned. It enraged him. He was not losing fucking control. He was finally letting his inner Hollow play. After all these years of not trusting himself, he wasn't going to lose control in front of this spoiled-brat punk.
"I remember back when you chased cats over the rooftops of Seireitei, Kuchiki. Don't toy with me. And don't touch what's mine."
He unleashed a small, fast blade, this time not intending it to miss.
"Chire, Senbonzakura."
The air howled with the wind of Tachikaze. Her air blades were torn asunder by the delicate, deadly snowstorm of pink sakura petals.
Attacks were traded, negated, side-stepped. Adrenaline coursed through their veins.
Spectators begun to gather, and a blast of raw power knocked a wall down, everyone retreated by several body lengths.
Byakuya detected the killing intent in Kensei's attacks dissipate. The fire was burning itself out. He disregarded his bleeding arm and his shredded haori and shihakusho, focusing on the ebb and flow of his shikai.
Swirl to the left.
Above, then duck down.
Bank right – then down and in.
There!
Kensei heard the crowd break in applause. He looked around, the winds howling around his form. The he felt it – a sudden loosening, and his hakama fluttered down, slipping down and pooling around his feet.
Damn.
Kenpachi stood to the side, grinning like a madman. "There goes Kuchiki Princess and his girly shikai!"
The rest of 11th division laughed. Renji stood next to them with Rikichi and the rest of the 6th division, watching their captain show his prowess. The 9th division observed him with a restrained awe – he saw many of them – perhaps everyone except for his own fukutaichou.
Shinigami from other divisions amassed as their duties allowed, clapping and cheering.
Soi-fon appeared as though out of thin air, standing the packed dirt between them with practiced ease. Her black-garbed minions appeared around her in a symmetrical formation.
She turned to Kensei.
"Mugruma-taichou, your presence in the Seireitei is permitted only as long as you keep your Hollow powers under control. An out-of-control reiatsu has been reported by the 12th division. You'll have to come with us."
Kensei turned his warm, primrose-yellow eyes to the diminutive captain. "I am in full control, Soifon-taichou."
"You have assaulted Kuchiki-taichou!"
Byakuya walked over to Kensei. He sheathed Senbonzakura and bowed.
"Thank you for a most illuminating sparring session, Muguruma-taichou. Are we on for next week?"
Kensei met the cool, gray gaze, the stone-carved face betraying nothing. He worked hard not to glace at Kuchiki's bloodied arm. "Sure. I was obviously unable to neutralize your shikai entirely." He turned his back to Soi-Fon and bent over, picking up his hakama and mooning her in the process.
"Here, let me affix that with some kido," Byakuya offered, making Kensei's rent clothing stay in place with a mere gesture of his fingers.
Soi-fon turned to the 6th division captain.
"Explain yourself, Kuchiki-taichou."
He met her fiery eyes with a cool gaze. "There is no need to explain simple sparring practice, is there, Soifon-taichou?"
"Is there any reason to bring the Hollow into it?" Soi-fon spat.
"Muguruma-taichou is highly skilled in the control of his air-based weapons, as well as in the control of his Hollow transformation. There is nobody else in Gotei who can provide me with a similar challenge at this time. In fact, I shall request that Mugruma-taichou visits my division and have some of my seated officers go up against his lower-level attacks." He looked into the crowd.
"Abarai-fukutaichou."
"Hai." Renji flash-stepped to his captain's side.
"Please coordinate training schedules with Muguruma-taichou so that our division can get the benefit of his expertise."
"Hai, taichou."
XDXDXD
Dressed in the gold-tone kosode, Renji sauntered up to the Kuchiki manor side gate, the stone patch worn smooth under his feet. A practice with the 9th again? He'd have to ask Byakuya about that, find out what happened. He raised his hand to knock on the door when a familiar presence appeared behind him, flash-stepping and out of breath.
"Muguruma-taichou?"
The silver-haired man spared him barely a glance.
"Where's Kuchiki?"
"Inside." He knocked. Curiosity was eating him from the inside and it took all the control at his disposal not to ask what was wrong.
The door opened and a servant invited them in. Both men took off their shoes and followed the man to the dining room. They sat on the cushions, waiting for Byakuya to appear.
In just a few minutes the painted door slid open and Byakuya stepped in. He wore a simple, blue yukata and his hair was loose around his face, free of ornament.
"I am sorry to intrude, Kuchiki-sama, but something extremely…disturbing…has occurred." Kensei's voice was choked, the air barely making its way out.
"What happened?" Byakuya asked.
"Hisagi-fukutaichou. He has left." Kensei dug into his sleeve. "Here, he left a note. I was hoping you could help me make sense of this."
Byakuya met Renji's eyes and a small smile almost slipped his face.
"We would be honored if you would join us for dinner," he said. "It's a simple affair. Then we can discuss Shuuhei and how we can be of service to you, and to him."
XDXDXD
He sat his horse with the careful precision of a beginner. His saddle bags were packed, dry food supplies and a cooking pot and a bed roll, and Kazeshini. There was a fishing line with two hooks, and a sharp knife. There was a bag of grain for Frosty and a hoof pick, a brush and a curry comb. He needed little else. The map Yumichika drew for him showed the path into the mountains where the air was cool and clear, the stream water tasted of highland ice, and there was ample graze for Frosty to feed on. He'd left a note for Kensei. He hoped the meaning was obvious.
Dear Kensei,
I need some time all to myself. I cannot be with you until I know how to be without you. Please give me a few weeks. If I don't return in two months, something has probably befallen me. Ayasegawa-san can point you in my direction, should you need to reach me in case of an emergency.
Shuuhei
What he really meant to say was, "I love you."