A/N Okay, hum…
Literally, I was trying to drift asleep. And then I don't know? This sequence started to play out in my high-as-fuck mind, words rolling out on their own. I had to get up and write it down. I wrote it in an hour or so. Took a second one to edit. And… Here it is? It's… I know it's a bit OOC. The vision chose me I'm sorry. Also I usually don't write in this style so I really can't tell how good or bad it is. I really hope it's not too bad and someone out there enjoys it. If so, give me a heads-up!
These last few days, I have been excessively obsessed by the story Folklore by BlushingLotus. Although it's not a Bleach fic; because this story plays on repeat and I am absolutely in love with it; it is highly probable that it influenced this one shot deeply. I hope in a reasonable way.
He knew something was on her mind as soon as he opened the door that day. Her ice steel eyes displayed this unusual hue. It reminded him of the dark raging sea fighting against the storm, blueish grey crashing into each other, merging into one. If there never was a ray of sun in those cloudy eyes, they were yet burning with the strength of a thousand roaring suns. Karin Kurosaki was a fighter, and nothing would stop her.
As he engulfs the gigantic last piece of his cake into his mouth, Karin softly chuckles next to him.
"Wha? Itch 'eally good. Dyou wanna tchy?"
Meanwhile trying to gulp it down, he humorously lowers his hand in offer.
Without even looking that she thought this through, Karin bends slightly as her hand reaches for his own. She grabs his wrist, and, then, methodically proceeds to polish each and every one of his fingers.
When she finally is done, her tongue makes a last appearance to remove any potential remnant of her mischief.
Chad felt like he was struck by a lightning on his very spot. On his couch. In his living room. Watching TV. Karin licking the tip of his fingers.
As if time was frozen, he remembered his eyes widening in incomprehension while her fingers clawed around his arm, pulling him forward. The very second her lips brushed his skin, he felt he was a dead man. Suddenly smashed with years of repressed feelings and sensations, the breach in the dam exploded, making him overwhelmed instantaneously.
She gives him a bright smile that cracks his brain.
"You're right, it's really good."
But then she stares at him with a raised eyebrow. He knows he hasn't moved a hair for the last minute. His hand is still laid out in front of her.
"Chad? Are you alright?"
Finally, life comes back to him in a rush like a cold fire running through his veins.
He lowers his head. Meets her stare.
"Yes."
He stands up. Leaves the room. Goes upstairs. Gets into his room. Closes the door. Lies face down on his bed.
How many years now? How many?
The. Split. Second.
The split second her lips brushed his finger; it all came back.
The first time he saw her again. She was 16. She looked different, yet, also, somehow the same. She was 16 the first time he curiously looked at her pout and lightly wondered how it would feel if he was to bend down and kiss it gently. The first time he felt burning shame as he awkwardly gave her a thumb up and spinned around.
At first the intrusive thoughts weren't too strong, so it was easy to push them aside. Pretend they weren't here. Then time passed. Chad and Karin kept growing up. Then one night.
One night he agonized. He was leaving Ichigo's room. She was going to hers. She was in a dark pair of shorts and a white tank top. Her hands were up, trying to tame her messy hair into a bun. Her top went over her belly button. The golden skin looked soft. Cute.
Thinking this very word about this very person made his blood boil.
She vaguely noticed his stare. She mumbled a sleepy "good night man" and disappeared behind her door. Then, he, for a split second, wondered what would happen, would he follow her through that door. Would he be able to slowly, excruciatingly slowly lift her tank top up? To discover, inch by inch, her underbelly, to be able to see this glorious belly button again, nestled in this sea of gold. Then to keep going, to discover the shape of her ribcage, and then, finally to free her generous breasts, and, then, maybe, after seeing her whole body arch and covered with goosebumps, he would taste the nectar of her skin.
A stone dropped through his stomach and dragged him several floors below. He'd been staring at Karin's door for a long time. He needed to get out of that pit.
He never rushed faster to his home.
To his bathroom.
Rushed under the coldest shower of his life. His lips were blue when he got out.
From then on, the intrusive thoughts were strong. And they got stronger. And Chad put all his energy and will to push them aside.
And then. Unexpectedly. They became sparring buddies. They were older now. They started hanging out. Turned out, although very different, it was comfortable, being around each other. And then, they were friends. And then, only then, Chad relaxed, because it was normal she was living rent-free in his mind all the time. She was her friend! She deserved her own permanent space, juste like Ichigo, Inoue, Rukia, Ishida, all the others. Then he would just have to pretend she wasn't taking twice as much room as anyone else. It was fine. Of course he was thinking about her all the time. She was a good friend. It was fine.
What kind of a friend would he be to have sexual thoughts about her? The intrusive thoughts stopped. It was fine.
Then came the dreams. It distressed him, at first. Guilt gripped his guts furiously when he woke up, covered in sweat, panting, loins on fire. Then he reasoned. Of course she would plague his dreams. He was an adult man, he couldn't control his subconscious, and Karin was, indeed, an attractive woman. He spent most of his free time with her. It was normal. It was fine. During the day, the content of the dream would fade out from his mind, leaving him with the vague and faint memory that he had an erotic dream involving her. A bit awkward, but ah! Nothing to worry about. This stuff happens.
He ignored the fact that. For years. His erotic dreams were singly and unanimously revolving around her. Always.
It wasn't fine. It had never been.
He gasps in distress in his pillow. How long would this torture keep going?
"Chad? Are you in there?"
A soft knock on the door.
He grunts.
"Can I come in?"
He grunts again.
The door clicks open. The warm light from the corridor floods inside the room.
"What on earth are you doing, laying like this in the dark? Is this your emo phase?"
Karin was not just a good friend, or a beautiful woman. She was a fighter.
When she was 16 and he met her for the first time in a long while, he knew. She exhaled the same calm and powerful confidence as her brother. He discovered this day he found it incredibly attractive. She was beaming confidence. Like a sun. Hence, his glance was drawn to her. Then he saw. She was no longer the little girl he knew. She was becoming a woman. And as he watched her motion, he saw. He saw how toned her muscles were, how anchored she was on the ground, how precise all and every of her movements, even the smallest. The perfect mastering of her body.
He understood, before Ichigo did. She was not just an athlete.
She was a fighter.
Then, they sparred.
And he saw. He watched. She wasn't just a good friend and a beautiful woman and a sarcastic bitch. She was a reckless fighter. Brutal, angry, perceptive, efficient. Fortunately, he fought many years along Ichigo, so he was ready. He desired her even more.
He would never. EVER. Acknowledge this.
Her hand pats him on the back. She sits on the edge of his bed. He would have to crush his brain with his own two hands to stop its pounding, it seems.
"What's the matter?"
She watches him with gentle eyes. Ah! He likes those. He doesn't see them often, but he suspects he sees them more than Ichigo himself.
He sits on the bed and settles next to her.
"Nothing. I felt a bit sick."
"I knew you destroyed that cake way too fast for your own sake."
He grunts again, satisfied to not even have to think about a better excuse.
"Are you feeling better?"
"More or less."
Then his heart stops. It would be difficult, but he's done this many times in the past. He would suppress all of this once again. He would not succumb. He would not be that man.
But still. For now. His heart stops. His gaze softly falls on her cleavage, where some droplets of icing have washed ashore. His head spins.
She follows his gaze.
Oh. No. Oh no.
She follows his gaze towards her own breasts.
She giggles when she notices the icing.
She straightens up a bit, and teasingly asks him.
"Do you wanna taste?"
We would not succumb. He would just content himself with daydreams. He would imagine how her eyes would close in anticipation if he now just decided to taste her mouth.
As soon as the last syllable leaves her lips, his tong is gently cleaning the last proof of their feast.
He had plunged. He feels miserable, unable to stop, as if gulping for the air he denied himself for so long. Without thinking, his hands move to grab her by the shoulders, as his lips reach the tender skin of her neck. In a spark of lucidity, he supposes his death is now incoming, inevitable. He tenses up, expecting the impact.
Her fingers dip into his scalp. Light pressure is encouraging him to come closer.
And.
And.!
Was that…
Was that a moan?
Out of surprise, coming back to his senses, he withdraws. Her lips, parted. Her breath, soft and warm on his neck. Her eyes, half-lidded. Hungry. Feverish. Determined.
Feverish for him?
Impossible.
.
Could it?
"Took you long enough. Emo-dumbass."
He never registered what she said. She had pulled him into her burning embrace. Like a moth, all these years, he had tried to look aside, to flee. Like a moth, all these years, inevitably, he was drawn back to the human blaze that she was, his lighthouse, his haven, his home. He had been invited to be consumed in her thousand roaring suns.
In a bliss. He leaned in. He would comply happily.
About time.
All he needed.
A split second.