When Muguruma Kensei returned to take back the Ninth Division, it had caused a stir. Compared to the various rejoicing, gossiping, suspicion, and the shock suffered by anyone who had to deal with Mashiro, Shuuhei knew that finding himself working in the same room with his captain was a very small change to be fretting over. On the scale of all the stir caused by the captains’ return, it was really a very minor thing that Muguruma-taichou liked to have his vice-captain close at hand. It could certainly be worse. Mashiro might have wanted her own seat back, and while Shuuhei wouldn’t have fought her for it he knew that would have caused a great deal more upset in the lower ranks. It comforted the people who had never known Muguruma-taichou to have Shuuhei remain.
Even if that did put him in the same office as the man he had a hopeless and ridiculous crush on.
The chair across the room creaked and Shuuhei glanced up, catching the long flex of muscles as Muguruma-taichou stretched his arms overhead. Shuuhei fixed his eyes firmly back on his paperwork, trying to remember the next thing he needed to write.
“About time to knock off for the day. You done with those yet, Hisagi?” Muguruma-taichou’s voice didn’t rumble the way some deep voices did, but there was a roughness to it when it was low. Shuuhei spent a lot of time in this office stopping himself from shivering, just listening to his captain.
“I should finish up a few more pages,” he said calmly, not looking up again. “Please go on ahead, Taichou; I’ll close the offices up.”
“Hm.” Muguruma-taichou’s steps whispered across the wood floor to the window behind Shuuhei’s desk. He could see his captain out of the corner of his eye, bare arms crossed as he looked out. “You know, if there’s one thing that I really do hate Tousen for, it’s this. For teaching my people to be afraid.”
Shuuhei’s head jerked up at that, shocked; Muguruma-taichou hadn’t spoken Tousen-taichou’s name once, since he’d returned. It took a moment to realize what else he’d said, and then Shuuhei flushed, caught between shame at being found wanting by his captain and the need to defend the philosophy of his other captain. “Sir, we aren’t—” He broke off abruptly as Muguruma-taichou turned and one warm, strong hand caught his chin. Dark eyes held his.
Heat rushed over Shuuhei as he realized what his captain was talking about. He could feel his heart beating against his breastbone like it wanted to get out. “It’s not,” he started, husky, and had to swallow and try again. “It’s not Tousen-taichou’s fault that…”
Muguruma-taichou’s thumb stroked over his mouth and Shuuhei’s words choked off in the shudder of want that ran up his spine. “You won’t get what you want if you don’t ask for it, Hisagi,” Muguruma-taichou said quietly.
Shuuhei closed his eyes, because that was the only way he could look away from the levelness of his captain’s gaze. “It isn’t my place to ask.”
Shuuhei’s eyes flew open again, wide at that barked word, to find Muguruma-taichou frowning down at him. “This is why I say it’s Tousen’s damn fault,” Muguruma-taichou growled, though his hand was still gentle, wrapped around Shuuhei’s jaw. “You hold back with me exactly the way you hold back with your own sword. ” He shook Shuuhei a little. “I haven’t seen you release that damn sword once, since I got back, and everyone says that’s business as usual for you. You’re ashamed of the shape of your own soul, Hisagi! You think I’m going to leave one of my people in that state?”
Shuuhei swallowed and shook his head, wordless. No, he couldn’t imagine the captain he’d come to know letting that go.
“You are what you are,” Muguruma-taichou told him, flat and inflexible. “And what you are is a man of the Ninth. My Ninth. You marked yourself with it, so don’t try to tell me otherwise.” His thumb brushed over Shuuhei’s cheekbone, where the numbers 69 were tattooed, and Shuuhei flushed. A corner of Muguruma-taichou’s mouth tilted up. “I haven’t had much luck yet getting you to release your sword. But I’m betting Tousen never touched this part of you.” He braced his other hand on the back of Shuuhei’s chair and leaned over him, voice turning low again. “So tell me. Shuuhei. Do you want this?”
Shuuhei’s thoughts were tangled up in a knot. It was Tousen-taichou’s words that had kept him in the Division, had given him a way to fight with honesty. That’s what he’d thought, even after Tousen’s betrayal. But Muguruma-taichou… it had been his imagine in Shuuhei’s head that led him to the Division to start with, that made him try over and over to get into the Academy until he did it, that made him work and train until he’d found Kazeshini’s name and shape, and closed his hand on that strength.
Do you want this?
“Yes,” he whispered, hands closed into white-knuckled fists on top of his desk, remembering the first time he’d held Kazeshini’s grips and spun his blades free, the terror and thrill both. Remembering the first time he’d seen Muguruma Kensei standing proud and easy after a battle, and the flash of desire to be like that himself. Maybe it was true; maybe he had stopped at the easy answer. If anyone could teach him to walk in the dark shadow of Kazeshini’s edge without losing himself, it was this man. So he looked his captain in the eyes and finished, “Please.”
Those eyes were hot as Muguruma-taichou smiled. “Yeah.” He lifted Shuuhei’s chin and kissed him, hard and sure.
Heat twisted through Shuuhei’s stomach and he reached up to fist his hands in Muguruma-taichou’s haori; he didn’t want to hesitate, he didn’t want to hold back from fear, and his captain didn’t want him to either. Realizing that one thing, feeling it in the force of Muguruma-taichou’s mouth on his, pulled a faint moan out of him.
He wanted it, yes.
Muguruma-taichou made an approving sound and pulled Shuuhei up out of his chair. “Come here.” Shuuhei had to swallow as he found himself pressed up full length against his captain, feeling the hardness of his body, the solid weight of Muguruma-taichou’s muscles under his hands as he slid them up his captain’s arms. He flushed hot as broad hands slid through the sides of his hakama and under his kosode to grip his ass firmly, and couldn’t help grinding wantonly against Muguruma-taichou in answer. “Taichou!”
“I think,” Muguruma-taichou murmured against his neck, “that when I have my hands on your ass you can leave off the titles.” He dragged his tongue along the edge of Shuuhei’s choker, sending a jolt of heat up Shuuhei’s spine. “And I don’t want to hear my family name from someone I’m fucking, okay?”
Shuuhei pulled in a quick breath; that was the kind of intimacy he hadn’t expected, the kind that made this more than just a captain resorting to unorthodox methods with a subordinate. “…Kensei-san,” he answered, low and hesitant, unsure again if it was really all right for him to have this.
Muguruma-taichou lifted his head and caught Shuuhei’s chin again with one hand, looking at him steadily. “Do you think I haven’t been watching all of you, the same way you’ve been watching me? Looking around to see who still has some goddamn fire in their guts? I didn’t leave you in the vice-captain’s seat just to soothe anyone’s nerves!”
Shuuhei stared back at him, closer to being overwhelmed by this than he was by the heat of his captain’s hands on his skin. “You really think I’m like that.” And it wasn’t a question, but he could hear the wonder in his own voice. “You really think I can handle it.”
Muguruma-taichou slid his thumb over Shuuhei’s cheekbone again, tracing the numbers slow and firm. “You know the answer to that already. You have for a long time, I’m thinking.” A little gentler, he added, “You just forgot for a while, is all.”
Shuuhei took a slow breath, feeling something in his spine release. He lifted his head and looked back levelly. “I’ll try to remember, then. Kensei-san.”
His captain smiled with a flash of teeth. “That’s better.” He wrapped his hand around the back of Shuuhei’s neck and pulled him into a slow, hot kiss. This time, Shuuhei pressed into it, moaning softly as those powerful hands slid under his hakama again, pulling him up the thigh Kensei-san slid between his legs. Shuuhei shivered and let himself rock against that solid muscle, hands groping over Kensei-san’s shoulders and back.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Kensei-san’s hands kneaded Shuuhei’s ass, strong enough to make him gasp a little, low in his throat. “Don’t hold yourself back, Shuuhei.”
The quiet coaxing, the promise of an anchor in the powerful body unmoving against his, undid Shuuhei’s reserve strand by strand until he was riding Kensei-san’s thigh, grinding wantonly against him, kissing back hot and wet and open. He barely recognized his own voice when he groaned, “Kensei-san, fuck me…”
Kensei-san chuckled against his ear, low and rough. “Right here? You want me to put you down over your own desk and fuck you right here and now?”
Shuuhei shuddered and ran his open mouth down the line of Kensei-san’s neck, tasting salt on his skin, and bit down on the curve of his shoulder. Those hands tightened hard on his ass, digging into his muscles and spreading him open, and want twisted a little tighter. Want he didn’t have to hold back. “Yes!”
Shuuhei leaned over his desk as soon as Kensei-san let him go, breath coming hard; he wanted this. He wanted to feel the easy confidence of his captain’s hands on him until that confidence soaked into his skin. As his hakama slid down and warm palms pushed his kosode up over his hips, he sagged down to his elbows and rested his head against the smooth wood, a little light-headed with anticipation. “Kensei-san…”
“Easy.” One hand closed firmly on his shoulder, holding him steady, and tension eased out of Shuuhei’s shoulders, unwound down his back. There was nothing hidden, nothing held back in Kensei-san. He could trust that hand on him, the way he hadn’t been able to completely trust anything for a very long time. When Kensei-san’s fingers pushed slowly into him, Shuuhei laughed against his folded arms, breathless; those fingers were slick. Kensei-san had apparently planned for this.
“I made you impatient with me,” he said, husky with the slide and stretch of being opened up.
There was a faint chuckle in Kensei-san’s voice. “Not impatient quite yet. But I did think about what might get through to you, since training alone obviously isn’t enough.”
Shuuhei flushed a little at that reminder. “Forgive me.”
The hand on his shoulder shook him gently. “None of that. I’m your captain. It’s your job to follow me, yeah, but it’s also mine to know what it takes to get you there.” He sank two fingers all the way into Shuuhei and twisted them slowly. “Not like I object,” he murmured as Shuuhei moaned with the heat tightening his stomach. Kensei-san’s hand stroked down his back and both of them wrapped around Shuuhei’s hips, holding him. “You have what it takes Shuuhei. You spent a long time being sabotaged, right down inside, and you still have what it takes. Remember that.”
Shuuhei reached out to grip the far side of his desk, panting for breath as Kensei-san’s cock pushed into him, thick and hard. “Yes, sir,” he gasped. It felt like the words were as solid as Kensei-san was inside him, and he held tight to that feeling.
And then he just held on as Kensei-san fucked him, hard enough to rock him up off his heels if Kensei-san hadn’t kept a good grip on his hips, pulling him back into each stroke. It was hot and slick and secure, and Shuuhei moaned openly with the feeling of his captain’s heavy cock driving into his ass over and over, deep and sure.
“Let go, Shuuhei,” Kensei-san ordered, rough and husky. “I’ve got you. Stop holding back.”
Shuuhei shuddered like that order was a hand stroked down his spine and let himself cry out at the next thrust, at the burst of heat up his spine, let himself spread his legs wider and push back against Kensei-san, taking his cock deeper, hungry for more. An approving gasp answered him and Kensei-san moved with him, fucking him harder, bracing his hands against the desk on either side of Shuuhei and leaning over him, pounding deep into his ass. Shuuhei let thinking go and just moved, just felt the hot pleasure of being fucked open so hard, abandoning himself to it under the solid shelter of his captain’s body over his. When heat finally rushed him over the edge and wrung him out, he groaned in an already-raw throat and ground his ass back against Kensei-san wantonly. Kensei-san fucked the tightness right back out of his body until he was sprawled over the desk, barely able to moan when Kensei-san finally buried himself deep in Shuuhei and shuddered against his back.
“Yeah,” Kensei-san said softly against his ear. “Like that. Hold on to that, Shuuhei.”
“Yes, sir,” Shuuhei agreed, rather dazed. He felt Kensei-san’s lips curve against his neck.
“I’ll be glad to remind you, of course.”
Shuuhei’s face turned hot. “Kensei-san…”
Deft fingers combed through his hair, stroking damp strands back. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” Shuuhei said softly. “For this. For coming back at all.”
Kensei-san’s hand slid down to rest on his nape, which pulled a soft sound out of Shuuhei as he bent his head under that warm weight. “I’m never going to trust the Captain-General all the way again, that’s for sure. But you’re not him. For you, for my division, for the job we actually do when moronic conspiracies and politics aren’t getting in the way… for that I’ll stay.” He tightened his grip for a moment and pushed upright. “So come eat dinner with me and keep me from actually strangling Mashiro the way she deserves.”
Shuuhei slowly pushed himself back to his feet, feeling his muscles burn with the reminder of his captain inside him. “You don’t hold back, Taichou,” he allowed wryly, “but you’re not always completely honest either.” Everyone in the division knew how fond Kensei-san was of Mashiro.
“Oh shut up. One of these days I really will strangle her.” Kensei-san didn’t look at him, but a corner of his mouth was curled up and he rested a hand on Shuuhei’s shoulder again as he tied his hakama. “Come on.”
Shuuhei smiled a little too, feeling himself settle into this new shape of things. “Yes, Taichou.” After too long, it felt like there was light for his way forward again.
And a hand to steady him on it, too.