Bleach Standalone

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Branch

Bleach fic that isn't part of any arc, mostly pornlets for Porn Battle challenges.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Understand" published on 2005-07-12 23:57:30.

"Price" published on 2005-07-16 00:01:13.

"At Your Feet" published on 2008-02-29 16:20:43.

"Over the Edge" published on 2008-04-11 15:02:57.

"Through the Sleepless Nights" published on 2008-06-19 14:54:48.

"Coals and Ink" published on 2008-06-19 14:55:23.

"Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice" published on 2008-06-30 14:18:01.

"Man of Mouth and Hands" published on 2008-10-05 22:17:13.

"Hearthfire" published on 2008-10-05 22:19:38.

"Between One Moment and the Next" published on 2010-02-06 17:29:15.

"Benefits of Friends" published on 2010-02-08 14:48:46.

"Naked Truth" published on 2010-02-08 14:49:44.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "Sonnenuntergang" by Anton Zwengauer, public domain (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anton_Zwengauer_Sonnenuntergang.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

Understand

Rukia gets exasperated and points out the obvious to Renji. Spoilers through manga 181. Mostly Humor, I-1.

It had been a nice evening walk through the woods beyond the city, with a handful of friends, before the Hollow charged them from behind a grove of firs. Rukia felt she really should have known it was too quiet.

"Rukia!" Renji grabbed her arm and started to dive in front of her, only to meet her elbow coming the other way towards his gut. He folded up in a whooping heap, and Rukia shook off his grip.

"Here!" she yelled, springing away from him to draw the Hollow aside. It howled and dashed for her, zigzagging, trying to come at her from an unguarded side. It took what it thought was an opening, with a gleeful cry, and she spitted it on a two-handed thrust.

It was over in seconds.

"Nice job, Rukia-san!" Kiyone cheered. Kiyone's sister gave her a rueful look, eyes still a little wide, and Rukia spared a moment to wonder whether Isane-san would ever again be convinced to come out walking with them, after this.

"Yes," agreed Kira, bending over the still-gasping Renji, "but did you have to be quite so hard on Abarai-kun?" He sounded both worried and amused.

"Yes, I did," Rukia growled, stalking back to Renji's side as he started to lever himself off the ground. She grabbed a handful of the front of his gi and yanked him up face to face with her. "Get it straight," she snapped at him. "I am fully recovered. I have not had my spiritual energy drained. I am not in a false body that keeps draining it. I have not just come out of a prison that also keeps draining it." Each not was punctuated by a brisk shake.

"Yeah, but," Renji managed, grinning, and Rukia's voice lowered ominously.

"If you ever do that again I'll aim the elbow a little lower. Understand?"

Renji winced. "Got it, got it," he agreed, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Which meant that when Rukia opened her hand and dropped him, he thumped back to the ground again.

"Good." She smirked at him, satisfied.

"Ow," he grumbled as Kira helped him up, and added under his breath, "Remind me again why I'm in love with her? Gotta be crazy."

Rukia had already turned away, which was good. That way, Renji couldn't see her smiling.

End

Price

Slightly twisted ficlet about the aftermath of the Soul Society arc. Spoilers through manga 181. Totally Cracked, I-1

If Rukia had made a list of the many sights she never expected to see, her brother kneeling over a washtub full of suds with his sleeves tied back would not have been on it anywhere. It would never have occurred to her to imagine her cool, sleek, elegant brother with his hair mussed from rising steam, even for the sake of thinking it impossible.

"Nii-sama?" she asked, a bit cautiously just in case this was a symptom of madness, or some strange family ritual she'd never heard of. "What are you doing?"

"Everything has a price, Rukia," he told her, evenly, without turning. He lifted his white scarf out of the water and held it up to the light. Rukia could see faint red-brown marks here and there. "Everything.

"Including dramatic gestures."

He dropped it back in and leaned down to keep scrubbing.

End

At Your Feet

Renji contemplates how he acts with his captain. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Byakuya/Renji, any form of power play. Porn with Characterization, I-3.

Renji almost never gave his captain a full salute.

Other people almost never noticed.

Renji figured it was just Kuchiki-taichou's attitude that kept them from seeing it, the same way everyone thought Kuchiki-taichou was taller than he really was. But he noticed. He watched the way the other vice-captains were with their captains. There were the casual ones like Rangiku and Yachiru who teased everyone, including their superiors. There were the punctilious ones like Iba and Hisagi who wouldn't dream of reporting without a formal bow. There were resentful ones like Oomaeda and exasperated ones like Ise, not that he could blame her, but there didn't seem to be any other vice-captains quite like him.

Ones who were always proper. Always respectful. But almost never knelt down in a full salute.

Renji knew no one had noticed because no one said anything. No one looked surprised when he and his captain met. No one ever mentioned how odd it was that Kuchiki-taichou didn't seem to mind, when he was such a stickler for formality.

So Renji never had to decide whether or not to tell anyone that he thought Kuchiki-taichou knew the reason why he didn't.

That he thought Kuchiki-taichou liked it.

Liked it that Renji wanted it to mean something.

Renji never bowed for the sake of formality. Only for rightness. Only when they were out on duty. Only when he chased something at Kuchiki-taichou's side. When they hunted, it was right; his place was at his captain's feet, waiting to be released.

Waiting for the light touch of fingers against his nape that made him bow his head and shiver, kneeling beside his captain. Waiting for his captain's command.

Renji didn't want to fritter this away in empty forms; this meant something.

Something he'd always kind of thought Kuchiki-taichou liked just as much as he did.

And now he had the proof of it. The proof of Kuchiki-taichou's hands in his loose hair and Kuchiki-taichou's cock sliding between his lips. The proof of Kuchiki-taichou's hips flexing under his hands as he fucked Renji's mouth slowly. The proof of Kuchiki-taichou's faint smile at Renji's moans and the heavy darkness of his eyes, looking down at Renji.

Renji spread his knees wider on the floor and Kuchiki-taichou stepped closer between them, thrusting deeper into Renji's mouth, slow and deliberate. His hands in Renji's hair held him still for it and Renji shuddered.

It meant something when he knelt for his captain.

End

Over the Edge

Ikkaku likes a work-out with his captain. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Zaraki/anyone, extra-large. Porn Without Plot, I-4

Ikkaku's hands tightened on the edge of the desk as Zaraki-taichou's cock pushed into him. This was the part he liked best.

"Ahh... nn... fuck..." Every sound he made was on a quick gasp of breath, and his muscles quivered. Zaraki-taichou was huge, and Ikkaku's ass felt like it couldn't possibly stretch any more, except that more kept coming, sliding into him until he was leaning over the desk on his elbows, panting, achingly full of his captain's cock.

Ikkaku liked pushing limits, and getting fucked by Zaraki-taichou did that all right.

He felt like he couldn't move, he was stretched so hard and wide, but Zaraki-taichou was moving, pulling back and thrusting in again, deep. "Oh fuck yeah... oh yeah..." the words tumbled from Ikkaku's mouth, haphazard, just because he needed to respond somehow to how big Zaraki-taichou's cock was inside him, big enough to make his whole body shake as it pushed in and out, in and out, and Ikkaku's ass didn't even feel open because what was in it was so damn big.

The sounds Zaraki-taichou made, half moan and half growl, vibrated through Ikkakku's bones, and the feel of the scars and calluses on his captain's hand as it pumped his own cock made him come right there. He groaned as his body tried to tighten and couldn't, because Zaraki-taichou was buried deep in his ass, fucking him with short, fierce thrusts.

"Oh yeah." He lay over the desk, feeling wrung out like a towel as his captain pulled back. "Mm. Perfect end to the day."

Ikkaku lived to fight, but when it came to sex with his captain, sometimes the fighting was just a warmup.

End

Through the Sleepless Nights

Hisagi gets a chance to speak with Kensei after the final battle. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Kensei/Shuuhei, second meeting. Drama with Fluff, I-3, Spoilers for the Turn Back arc

The first time Hisagi Shuuhei met Muguruma Kensei it had been in the aftermath of a fight. Maybe it was fate that their second meeting was also the end of a battle. To Shuuhei, it felt a little like a chance to start again.

"Muguruma-taichou... I mean..." And to put his foot in his mouth again, apparently. Shuuhei cleared his throat and settled on, "Muguruma-san."

Muguruma's mouth quirked fleetingly, and he glanced down at his very civilian clothes. "Yeah, not a captain any more. Heard you were, though." He clapped a hand on Shuuhei's shoulder. "Good work."

Shuuhei made a throw-away gesture. "Only acting."

Muguruma's hand turned over, knuckles rapping Shuuhei's shoulder. "Hey. None of that. Have some pride in yourself." His smile flashed again. "Not that I'm in a position to chew you out any more, I guess."

"That's not true!" Shuuhei flushed as Muguruma's brows rose, and he glanced down. "I remembered you," he said, quietly. "I'm here because I wanted to live up to what I remembered."

Muguruma's gaze traveled over Shuuhei's cropped sleeves, the leather bands around his right am and throat. Finally his fingers rose to brush over the 69 on Shuuhei's cheekbone. "Yeah?" His voice was husky. "I'm glad. We didn't think anyone in Soul Society remembered us well."

Shuuhei turned his head just a little into Muguruma's hand, aware his ears were probably bright red. "Some of us did."

Muguruma glanced over to where Nanao was talking to Yadomaru, book clasped tight to her chest, eyes bright, and his smile lasted a little longer this time. "So I see." His hand cupped Shuuhei's cheek for a breath, thumb stroking Shuuhei's cheekbone. "Well, come on then. Tell me about it while we get this mess cleaned up."

Shuuhei noticed the stares of his division, as he walked next to the man he'd once thought would be his captain, and knew he was smiling too.

End

Coals and Ink

Rukia and Orihime have some soft, quiet moments together. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Rukia/Orihime, grooming as foreplay/a sign of affection. Romance, I-3

Rukia sighed happily as the soft brush stroked through her hair. One of the things she liked best about being assigned here, or at least about staying with Orihime, was having someone to brush her hair in the evenings. It reminded her of growing up, when the girls had saved broken combs to wash in the canal and do each other's hair with.

It wasn't at all the same when the Kuchiki servants did it.

She was nearly purring with contentment when Orihime stopped and patted her shoulder. "There."

"Okay." Rukia scrambled up off the pillow and turned to take the brush. "Your turn."

It still made Orihime blush a little and Rukia shook her head, rueful. "You have beautiful hair," she reminded Orihime.

"But people say it's so loud colored," Orihime murmured.

"Ichigo's hair is loud," Rukia corrected firmly. "Yours is beautiful." She stroked the brush carefully down the silky length. "Arisawa likes it, doesn't she?" Rukia smiled. "And your brother?" At Orihime's faint murmur admitting that, she nodded. "And so do I."

"Thank you." Orihime's voice as soft.

Rukia gently brushed the hair back over Orihime's shoulder and leaned in to kiss the curve of her neck. "You don't need to thank your friends for something like that." She wrapped her arms around Orihime, pleased when she leaned back into Rukia's hold.

"Thank you anyway." Orihime smiled over her shoulder, the real smile this time.

"Well. You're welcome, then." Rukia ran her fingers through the warm, shining fall of Orihime's hair and over her throat, and turned her chin gently to kiss her again. "Very welcome."

The way Orihime turned to cuddle into her, arms sliding around her waist, was all the thanks Rukia needed. "It's been a long day for everyone," she murmured into Orihime's hair. "Come to bed?"

Orihime blushed for real this time and nodded shyly, and Rukia lifted one of her hand to kiss the fingers before tugging her to her feet. "Come on then." Glancing aside, a little shy, herself, she added, "I'll make sure you sleep well."

The hair brushing wasn't the only thing she liked about staying with Orihime.

End

Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice

Post Soul Society arc, Rukia has to deal with lingering injuries and Byakuya finds old habits of care returning. Fluff with Angst, I-4, mild spoilers

The gardens of Kuchiki House were beautiful and manicured, and Rukia had had to search through them for nearly an hour to find a stand of dark-leaved shrubs tall and bushy enough to hide her. She didn't want any of the servants asking if there was anything they could do for her, Rukia-sama, making it clear that a lady of Kuchiki was not supposed to be kneeling in the cold grass, arms clutched around herself, shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth.

She knew that. She just couldn't help it.

It had been coming for days; she'd felt it like a presence standing behind her shoulder, stepping closer and closer again until it merged with her backbone and unstrung her. She didn't know why it was now, why this hadn't happened when she was locked away or about to die or at some other time that made sense. She just knew she couldn't hold it back any more, and a few hot tears spilled over as her breath rasped harshly in her lungs.

The rustle of leaves and cloth told her her last bid for privacy and dignity had failed and she hunched closer in on herself, stubbornly not looking around.

Not, at least, until two sandals under a familiar hem stepped into her view and she looked up, half despairing, at the very last person she had wanted to see. Her brother stood, looking down at her, still and silent, and she bit her lip until it bled, trying to silence the choked whimpers in her throat. When he stirred, at last, she was sure it would be to turn his back on her lack of control.

He knelt beside her, sleeves sweeping out around her as he gathered her in and held her, silently, against his shoulder.

It was warm.

Rukia pressed her face into the fabric of his kimono, shoulders shaking with her muffled sobs. If he had said any word, long habit might have caught her back, but he only held her, hand spread against her back, over her heart, shielded for this moment from the rest of the world. So she cried for the cold pain in her bones and the fear that it would never leave—cried until she could barely breathe, could only lie against his chest, every muscle trembling and wrung out, as light fingers stroked her hair.

The sleep that had escaped her for a week crept up and wrapped around her like her brother's sleeves.

When Rukia's breathing finally eased, Byakuya sighed faintly. He had known she was distraught, but he had thought it was only the nerves anyone could expect after the battles she had fought. Such things eased in a little time. This appeared more to be work for a healer then a friend's comfort or family's presence.

Well, that was easily enough seen to, now he knew.

He lifted his sister in his arms and carried her carefully back through the house, a look forbidding the servants to question or follow. When he tried to lay her down on her futon, though, he met a check.

She wouldn't let go.

After a few gentle tugs failed, he snorted softly. As stubborn as his sister was, he supposed he might have expected this, and since no one was here to see he let himself smile.

She was well matched to Kuchiki, though she might not know it even now.

He sat down against the wall and settled her securely against him, leaning back to wait out her sleep.

The late sunlight slanted outside the opened screens, burnishing smooth wood boards and dancing lightly over the grass. He had given her this room because the view from it was open and airy, suited, he'd thought, to her spirit. He still thought it suited her, but now for different reasons. Now he noticed the trunk of the tree growing over the pool, slender but strong; the cool shadows and bright, rippling glints of the water; the birds that winged fearlessly down to peck at a scatter of crumbs from, he identified after a moment, the dumplings that had been served for lunch.

The place did suit her, he thought, fingers moving slowly through her hair.

The peace of the afternoon was more than he had found in weeks, perhaps in far longer, and he stirred, frowning sharply as the inner door slid open. Who dared disturb them?

Unohana-taichou stood in the opening for a moment, delicate brows lifted, before nodding to someone in the hall and closing the door softly behind her.

"I see I didn't need to worry after all," she murmured.

Byakuya stifled a moment of annoyance at the gentle amusement in her eyes and kept his voice down. "On the contrary. I intended to send for one of your people as soon as Rukia woke." And then he really heard what she had said and frowned more darkly. "You knew something was wrong?"

Unohana-taichou knelt down beside them with a soft sigh. "Of course I knew. She was locked in a tower made of stone that suppresses spirit strength, for weeks." She frowned a bit, herself. "It's intended to make criminals of such weight as to merit that punishment more... biddable, at the end. The lingering effects are not normally an issue." She reached out a hand, and Byakuya stiffened, but she didn't touch Rukia. Only held her fingers close as if testing for heat.

"As I feared." Unohana-taichou leaned back again.

"What?" Byakuya asked, tensely.

Unohana-taichou's lips curved in a sad smile. "We who live here are pure spirit, Kuchiki-kun. That tower smothers our souls, like fire starved of air."

Byakuya's arms tightened around his sister as his mouth tightened on furious accusations. Unohana was not the one he should direct those to.

Her smile turned softer. "Don't worry too much. She is healing. And you have helped her, already, almost as much as I could myself."

Byakuya had to blink at that, nonplussed. He had no talent for healing.

Unohana-taichou stood and looked down at them, hands folded. "You are a powerful captain, and you hold her within your soul." Her lips quirked. "And she has the wisdom not to let go." She slipped silently back out the door while Byakuya was still fighting down the quick flush he hadn't felt in many years.

He sniffed and settled himself back again, holding his sister close as evening settled over the garden outside.

Rukia woke slowly, feeling warm and happy. For a time she thought it might be a dream, as she hadn't felt either for quite some time now, and clung to sleep, wanting the warmth to stay. It didn't go away as she woke, though, and slowly she became aware that she was leaning on something. Something that moved gently under her cheek.

As if it were breathing.

"Renji...?" she mumbled, confused, and rubbed her eyes. She hadn't seen Renji today, had she? She pushed herself upright and looked up and froze.

Her brother looked back, calmly.

"Nii-sama? I..." And then she remembered hiding in the garden, and her brother finding her, and flushed hotly, raw cheeks tingling with the rush of blood. "Excuse me, I..." She fumbled for some suitable words of explanation or pardon and found none.

"You are well, now?"

"Of course," she murmured quickly. Rukia wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment; she'd have thought she'd have found out before now, if so, but maybe not. She glanced hastily around, looking for some way to extract herself from the situation.

Her brother's fingers caught her chin, stilling her. "Rukia. Are you well?"

She looked back at him, eyes wide. He sounded serious. She was suddenly aware of the dim, sunset light, and that hours must have passed while she slept.

While she slept and he held her. The warmth of that hadn't gone away; it was still with her, easing the long ache away.

Tears threatened to spill over again, for different reasons this time, and Rukia took a deep breath. Her voice only trembled a little when she said, "I'm better, Nii-sama."

He nodded. "Good." He lifted her and set her down on her spread futon, touching her shoulder lightly as he stood and looked out her outer doors. "Perhaps," he said, "I will come watch your garden with you again tomorrow."

"I... I would welcome that, Nii-sama," Rukia managed, husky.

A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked down at her and repeated, "Good." His fingers brushed her hair as he turned and left.

Rukia scrubbed the back of her hand over her eyes again and laughed softly, shakily.

She was warm again.

End

A/N: Title is from the poem Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

Man of Mouth and Hands

Ichimaru reflects on why he's with Aizen. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Aizen/Ichimaru, fealty. Character Sketch with Porn, I-4

Gin stood at the broad window, looking out on Hueca Mundo. "Such a strange place," he mused.

"Strange enough to regret coming?" his captain murmured from the couch behind him, and Gin turned, lifting a brow.

"You brought us here," he pointed out in a tone of innocent surprise.

"Answer me, Gin." Aizen's tone was cool, but his mouth was quirked faintly.

"I just did." Gin leaned against the sill, head cocked teasingly. They played this game of perfect respect and sly defiance, and he always looked forward to seeing how Aizen would end it.

After a moment, Aizen chuckled and held out a hand, beckoning and commanding, and Gin came to it. He let himself be pulled down to the couch and laid back on the thin, soft cushion, smiling.

"So you'll follow me anywhere," Aizen stated, hands sliding under Gin's coat to find the ties of his white hakama.

"Everywhere," Gin agreed, and smirked as Aizen lifted his bare leg over the back of the couch. He wiggled his toes cheerfully and listened for the stiff, stifled silence of the two arrancar girls who attended the door, who were just as infatuated with Aizen as little Hinamori had been. Likely to the same end. The high couch back would block most of their view, but that was all right. For most people, imagination was stronger than reality.

Not that he really needed extra reason to moan as his captain's cock pushed into him, but it added a little something.

Other thoughts faded away, though, as Aizen spread him out and fucked him, held him all the while with intense, inhuman eyes, sharp enough, heavy enough, to plane the surface of space and time flat. Gin gasped under them. Every thrust rocked him, curled his spine, and Aizen's strong, square hands held his thighs stretched as wide open as they'd go.

Aizen never held back in any way, and Gin loved that.

"Making sure of me?" he asked, husky.

"I'm quite sure of you," Aizen murmured back.

Gin finally shuddered and gasped with the rush of heat through him and Aizen smiled, intent and unruffled. He fucked Gin firmly for another few moments, keeping him opened up, before drawing back. Gin could never tell when, whether, Aizen had come, and he loved that control, too.

Aizen leaned over him, one hand curving around the back of Gin's head, carelessly gentle, and kissed him, and the sound Gin made, low in his throat, had nothing of teasing in it—only surrender.

Picking up the conversation as if they hadn't paused, Aizen murmured, "So, will you be the first before my throne?"

Gin savored the ambiguity of the question and looked up into his leader's brilliant, distant, immediate gaze for one bare moment, stripped and exultant.

"Yes."

End

Hearthfire

Future indefinite. Byakuya and Renji; the heat and cool between them. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Byakuya/Renji, cold and hot. Character Sketch with Porn, I-4

Renji lay stretched out on his stomach, on his futon and gasped as long fingers traced slowly over his tattoos.

"Byakuya-san..."

Cool lips brushed over the nape of his neck. "Shhhh."

Renji buried his face in the crook of his arm, pretty sure he was blushing like a girl at the reassurance or command, whichever it was. He knew Byakuya wasn't actually much older than him—a few decades was very little, by the standards of nobles and shinigami—but that icy control always made him feel older. Not that "ice" was something a person would normally think of in a moment like this, but it wasn't that kind of cold... He lost the thought as fingertips slid down his spine and there was a little pleading in his voice this time. "Byakuya-san!"

He sighed as body heat covered him, Byakuya's weight settling against his back, steadying him. A palm stroked up his neck, moving his loose hair aside, and a hot tongue slid over the marks on his shoulders and he moaned softly. They'd been here for over an hour and every inch of his skin was touch-sensitive by now. "Byakuya-san, please..."

"So impatient, Renji," Byakuya murmured.

In bed, at least, he could be pretty sure that was teasing and not reprimand. And, yes, Byakuya's mouth was curving against his skin and he heard a faint chiming. Turning his head he saw Byakuya dipping his fingers in the small cup of oil set beside them in the sun to warm. His breath came deeper and he couldn't help squirming a little as Byakuya's fingers brushed his ass, stroking that oil over himself. Anticipation caught in his throat as Byakuya edged his legs apart with his knees and long, slim hands closed on his hips, holding him still.

And then Byakuya was pushing against him, into him, fraction by fraction, so very slowly, and Renji's hands closed tight on the quilt under him. He moaned openly as Byakuya's cock slowly, slowly stretched him open, slid into him, and he had no clue how the man managed to go so slow. His hips would have been bucking up helplessly if Byakuya hadn't held them down. "Byakuya-san!"

Byakuya paused, he actually stopped, and asked, only breathless, "Yes, Renji?"

His ass tingled with the fierce, slow stretch and his whole body throbbed with want. "Don't stop!"

"Very well, then," Byakuya murmured, husky, and he was moving again, until he was all the way inside and Renji was panting for breath past the flood of sheer sensation.

Renji didn't know how long Byakuya fucked him like that, slow and controlled, sliding and thrusting in and out until Renji's whole body was hot and undone with it and he was moaning wordlessly into the quilt. When he spilled over the edge into orgasm, he almost didn't notice; it was just a change in the texture of pleasure that was already drowning him.

He did notice when Byakuya shuddered, buried deep inside him, and moaned, and dazed as he was that sound still made his breath catch. He smiled as Byakuya settled against his back again, arms sliding around him.

"You're warm," Byakuya murmured against his shoulder.

"Yeah," Renji whispered.

He knew it wasn't body heat Byakuya was talking about.

End

Between One Moment and the Next

Inspired by iss. 388 of the manga. What if that moment between Aizen and Ichigo had taken a darker and more personal turn? Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Aizen/Ichigo, touch. Porn with Mindgames, I-4

"My hand is at your heart."

The fingers resting so casually on his chest froze him for half a breath, and maybe that was what made the difference. When his muscles unlocked and he slashed at Aizen, sure and fast as he was Aizen didn't even dodge this time. His hand caught Ichigo's wrist and held it easily over his head. The world blurred and Ichigo's back slammed into a wall, and those fingers on his breastbone held him there. The world sharpened around him as he struggled against them, breath coming faster.

"Don't be foolish," Aizen murmured, and Ichigo stiffened as Aizen's leg slid between his thighs and pressed up.

Ichigo choked on a curse, eyes wide at the twist of heat low in his stomach.

Aizen smiled faintly. "Don't worry; the others don't see us. Not for the moment." His hand lifted from Ichigo's chest to catch his jaw instead and he completed Ichigo's shock by kissing him, deep and intent.

Confusion spun through his mind, but when Aizen's hand slid slowly, firmly, down his throat, only one response sang through Ichigo's body; his hips jerked helplessly against Aizen's thigh.

"You see," Aizen murmured against his mouth, "you need this." He took Ichigo's other wrist and pulled it up to join his sword hand, pinning them both against the wall over his head. "You fear your own power." Long fingers tugged loose Ichigo's hakama and slid under to wrap around his cock. Aizen's eyes held his like chain wrapped around his will.

"You need to feel a greater power control yours."

The weight of that power was locked around him, hard and hot as Aizen's fist around his cock, and Ichigo bucked into them both and moaned with dark, tempting pleasure when he couldn't break either grip.

"I'll let you feel it," Aizen told him, cool and even as he held Ichigo easily against the wall and jerked him off hard and slow. "And then we will fight. Feel free to use every iota of your power. I will subdue it." Pleasure pulled at Ichigo's nerves, answering Aizen's perfect assurance, his promise. Aizen leaned in closer and finished, softly, "And then, only then, I will bring you back to this wall and turn you around and let you feel the rest. Look forward to it."

He caught the low, harsh sound Ichigo made under his mouth, pinning Ichigo firmly in place as he shuddered with orgasm. When Ichigo hung limp in his grasp he drew back a bit and smiled. "Tie your hakama again before I break the illusion." And he was standing back where they'd started.

Ichigo pressed back against the roughness of the wall and stared at the sky and tried not to think about what had just happened.

Or why he had let it.

End

Benefits of Friends

Ichigo doesn't exactly ask Renji for a favor; fortunately Renji knows what he means anyway. Written for the Drabble Game prompt: Ichigo, clueless and curious. Fluff, I-2

Renji blinked and looked over. "What, you've really never...?"

Ichigo couldn't help bristling. "That's perfectly normal, you know!"

"Ah, right." Renji leaned back on the grass again, arms crossed behind his head. "I keep forgetting how damn young you are." After a contemplative moment he looked over again, frowning. "Wait, so are you asking...?"

"Not asking a damn thing," Ichigo muttered, setting his back more firmly against the scratchy bark of a tree and looking fixedly off into the distance, not in any state of mind to appreciate the sunlit day or the soft rustle of leaves here at the edge of the Court of Pure Souls. He heard Renji snort.

"Yeah, whatever." Louder rustling made him look back to see Renji climbing to his feet and briskly swiping grass bits out of his hakama. "C'mere, then."

"Wha...?" Ichigo stiffened as Renji pulled him away from the tree with a hand at his back. How did people manage this without panicking? What was he supposed to do with his hands, anyway? When he finally settled them gingerly on Renji's sleeves he looked up to find himself eye to... chin with Renji. "Um..."

"Nah, up here." Renji's smile was crooked as ever but his fingers were gentle as he set a knuckle under Ichigo's chin and tipped it up. Ichigo still couldn't stop his hands tightening on Renji's sleeves.

"Renji..." His voice had turned husky, too, and he hadn't meant it to.

Renji's smile untilted for once. "It's okay." He leaned down and Ichigo's breath sucked in as Renji's mouth brushed his, light. And then again. It made shivery little feelings run down his spine. He gasped outright when the tip of Renji's tongue brushed his lower lip.

"So, you going to let me in?" Renji's voice was low and quiet and Ichigo had to swallow.

"I... um." Another quick breath. "Yeah?" And the way Renji smiled at him was positively embarrassing, so he was kind of glad to close his eyes as Renji leaned down again.

The embarrassment frittered away to nothing when Renji's tongue slid into his mouth, because sensation was suddenly everything. The slow, wet slide sent heat rushing down between his legs so fast he was light-headed. It would have been obscene, that wet softness filling his mouth, if it didn't feel so good.

When Renji finally drew back Ichigo found himself breathing fast, clutching Renji's arms, pressed up against him. One big hand was cradling the back of his head, supporting him, and okay, yeah, that was kind of a good thing.

"Good?" Renji murmured.

"Yeah," Ichigo managed after a moment. "I, um. Thanks."

Renji's smile slid into a more familiar grin, toothy and sharp. "Hey. My pleasure."

Hot face and uneven breath and all, Ichigo couldn't help laughing at that.

Asking Renji had been a good choice.

End

Naked Truth

Under the stress of dealing with Muramasa, Senbonzakura could do with some reassurance. So could Byakuya. Written for the Prompt Battle prompt: Byakuya/Senbonzakura, behind closed doors. Porn with Romance, I-4, light D/s

As they returned to Muramasa's suspiciously ill-concealed hiding hole, Byakuya turned away from the mindless chatter of the swords. He could only stand to listen to their foolishness for so long, and today had been more than enough.

"Where are you going?" Kazeshini demanded instantly, and Byakuya glanced over his shoulder.

"To sleep."

Predictably, Kazeshini sneered. "Humans."

Assumptions were a weakness, but Byakuya had no intention of reminding any of these about that. He walked down the tunnel that led to his temporary 'room', feeling the heat of Senbonzakura's suspicious glower on his back.

"I will watch him," his sword told the rest, and light steps stalked after him. Byakuya didn't respond in any way.

He did leave it to Senbonzakura to close the door behind them and listened to the faint slide and clack of armor as his sword slumped.

"I don't like this."

"Is there a problem?" Byakuya asked evenly.

"I know why it's necessary." Senbonzakura came away from the door and moved to light the candle lamps. "But the very idea that I would run wild this long, or that you would tolerate it...!" He tossed down the taper sharply, making the flames flicker. "It offends our honor."

"Our honor lies in our duty." Though Byakuya couldn't entirely disagree. The pretense grated on him, as well. Senbonzakura sighed softly and Byakuya turned to see him lean against the wall, head down. He knew his sword shared his pride, his determination to deal with this intrusion of the family's past, and frowned a little; was there something else wrong, then? "Senbonzakura?" He moved closer, and Senbonzakura looked up, eyes rueful behind his mask.

"It just wears, sometimes. Forgive me."

Byakuya quirked a brow. "Forgive you for your loyalty? Most certainly not."

That made Senbonzakura laugh a little. "Yes, ma—" He caught himself and finished, sober again, "Byakuya."

Ah. Was that it, then? Byakuya considered their situation and smiled faintly; unexpected benefits, perhaps. "There are other ways than speech," he murmured, coming forward until he could rest one hand on his sword's shoulder and set the other on the edge of his mask. Behind it, Senbonzakura's eyes widened, and Byakuya could hear the intake of his breath.

"Yes." It was barely a whisper. Senbonzakura's eyes closed as Byakuya's fingers tightened.

Slowly, Byakuya lifted the mask away and laid it aside, smoothing back Senbonzakura's long, sleek hair. His sword shivered under his touch, eyes opening to look up at him with unmistakable hunger. Byakuya closed his hands around Senbonzakura's face and swallowed his gasp in a slow kiss. Senbonzakura's mouth yielded and opened under his, and, as Byakuya kissed him again and again, formed silent words against his lips: yes and master and please. Byakuya smiled. The thought of reclaiming his sword this way, too, pleased him, and he ran two fingers down Senbonzakura's side, where the armor ties were.

"Yes?"

Even through the armor, he could feel Senbonzakura shiver. "Yes."

Byakuya turned briefly to cast the kidou Falling Snow over the closed door; there would be no unexpected visitors while that lasted. He wanted to take his time about this. Indeed, he had to. Zanpakutou didn't wear clothes—their form was what they were. To change that was a delicate undertaking.

So he went slowly, unfastening the sode, opening the robe and folding it down, unknotting each cord of the dou one by one. Senbonzakura stood still under his hands, chest heaving quick and light as the armor came away piece by piece. Byakuya set each aside with care; it was his own armor, after all. By the time he came to the last layer of cloth, Senbonzakura was trembling, bare hands winding tight in Byakuya's sleeves.

"Master," he said, low and husky, eyes wide, and Byakuya drew him close.

"You are mine," he murmured. "My sword. The edge of my soul. No matter what conjurer's tricks a mad and masterless sword plays against us, we will not be parted." He slid a hand into Senbonzakura's loosened hair and kissed him again, fierce. The passion of his sword's response calmed the fury that even he had had trouble holding back this long.

Briskly, now, he unfolded the futon Muramasa had provided for his lone human associate and stripped away the last of their clothes. Senbonzakura went willingly when Byakuya pressed him down, and sighed on a soft note of pleasure as Byakuya's hands stroked slow and firm over his body.

It was a strange thing. Byakuya could imagine so clearly his sword's pleasure, the building warmth within him; almost, he fancied, he could feel it himself, a delicate echo in his soul. Perhaps it was even so. The slackening of those long, sleek muscles under his hands sent a curl of warmth through him as well. This was his.

When Senbonzakura started arching up into his hands, increasingly abandoned, Byakuya extracted the vial of sword oil he kept tucked into a seam of his pillow. He hid that more carefully than anything but his own thoughts, here. Zanpakutou needed little of the care mortal steel did. The rituals of care and cleaning were for comfort, and sometimes for vanity, not necessity—a gentle reinforcement of the bond between a shinigami and his zanpakutou. To find such a thing here would make even the fools outside suspect both of them immediately. Senbonzakura laughed, breathless, as Byakuya uncapped it. "It's good to feel your touch again," he said softly, and Byakuya smiled a little at the faint color rising over Senbonzakura's cheekbones.

"Indeed." He held Senbonzakura against him and rubbed his entrance slowly, gentle as he had ever been with a lover of his own kind. Senbonzakura's body yielded to him at once, though, and his sword's sudden flush and half-lidded eyes said all was well even before his low moan drifted on the room's still air.

"I am yours," Senbonzakura breathed, hands working against Byakuya's shoulders. "I am of you. Your will is mine."

Heat spiked through Byakuya at those words, that acknowledgment, and he caught Senbonzakura closer, fingers driving deeper. Perhaps, he thought distractedly, this pretend estrangement had worn on him worse than he had thought. The press of Senbonzakura's body against his and the low, wanting sounds he made were far more satisfying than Byakuya had expected them to be. "You are mine," he agreed, husky.

Senbonzakura made an eager sound as Byakuya turned him over and gathered him back into the curve of his body, rubbing slowly between Senbonzakura's cheeks. A little more of the oil to ease his way, and Byakuya was pushing in, breath coming harder with the fierce heat of his sword around him.

"Please," Senbonzakura gasped, and Byakuya could only answer him, thrusting in deep on one long flex of his hips. They moaned together.

After that, Byakuya didn't hold back, and the echo of heat, and the way Senbonzakura pushed up to meet each thrust told him this was right. This was his zanpakutou, and they were not apart. He sheathed himself in his sword, hard and sure, again and again, and knew the pleasure winding through him was both of theirs.

"Master..." Senbonzakura's panting breaths hitched as Byakuya kissed the nape of his neck, open mouthed. "Yes..."

"Yes, my sword, my edge." Byakuya slid his hand down Senbonzakura's stomach to close between his legs, running oil-slick fingers firmly up and down his sword's length. Senbonzakura bucked helplessly under him and muffled a low cry in the bedding, and Byakuya groaned as his sword's body tightened. He pulled Senbonzakura's hips up and thrust into that tightness deep and hard, again, and again, and then the oddly doubled pleasure was too much to resist and he caught Senbonzakura close as heat shuddered through him, raking his nerves.

They lay twined together for a while, panting softly while Byakuya stroked Senbonzakura's hair, savoring their satisfaction. Finally Byakuya eased his sword back over and touched his bare face gently. The curve of Senbonzakura's lips made Byakuya smile too. "All is well?" he asked.

Senbonzakura lifted Byakuya's hand and kissed his fingers. "All is well, my master."

Byakuya nodded approval of this and held his sword closer.

They had a little time, yet, and only a fool would give up the truth before he had to.

End