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dracoqueen22a/n: Good afternoon! Today, I bring you one of the won and requested fics. This one's pretty angsty, my friends, and it's my attempt at filling in some of the behind the scene blanks. Also, I totally blame this fic on the fact I'd just seen X-Men: First Class and spent the next 48 hours reading angsty X-Men fanfic....
Recommended listening: "Set Fire to the Rain," Adele. "Get Around This," Safety Suit. "Stay With Me," Hurts.
Title: Set Fire to the Rain
Pairings: Aizen/Urahara
Rating: M
Warnings: Spoilers, AU-ish, Dub-con
Words: 3,979
Description: There’s a side to him Kisuke never knew, and the games he played were never true. Save one.
Dedication: For sharingan_ita who was the 50000th hit on my website Pandora's Box.
It's been three months since the exile. Three months since Sousuke has sentenced his lover to a lifetime of pain and loneliness. Three months since he let Kisuke take the fall for his own deeds. Three months since he almost killed his own captain and a half-dozen of his friends and allies.
It's not nearly enough time to let wounds of any kind heal, but Sousuke can't wait any longer. His patience, in this at least, is far too weak.
Is it forgiveness he's after?
Not by far. Sousuke knows he won't be forgiven; the same way he knows he won't apologize. But the truth remains that he misses Kisuke, misses his lover, and he wants only a chance to explain. He doubts he can sway Kisuke to his side; the blond is far too stubborn, but at least an attempt will have been made.
At least afterward, Sousuke can sit and brood, reminding himself of all the reasons why he has chosen this course. Why it is so necessary and why it demands all these sacrifices. Else, he'll give in himself. If only to return to that before, when Kisuke had been by his side and things weren't quite so... solitary.
It's simple enough to encourage someone to open a gate to the living world. It'll be even easier to erase the record of it later. He has no worries about being caught. He's been slipping out of Soul Society unnoticed for decades. It's become to him like breathing.
Once in the living world, Sousuke hovers in the sky, invisible to the masses below. It’s night, dark and somnolent, save for a sleepless few. Streetlights glitter over a quiet landscape; the wind pushing against Sousuke has a chill to it.
He closes his eyes, carefully stretching out his senses. Kisuke is down there somewhere. He's certainly masking his reiatsu, a wise decision. But Kisuke can't hide from him, and they both know it. If the blond wanted, he could easily find Sousuke as well, but he doesn't. He probably would prefer to never see his lover again.
Unfortunately, this is one wish Sousuke can't grant. At least, not this time.
Sousuke's reiatsu curls around him in invisible tendrils, and he sends each transparent ribbon out into the night. Stretching out as far as he can reach, searching and searching for a familiar pulse, a distinct ripple of reiatsu.
There. To the east.
Sousuke's eyes open, and he turns, following the trembling thread of his reiatsu as it points unerringly toward that spark of familiarity. Quick flashes of shunpo bring him closer and closer until he finds himself stepping down. He sets foot on concrete, staring up at a decrepit building that displays signs of a repair in progress.
This ramshackle place is where Kisuke has chosen to hide himself.
Clever perhaps. Or maybe he’s feeling morose. Treachery tends to do that to a person.
Sousuke shrugs that away and concentrates, but he can't sense Hirako anywhere. Nor any of the others that were banished along with Kisuke. Perhaps they’ve taken up residence somewhere else. Or perhaps they died. Sousuke is doubtful of the latter. He's aware of Kisuke's talents. He knows his lover would have found some way to normalize the process, to help them overcome the alterations to their Shinigami abilities.
There is, however, another presence here. Perhaps Tsukabishi. Why he would choose to stay with Kisuke when none of the others have, Sousuke doesn't know. Perhaps he will learn, but honestly, he doesn't particularly care. Tsukabishi, if it is indeed him, seems to be asleep, and Sousuke hopes to keep him that way. He doesn't want any distractions or anyone to think themselves a hero.
Sousuke invites himself inside through a front door that's been foolishly left unlocked and stops to survey the interior. The first room is wide and open with empty shelves lining the walls, and half built cases spread out across the floor. He wonders what Kisuke intends for this place. Obviously a shop of some kind, but whatever would he sell?
The brunet moves on, heading for the door on the opposite end. He opens it slowly, peeking through the crack before ensuring that no one is there as a surprise on the other side. This door opens into a hallway, stretching out before him, doors lining either side. Kisuke's reiatsu is a quiet buzz that draws him to the second room on the right, where the door has been pushed open.
Sousuke stands in the doorway for a long moment, watching. The blond's back is to him as he peers at a brightly colored liquid within a vial. Something bubbles within the glass of his equipment, and there are papers spread across the desk in front of him. Obviously, he's working on some invention.
Kisuke's shed his Shinigami uniform at some point. His captain's haori is nowhere in sight, shihakushou replaced by a simple yukata in a pale green shade. His feet are bare, his hair messy and unbrushed. Benihime is not at his side but sitting in a sheath on a nearby table, quiet and innocuous. Kyouka Suigetsu all but begs for her.
A pang of longing rises up within Sousuke before he can stop it. He twists his jaw, swallows down romantic sentiment, and steps quietly into the room. He opens his mouth to call Kisuke's name, but it lodges in his throat, so he lets his reiatsu speak for him. A soft but tangible pulse through the air.
He knows the instant Kisuke feels it because his body stiffens. His own reiatsu lashes out before clamping tightly to his body; it vibrates with tension as Kisuke ever so carefully sets aside his test tube and turns around. It’s as though he doesn't believe what his senses are telling him. Not that Sousuke can blame him.
The brunet’s words unstick themselves. “Hello, Kisuke,” he says, hands at his sides, his best attempt at looking harmless.
There's a moment where he gets to look into grey eyes all he wants, where Kisuke's face is achingly familiar to him. Then, Kisuke morphs into betrayed fury. Where rage darkens his eyes, his reiatsu explodes outward in a force that makes all the glass in the room vibrate and crack, and Sousuke can almost hear Benihime shriek from where she trembles in her sheath.
Kisuke's rage is wordless, and he flings himself at Sousuke, reaching for his sword in the same leap. His zanpakutou is in his hand as Sousuke throws himself to the side, avoiding the first wild slash. Kyouka Suigetsu pleads that he draw her, but Sousuke abstains. He doesn't want to hurt Kisuke, and he suspects that his lover is attacking out of mindless fury.
“You!” the ex-captain hisses, flinging Benihime’s sheath somewhere behind him where it smacks into a set of wooden shelves with a dull clatter. “What the hell do you want?”
“To talk,” Sousuke returns easily and ducks back to avoid a whistling swipe of the bristling blade.
He bumps against a desk, sending something shattering to the floor, but Kisuke pays that destruction no mind. He attacks again, but the close quarters of the lab work in Sousuke's favor.
He ducks under Kisuke's blow and reaches out, fingers clamping around the man’s wrist. He presses closer, absorbing the fist that Kisuke directs into his side, and bears his weight down on the blond. Kisuke teeters, and all it takes is another push for Kisuke to fall backward.
Sousuke slams Kisuke's wrist against the wooden desk, hard enough to release his grip on Benihime. Kisuke swings at him again with his other hand, and it clips Sousuke's cheek before he can grab hold. Kisuke bucks beneath him, but it's useless. Sousuke is pinning down his weight, firmly planted on Kisuke's legs.
“I am not here to fight,” Sousuke hisses, and he pins Kisuke's wrists to the floor, just above his head.
Reiatsu lashes at him, but it can't hurt. It's only been three months. The bond between them hasn't shattered, hasn't even faded. All Kisuke's reiatsu does is reach for Sousuke's hungrily, twining with the edges, reuniting at last. Which only proves to Sousuke that the anger is not so much steeped in hatred as it is the agony of betrayal.
“Did you come to apologize?” Kisuke demands. His voice is a low snarl that echoes in the room.
“No.” The brunet shakes his head. “I did what was necessary.”
Kisuke nearly growls then. “For who?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
Sousuke's fingers twitch around smooth skin and slender wrist bones, but he doesn't let go. Kisuke has stilled beneath him, but there's a subtle tension running through his frame, proving he'll fight the second he thinks he has an opening.
Kisuke works his jaw for a long moment. His eyes have gone dark and unreadable.
“Explain it so I can.”
“No.” Sousuke leans down, letting the familiar taste of his lover wash over his senses. Bergamot and tea and whiffs of tobacco and something else.
Kisuke looks so damn tired, skin smudged with black and purple. Face lined with exhaustion. The fire in his eyes is rage and hurt, not the passion of discovery. Not the passion of lust that Sousuke’s so used to seeing when they are this close.
“That isn’t why I am here,” the brunet finishes.
Kisuke's eyes flick to the right. He’s no doubt noting the place where Benihime had fallen, tantalizingly out of reach.
“Why did you come then?” he demands as his gaze returns to Sousuke, flashing with a full torrent of emotions.
He’s never been good at concealing his reaction; Kisuke has never been able to completely disguise his emotions. Not even his training in the second division gave him that edge. He’s always been so open to Sousuke. It’s one of the reasons Sousuke had fallen in love with him.
However, Sousuke would be shocked if Kisuke – for all that he is a genius – hasn't figured out why he’s come. He gives his lover a long look, one that softens his expression, lowers some of his walls, lets Kisuke take a peek at the true emotions behind his masks. He doesn't say a word, allows the look speak for him.
Comprehension dawns in Kisuke's eyes.
“Bastard,” he seethes, fingers curling into fists though he hasn't tried to break free again. “Do you honestly think--”
Sousuke kisses him. He swallows down the outrage, tastes sake on Kisuke's breath. He fully expects the blond to try biting him before Kisuke unexpectedly returns the kiss. His mouth latches onto Sousuke's, tongue demanding entrance and teeth forcing it.
Kisuke's reiatsu lashes around them, twisting where it has bonded with Sousuke's own, tainted with pain and hurt and betrayal. Adding to all the negative vibrations within Sousuke, unspoken regrets and guilt. Shame that their connection has come to this. Regret that it should happened another way. Grief that Sousuke has broken what’s so important to him.
Important. And yet, not important enough to take precedence over the other things that drive him.
Sousuke's tongue slides into Kisuke's mouth, tasting the familiarity and the sharpness of sake. He'd been drinking then, something else that would’ve dulled his senses. Something else in Sousuke's favor.
Drinking and then working in his lab, classic signs of a Kisuke desperate to work through something. Oh, how Sousuke knows him so well.
His insides clench again, reminding him that it’s his fault. His action that drove Kisuke into old habits. Forgiveness may be possible to obtain, but is he worthy of it?
Sousuke draws back, his lips tingling as he swipes his tongue across them, desperate to cling to the taste. Beneath him, Kisuke draws in a shuddering breath and turns his head to the side, staring pointedly at Benihime out of reach before he closes his eyes.
“You're so cruel,” Kisuke says, but it's in a quiet tone, resigned and hurt.
Sousuke's fingers flex, his own voice softening. “I did what was necessary.”
“Don't feed me that bullshit.” His lover still won’t look at him.
“It's the truth.”
Kisuke gnaws on his bottom lip, a habit born of agitation and confusion. “Why did you come, Sousuke?”
The sound of his name makes Sousuke ache all over again.
Why? Why did he come? To see Kisuke again for sure. To explain? No, Sousuke realizes, not to explain. Kisuke will never understand. He won't understand why Sousuke is willing to give up everything for this one goal, this one previously unattainable goal.
Sousuke settles for enigmatic; it's the only truth he has to offer.
“Because you will forgive me.”
He believes that. Or more, he wants to believe it. In the end, when Kisuke sees what Sousuke's efforts are wrought, he'll understand. He won't have reason to anger.
Sousuke needs him to understand, if only to convince himself that he’s walking the right path. He's never desired someone else's approval in order to justify his actions, but an inkling of Kisuke's understanding would dissolve the last of his doubts. What lingering, tiny uncertainties remain.
Kisuke's brow furrows. “That doesn't make any sense.”
“It will,” the brunet assures him. “Sooner or later.”
His eyes shift back toward Sousuke. They are neither understanding nor forgiving, however.
“Just go. Haven't you done enough?” His actions belie his words; Kisuke's reiatsu is twining around his, as though trying to merge in such a way they'll never be separated again.
Sousuke shakes his head. “This is only the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?” the ex-captain demands, and there’s almost an edge of hysteria to his voice.
“The end.”
And the beginning again, which can only come after the slate has been wiped clean and Sousuke rises from the ashes. Like a phoenix but without the painful death serving as impetus.
Kisuke snorts. Some of his old fire returns, and his eyes narrow to thin, accusing slits.
“How poetic,” he all but spits. “You've certainly managed to destroy us. I'll say we're approaching the end all right.”
“It was necessary. Where I go, you can't follow.”
Oh, but Kisuke could, if only he would. He wasn't supposed to be there, after all. Though Sousuke should have expected it. His lover is so damn attached to Sarugaki, so damn invested in her friendship and respect. He should’ve known that Kisuke would come. That he'd investigate the goings on. That he'd throw himself into the thick of things and force Sousuke to make his choice.
“And where would that be?”
Sousuke exhales slowly and dares release one of Kisuke's wrists. He chooses instead to curl his fingers around the man’s face, the warmth of Kisuke's skin oh-so-familiar.
“If I had asked you to come with me into oblivion, would you have followed?”
Is that it then? Had he denied telling Kisuke the truth in a desperate bid to protect his lover? Or had he not trusted Kisuke? Is that why he's here?
The irony of this is that Kisuke is asking questions that Sousuke cannot answer, not even for himself.
Kisuke meets his gaze evenly, tilts his chin up as though defiant. “You didn't ask,” he bites out.
Sousuke's breath catches in his throat. “And now?”
“It's too late,” Kisuke replies, and his eyes shutter as he swallows thickly. “I can't... what you did to Hirako and the others...” He shakes his head.
“I want you by my side,” Sousuke says, and the realization storms through him. His eyes widen fractionally, breath catching in his throat.
Until the words passed his lips, he hadn't realized how much they were true. How had he not calculated this? Alone, Sousuke is intelligent. He can scheme and plan and plot with the best of them. He remains strides ahead of Yamamoto and the Shinigami. But with Kisuke... with Kisuke they could be unstoppable.
“It' too late for that,” his lover says darkly, dragging Sousuke from his realization. “Should’ve thought of that before you betrayed us. Now let me go.”
“No.”
Kisuke shoves his body upward, surprising Sousuke with the sudden movement and nearly breaking free. His hand pushes at the brunet’s shoulder, trying to shove him away, but Sousuke shifts his weight, unwilling to let Kisuke go yet. There's a crackle in the air, like static electricity, a realization that the moment Kisuke is free, it’ll be the end.
“Damn it,” Kisuke huffs, fingers curling into fists.
“I haven't betrayed you,” Sousuke says, and it's a lie, but it's the truth. He can keep saying it, but Kisuke won't understand. Why does he keep trying?
Kisuke makes a strangled sound in his throat. His struggles resume anew.
“I don't care what you call it. Let me go!”
“No.”
If he lets go, then this will end. He will have closed the door on what they had forever. Kisuke will never look upon him favorably again. If at all.
Sousuke is reluctant where he has never hesitated before. He thought this would be easy to surrender.
Never had he been so wrong.
“Either kill me or let me go!” Kisuke snaps, his fist slamming into Sousuke's shoulder. “We're enemies now! You've made it that way. You--”
He kisses Kisuke again, the act more desperation than lust, needing to cut off his tirade. It's a battle, Kisuke's lips against his, as much anger as it is passion. Sousuke speaks with his actions, hoping that the blond won't abandon what they have so quickly, that he won't call this the end.
That he's not as weak as Sousuke is.
Kisuke makes a noise in his throat, but he doesn't try to push Sousuke away again. His hand knots in Sousuke's haori instead, as though refusing to let him go, pulling him down closer. His fingers grip tighter around Kisuke's wrist as he shifts his weight, sliding his knees between the man’s legs rather than perching atop them.
Their kiss is rough, more biting than soft caresses, full of hunger and longing. It's only been three months, but Sousuke has yearned. Nights full of dreams, memories of the warmth that once shared his bed. Memories of Kisuke's laugh, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, the feeling of their entangling reiatsu.
Sousuke's free hand settles on the bare wooden floor, better leverage, as he lowers himself down. His body aligns with the one beneath him. He can feel the heat of the blond even through their clothing. Kisuke's hot and ready, his hard length a noticeable bulge. Sousuke is no less affected, his pulse surging, blood throbbing in his veins. Heat lashes across his flesh, and he pants against Kisuke's mouth, wordless requests for the blond to stay with him. To come with him and listen.
Their hips come into contact with intoxicating relief, and a sound of pleasure erupts in Sousuke's throat. He grinds down as Kisuke arches up, and their bodies lock, rutting together in something hungry and primal.
“This is the last time,” Kisuke pants against Sousuke's mouth, sorrow crawling inside his lover, mingling with the need and the want. “Don't – ah – don't come here again, Sousuke. I'll kill you.”
His actions belie his words, but Sousuke knows that Kisuke means it. He can feel the honesty radiating from his reiatsu, can feel the conflicting emotions of desire and affection and hatred and hurt. Sousuke has no words to offer in return. He can't bear to acknowledge the truth, so he swallows his grief and says nothing.
Instead, he closes his eyes and pretends. That instead of the cold and barren floor of Kisuke's lab, they are back in their shared quarters in Seireitei, their comfortable bed and blankets that smell of their combined scents. That Kisuke's moans are genuine affection rather than shattered surrender.
That Kisuke is bare beneath him. Body bathed in sweat. Lips seeking out Sousuke's. Hands restlessly wandering. Desperate to keep his lover close, rather than forcing himself not to push Sousuke away.
This is the last time.
Sousuke has only himself to blame.
Desperation pushes him to kiss Kisuke, to mold their lips together, exchanging heated breaths. Their bodies press, surging and rocking together, all heat and hardness and need. The fire coils in Sousuke's belly, the pressure building in his groin. He wants to hold on, make this last. It's all he has, but it's been so long, and Kisuke is making all the noises that have always been Sousuke's undoing.
The room is filled with the noise of their hurried copulation, if it can even be called that. Throaty moans and thumping and the rustling of clothes. Sousuke presses down, wishing he could feel the heat of Kisuke's skin but knowing that’s gone to him. In as much as Kisuke arches up against him, not trying to escape but almost appearing so, his actions hurried and desperate. Resigned.
Anticipation broils in Sousuke's belly, need skitters down his spine. The heavy weight of desire pools in his groin, and his heart pulses. His lips leave Kisuke's, mouthing a path over a stubble-laced jaw, to the hollow of Kisuke's throat where he's always been most sensitive. Nibbling over his neck, feeling the vibrations of Kisuke's gasp against his lips, hearing the arousing noises...
Sousuke's release takes him by surprise. It rockets through him and makes him shiver limb to limb. He spills into his hakama, making a mess that’ll have to be cleaned later, his body suffused with a radiating warmth.
He groans, grinding down against Kisuke one more time, and is rewarded with the sound of Kisuke following, burying a shout into his shoulder. Kisuke's body shakes; Sousuke is no less affected. He looses his hold at last and sucks in several heavy breaths.
He rests, just for a moment, laying his forehead on Kisuke's collarbone. He listens to his lover breathe, inhales Kisuke's familiar scent and tries to memorize it. The moment is quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing, the faint creaking of the house. The feel of their reiatsu calming from the frantic whirl of release.
Kisuke's voice shatters the night.
“Go,” he says, sounding pained, voice thick and broken. “Please... just go.”
There's no demand in his voice, just a tired resignation. Sousuke doesn't have it in him to refuse. Not this time. It's the please that does it for him. The quiet, exhausted request.
He withdraws, pulling back, putting distance between them, cold enveloping his body as though he's stepped into the middle of an icy wasteland. His hakama is damp as he rights his clothing, and there's a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sousuke watches Kisuke turn on his side, back to him, curling into himself. One hand reaches out, fingers brushing Benihime's hilt, but he doesn't take her in hand. Doesn't move an inch toward the violence that Sousuke half-expects.
Words crowd in his throat, crawl across his tongue, but they don't pass his lips. This is one instance where nothing he can say will change things. His actions have spoken louder, and they cannot be undone.
He turns on his heel and heads for the door.
“Whatever your goals,” Kisuke murmurs and gives the brunet reason to pause. “I hope they’re worth it.”
Sousuke briefly closes his eyes. He takes in a steadying breath.
“As do I,” he replies and forces himself to leave. His steps are ponderous and his heart an aching throb in his chest.
‘This is how it must be,’ he thinks, heading back to Seireitei. Slipping back in as easily as he has slipped out. Heading back to the cogs already in motion, to where his future waits. He tells himself not to look back. That this is the end he has chosen, and he does not regret.
And if he is only lying to himself, well, Sousuke is the only one who has to know.
******
a/n: ... Not very happy at all. I'm fond of this piece, but yeah, it's pure angst. Also, it's my attempt to explain that panel at the end of arc where Kisuke looks sad at what happened to Aizen (his descent into madness, his defeat, etc). Yes, yes, I'm a UraAizen fangirl. I notice the little things.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
Recommended listening: "Set Fire to the Rain," Adele. "Get Around This," Safety Suit. "Stay With Me," Hurts.
Title: Set Fire to the Rain
Pairings: Aizen/Urahara
Rating: M
Warnings: Spoilers, AU-ish, Dub-con
Words: 3,979
Description: There’s a side to him Kisuke never knew, and the games he played were never true. Save one.
Dedication: For sharingan_ita who was the 50000th hit on my website Pandora's Box.
It's been three months since the exile. Three months since Sousuke has sentenced his lover to a lifetime of pain and loneliness. Three months since he let Kisuke take the fall for his own deeds. Three months since he almost killed his own captain and a half-dozen of his friends and allies.
It's not nearly enough time to let wounds of any kind heal, but Sousuke can't wait any longer. His patience, in this at least, is far too weak.
Is it forgiveness he's after?
Not by far. Sousuke knows he won't be forgiven; the same way he knows he won't apologize. But the truth remains that he misses Kisuke, misses his lover, and he wants only a chance to explain. He doubts he can sway Kisuke to his side; the blond is far too stubborn, but at least an attempt will have been made.
At least afterward, Sousuke can sit and brood, reminding himself of all the reasons why he has chosen this course. Why it is so necessary and why it demands all these sacrifices. Else, he'll give in himself. If only to return to that before, when Kisuke had been by his side and things weren't quite so... solitary.
It's simple enough to encourage someone to open a gate to the living world. It'll be even easier to erase the record of it later. He has no worries about being caught. He's been slipping out of Soul Society unnoticed for decades. It's become to him like breathing.
Once in the living world, Sousuke hovers in the sky, invisible to the masses below. It’s night, dark and somnolent, save for a sleepless few. Streetlights glitter over a quiet landscape; the wind pushing against Sousuke has a chill to it.
He closes his eyes, carefully stretching out his senses. Kisuke is down there somewhere. He's certainly masking his reiatsu, a wise decision. But Kisuke can't hide from him, and they both know it. If the blond wanted, he could easily find Sousuke as well, but he doesn't. He probably would prefer to never see his lover again.
Unfortunately, this is one wish Sousuke can't grant. At least, not this time.
Sousuke's reiatsu curls around him in invisible tendrils, and he sends each transparent ribbon out into the night. Stretching out as far as he can reach, searching and searching for a familiar pulse, a distinct ripple of reiatsu.
There. To the east.
Sousuke's eyes open, and he turns, following the trembling thread of his reiatsu as it points unerringly toward that spark of familiarity. Quick flashes of shunpo bring him closer and closer until he finds himself stepping down. He sets foot on concrete, staring up at a decrepit building that displays signs of a repair in progress.
This ramshackle place is where Kisuke has chosen to hide himself.
Clever perhaps. Or maybe he’s feeling morose. Treachery tends to do that to a person.
Sousuke shrugs that away and concentrates, but he can't sense Hirako anywhere. Nor any of the others that were banished along with Kisuke. Perhaps they’ve taken up residence somewhere else. Or perhaps they died. Sousuke is doubtful of the latter. He's aware of Kisuke's talents. He knows his lover would have found some way to normalize the process, to help them overcome the alterations to their Shinigami abilities.
There is, however, another presence here. Perhaps Tsukabishi. Why he would choose to stay with Kisuke when none of the others have, Sousuke doesn't know. Perhaps he will learn, but honestly, he doesn't particularly care. Tsukabishi, if it is indeed him, seems to be asleep, and Sousuke hopes to keep him that way. He doesn't want any distractions or anyone to think themselves a hero.
Sousuke invites himself inside through a front door that's been foolishly left unlocked and stops to survey the interior. The first room is wide and open with empty shelves lining the walls, and half built cases spread out across the floor. He wonders what Kisuke intends for this place. Obviously a shop of some kind, but whatever would he sell?
The brunet moves on, heading for the door on the opposite end. He opens it slowly, peeking through the crack before ensuring that no one is there as a surprise on the other side. This door opens into a hallway, stretching out before him, doors lining either side. Kisuke's reiatsu is a quiet buzz that draws him to the second room on the right, where the door has been pushed open.
Sousuke stands in the doorway for a long moment, watching. The blond's back is to him as he peers at a brightly colored liquid within a vial. Something bubbles within the glass of his equipment, and there are papers spread across the desk in front of him. Obviously, he's working on some invention.
Kisuke's shed his Shinigami uniform at some point. His captain's haori is nowhere in sight, shihakushou replaced by a simple yukata in a pale green shade. His feet are bare, his hair messy and unbrushed. Benihime is not at his side but sitting in a sheath on a nearby table, quiet and innocuous. Kyouka Suigetsu all but begs for her.
A pang of longing rises up within Sousuke before he can stop it. He twists his jaw, swallows down romantic sentiment, and steps quietly into the room. He opens his mouth to call Kisuke's name, but it lodges in his throat, so he lets his reiatsu speak for him. A soft but tangible pulse through the air.
He knows the instant Kisuke feels it because his body stiffens. His own reiatsu lashes out before clamping tightly to his body; it vibrates with tension as Kisuke ever so carefully sets aside his test tube and turns around. It’s as though he doesn't believe what his senses are telling him. Not that Sousuke can blame him.
The brunet’s words unstick themselves. “Hello, Kisuke,” he says, hands at his sides, his best attempt at looking harmless.
There's a moment where he gets to look into grey eyes all he wants, where Kisuke's face is achingly familiar to him. Then, Kisuke morphs into betrayed fury. Where rage darkens his eyes, his reiatsu explodes outward in a force that makes all the glass in the room vibrate and crack, and Sousuke can almost hear Benihime shriek from where she trembles in her sheath.
Kisuke's rage is wordless, and he flings himself at Sousuke, reaching for his sword in the same leap. His zanpakutou is in his hand as Sousuke throws himself to the side, avoiding the first wild slash. Kyouka Suigetsu pleads that he draw her, but Sousuke abstains. He doesn't want to hurt Kisuke, and he suspects that his lover is attacking out of mindless fury.
“You!” the ex-captain hisses, flinging Benihime’s sheath somewhere behind him where it smacks into a set of wooden shelves with a dull clatter. “What the hell do you want?”
“To talk,” Sousuke returns easily and ducks back to avoid a whistling swipe of the bristling blade.
He bumps against a desk, sending something shattering to the floor, but Kisuke pays that destruction no mind. He attacks again, but the close quarters of the lab work in Sousuke's favor.
He ducks under Kisuke's blow and reaches out, fingers clamping around the man’s wrist. He presses closer, absorbing the fist that Kisuke directs into his side, and bears his weight down on the blond. Kisuke teeters, and all it takes is another push for Kisuke to fall backward.
Sousuke slams Kisuke's wrist against the wooden desk, hard enough to release his grip on Benihime. Kisuke swings at him again with his other hand, and it clips Sousuke's cheek before he can grab hold. Kisuke bucks beneath him, but it's useless. Sousuke is pinning down his weight, firmly planted on Kisuke's legs.
“I am not here to fight,” Sousuke hisses, and he pins Kisuke's wrists to the floor, just above his head.
Reiatsu lashes at him, but it can't hurt. It's only been three months. The bond between them hasn't shattered, hasn't even faded. All Kisuke's reiatsu does is reach for Sousuke's hungrily, twining with the edges, reuniting at last. Which only proves to Sousuke that the anger is not so much steeped in hatred as it is the agony of betrayal.
“Did you come to apologize?” Kisuke demands. His voice is a low snarl that echoes in the room.
“No.” The brunet shakes his head. “I did what was necessary.”
Kisuke nearly growls then. “For who?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
Sousuke's fingers twitch around smooth skin and slender wrist bones, but he doesn't let go. Kisuke has stilled beneath him, but there's a subtle tension running through his frame, proving he'll fight the second he thinks he has an opening.
Kisuke works his jaw for a long moment. His eyes have gone dark and unreadable.
“Explain it so I can.”
“No.” Sousuke leans down, letting the familiar taste of his lover wash over his senses. Bergamot and tea and whiffs of tobacco and something else.
Kisuke looks so damn tired, skin smudged with black and purple. Face lined with exhaustion. The fire in his eyes is rage and hurt, not the passion of discovery. Not the passion of lust that Sousuke’s so used to seeing when they are this close.
“That isn’t why I am here,” the brunet finishes.
Kisuke's eyes flick to the right. He’s no doubt noting the place where Benihime had fallen, tantalizingly out of reach.
“Why did you come then?” he demands as his gaze returns to Sousuke, flashing with a full torrent of emotions.
He’s never been good at concealing his reaction; Kisuke has never been able to completely disguise his emotions. Not even his training in the second division gave him that edge. He’s always been so open to Sousuke. It’s one of the reasons Sousuke had fallen in love with him.
However, Sousuke would be shocked if Kisuke – for all that he is a genius – hasn't figured out why he’s come. He gives his lover a long look, one that softens his expression, lowers some of his walls, lets Kisuke take a peek at the true emotions behind his masks. He doesn't say a word, allows the look speak for him.
Comprehension dawns in Kisuke's eyes.
“Bastard,” he seethes, fingers curling into fists though he hasn't tried to break free again. “Do you honestly think--”
Sousuke kisses him. He swallows down the outrage, tastes sake on Kisuke's breath. He fully expects the blond to try biting him before Kisuke unexpectedly returns the kiss. His mouth latches onto Sousuke's, tongue demanding entrance and teeth forcing it.
Kisuke's reiatsu lashes around them, twisting where it has bonded with Sousuke's own, tainted with pain and hurt and betrayal. Adding to all the negative vibrations within Sousuke, unspoken regrets and guilt. Shame that their connection has come to this. Regret that it should happened another way. Grief that Sousuke has broken what’s so important to him.
Important. And yet, not important enough to take precedence over the other things that drive him.
Sousuke's tongue slides into Kisuke's mouth, tasting the familiarity and the sharpness of sake. He'd been drinking then, something else that would’ve dulled his senses. Something else in Sousuke's favor.
Drinking and then working in his lab, classic signs of a Kisuke desperate to work through something. Oh, how Sousuke knows him so well.
His insides clench again, reminding him that it’s his fault. His action that drove Kisuke into old habits. Forgiveness may be possible to obtain, but is he worthy of it?
Sousuke draws back, his lips tingling as he swipes his tongue across them, desperate to cling to the taste. Beneath him, Kisuke draws in a shuddering breath and turns his head to the side, staring pointedly at Benihime out of reach before he closes his eyes.
“You're so cruel,” Kisuke says, but it's in a quiet tone, resigned and hurt.
Sousuke's fingers flex, his own voice softening. “I did what was necessary.”
“Don't feed me that bullshit.” His lover still won’t look at him.
“It's the truth.”
Kisuke gnaws on his bottom lip, a habit born of agitation and confusion. “Why did you come, Sousuke?”
The sound of his name makes Sousuke ache all over again.
Why? Why did he come? To see Kisuke again for sure. To explain? No, Sousuke realizes, not to explain. Kisuke will never understand. He won't understand why Sousuke is willing to give up everything for this one goal, this one previously unattainable goal.
Sousuke settles for enigmatic; it's the only truth he has to offer.
“Because you will forgive me.”
He believes that. Or more, he wants to believe it. In the end, when Kisuke sees what Sousuke's efforts are wrought, he'll understand. He won't have reason to anger.
Sousuke needs him to understand, if only to convince himself that he’s walking the right path. He's never desired someone else's approval in order to justify his actions, but an inkling of Kisuke's understanding would dissolve the last of his doubts. What lingering, tiny uncertainties remain.
Kisuke's brow furrows. “That doesn't make any sense.”
“It will,” the brunet assures him. “Sooner or later.”
His eyes shift back toward Sousuke. They are neither understanding nor forgiving, however.
“Just go. Haven't you done enough?” His actions belie his words; Kisuke's reiatsu is twining around his, as though trying to merge in such a way they'll never be separated again.
Sousuke shakes his head. “This is only the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?” the ex-captain demands, and there’s almost an edge of hysteria to his voice.
“The end.”
And the beginning again, which can only come after the slate has been wiped clean and Sousuke rises from the ashes. Like a phoenix but without the painful death serving as impetus.
Kisuke snorts. Some of his old fire returns, and his eyes narrow to thin, accusing slits.
“How poetic,” he all but spits. “You've certainly managed to destroy us. I'll say we're approaching the end all right.”
“It was necessary. Where I go, you can't follow.”
Oh, but Kisuke could, if only he would. He wasn't supposed to be there, after all. Though Sousuke should have expected it. His lover is so damn attached to Sarugaki, so damn invested in her friendship and respect. He should’ve known that Kisuke would come. That he'd investigate the goings on. That he'd throw himself into the thick of things and force Sousuke to make his choice.
“And where would that be?”
Sousuke exhales slowly and dares release one of Kisuke's wrists. He chooses instead to curl his fingers around the man’s face, the warmth of Kisuke's skin oh-so-familiar.
“If I had asked you to come with me into oblivion, would you have followed?”
Is that it then? Had he denied telling Kisuke the truth in a desperate bid to protect his lover? Or had he not trusted Kisuke? Is that why he's here?
The irony of this is that Kisuke is asking questions that Sousuke cannot answer, not even for himself.
Kisuke meets his gaze evenly, tilts his chin up as though defiant. “You didn't ask,” he bites out.
Sousuke's breath catches in his throat. “And now?”
“It's too late,” Kisuke replies, and his eyes shutter as he swallows thickly. “I can't... what you did to Hirako and the others...” He shakes his head.
“I want you by my side,” Sousuke says, and the realization storms through him. His eyes widen fractionally, breath catching in his throat.
Until the words passed his lips, he hadn't realized how much they were true. How had he not calculated this? Alone, Sousuke is intelligent. He can scheme and plan and plot with the best of them. He remains strides ahead of Yamamoto and the Shinigami. But with Kisuke... with Kisuke they could be unstoppable.
“It' too late for that,” his lover says darkly, dragging Sousuke from his realization. “Should’ve thought of that before you betrayed us. Now let me go.”
“No.”
Kisuke shoves his body upward, surprising Sousuke with the sudden movement and nearly breaking free. His hand pushes at the brunet’s shoulder, trying to shove him away, but Sousuke shifts his weight, unwilling to let Kisuke go yet. There's a crackle in the air, like static electricity, a realization that the moment Kisuke is free, it’ll be the end.
“Damn it,” Kisuke huffs, fingers curling into fists.
“I haven't betrayed you,” Sousuke says, and it's a lie, but it's the truth. He can keep saying it, but Kisuke won't understand. Why does he keep trying?
Kisuke makes a strangled sound in his throat. His struggles resume anew.
“I don't care what you call it. Let me go!”
“No.”
If he lets go, then this will end. He will have closed the door on what they had forever. Kisuke will never look upon him favorably again. If at all.
Sousuke is reluctant where he has never hesitated before. He thought this would be easy to surrender.
Never had he been so wrong.
“Either kill me or let me go!” Kisuke snaps, his fist slamming into Sousuke's shoulder. “We're enemies now! You've made it that way. You--”
He kisses Kisuke again, the act more desperation than lust, needing to cut off his tirade. It's a battle, Kisuke's lips against his, as much anger as it is passion. Sousuke speaks with his actions, hoping that the blond won't abandon what they have so quickly, that he won't call this the end.
That he's not as weak as Sousuke is.
Kisuke makes a noise in his throat, but he doesn't try to push Sousuke away again. His hand knots in Sousuke's haori instead, as though refusing to let him go, pulling him down closer. His fingers grip tighter around Kisuke's wrist as he shifts his weight, sliding his knees between the man’s legs rather than perching atop them.
Their kiss is rough, more biting than soft caresses, full of hunger and longing. It's only been three months, but Sousuke has yearned. Nights full of dreams, memories of the warmth that once shared his bed. Memories of Kisuke's laugh, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, the feeling of their entangling reiatsu.
Sousuke's free hand settles on the bare wooden floor, better leverage, as he lowers himself down. His body aligns with the one beneath him. He can feel the heat of the blond even through their clothing. Kisuke's hot and ready, his hard length a noticeable bulge. Sousuke is no less affected, his pulse surging, blood throbbing in his veins. Heat lashes across his flesh, and he pants against Kisuke's mouth, wordless requests for the blond to stay with him. To come with him and listen.
Their hips come into contact with intoxicating relief, and a sound of pleasure erupts in Sousuke's throat. He grinds down as Kisuke arches up, and their bodies lock, rutting together in something hungry and primal.
“This is the last time,” Kisuke pants against Sousuke's mouth, sorrow crawling inside his lover, mingling with the need and the want. “Don't – ah – don't come here again, Sousuke. I'll kill you.”
His actions belie his words, but Sousuke knows that Kisuke means it. He can feel the honesty radiating from his reiatsu, can feel the conflicting emotions of desire and affection and hatred and hurt. Sousuke has no words to offer in return. He can't bear to acknowledge the truth, so he swallows his grief and says nothing.
Instead, he closes his eyes and pretends. That instead of the cold and barren floor of Kisuke's lab, they are back in their shared quarters in Seireitei, their comfortable bed and blankets that smell of their combined scents. That Kisuke's moans are genuine affection rather than shattered surrender.
That Kisuke is bare beneath him. Body bathed in sweat. Lips seeking out Sousuke's. Hands restlessly wandering. Desperate to keep his lover close, rather than forcing himself not to push Sousuke away.
This is the last time.
Sousuke has only himself to blame.
Desperation pushes him to kiss Kisuke, to mold their lips together, exchanging heated breaths. Their bodies press, surging and rocking together, all heat and hardness and need. The fire coils in Sousuke's belly, the pressure building in his groin. He wants to hold on, make this last. It's all he has, but it's been so long, and Kisuke is making all the noises that have always been Sousuke's undoing.
The room is filled with the noise of their hurried copulation, if it can even be called that. Throaty moans and thumping and the rustling of clothes. Sousuke presses down, wishing he could feel the heat of Kisuke's skin but knowing that’s gone to him. In as much as Kisuke arches up against him, not trying to escape but almost appearing so, his actions hurried and desperate. Resigned.
Anticipation broils in Sousuke's belly, need skitters down his spine. The heavy weight of desire pools in his groin, and his heart pulses. His lips leave Kisuke's, mouthing a path over a stubble-laced jaw, to the hollow of Kisuke's throat where he's always been most sensitive. Nibbling over his neck, feeling the vibrations of Kisuke's gasp against his lips, hearing the arousing noises...
Sousuke's release takes him by surprise. It rockets through him and makes him shiver limb to limb. He spills into his hakama, making a mess that’ll have to be cleaned later, his body suffused with a radiating warmth.
He groans, grinding down against Kisuke one more time, and is rewarded with the sound of Kisuke following, burying a shout into his shoulder. Kisuke's body shakes; Sousuke is no less affected. He looses his hold at last and sucks in several heavy breaths.
He rests, just for a moment, laying his forehead on Kisuke's collarbone. He listens to his lover breathe, inhales Kisuke's familiar scent and tries to memorize it. The moment is quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing, the faint creaking of the house. The feel of their reiatsu calming from the frantic whirl of release.
Kisuke's voice shatters the night.
“Go,” he says, sounding pained, voice thick and broken. “Please... just go.”
There's no demand in his voice, just a tired resignation. Sousuke doesn't have it in him to refuse. Not this time. It's the please that does it for him. The quiet, exhausted request.
He withdraws, pulling back, putting distance between them, cold enveloping his body as though he's stepped into the middle of an icy wasteland. His hakama is damp as he rights his clothing, and there's a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sousuke watches Kisuke turn on his side, back to him, curling into himself. One hand reaches out, fingers brushing Benihime's hilt, but he doesn't take her in hand. Doesn't move an inch toward the violence that Sousuke half-expects.
Words crowd in his throat, crawl across his tongue, but they don't pass his lips. This is one instance where nothing he can say will change things. His actions have spoken louder, and they cannot be undone.
He turns on his heel and heads for the door.
“Whatever your goals,” Kisuke murmurs and gives the brunet reason to pause. “I hope they’re worth it.”
Sousuke briefly closes his eyes. He takes in a steadying breath.
“As do I,” he replies and forces himself to leave. His steps are ponderous and his heart an aching throb in his chest.
‘This is how it must be,’ he thinks, heading back to Seireitei. Slipping back in as easily as he has slipped out. Heading back to the cogs already in motion, to where his future waits. He tells himself not to look back. That this is the end he has chosen, and he does not regret.
And if he is only lying to himself, well, Sousuke is the only one who has to know.
a/n: ... Not very happy at all. I'm fond of this piece, but yeah, it's pure angst. Also, it's my attempt to explain that panel at the end of arc where Kisuke looks sad at what happened to Aizen (his descent into madness, his defeat, etc). Yes, yes, I'm a UraAizen fangirl. I notice the little things.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
