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dracoqueen22a/n: Another drabble from Seireitei Monogatari for you, my fine readers, today. I hope that you enjoy! The countdown continues. :)
Title: Love the Way You Lie
Characters: Gin/Byakuya
Rating: M
Warnings: boysex, spoilers
Words: 1703
Description: Byakuya has words for ears that can no longer hear them.
Gin always smells of blood.
He carries the scent of other things as well. Jasmine tea on occasion. A particular perfumed soap that mixes sandalwood and amber. The sharp bite of metal like his zanpakutou. But underneath it all, the bitter flavor of blood clings to Gin’s skin like a natural musk.
Byakuya knows this, but he never asks.
Warm lips press against his throat, and Byakuya arches into talented hands. Talented fingers and a talented tongue as his skin is traced in barely present touches. The body pressed against his is warm, not hot like it should be, but hardly touched by warmth as though its natural state is cool, cold to the touch.
His eyes slit open, and he watches Gin from under heavy lids, the fall of silver hair across a pale shoulder, the occasional gleam of nearly-red amber eyes that glance up at him. Byakuya gasps, shivers. His body’s coated in sweat, trembling on the cusp of climax. His insides twist with – want, disgust, need, desire, shame – a deluge of feelings. He pulses in Gin's grip, and he can feel the long length moving within him, Gin's abnormally thin hips thrusting forward.
Gin smells like blood and tastes like sin. Like everything wrong with the world but right in Byakuya's life. His lips move upward and capture Byakuya's mouth in a harsh kiss, his tongue skilled and nimble. Byakuya's lips part, takes him deep, back arching as each harsh thrust rakes against something pleasurable inside of him.
The heat in his belly has turned into a blaze, and it won't be much longer now. No time at all before the coil within him bursts, and he spills all over Gin's long and thin fingers. He clenches down rhythmically and pulls a groan from Gin's lips. A whisper of something that Byakuya fails to catch with the blood rushing through his ears and the creak of the bed and the rustle of the covers as Byakuya fists them.
The buzz of reiatsu in the room rises to palpable levels, and Byakuya can feel Gin's wash over him, even as his own lifts to meet it. Gin pulls back from the kiss, eyes opening enough that Byakuya can see their color, darkening to blood red in his lust. His hands creep down to Byakuya's hips, gripping firmly, smearing Byakuya's seed all over his skin, but he can't be bothered to care.
He groans, arches his hips, and holds on as Gin slams into him, the wet slap of flesh such a lewd cadence. His family would be horrified, Byakuya knows. If any of them knew, if any of them guessed. That Gin is a man is only the start of all the drama. That he's a rat from Rukongai is only the icing of the cake.
That he's here, sullying their heir, sullying their manor, and having the balls to do it in Byakuya's own quarters makes a subtle thrill race through his body. Makes his spent length give a faint twitch of interest, though the rest of him is too exhausted to give it encouragement.
Fingers press into his flesh, a thumb right over his hipbone, and Byakuya watches as Gin sucks in a breath as muscles flex and he thrusts forward. Manipulates Byakuya's body for his pleasure. He's close, Byakuya can see it in the flush on his face, the way his breathing stutters and the jump of the muscle in his jaw.
It is only a moment more before Gin comes with a quiet moan that barely reaches Byakuya's ears, his body shuddering, his fingers rhythmically clenching on the Kuchiki heir's hips. His hips slam against Byakuya's as he spills himself inside, a flush painted across his face and upper chest.
The tremors have hardly ceased before Gin pulls out and blankets Byakuya's body with his own, locking their lips together in a half-desperate kiss. His tongue sweeps inside Byakuya's mouth, that overwhelming scent of jasmine and tea and blood flooding Byakuya's senses. He groans into the kiss, loving the feel of Gin's sweat-slick body pressed to his, all long limbs and angles.
It's always like this. Sharp pleasure that slides into warm contentment, Gin's kisses slow and lazy as their bodies come down from peak. Heart rates slow, breathing evens out, and Byakuya's fingers drag through surprisingly soft, silver hair, slightly damp from sweat. That scent of blood is all the stronger, and Byakuya doesn't ask.
He knows he ought to. Just as much as he knows the answer will end this… whatever he wants to call it.
The kiss ends with a nipping of lips, and then, Gin pulls back, something odd in his expression. Something Byakuya, who’s never been that great at human interaction in the first place, cannot identify.
His brow crinkles. “What?” Byakuya asks, voice soft because it feels strange to speak louder. As though doing so will shatter some carefully constructed illusion.
Gin looks at him for a moment longer before he shakes his head and draws away.
“Nothing,” he says and sits up, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Ya should get ta sleep. We got that meetin' in the mornin'.”
Byakuya frowns. “I haven't forgotten,” he says and feels oddly cold. “This is hardly the first time we've had a meeting the next day.”
“This time's different,” Gin says and slides off the bed. The knobs of his spine are plainly visible to Byakuya, who has to stop himself from reaching out and tracing them with his fingers.
Gin rises to his feet, his back to Byakuya, and there's something strange, something odd going on. He just doesn't know what it is.
“How so?”
He's picking up his clothes, pulling on his shihakushou without bothering to take a bath like he usually does. “It jus’ is.”
“Gin?”
He's already at the door. Sometimes, he moves faster than Byakuya knows is possible. As though he's using shunpo though Byakuya hadn't felt the reiatsu-evidence of it.
Gin pauses in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and he looks over his shoulder at Byakuya. His expression is unreadable, his eyes shuttered. His hand tells the story, fingers white-knuckled, grip too tight on expertly carved wood.
“Sleep well, Bya-kun. I'll see you in the morning.”
He's gone in the next moment. Byakuya does not, for even a second, think of going after him.
It's only after dawn comes that Byakuya realizes he should have.
o0o0o
There will never be a chance to ask the questions that plague his mind. No opportunity to ask the reasons why. No moment to wonder whom he had meant that apology for. No time to ask what had been real and what had been false.
Byakuya stands outside the room that houses what is left of the dead traitors and stares through the thick glass, vibrating from the tension of the kidoh placed on it. No one's been allowed to go in until the captain-commander decides what to do with their enemies.
Usually, there's a guard at the door.
Tonight, there isn't.
Byakuya isn't going to go inside. He has no desire to be surrounded by those corpses held in stasis, physical proof of Gin's betrayal and abandonment. He has no wish to stand next to Gin's body, heart clenching all over again, forcing himself not to demand answers from someone who can't give them.
He's fine right here, standing at the small window, and looking. Better not to tempt himself into acting like a fool.
Byakuya honestly doesn't know if it's better this way. That he never had to face Gin in battle. That he'd fallen while Byakuya had still been within Hueco Mundo.
Perhaps things are much better this way.
Matsumoto-fukutaichou tells him – when he asks, pretending a clinical interest -- that Gin hadn't intended to betray them. That he'd only wanted to seek revenge against Aizen. That he'd had to turn his back on everyone to do it, that he'd done it for her.
Where then, Byakuya wonders, does that leave him?
Something inside of him clenches. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slow and steady.
Losing Hisana had been difficult. Why Byakuya had allowed himself to drown in Gin's affection, he'll never know. And look what it brought him. Nothing but more misery.
He'd never asked. Perhaps he should have.
Why do you smell like blood, Gin? What are you doing when I'm not around?
He'll never get his chance. He can only stand here, staring through thick glass, at his lover's body and wonder. Feel the weight of the loss on his shoulders. Anger that has ebbed away to hurt and longing. Regret that sweeps over him in the dead of the night when he wakes with damp eyes and dreams that feel all too real.
What would’ve happened, Byakuya wonders, if he had chased after Gin that night? If he had grabbed his lover by the arm and demanded answers. Demanded to know why Gin was acting oddly – even more so than is usual for him. If he had pressed Gin for answers, would his lover had given them?
Were they even truly lovers?
Byakuya drags in a shuddering breath and turns away from the window, from the room itself. He can't stand here anymore. Can't stand here considering what if and why didn't I and I should have. It'll break him, and he's not going to allow that again.
All he can do is quietly pick up the pieces, move on like the rest of Seireitei stumbling around in a fog, not sure what to do with their newly won peace. Perhaps he'll take Matsumoto-fukutaichou up on her hesitantly offered meeting to share some sake.
He leaves without saying a word, as quietly as he had come. He doesn't have a wish to offer; they've never been granted before. He doesn't have an apology; he's not the one who left. He doesn't have words to say; Gin can no longer hear them.
*****
a/n: Something about Ichimaru Gin brings out the best angst in me, I don't know why.
Coming up next time, another part of Past Imperfect and we find out if Ichigo's desperate plan worked.
Feedback is always welcome. Also, I'm on the Torquere Social LJ today. Come by and say hello!
Title: Love the Way You Lie
Characters: Gin/Byakuya
Rating: M
Warnings: boysex, spoilers
Words: 1703
Description: Byakuya has words for ears that can no longer hear them.
Gin always smells of blood.
He carries the scent of other things as well. Jasmine tea on occasion. A particular perfumed soap that mixes sandalwood and amber. The sharp bite of metal like his zanpakutou. But underneath it all, the bitter flavor of blood clings to Gin’s skin like a natural musk.
Byakuya knows this, but he never asks.
Warm lips press against his throat, and Byakuya arches into talented hands. Talented fingers and a talented tongue as his skin is traced in barely present touches. The body pressed against his is warm, not hot like it should be, but hardly touched by warmth as though its natural state is cool, cold to the touch.
His eyes slit open, and he watches Gin from under heavy lids, the fall of silver hair across a pale shoulder, the occasional gleam of nearly-red amber eyes that glance up at him. Byakuya gasps, shivers. His body’s coated in sweat, trembling on the cusp of climax. His insides twist with – want, disgust, need, desire, shame – a deluge of feelings. He pulses in Gin's grip, and he can feel the long length moving within him, Gin's abnormally thin hips thrusting forward.
Gin smells like blood and tastes like sin. Like everything wrong with the world but right in Byakuya's life. His lips move upward and capture Byakuya's mouth in a harsh kiss, his tongue skilled and nimble. Byakuya's lips part, takes him deep, back arching as each harsh thrust rakes against something pleasurable inside of him.
The heat in his belly has turned into a blaze, and it won't be much longer now. No time at all before the coil within him bursts, and he spills all over Gin's long and thin fingers. He clenches down rhythmically and pulls a groan from Gin's lips. A whisper of something that Byakuya fails to catch with the blood rushing through his ears and the creak of the bed and the rustle of the covers as Byakuya fists them.
The buzz of reiatsu in the room rises to palpable levels, and Byakuya can feel Gin's wash over him, even as his own lifts to meet it. Gin pulls back from the kiss, eyes opening enough that Byakuya can see their color, darkening to blood red in his lust. His hands creep down to Byakuya's hips, gripping firmly, smearing Byakuya's seed all over his skin, but he can't be bothered to care.
He groans, arches his hips, and holds on as Gin slams into him, the wet slap of flesh such a lewd cadence. His family would be horrified, Byakuya knows. If any of them knew, if any of them guessed. That Gin is a man is only the start of all the drama. That he's a rat from Rukongai is only the icing of the cake.
That he's here, sullying their heir, sullying their manor, and having the balls to do it in Byakuya's own quarters makes a subtle thrill race through his body. Makes his spent length give a faint twitch of interest, though the rest of him is too exhausted to give it encouragement.
Fingers press into his flesh, a thumb right over his hipbone, and Byakuya watches as Gin sucks in a breath as muscles flex and he thrusts forward. Manipulates Byakuya's body for his pleasure. He's close, Byakuya can see it in the flush on his face, the way his breathing stutters and the jump of the muscle in his jaw.
It is only a moment more before Gin comes with a quiet moan that barely reaches Byakuya's ears, his body shuddering, his fingers rhythmically clenching on the Kuchiki heir's hips. His hips slam against Byakuya's as he spills himself inside, a flush painted across his face and upper chest.
The tremors have hardly ceased before Gin pulls out and blankets Byakuya's body with his own, locking their lips together in a half-desperate kiss. His tongue sweeps inside Byakuya's mouth, that overwhelming scent of jasmine and tea and blood flooding Byakuya's senses. He groans into the kiss, loving the feel of Gin's sweat-slick body pressed to his, all long limbs and angles.
It's always like this. Sharp pleasure that slides into warm contentment, Gin's kisses slow and lazy as their bodies come down from peak. Heart rates slow, breathing evens out, and Byakuya's fingers drag through surprisingly soft, silver hair, slightly damp from sweat. That scent of blood is all the stronger, and Byakuya doesn't ask.
He knows he ought to. Just as much as he knows the answer will end this… whatever he wants to call it.
The kiss ends with a nipping of lips, and then, Gin pulls back, something odd in his expression. Something Byakuya, who’s never been that great at human interaction in the first place, cannot identify.
His brow crinkles. “What?” Byakuya asks, voice soft because it feels strange to speak louder. As though doing so will shatter some carefully constructed illusion.
Gin looks at him for a moment longer before he shakes his head and draws away.
“Nothing,” he says and sits up, sweeping a hand through his hair. “Ya should get ta sleep. We got that meetin' in the mornin'.”
Byakuya frowns. “I haven't forgotten,” he says and feels oddly cold. “This is hardly the first time we've had a meeting the next day.”
“This time's different,” Gin says and slides off the bed. The knobs of his spine are plainly visible to Byakuya, who has to stop himself from reaching out and tracing them with his fingers.
Gin rises to his feet, his back to Byakuya, and there's something strange, something odd going on. He just doesn't know what it is.
“How so?”
He's picking up his clothes, pulling on his shihakushou without bothering to take a bath like he usually does. “It jus’ is.”
“Gin?”
He's already at the door. Sometimes, he moves faster than Byakuya knows is possible. As though he's using shunpo though Byakuya hadn't felt the reiatsu-evidence of it.
Gin pauses in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and he looks over his shoulder at Byakuya. His expression is unreadable, his eyes shuttered. His hand tells the story, fingers white-knuckled, grip too tight on expertly carved wood.
“Sleep well, Bya-kun. I'll see you in the morning.”
He's gone in the next moment. Byakuya does not, for even a second, think of going after him.
It's only after dawn comes that Byakuya realizes he should have.
There will never be a chance to ask the questions that plague his mind. No opportunity to ask the reasons why. No moment to wonder whom he had meant that apology for. No time to ask what had been real and what had been false.
Byakuya stands outside the room that houses what is left of the dead traitors and stares through the thick glass, vibrating from the tension of the kidoh placed on it. No one's been allowed to go in until the captain-commander decides what to do with their enemies.
Usually, there's a guard at the door.
Tonight, there isn't.
Byakuya isn't going to go inside. He has no desire to be surrounded by those corpses held in stasis, physical proof of Gin's betrayal and abandonment. He has no wish to stand next to Gin's body, heart clenching all over again, forcing himself not to demand answers from someone who can't give them.
He's fine right here, standing at the small window, and looking. Better not to tempt himself into acting like a fool.
Byakuya honestly doesn't know if it's better this way. That he never had to face Gin in battle. That he'd fallen while Byakuya had still been within Hueco Mundo.
Perhaps things are much better this way.
Matsumoto-fukutaichou tells him – when he asks, pretending a clinical interest -- that Gin hadn't intended to betray them. That he'd only wanted to seek revenge against Aizen. That he'd had to turn his back on everyone to do it, that he'd done it for her.
Where then, Byakuya wonders, does that leave him?
Something inside of him clenches. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slow and steady.
Losing Hisana had been difficult. Why Byakuya had allowed himself to drown in Gin's affection, he'll never know. And look what it brought him. Nothing but more misery.
He'd never asked. Perhaps he should have.
Why do you smell like blood, Gin? What are you doing when I'm not around?
He'll never get his chance. He can only stand here, staring through thick glass, at his lover's body and wonder. Feel the weight of the loss on his shoulders. Anger that has ebbed away to hurt and longing. Regret that sweeps over him in the dead of the night when he wakes with damp eyes and dreams that feel all too real.
What would’ve happened, Byakuya wonders, if he had chased after Gin that night? If he had grabbed his lover by the arm and demanded answers. Demanded to know why Gin was acting oddly – even more so than is usual for him. If he had pressed Gin for answers, would his lover had given them?
Were they even truly lovers?
Byakuya drags in a shuddering breath and turns away from the window, from the room itself. He can't stand here anymore. Can't stand here considering what if and why didn't I and I should have. It'll break him, and he's not going to allow that again.
All he can do is quietly pick up the pieces, move on like the rest of Seireitei stumbling around in a fog, not sure what to do with their newly won peace. Perhaps he'll take Matsumoto-fukutaichou up on her hesitantly offered meeting to share some sake.
He leaves without saying a word, as quietly as he had come. He doesn't have a wish to offer; they've never been granted before. He doesn't have an apology; he's not the one who left. He doesn't have words to say; Gin can no longer hear them.
a/n: Something about Ichimaru Gin brings out the best angst in me, I don't know why.
Coming up next time, another part of Past Imperfect and we find out if Ichigo's desperate plan worked.
Feedback is always welcome. Also, I'm on the Torquere Social LJ today. Come by and say hello!
