Bleach - After the Fall - Part Two
Sep. 2nd, 2010 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Thanks to everyone who enjoyed and commented on part one! I didn't think this little story would be liked so much. I'm certainly glad to see it! Especially since Ukitake/Stark is such an odd pairings. *grins* Now this here part is the NSFW one. Keep that in mind as you read and enjoy!
Title: After the Fall
Characters: Ukitake/Stark, Shunsui, Unohana (in spirit), Byakuya
Rating: T to M
Warning: SPOILERS like whoah, future slashiness
Words: 13,223 (Overall)
Description: Winning the war was easy. Recovering afterward was the hard part.
( Part One )
Sometimes, peace and quiet were overrated.
Months ago, Jyuushiro never would’ve thought he’d long for the days when Sentarou and Kiyone would bicker in the office. When his lower seats would come to him, whining about this, that, and the other and he’d listen patiently. When he could sit in his office, dutifully signing paperwork and listen to the noises of a busy division. When he could smile to himself, breathe in a little peace, and then brace himself for the inevitable intrusion.
Jyuushiro never would’ve believed that he’d miss those days. Except for right now, sitting in his quiet office, listening to the wind rattle at the shutters over his window. It wasn’t quite nighttime or quitting time, but his division was silent all the same. There was too much something in the air. Grief and anger and regret. It hung over all of Seireitei, and Jyuushiro couldn’t keep it from infecting his division as well.
It was slowly driving him mad.
Sighing, Jyuushiro pushed aside his paperwork and rooted around in his desk, in the bottom drawer and the far back of it where he knew Shunsui had stashed his own special jug. Shunsui had stashes like this everywhere he tended to frequent. Everywhere except his own division that was. Ise-san was extremely adept at ferreting them out and disposing of them.
It was so easy for Jyuushiro to recall those moments. Less and less in the onset of Aizen’s war but so prevalent beforehand. Times when Shunsui would sneak into his office, even in the middle of the night, and they’d reminisce over sake. Only the best because Shunsui wouldn’t settle for anything less, their reaitsu settled and coiling together on the edges.
Jyuushiro sighed, setting the bowls out in front of him and pouring some rice wine into his. He contemplated pouring for a Shunsui who should be here but wasn’t, but then, that would be pointless.
“A waste of good alcohol!” as Shunsui would’ve said.
It was never any good to drink alone. So why was Jyuushiro sitting here, lifting the cup to his lips anyway? He wasn’t sure. He simply let the flavor roll over his tongue, let the full sweetness dance across his lips.
Gods above and below, he missed Shunsui. Missed him like he’d mourn a lost limb. A part of himself that was irreplaceable.
But knocking on the door interrupted Jyuushiro in the middle of his third drink. He paused, looking up to find a familiar if not unexpected face. Especially since he was supposed to be alone in his division.
“Am I interrupting something?” Stark asked, his drawl and casual smile making something strange warm inside the captain’s belly.
Either that or it was the sake. Jyuushiro thought it’d be better for his sanity if the cause was the latter.
He glanced at the jug and the two bowls on his desk, one of them noticeably empty. “Nothing official,” Jyuushiro said dryly and gestured for his guest to enter. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“I recall owing you some answers,” Stark answered with a shrug, strolling inside but not taking the offered seat. Instead preferring to look down at Jyuushiro with a strange expression on his face. “Walking by, I noticed that you seemed to be the only one here.”
“That I am,” Jyuushiro said and contemplated his sake, contemplated more of it. A lot more than the one mere jug could provide.
It would be so nice to let go for once. He’d been holding himself in for so long, for so many weeks and months now. His shoulders felt heavy, compacted, pressed down by so much weight Jyuushiro was surprised his illness hadn’t flared up to the point that he too was hospitalized. It felt wrong and odd to be here, drinking without Shunsui present. As if Jyuushiro was missing a vital part of the experience.
Melancholy fought its way into Jyuushiro’s mood.
“You know,” Stark began.
Which once again dragged Jyuushiro from his musings. It made him wonder if the sake was affecting him more than he thought. Odd because Jyuushiro had never been such a lightweight.
“You know, you should never drink alone. It only makes things worse.” Stark tipped his head at that statement.
Jyuushiro’s fingers stroked around the smooth edge of the expensively decorated cup. “Is this knowledge from personal experience?”
“Perhaps.” Stark’s eyes were like piercing daggers, raking Jyuushiro from the tip of his white head to what was visible of him behind the desk. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Honestly, Jyuushiro’s first instinct was not to deny Stark as he would’ve thought. He felt strangely calm in the Arrancar’s presence. Perhaps because they had a kinship, sharing a sense of understanding. Stark’s loss of Lilinette seemed like a precursor to the anxious waiting and hoping spent at Shunsui’s bedside.
Jyuushiro rose to his feet. Which must have seemed like a rejection to Stark, because a look of disappointment mixed with resignation flashed across his face. The captain quickly shook his head to prove otherwise.
“It’s not quite regulation to allow drinking within a division, even if I’m the captain here,” Jyuushiro put in with a small smile. “We’d be more comfortable somewhere else. Perhaps my home if you don’t mind. I’m not up to the company of a multitude of others right now.”
Surprise quickly replaced the disappointment as Stark blinked at him. His reaitsu rippled and conveyed his shock.
“I… would be honored,” he said, obviously searching for the right words.
In that moment, Jyuushiro felt a stirring of guilt. It was obvious Stark wasn’t well-received among the Gotei 13. Which was to be expected considering that Shinigami and Hollow weren’t meant to mix in an agreeable way. Still, Jyuushiro regretted that he hadn’t paid much attention to how well Stark was adapting and fitting into Seireitei.
“Good,” Jyuushiro said and quickly put away the cups, tucking the half-consumed jug under his arm to take home. It’d be later replaced and saved to celebrate Shunsui’s wakening. “If you’d follow me please.”
Stark readily complied.
The sun had set while Jyuushiro was in his office, contemplating nothing and yet everything at once, turning the sky a brilliant range of oranges and reds. This time of year, night always came so slowly. But once it did, it descended fully save for the bright sparks of stars hanging in the dark.
There seemed no need for Jyuushiro and Stark to exchange words as they made the short walk from the thirteenth division to Jyuushiro’s nearby home – a convenient location considering the tendency of his illness to flare up at inopportune times. Stark was much like him, locked in his contemplations, and Jyuushiro shocked himself with how at ease he felt in the Arrancar’s presence.
After arriving, Jyuushiro settled them on the back veranda, facing his lush garden underneath a blue-black sky that was quickly filling with stars. The rising full moon gleamed down on them and bathed the trees and flowers in a gentle, pale light. There was a slight breeze, perfumed with flowers, which brushed over their skin. It was pleasant, the calm only highlighted by the wonderful, full flavor of the sake.
Stark sat next to Jyuushiro, legs draped over the edge of the porch and bare feet prodding at the grass. Every so often, their thighs would touch, and Jyuushiro startled himself with how much he liked Stark’s warmth so near to him. The Arrancar had already proven himself to be a worthy companion, and the quiet lacked any trace of discomfort. It was almost like being out here with Shunsui. Only Jyuushiro rarely noticed when he and his best friend touched or moved in sync. They’d been doing it so long that it no longer registered. It was odd but not alarming that he could be like that with someone else. Particularly someone he’d known for so short a time.
Jyuushiro uncorked the sake, pouring Stark a cupful from the dish he had procured from his own kitchen. Stark returned the favor, the lip of the jug a bare clink against the cup. They tasted the first sip in companionable silence, Jyuushiro letting the flavor wash over his tongue as Stark made a noise of enjoyment. He swallowed, admired the liquor in his cup, and finally turned to Jyuushiro.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
Stark gestured with his cup. “The reason I caught you drinking in your office. By yourself. When most everyone had already gone home.”
“I’m not sure caught is the right word. I wasn’t trying to hide,” Jyuushiro said with a small smile.
“How true.” Stark’s mouth curled with faint amusement. “Still, you weren’t drinking out of celebration.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Jyuushiro let quiet wrap around them for a moment as he savored the sake, mind bobbing through happier times. Times before Aizen and his madness. Times when they’d seemed so carefree but something seethed beneath the surface.
“Didn’t you promise me answers?” he finally asked.
“I did,” Stark agreed, and Jyuushiro watched as he stretched out his long limbs with a faint groan. As though the stress and fatigue of the day had finally made itself known. “You wanted to know why I’d side with Aizen.”
Jyuushiro inclined his head. “And you countered with a vague reference to your Lilinette.”
Stark barely flinched at the sound of her name, though her loss still must strike him deeply. She wasn’t only his companion after all, but a part of him. And though Stark’s reaitsu felt only marginally lessened for her loss, Jyuushiro knew the pain of it hadn’t faded. Not in such a short time.
Taking a deep breath, Stark appeared to focus on his drink. “How much do you know about Hollows? And about their evolution?”
“As much as the next Shinigami I suppose. You’d have to ask a member of Kurotsuchi’s research center for the technical aspects.” Jyuushiro frowned in thought.
Stark nodded slowly, as though more to himself. “In Hueco Mundo, power is everything. The strength to survive. To feed and grow. To exist. Every Hollow in Hueco Mundo seeks power. Unless you’re one of the lucky few who have it all on your own, and even then, it’s not without its drawbacks.”
“Drawbacks?”
“The stronger you are, the less other Hollows can survive in your presence,” Stark explained quietly, taking a long sip of his sake. “Until Aizen came along, Lilinette was the only company I knew.”
Loneliness. It radiated around Stark with a tangible presence. It’d been what drove Stark to Aizen’s side. And now, it’d only been worsened by Lilinette’s loss. The Shinigami weren’t an adequate replacement. They could hardly be called Stark’s allies, much less his friends.
For that revelation, Jyuushiro felt he owed Stark something of equal value in return.
“This sake,” the captain mused, watching the liquid swirl around and around in the cup. “It’s Shunsui’s favorite. Every week, we’d share a bottle and reminisce on old times.”
The wind stirring through the trees highlighted the following moment of silence. Beside him, Stark shifted, knee pressing against Jyuushiro’s own. His shoulder knocking briefly against the older man’s in a companionable motion of comfort.
“When he wakes up, we should all share a bottle,” Stark said thoughtfully and drained his cup dry.
Jyuushiro turned his head to look at the Arrancar, seeing nothing but earnest honesty in Stark’s eyes. He wasn’t just speaking to hear himself talk. Stark meant it. He believed Shunsui would wake up. He actually believed it.
Something surged to life inside of Jyuushiro. Something he thought long buried and abandoned. Something a lot like hope.
Jyuushiro couldn’t be sure what inspired his next action. Maybe it was the sake. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was Stark’s words or his calm presence or the fact that outside of Shunsui’s unchanging condition, Stark was the one constant in Jyuushiro’s life. He was there, and he was handsome, and he was smart, and Jyuushiro wanted to kiss him.
So he did.
He closed the space between them, mouth meeting Stark’s in an awkward, unplanned press of lips that was flavored with sake but tasted oh-so-sweet. Jyuushiro could almost taste Stark’s surprise. He momentarily stilled before returning the kiss, lips moving against Jyuushiro’s mouth. Reiatsu buzzed between them, rippling with a mixture of emotion that went unnamed, and the kiss deepened.
Jyuushiro flicked his tongue against Stark’s lips and quietly requested interest. And Stark’s mouth parted, their tongues meeting. Jyuushiro abandoned his sake cup, letting it clatter to the wooden deck as he lifted a hand, threading fingers through Stark’s unexpectedly soft hair. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him. Perhaps because he subconsciously expected a Hollow to be unattractive in some fashion. With wire for hair and sandpaper for lips and cold, cold skin.
But Stark was none of these things. His hair was smooth, almost silky to the touch. His skin warm beneath the press of Jyuushiro’s fingers. His lips soft and pliant, kissing with an equal if not unforeseen skill. He was so utterly human that a part of Jyuushiro’s mind was baffled. Even as a stronger, warmth-drenched part of him soaked up the taste and touch of Stark.
Jyuushiro hummed low in his throat, pressing closer, wanting to do more than kiss, wanting to just plain feel. He thought by the return of the kiss that Stark would’ve desired much the same.
Until a palm pressed against Jyuushiro’s chest, stopping him from leaning forward. The kiss ended as Jyuushiro’s fingers slipped from tangling in Stark’s hair to wrap around his wrist.
“Are you pushing me away because you don’t want me or because you think it’s the noble thing to do?” Jyuushiro demanded, a slow ache building inside him.
Something flashed in grayish blue eyes. “You’re grieving and not entirely sober, Ukitake-taichou,” Stark said with a slight emphasis on the title and a strain in his voice. As though it took every ounce of his control to do this. “Besides, I feel like I’d be taking advantage of a man who could easily break me in half the next day.”
Jyuushiro chuckled just a bit. Wrapped up in Stark’s honor was a great sense of self-preservation and that amused him.
“I’ve lived for centuries. I’m also in a position of authority, and I’m the one who invited you here.” He leaned in closer, until his breath was a puff of warm air over Stark’s moist lips. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me,” he purred and closed the distance between them, sealing their mouths together.
Stark groaned into the kiss, lips parting and allowing their tongues to touch. Jyuushiro felt his arousal burn hotter as the man’s taste danced on his tongue. Almonds and amaretto. As though Stark lived on coffee rather than tea. And it was mixed with the taste of the expensive, fine sake.
Jyuushiro met no resistance as he urged Stark backward with a palm on the vice-captain’s chest. Stark sprawled across the wooden decking of the veranda, and Jyuushiro blanketed him. Lining their bodies up perfectly as he deepened the kiss, nibbling at Stark’s lips and tongue teasing the inner contours of his mouth.
Jyuushiro lowered his hips, letting their groins come into contact, gratified to find an answering hardness meet his own. Stark was only being noble in his own way then. He did want this, want Jyuushiro, and that realization thrummed through his being. But no more than the realization that he wanted Stark in return. His fingers flexed around the Arrancar’s wrist as he deepened the kiss, trying to drown in Stark’s unique taste.
Another sound of pleasure escaped the Arrancar, and Jyuushiro rolled his hips, a slow and steady motion that made the desire racing through his body sizzle. Stark’s free hand lifted to tangle in the loose strands of Jyuushiro’s hair, an encouraging action. Stark’s reaitsu was a throbbing, balanced pulse against him. It felt of his interest and arousal.
“Do you want me to stop?” Jyuushiro questioned, lips tracing over Stark’s jaw, tongue flicking against the tanned skin.
Stark’s head tilted, granting further access to his bare throat. “It depends.” The vibrations of his voice palpable were against Jyuushiro’s lips. “Will this make it better?”
“I don’t know,” he captain answered honestly, the full bloom of warmth inside of him unexpected but welcome. “Does it work for you?”
“I haven’t tried.” Stark paused, as though considering as a shudder wracked his frame, Jyuushiro’s mouth pressed warm and wet to his throat. “But it might help. Remind me that I’m here. That I’m alive.”
Jyuushiro understood all too well. “That I’m not alone,” he added quietly, fingers flexing around Stark’s wrist before releasing it. He nuzzled the hollow of Stark’s throat, inhaling the unique scent.
“Yes,” the Arrancar agreed, voice barely louder than a whisper. “But regret is a harsh mistress, and sometimes, hurts more than the loneliness.”
“You would regret me?”
Stark’s newly freed hand curled around Jyuushiro’s back, fingers pressing against his spine in a soothing manner. “No. But I’m afraid you’d regret it come morning.”
Lifting his head, Jyuushiro forced Stark to meet his gaze. His free hand moved to the Arrancar’s chin where he stroked over the thin goatee.
“I thought you would know that I’m not that sort of man.”
“Honestly? I don’t really know what kind of man you are,” Stark said in return, and his chin dipped, causing Jyuushiro’s fingers to slide toward his lips. His tongue slipped out to tease, warm and wet. “And frankly, I’m surprised that I have any self-preservation left.”
Blinking, Jyuushiro tried to decipher Stark’s convoluted reasoning. Though it was hard to focus with the teasing way Stark’s tongue flicked across his fingertips.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this your method of refusing?”
Blue eyes flashed in the moonlight, dark with hunger, deep with desire. “No,” he murmured and drew Jyuushiro’s fingers completely into his mouth. Stark sucked on them with obvious, lewd intent.
Jyuushiro’s eyelashes fluttered at the unexpected thrill such a simple act gave him. He licked his own lips, palm flattening on Stark’s chest as he dragged his fingers downward, reaching for the ties to Stark’s shihakushou. Jyuushiro tugged on them, not enough to undo the knot but to let Stark know his intentions.
When no protest was forthcoming, Jyuushiro yanked sharply on the obi and loosened the ties to Stark’s hakama. Stark’s tongue played with Jyuushiro’s fingertips, and his own hand massaged at Jyuushiro’s skull as his other moved to Jyuushiro’s clothed backside.
Neither of them seemed to care that they were still outside. Underneath the bright gaze of the moon with a cool wind teasing at what little skin was exposed bit by bit.
Jyuushiro dragged his fingers from Stark’s mouth with much reluctance and soothed himself by replacing them with his lips. He kissed Stark, fully enjoying the vice-captain’s unique taste, hoping to hear more of those throaty growls in Stark’s throat. They moved together. Bodies rocking and rolling, fingers seeking out ties and undoing them with more dexterity than should’ve been possible from two supposedly tipsy men.
Stark’s obi unraveled. Jyuushiro pushed aside the layers of shitagi, laying his palm against bare, hot skin. Stark shivered. From cold or arousal or both, Jyuushiro wasn’t sure. Nor did he stop to ask, palm moving upward, over a flat abdomen rippled with muscle. And further still, tracing the edges of a Hollow hole.
A low moan rumbled in Stark’s throat flavored the kiss. He arched beneath Jyuushiro, both hands moving to grip the sides of the captain’s haori and drag him down. Their bodies connected, hardened lengths grinding together through the layers of cloth.
Well. That was rather unexpected. And incredibly hot.
On impulse, Jyuushiro strengthened his touch, doing more than lightly gliding his fingers over the edge. Instead, he stroked the oddly smooth flesh, felt the warmth practically radiating from Stark’s skin. His hands mapping the divot that formed the unique aspect of every Arrancar.
Stark’s reaction was immediate and erotic. He arched, breaking away from the kiss with a startled gasp, fingers clenching as he shuddered. Writhing beneath the older man as though something far, far more intimate had been touched. Need shot through Jyuushiro, his own arousal throbbing in his hakama at the erotic sight and sound of Stark so beautiful in his desperation.
Jyuushiro bit back a chuckle, easing up and giving Stark a chance to breathe. Curiosity attacked him, however. If the Hollow hole was so sensitive, what then of the mask? Was it merely bone and decoration?
Jyuushiro licked his lips as he pondered; his mouth lowered before he could stop himself. He exhaled hotly over the white bone and heard Stark mutter something that was certainly a curse, breath hitching. But he didn’t protest or demand that Jyuushiro stop. No, Stark’s actions better resembled encouragement, and Jyuushiro was all too willing to answer.
He first pressed his lips to that expanse of smooth white. Surprised by the warmth, by the flutter against his lips – like a heartbeat. Stark made a sound low in his throat, a cross between a whimper and a groan, and Jyuushiro answered him by sliding his tongue over the angular creases of the mask. Over the jagged tip of each tooth and the smoother expanse of what could best be described as a jawbone. Each swipe was gentle, almost reverent. And Stark responded with honest need, head falling back as he sucked in a breath.
“Ukitake-san,” he gasped, hips churning upward to grind against Jyuushiro, driving the captain’s own desire higher and higher. “If you keep doing that--”
He broke off with another choked breath as Jyuushiro’s tongue drew careful circles.
“Jyuushiro,” he gently corrected. Of all things, Jyuushiro could not stand such formality when he chose to share his bed.
He wanted to hear his name on Stark’s lips. He didn’t want a polite distance. No, he wanted to close the space between them, to feel skin on skin. And he wanted Stark to return the same feeling, to answer Jyuushiro’s desire with equal want of his own.
Stark’s hands tugged on his haori pointedly. “Jyuushiro,” he agreed, the name a breathy moan that made Jyuushiro lengthen within his hakama. “Clothes. Open. Works better that way.”
Jyuushiro couldn’t agree more. He abandoned his erotic teasing and drew back, straddling Stark with knees to either side of the lieutenant’s hip. Jyuushiro caught and held Stark’s gaze as he pulled off his haori and set it to the side, then reaching for his obi and the layers of shitagi.
Desire drenched Stark’s eyes until they were such a dark color they were nearly black, and his hands slid around Jyuushiro’s now bare waist, fingers tracking the faint ridge of ribs. Jyuushiro ate and ate, but he couldn’t gain any weight. But he saw no pity in Stark’s gaze, only open lust and appreciation.
“You’re not protesting anymore,” Jyuushiro said as his hakama sagged.
Stark licked his lips as Jyuushiro wriggled above him. Occasionally grinding down on the erection that strained at the confines of Stark’s hakama.
“I’d be a fool to do so at this point, Jyuushiro,” he said with a husky laugh. “You’re a very desirable man.”
Heat spread through Jyuushiro. Damn but he loved the way Stark said his name. Something about the way the syllables danced across his tongue ignited a fire inside him. And a shiver spread across his skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the breath of nightly wind over his exposed chest. His shitagi still draped his shoulders, providing some warmth.
“The same can be said about you.” His palms returned to Stark’s flat abdomen where his fingers tickled at the divide between the hem of a hakama and bare skin.
Stark dove into the pleated layers of Jyuushiro’s hakama, sneaking around the fundoshi and drawing out his arousal, curling heated fingers around the length. The captain sucked in a breath, rocking forward into the much-needed touch. It felt so good, better than he could’ve expected for such a simple touch.
Pleasure sizzled down Jyuushiro’s spine as Stark stroked him with skilled fingers. It was several moments before he remembered to return the favor, his own hands diving into Stark’s hakama and drawing the rigid flesh into the chilly air. His fingers curled around, palm stroking over the rounded head before sliding in a steady rhythm.
Stark groaned, head falling back against the decking as he licked his lips. “Your hands are soft,” he said, slowly shifting his rhythm until it matched Jyuushiro’s own and they were stroking each other in time.
Jyuushiro’s breath hitched as he leaned forward. Bringing their lengths into contact. Combining their grips until he could feel his own heated flesh pressed against Stark’s own.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he commented in return, focusing on the coiling inside of him, a lazy heat that stirred in his gut. He licked his lips and wanted to taste Stark again.
Judging from the look in Stark’s eyes, he wanted the same. And wasn’t it convenient that Jyuushiro was flexible enough to make it happen?
Jyuushiro leaned forward, trapping their hands and arousals between them, and breathed over Stark’s mouth. The smell of sake drifted between them, but Jyuushiro didn’t mind. Not when lust burned in Stark’s eyes and he closed the space dividing their mouths, sealing his lips over Jyuushiro’s mouth. His tongue pushed eagerly inside, hungrily swiping and claiming every available inch.
Jyuushiro moaned, his fingers squeezing in his combined grip, the steady rhythm of stroking unchanged despite the shift in position. Stark’s hips had taken on a distinct tempo, arching up into the press of Jyuushiro’s fingers as the captain’s own movements had him grinding down. It was sloppy but so damn good that Jyuushiro didn’t care about the mess they were making of their clothes.
Stark kissed as though he were savoring a unique flavor, slow and languorous. His tongue explored Jyuushiro’s mouth as his fingers worked to bring them to completion. The Arrancar dragged his free hand from between their bodies, tangling fingers in strands of white hair. He groaned beneath Jyuushiro as his body surged to meet every rhythmic motion.
Tension coiled in Jyuushiro’s belly, and his restraint was nowhere near where it should’ve been. It’d been too long, too many nights of cold beds with little chance for seeking intimacy. The feel of another’s hand on him was too good, too right. And though Jyuushiro would’ve liked to savor the moment, his body had other plans.
Heat surged through him along with the taste of Stark on his lips and the feel of the man moving fluidly beneath him. Jyuushiro gasped into the sensual kiss as release rippled through him, and he spattered their fingers with liquid warmth. It felt like all of the tension of the past few months, all of the stress and the pain and the long nights staring at the ceiling, drained out of him.
He felt strangely freed and broke away, dropping his mouth to Stark’s throat, hoping to give Stark the same sense of pleasure. Jyuushiro focused on the Arrancar, whose motions were growing more and more frantic. His tongue traced skin before his lips moved lower, tongue stroking over white bone. Some strands of his hair slipped from his shoulders to brush teasingly against Stark’s chest, a few sliding over the sensitive Hollow hole.
Stark muttered something, sucking in a great gust of air as his release slammed through him. He writhed beneath Jyuushiro, spilling over his fingers. Jyuushiro wished in that moment that he’d been sitting back, that he could have watched Stark as orgasm rippled through him. But this was just as good, he supposed, being able to undo the man by mere touch alone.
Jyuushiro rested his forehead on Stark’s bare collarbone, just to the right of the remnants of the mask. He relished in their closeness, in the heat that seemed to radiate from Stark’s body like the gentle warmth of a spring sun. Arms came up around him, hands skating down his back and likely streaking his shitagi with their combined release.
Funny how Jyuushiro didn’t mind.
The comfort of the moment surrounded him, and Jyuushiro luxuriated in it until Stark shifted beneath him. He was most likely a little uncomfortable thanks to the stickiness centered over his groin. Jyuushiro was doing his level best to ignore the same discomfort, but warm release had quickly cooled in the breeze.
“Would it be too forward of me to suggest moving this indoors?” Stark asked, hands smoothing up and down Jyuushiro’s back.
Jyuushiro put some distance between them, enough that he could plant a soft kiss on Stark’s jaw. “Would it be too forward of me to suggest that we share a bath and then my bed?” He wasn’t willing to abandon this comfort, not just yet.
Eyes watched him, straightforward and honest. “Where do you see this going, Jyuushiro?”
Shivers trickled down his spine at Stark’s voice, but he forced himself to focus. “Wherever we want to take it,” Jyuushiro answered, and he nibbled along Stark’s jawline, dragging his lips toward Stark’s mouth and allowing their gazes to meet.
“Good enough for me,” Stark tilted his head to capture Jyuushiro’s lips with his own.
Lust sluggishly rose in Jyuushiro’s body, inspiring him for a second round. He idly wondered if they’d make it to the bed this time, but then, it didn’t really matter. The half-finished bottle of sake was left abandoned, no longer a necessary comfort.
* * *
a/n: One last part to go! I admit, their relationship moves a bit quickly, but there's a lot of time skip in here as well. It was meant to be a single one shot after all. Still, I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Aren't they so pretty together? Man, I need a Stark icon. Ahem. Thanks for reading!
Comments are always welcome and appreciated.
Title: After the Fall
Characters: Ukitake/Stark, Shunsui, Unohana (in spirit), Byakuya
Rating: T to M
Warning: SPOILERS like whoah, future slashiness
Words: 13,223 (Overall)
Description: Winning the war was easy. Recovering afterward was the hard part.
( Part One )
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Part Two
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Part Two
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Sometimes, peace and quiet were overrated.
Months ago, Jyuushiro never would’ve thought he’d long for the days when Sentarou and Kiyone would bicker in the office. When his lower seats would come to him, whining about this, that, and the other and he’d listen patiently. When he could sit in his office, dutifully signing paperwork and listen to the noises of a busy division. When he could smile to himself, breathe in a little peace, and then brace himself for the inevitable intrusion.
Jyuushiro never would’ve believed that he’d miss those days. Except for right now, sitting in his quiet office, listening to the wind rattle at the shutters over his window. It wasn’t quite nighttime or quitting time, but his division was silent all the same. There was too much something in the air. Grief and anger and regret. It hung over all of Seireitei, and Jyuushiro couldn’t keep it from infecting his division as well.
It was slowly driving him mad.
Sighing, Jyuushiro pushed aside his paperwork and rooted around in his desk, in the bottom drawer and the far back of it where he knew Shunsui had stashed his own special jug. Shunsui had stashes like this everywhere he tended to frequent. Everywhere except his own division that was. Ise-san was extremely adept at ferreting them out and disposing of them.
It was so easy for Jyuushiro to recall those moments. Less and less in the onset of Aizen’s war but so prevalent beforehand. Times when Shunsui would sneak into his office, even in the middle of the night, and they’d reminisce over sake. Only the best because Shunsui wouldn’t settle for anything less, their reaitsu settled and coiling together on the edges.
Jyuushiro sighed, setting the bowls out in front of him and pouring some rice wine into his. He contemplated pouring for a Shunsui who should be here but wasn’t, but then, that would be pointless.
“A waste of good alcohol!” as Shunsui would’ve said.
It was never any good to drink alone. So why was Jyuushiro sitting here, lifting the cup to his lips anyway? He wasn’t sure. He simply let the flavor roll over his tongue, let the full sweetness dance across his lips.
Gods above and below, he missed Shunsui. Missed him like he’d mourn a lost limb. A part of himself that was irreplaceable.
But knocking on the door interrupted Jyuushiro in the middle of his third drink. He paused, looking up to find a familiar if not unexpected face. Especially since he was supposed to be alone in his division.
“Am I interrupting something?” Stark asked, his drawl and casual smile making something strange warm inside the captain’s belly.
Either that or it was the sake. Jyuushiro thought it’d be better for his sanity if the cause was the latter.
He glanced at the jug and the two bowls on his desk, one of them noticeably empty. “Nothing official,” Jyuushiro said dryly and gestured for his guest to enter. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“I recall owing you some answers,” Stark answered with a shrug, strolling inside but not taking the offered seat. Instead preferring to look down at Jyuushiro with a strange expression on his face. “Walking by, I noticed that you seemed to be the only one here.”
“That I am,” Jyuushiro said and contemplated his sake, contemplated more of it. A lot more than the one mere jug could provide.
It would be so nice to let go for once. He’d been holding himself in for so long, for so many weeks and months now. His shoulders felt heavy, compacted, pressed down by so much weight Jyuushiro was surprised his illness hadn’t flared up to the point that he too was hospitalized. It felt wrong and odd to be here, drinking without Shunsui present. As if Jyuushiro was missing a vital part of the experience.
Melancholy fought its way into Jyuushiro’s mood.
“You know,” Stark began.
Which once again dragged Jyuushiro from his musings. It made him wonder if the sake was affecting him more than he thought. Odd because Jyuushiro had never been such a lightweight.
“You know, you should never drink alone. It only makes things worse.” Stark tipped his head at that statement.
Jyuushiro’s fingers stroked around the smooth edge of the expensively decorated cup. “Is this knowledge from personal experience?”
“Perhaps.” Stark’s eyes were like piercing daggers, raking Jyuushiro from the tip of his white head to what was visible of him behind the desk. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Honestly, Jyuushiro’s first instinct was not to deny Stark as he would’ve thought. He felt strangely calm in the Arrancar’s presence. Perhaps because they had a kinship, sharing a sense of understanding. Stark’s loss of Lilinette seemed like a precursor to the anxious waiting and hoping spent at Shunsui’s bedside.
Jyuushiro rose to his feet. Which must have seemed like a rejection to Stark, because a look of disappointment mixed with resignation flashed across his face. The captain quickly shook his head to prove otherwise.
“It’s not quite regulation to allow drinking within a division, even if I’m the captain here,” Jyuushiro put in with a small smile. “We’d be more comfortable somewhere else. Perhaps my home if you don’t mind. I’m not up to the company of a multitude of others right now.”
Surprise quickly replaced the disappointment as Stark blinked at him. His reaitsu rippled and conveyed his shock.
“I… would be honored,” he said, obviously searching for the right words.
In that moment, Jyuushiro felt a stirring of guilt. It was obvious Stark wasn’t well-received among the Gotei 13. Which was to be expected considering that Shinigami and Hollow weren’t meant to mix in an agreeable way. Still, Jyuushiro regretted that he hadn’t paid much attention to how well Stark was adapting and fitting into Seireitei.
“Good,” Jyuushiro said and quickly put away the cups, tucking the half-consumed jug under his arm to take home. It’d be later replaced and saved to celebrate Shunsui’s wakening. “If you’d follow me please.”
Stark readily complied.
The sun had set while Jyuushiro was in his office, contemplating nothing and yet everything at once, turning the sky a brilliant range of oranges and reds. This time of year, night always came so slowly. But once it did, it descended fully save for the bright sparks of stars hanging in the dark.
There seemed no need for Jyuushiro and Stark to exchange words as they made the short walk from the thirteenth division to Jyuushiro’s nearby home – a convenient location considering the tendency of his illness to flare up at inopportune times. Stark was much like him, locked in his contemplations, and Jyuushiro shocked himself with how at ease he felt in the Arrancar’s presence.
After arriving, Jyuushiro settled them on the back veranda, facing his lush garden underneath a blue-black sky that was quickly filling with stars. The rising full moon gleamed down on them and bathed the trees and flowers in a gentle, pale light. There was a slight breeze, perfumed with flowers, which brushed over their skin. It was pleasant, the calm only highlighted by the wonderful, full flavor of the sake.
Stark sat next to Jyuushiro, legs draped over the edge of the porch and bare feet prodding at the grass. Every so often, their thighs would touch, and Jyuushiro startled himself with how much he liked Stark’s warmth so near to him. The Arrancar had already proven himself to be a worthy companion, and the quiet lacked any trace of discomfort. It was almost like being out here with Shunsui. Only Jyuushiro rarely noticed when he and his best friend touched or moved in sync. They’d been doing it so long that it no longer registered. It was odd but not alarming that he could be like that with someone else. Particularly someone he’d known for so short a time.
Jyuushiro uncorked the sake, pouring Stark a cupful from the dish he had procured from his own kitchen. Stark returned the favor, the lip of the jug a bare clink against the cup. They tasted the first sip in companionable silence, Jyuushiro letting the flavor wash over his tongue as Stark made a noise of enjoyment. He swallowed, admired the liquor in his cup, and finally turned to Jyuushiro.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
Stark gestured with his cup. “The reason I caught you drinking in your office. By yourself. When most everyone had already gone home.”
“I’m not sure caught is the right word. I wasn’t trying to hide,” Jyuushiro said with a small smile.
“How true.” Stark’s mouth curled with faint amusement. “Still, you weren’t drinking out of celebration.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Jyuushiro let quiet wrap around them for a moment as he savored the sake, mind bobbing through happier times. Times before Aizen and his madness. Times when they’d seemed so carefree but something seethed beneath the surface.
“Didn’t you promise me answers?” he finally asked.
“I did,” Stark agreed, and Jyuushiro watched as he stretched out his long limbs with a faint groan. As though the stress and fatigue of the day had finally made itself known. “You wanted to know why I’d side with Aizen.”
Jyuushiro inclined his head. “And you countered with a vague reference to your Lilinette.”
Stark barely flinched at the sound of her name, though her loss still must strike him deeply. She wasn’t only his companion after all, but a part of him. And though Stark’s reaitsu felt only marginally lessened for her loss, Jyuushiro knew the pain of it hadn’t faded. Not in such a short time.
Taking a deep breath, Stark appeared to focus on his drink. “How much do you know about Hollows? And about their evolution?”
“As much as the next Shinigami I suppose. You’d have to ask a member of Kurotsuchi’s research center for the technical aspects.” Jyuushiro frowned in thought.
Stark nodded slowly, as though more to himself. “In Hueco Mundo, power is everything. The strength to survive. To feed and grow. To exist. Every Hollow in Hueco Mundo seeks power. Unless you’re one of the lucky few who have it all on your own, and even then, it’s not without its drawbacks.”
“Drawbacks?”
“The stronger you are, the less other Hollows can survive in your presence,” Stark explained quietly, taking a long sip of his sake. “Until Aizen came along, Lilinette was the only company I knew.”
Loneliness. It radiated around Stark with a tangible presence. It’d been what drove Stark to Aizen’s side. And now, it’d only been worsened by Lilinette’s loss. The Shinigami weren’t an adequate replacement. They could hardly be called Stark’s allies, much less his friends.
For that revelation, Jyuushiro felt he owed Stark something of equal value in return.
“This sake,” the captain mused, watching the liquid swirl around and around in the cup. “It’s Shunsui’s favorite. Every week, we’d share a bottle and reminisce on old times.”
The wind stirring through the trees highlighted the following moment of silence. Beside him, Stark shifted, knee pressing against Jyuushiro’s own. His shoulder knocking briefly against the older man’s in a companionable motion of comfort.
“When he wakes up, we should all share a bottle,” Stark said thoughtfully and drained his cup dry.
Jyuushiro turned his head to look at the Arrancar, seeing nothing but earnest honesty in Stark’s eyes. He wasn’t just speaking to hear himself talk. Stark meant it. He believed Shunsui would wake up. He actually believed it.
Something surged to life inside of Jyuushiro. Something he thought long buried and abandoned. Something a lot like hope.
Jyuushiro couldn’t be sure what inspired his next action. Maybe it was the sake. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was Stark’s words or his calm presence or the fact that outside of Shunsui’s unchanging condition, Stark was the one constant in Jyuushiro’s life. He was there, and he was handsome, and he was smart, and Jyuushiro wanted to kiss him.
So he did.
He closed the space between them, mouth meeting Stark’s in an awkward, unplanned press of lips that was flavored with sake but tasted oh-so-sweet. Jyuushiro could almost taste Stark’s surprise. He momentarily stilled before returning the kiss, lips moving against Jyuushiro’s mouth. Reiatsu buzzed between them, rippling with a mixture of emotion that went unnamed, and the kiss deepened.
Jyuushiro flicked his tongue against Stark’s lips and quietly requested interest. And Stark’s mouth parted, their tongues meeting. Jyuushiro abandoned his sake cup, letting it clatter to the wooden deck as he lifted a hand, threading fingers through Stark’s unexpectedly soft hair. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him. Perhaps because he subconsciously expected a Hollow to be unattractive in some fashion. With wire for hair and sandpaper for lips and cold, cold skin.
But Stark was none of these things. His hair was smooth, almost silky to the touch. His skin warm beneath the press of Jyuushiro’s fingers. His lips soft and pliant, kissing with an equal if not unforeseen skill. He was so utterly human that a part of Jyuushiro’s mind was baffled. Even as a stronger, warmth-drenched part of him soaked up the taste and touch of Stark.
Jyuushiro hummed low in his throat, pressing closer, wanting to do more than kiss, wanting to just plain feel. He thought by the return of the kiss that Stark would’ve desired much the same.
Until a palm pressed against Jyuushiro’s chest, stopping him from leaning forward. The kiss ended as Jyuushiro’s fingers slipped from tangling in Stark’s hair to wrap around his wrist.
“Are you pushing me away because you don’t want me or because you think it’s the noble thing to do?” Jyuushiro demanded, a slow ache building inside him.
Something flashed in grayish blue eyes. “You’re grieving and not entirely sober, Ukitake-taichou,” Stark said with a slight emphasis on the title and a strain in his voice. As though it took every ounce of his control to do this. “Besides, I feel like I’d be taking advantage of a man who could easily break me in half the next day.”
Jyuushiro chuckled just a bit. Wrapped up in Stark’s honor was a great sense of self-preservation and that amused him.
“I’ve lived for centuries. I’m also in a position of authority, and I’m the one who invited you here.” He leaned in closer, until his breath was a puff of warm air over Stark’s moist lips. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me,” he purred and closed the distance between them, sealing their mouths together.
Stark groaned into the kiss, lips parting and allowing their tongues to touch. Jyuushiro felt his arousal burn hotter as the man’s taste danced on his tongue. Almonds and amaretto. As though Stark lived on coffee rather than tea. And it was mixed with the taste of the expensive, fine sake.
Jyuushiro met no resistance as he urged Stark backward with a palm on the vice-captain’s chest. Stark sprawled across the wooden decking of the veranda, and Jyuushiro blanketed him. Lining their bodies up perfectly as he deepened the kiss, nibbling at Stark’s lips and tongue teasing the inner contours of his mouth.
Jyuushiro lowered his hips, letting their groins come into contact, gratified to find an answering hardness meet his own. Stark was only being noble in his own way then. He did want this, want Jyuushiro, and that realization thrummed through his being. But no more than the realization that he wanted Stark in return. His fingers flexed around the Arrancar’s wrist as he deepened the kiss, trying to drown in Stark’s unique taste.
Another sound of pleasure escaped the Arrancar, and Jyuushiro rolled his hips, a slow and steady motion that made the desire racing through his body sizzle. Stark’s free hand lifted to tangle in the loose strands of Jyuushiro’s hair, an encouraging action. Stark’s reaitsu was a throbbing, balanced pulse against him. It felt of his interest and arousal.
“Do you want me to stop?” Jyuushiro questioned, lips tracing over Stark’s jaw, tongue flicking against the tanned skin.
Stark’s head tilted, granting further access to his bare throat. “It depends.” The vibrations of his voice palpable were against Jyuushiro’s lips. “Will this make it better?”
“I don’t know,” he captain answered honestly, the full bloom of warmth inside of him unexpected but welcome. “Does it work for you?”
“I haven’t tried.” Stark paused, as though considering as a shudder wracked his frame, Jyuushiro’s mouth pressed warm and wet to his throat. “But it might help. Remind me that I’m here. That I’m alive.”
Jyuushiro understood all too well. “That I’m not alone,” he added quietly, fingers flexing around Stark’s wrist before releasing it. He nuzzled the hollow of Stark’s throat, inhaling the unique scent.
“Yes,” the Arrancar agreed, voice barely louder than a whisper. “But regret is a harsh mistress, and sometimes, hurts more than the loneliness.”
“You would regret me?”
Stark’s newly freed hand curled around Jyuushiro’s back, fingers pressing against his spine in a soothing manner. “No. But I’m afraid you’d regret it come morning.”
Lifting his head, Jyuushiro forced Stark to meet his gaze. His free hand moved to the Arrancar’s chin where he stroked over the thin goatee.
“I thought you would know that I’m not that sort of man.”
“Honestly? I don’t really know what kind of man you are,” Stark said in return, and his chin dipped, causing Jyuushiro’s fingers to slide toward his lips. His tongue slipped out to tease, warm and wet. “And frankly, I’m surprised that I have any self-preservation left.”
Blinking, Jyuushiro tried to decipher Stark’s convoluted reasoning. Though it was hard to focus with the teasing way Stark’s tongue flicked across his fingertips.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this your method of refusing?”
Blue eyes flashed in the moonlight, dark with hunger, deep with desire. “No,” he murmured and drew Jyuushiro’s fingers completely into his mouth. Stark sucked on them with obvious, lewd intent.
Jyuushiro’s eyelashes fluttered at the unexpected thrill such a simple act gave him. He licked his own lips, palm flattening on Stark’s chest as he dragged his fingers downward, reaching for the ties to Stark’s shihakushou. Jyuushiro tugged on them, not enough to undo the knot but to let Stark know his intentions.
When no protest was forthcoming, Jyuushiro yanked sharply on the obi and loosened the ties to Stark’s hakama. Stark’s tongue played with Jyuushiro’s fingertips, and his own hand massaged at Jyuushiro’s skull as his other moved to Jyuushiro’s clothed backside.
Neither of them seemed to care that they were still outside. Underneath the bright gaze of the moon with a cool wind teasing at what little skin was exposed bit by bit.
Jyuushiro dragged his fingers from Stark’s mouth with much reluctance and soothed himself by replacing them with his lips. He kissed Stark, fully enjoying the vice-captain’s unique taste, hoping to hear more of those throaty growls in Stark’s throat. They moved together. Bodies rocking and rolling, fingers seeking out ties and undoing them with more dexterity than should’ve been possible from two supposedly tipsy men.
Stark’s obi unraveled. Jyuushiro pushed aside the layers of shitagi, laying his palm against bare, hot skin. Stark shivered. From cold or arousal or both, Jyuushiro wasn’t sure. Nor did he stop to ask, palm moving upward, over a flat abdomen rippled with muscle. And further still, tracing the edges of a Hollow hole.
A low moan rumbled in Stark’s throat flavored the kiss. He arched beneath Jyuushiro, both hands moving to grip the sides of the captain’s haori and drag him down. Their bodies connected, hardened lengths grinding together through the layers of cloth.
Well. That was rather unexpected. And incredibly hot.
On impulse, Jyuushiro strengthened his touch, doing more than lightly gliding his fingers over the edge. Instead, he stroked the oddly smooth flesh, felt the warmth practically radiating from Stark’s skin. His hands mapping the divot that formed the unique aspect of every Arrancar.
Stark’s reaction was immediate and erotic. He arched, breaking away from the kiss with a startled gasp, fingers clenching as he shuddered. Writhing beneath the older man as though something far, far more intimate had been touched. Need shot through Jyuushiro, his own arousal throbbing in his hakama at the erotic sight and sound of Stark so beautiful in his desperation.
Jyuushiro bit back a chuckle, easing up and giving Stark a chance to breathe. Curiosity attacked him, however. If the Hollow hole was so sensitive, what then of the mask? Was it merely bone and decoration?
Jyuushiro licked his lips as he pondered; his mouth lowered before he could stop himself. He exhaled hotly over the white bone and heard Stark mutter something that was certainly a curse, breath hitching. But he didn’t protest or demand that Jyuushiro stop. No, Stark’s actions better resembled encouragement, and Jyuushiro was all too willing to answer.
He first pressed his lips to that expanse of smooth white. Surprised by the warmth, by the flutter against his lips – like a heartbeat. Stark made a sound low in his throat, a cross between a whimper and a groan, and Jyuushiro answered him by sliding his tongue over the angular creases of the mask. Over the jagged tip of each tooth and the smoother expanse of what could best be described as a jawbone. Each swipe was gentle, almost reverent. And Stark responded with honest need, head falling back as he sucked in a breath.
“Ukitake-san,” he gasped, hips churning upward to grind against Jyuushiro, driving the captain’s own desire higher and higher. “If you keep doing that--”
He broke off with another choked breath as Jyuushiro’s tongue drew careful circles.
“Jyuushiro,” he gently corrected. Of all things, Jyuushiro could not stand such formality when he chose to share his bed.
He wanted to hear his name on Stark’s lips. He didn’t want a polite distance. No, he wanted to close the space between them, to feel skin on skin. And he wanted Stark to return the same feeling, to answer Jyuushiro’s desire with equal want of his own.
Stark’s hands tugged on his haori pointedly. “Jyuushiro,” he agreed, the name a breathy moan that made Jyuushiro lengthen within his hakama. “Clothes. Open. Works better that way.”
Jyuushiro couldn’t agree more. He abandoned his erotic teasing and drew back, straddling Stark with knees to either side of the lieutenant’s hip. Jyuushiro caught and held Stark’s gaze as he pulled off his haori and set it to the side, then reaching for his obi and the layers of shitagi.
Desire drenched Stark’s eyes until they were such a dark color they were nearly black, and his hands slid around Jyuushiro’s now bare waist, fingers tracking the faint ridge of ribs. Jyuushiro ate and ate, but he couldn’t gain any weight. But he saw no pity in Stark’s gaze, only open lust and appreciation.
“You’re not protesting anymore,” Jyuushiro said as his hakama sagged.
Stark licked his lips as Jyuushiro wriggled above him. Occasionally grinding down on the erection that strained at the confines of Stark’s hakama.
“I’d be a fool to do so at this point, Jyuushiro,” he said with a husky laugh. “You’re a very desirable man.”
Heat spread through Jyuushiro. Damn but he loved the way Stark said his name. Something about the way the syllables danced across his tongue ignited a fire inside him. And a shiver spread across his skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the breath of nightly wind over his exposed chest. His shitagi still draped his shoulders, providing some warmth.
“The same can be said about you.” His palms returned to Stark’s flat abdomen where his fingers tickled at the divide between the hem of a hakama and bare skin.
Stark dove into the pleated layers of Jyuushiro’s hakama, sneaking around the fundoshi and drawing out his arousal, curling heated fingers around the length. The captain sucked in a breath, rocking forward into the much-needed touch. It felt so good, better than he could’ve expected for such a simple touch.
Pleasure sizzled down Jyuushiro’s spine as Stark stroked him with skilled fingers. It was several moments before he remembered to return the favor, his own hands diving into Stark’s hakama and drawing the rigid flesh into the chilly air. His fingers curled around, palm stroking over the rounded head before sliding in a steady rhythm.
Stark groaned, head falling back against the decking as he licked his lips. “Your hands are soft,” he said, slowly shifting his rhythm until it matched Jyuushiro’s own and they were stroking each other in time.
Jyuushiro’s breath hitched as he leaned forward. Bringing their lengths into contact. Combining their grips until he could feel his own heated flesh pressed against Stark’s own.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he commented in return, focusing on the coiling inside of him, a lazy heat that stirred in his gut. He licked his lips and wanted to taste Stark again.
Judging from the look in Stark’s eyes, he wanted the same. And wasn’t it convenient that Jyuushiro was flexible enough to make it happen?
Jyuushiro leaned forward, trapping their hands and arousals between them, and breathed over Stark’s mouth. The smell of sake drifted between them, but Jyuushiro didn’t mind. Not when lust burned in Stark’s eyes and he closed the space dividing their mouths, sealing his lips over Jyuushiro’s mouth. His tongue pushed eagerly inside, hungrily swiping and claiming every available inch.
Jyuushiro moaned, his fingers squeezing in his combined grip, the steady rhythm of stroking unchanged despite the shift in position. Stark’s hips had taken on a distinct tempo, arching up into the press of Jyuushiro’s fingers as the captain’s own movements had him grinding down. It was sloppy but so damn good that Jyuushiro didn’t care about the mess they were making of their clothes.
Stark kissed as though he were savoring a unique flavor, slow and languorous. His tongue explored Jyuushiro’s mouth as his fingers worked to bring them to completion. The Arrancar dragged his free hand from between their bodies, tangling fingers in strands of white hair. He groaned beneath Jyuushiro as his body surged to meet every rhythmic motion.
Tension coiled in Jyuushiro’s belly, and his restraint was nowhere near where it should’ve been. It’d been too long, too many nights of cold beds with little chance for seeking intimacy. The feel of another’s hand on him was too good, too right. And though Jyuushiro would’ve liked to savor the moment, his body had other plans.
Heat surged through him along with the taste of Stark on his lips and the feel of the man moving fluidly beneath him. Jyuushiro gasped into the sensual kiss as release rippled through him, and he spattered their fingers with liquid warmth. It felt like all of the tension of the past few months, all of the stress and the pain and the long nights staring at the ceiling, drained out of him.
He felt strangely freed and broke away, dropping his mouth to Stark’s throat, hoping to give Stark the same sense of pleasure. Jyuushiro focused on the Arrancar, whose motions were growing more and more frantic. His tongue traced skin before his lips moved lower, tongue stroking over white bone. Some strands of his hair slipped from his shoulders to brush teasingly against Stark’s chest, a few sliding over the sensitive Hollow hole.
Stark muttered something, sucking in a great gust of air as his release slammed through him. He writhed beneath Jyuushiro, spilling over his fingers. Jyuushiro wished in that moment that he’d been sitting back, that he could have watched Stark as orgasm rippled through him. But this was just as good, he supposed, being able to undo the man by mere touch alone.
Jyuushiro rested his forehead on Stark’s bare collarbone, just to the right of the remnants of the mask. He relished in their closeness, in the heat that seemed to radiate from Stark’s body like the gentle warmth of a spring sun. Arms came up around him, hands skating down his back and likely streaking his shitagi with their combined release.
Funny how Jyuushiro didn’t mind.
The comfort of the moment surrounded him, and Jyuushiro luxuriated in it until Stark shifted beneath him. He was most likely a little uncomfortable thanks to the stickiness centered over his groin. Jyuushiro was doing his level best to ignore the same discomfort, but warm release had quickly cooled in the breeze.
“Would it be too forward of me to suggest moving this indoors?” Stark asked, hands smoothing up and down Jyuushiro’s back.
Jyuushiro put some distance between them, enough that he could plant a soft kiss on Stark’s jaw. “Would it be too forward of me to suggest that we share a bath and then my bed?” He wasn’t willing to abandon this comfort, not just yet.
Eyes watched him, straightforward and honest. “Where do you see this going, Jyuushiro?”
Shivers trickled down his spine at Stark’s voice, but he forced himself to focus. “Wherever we want to take it,” Jyuushiro answered, and he nibbled along Stark’s jawline, dragging his lips toward Stark’s mouth and allowing their gazes to meet.
“Good enough for me,” Stark tilted his head to capture Jyuushiro’s lips with his own.
Lust sluggishly rose in Jyuushiro’s body, inspiring him for a second round. He idly wondered if they’d make it to the bed this time, but then, it didn’t really matter. The half-finished bottle of sake was left abandoned, no longer a necessary comfort.
a/n: One last part to go! I admit, their relationship moves a bit quickly, but there's a lot of time skip in here as well. It was meant to be a single one shot after all. Still, I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Aren't they so pretty together? Man, I need a Stark icon. Ahem. Thanks for reading!
Comments are always welcome and appreciated.
