Matsumoto smiled and turned away, trying to maintain the illusion that she was sleeping. She had even set an old sake bottle next to her for added effect. She heard him pick it up and drop in the wastebasket, as responsible as ever, and felt the couch shift as he sat down. A hand on her shoulder pulled her back to him, and she focused, hard, on not giving away that she was awake. She had already made sure that no-one would be around for a little while, to give them some privacy.
His hands were in her hair first, (how romantic!) smoothing it out, moving it away from her face. She gave him serious points for that. She took careful care of it, but not one person in the last century had ever complimented her on her hair.
It was always about her breasts. She loved her body, and loved to show it off. But those were the only things men seemed to care about. Except for Hitsugaya, of course. He was probably the only man in all of Soul Society that would actually talk to her face.
He went to her jaw next, before sliding his fingertips down her neck, tracing the muscles under her skin.
So it came as an immense surprise to her when she felt a trembling hand settle on her shoulder all those months ago. Her first thought was that he was going to try to shake her awake. But he hadn't. When the hand had brushed over her cheek, she had smiled in her 'sleep' and imagined opening her eyes, to catch her naughty little captain in the act and see him flounder. She had been fully prepared to release Haineko and lay into him if his hands went any lower, but they didn't. Instead, she'd listened as he stood and staggered away, and she had pretended not know about it when she'd 'awoken' a few minutes later.
Across her collarbone. Going behind her neck, massaging gently. Back to her chest, dipping low before resisting temptation and flattening his palm against her cheek. A thumb brushed against her lips so very gently, and she fought to keep her face neutral, relaxed, and to resist the urge to close her lips around the wandering digit.
He had been so awkward the first time, and had blushed and stammered when she was around for days afterwards. It had been so deliciously cute, and she had teased him mercilessly for it. But she never said anything. After the second time, Matsumoto had realized just how infatuated he was with her…and how much he worked to control it. It was ironic, that a hormone driven young man, giving to stealing touches in her sleep was the one person in Soul Society she could have a decent conversation with. The third time was during two solid months of almost manic hollow activity, and she could tell the strain was taking a serious toll on him. So when the opportunity came as he fell asleep at his desk, and with most of the squad occupied, she had intentionally spread herself out for him, open and inviting, just as he had woken up. The effect on him had been clear.
The hand went lower, and Matsumoto felt the tremble of desire in his hand. It flattened and dug in, refusing to go any farther, literally or figuratively. He had such perfect hands, small and gentle but strong, giving off tiny sparks of cold that danced across her skin, stimulating and never painful. She imagined those hands going lower, just once, just once, and she couldn't resist a shiver at the thought, sighing inwardly as the hand suddenly disappeared.
As expected of her captain. Faking sleep or not, she knew he would never do anything so crude as sticking a hand inside her kimono while she was helpless. The first thing Hitsugaya often did was pull her uniform shut if it was too revealing. Her captain was a perfect gentleman, strong, mature, fair, someone that made her want to push herself to the limit for. She had even peeked in on him in the hot springs once, and spent the rest of the evening with pieces of tissue jammed up her nose to stop the bleeding.
She heard his sigh, the same sound he made after he separated himself form her, heard him sit down and bury himself in his work. She opened one eye to peek at her wonderful, beautiful, honorable, tormented captain, and shifted to give him a better view while he worked. She owed him that much, seeing the way he focused so intently on his work, how stern he had to be with himself, all the things he denied himself because his rank demanded it.
She could make a move on the best damn man in all of Soul Society, if she wanted to. She just wished things weren't so damned complicated.