Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Author natterings: I present the "M" rated portion of my collection of Hitsugaya & Matsumoto pieces. If you aren't familiar with the collection, titled "Ten", don't worry, it's not necessary that you read one to understand the other. (I would appreciate it if you took a look at the rest of the collection, however.) Read on, and I hope you enjoy! Comments and critiques are welcome.


"Close the curtains," he rasped, pinned to the wall by her body weight.

She let out a low giggle, her expression sultry. One hand on his bare upper arm and the other pulling shut the curtains, Matsumoto gave them the privacy they needed. Then she tugged down the rest of his kimono. She pressed an open palm to his warm chest, then moved her fingers over his skin, feeling the twitch of his muscles...

While she did that, he looked to the sash of her hakama. Bothersome thing. It was wrapped around her waist far too many times. He tilted his chin upwards to speak into her ear. "Mind if I cut that?"

She responded by pressing him further into the wall and simultaneously, closer to herself. Her neck ached downwards. She nipped at his ear. "What do you think?"

He tore it in four places, and her hakama fell. With her hakama off, her kimono opened, the expanse of skin from her throat to between her legs exposed. He raised both hands to her shoulders and slid his fingers along her skin, removing the garment. She quivered at his touch. She whispered in his ear. His eyes fluttered closed, and he quivered with her.

His hakama were made short work of with flying, heated hands. He lowered them both slowly to the floor behind the couch, the warmness of lips and fingers here, then there, then there, again. And, God, it felt good...

"Mmm," she hummed, as he paused thoughtfully to kiss and suck at her neck. He had always been very considerate. She arched into him, the tight space between them closing entirely. His hair tickled right beneath her chin, but she just couldn't laugh, not when he was... oh. Oh, dear God.

She arched further backward. If her eyes were open she'd be looking at the ceiling. "Ohhh, taichou," she moaned, her toes curling. How did he--

He covered her mouth with his own, catching her lips expertly. Her open mouth made for a perfect opportunity. But, one thing bothered him... he told her, a flash of seductive command in his voice - "It's Toushirou, Rangiku. No taichou now, hm?" His fingers hovered over that spot.

She breathed deeply. "Mm," she replied, far too distracted by his hot breath to really hear his words. She shifted under his body, hungry for more.

He moved to her jawline, quickly finding the spot that made her bite her tongue.

"Mmmm," she hummed, indeed biting her tongue, but then he did something and she broke off into an astonished pant, eyes opening in surprise. Her hand rose to grip his thigh, somewhat slick with sweat. She squirmed, finding it hard to keep control of herself. If he could feed her this slow torture, surely, she could turn the tables...

"Come on, now," she said, her voice light, bell-like. Devious. Instantly, he knew, but it was inevitable. She had already pressed a hand to his chest again, and tightened her grip around his thigh. She rolled them both, and straddled him. She turned up just one corner of her lips impishly, her eyebrows raised.

He swallowed thickly.

"Nothing to fear, taichou," she said softly, bending down to kiss him, a curtain of golden hair falling to the side of his face.

"Toushirou," he told her, still somehow keeping his air of smug command about him, looking into her eyes. "It's Toushirou."

She only smirked against his cheek. Then she kissed him, again, again, again, leaving a trail down to his collarbone. His palms met her back, her breasts. He pinched her, then, though there was really no need. She growled a little into his chest. In retaliation, her hand trailed downward.

"Augh," he groaned loudly, bucking.

"Hmmmm," she hummed contentedly, holding him down. Then she bent down again, kissing his stomach. Then lower, her tongue firm against the skin between his hip and thigh. Still, her hand worked.

"Auuugh," he groaned, clenching his jaw tightly. This was... too much...

Before she knew it, she found herself beneath him again. He was panting, his eyes heavy-lidded. God, he was fast. She hadn't even seen or heard--

"Nnnrrrgh- ohhhh," she moaned again, moving into his minstrations. Considerate. Oh, yes, was he considerate. She reached for him, grabbed anything she could hold onto. She needed to curl her fingers into something. This was just-- "Taichou. You-- I--"

"Toushirou," he said. His tongue flicked out, and she moaned again. "It's Toushirou."

She was really panting now. Her fingers dug into his back. "Toushir--"


Both (occupied) occupants of the room looked over to the door from their locations on the floor.

Zaraki stood in the doorway, glaring madly at them, ignoring their state of undress and... unseemly positioning. "FUCK! Do you guys know how many fucking times I've banged on the wall? Do you know how fucking loud you guys are? Fuck!" Okay, so everyone was entitled to their own business. But did they have to be so goddamned loud about it?

"Sorry, Zaraki. We'll do our best to quiet down," Hitsugaya said, his voice still throaty.

"All I'm askin' for!" Zaraki exclaimed, then walked out, nearly slamming the shoji screen.

Matsumoto looked at him through their legs. He raised an eyebrow. Then he smirked, and her breath left her again. She smiled back, knowing already--

"Make sure you moan my name really loud," he said, then made for sure that she did.