Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo, this story belongs to me. The lovely art inspiration is from satsukei of deviantart .com and is not mine.
This was basically inspired by a random comment on livejournal about a certain picture that was being used as an avatar, and it spread from there into some fluffy goodness!
The picture is "Renji Enthralled" by satsukei on Deviantart:
http:/satsukei. deviantart .com /art/Renji-Enthralled-33255046
You might want to look it up or copy/paste the link to have this fic make more sense. (put the humpty dumpty link back together to access it: aka, remove the spaces around ".com" and before "deviantart")
Edit: Ffnet keeps being rude about me putting the link on here. It keeps removing key parts of it when I upload it so it ends up being a 404 or doesn't work at all, so if the link doesn't work, go to deviantart .com and look up "Renji Enthralled", it should pop up. Sorry bout that, but it also won't let me put a picture actually in the text, so. . . yeah. It's inconvenient.
Anyway, on with the story.
Byakuya awoke to warm, bright sunlight streaming across his futon. He groaned at the interference with his sleep, then mentally scolded himself and sat up, waking as he usually did: much earlier than he wanted to. It was unacceptable for the head of the Kuchiki house and Captain of Sixth Squad in the Gotei 13 to sleep in until noon like many of the other, less important shinigami, so Byakuya grudgingly slipped from under his warm covers and stepped to the washroom to freshen up.
After he had dressed and arranged his noble Kenseikan in his hair, he stepped out into the morning air. Other than the fact that it was seven thirty, a half hour later than he normally got up, nothing seemed out of order in his perfect world this morning. Long robes flowing behind him, he strode to the sixth squad offices in his usual composed and emotionless manner, wondering if he could get the paperwork that was bound to be on his desk done before noon, when his fukutaicho, Abarai Renji, would most likely show up for duty. He knew it irked the younger shinigami to find his desk stacked high with paperwork while Byakuya had nothing he needed to do, and Byakuya enjoyed the scowl on the redhead's face as he resignedly settled in to scribble.
"It's nearly a crime!" Yachiru cried to the rest of the Shinigami Women's Association that she was president of.
"What is?" asked Nanao, vice-president, and therefore concerned with this sudden outburst.
"Keeping this private," the president continued, a lecherous grin on her face that didn't suit her very young appearance.
She held up a Polaroid picture, and the rest at the Women's Society leaned in to see what Yachiru was so obsessed with.
The reactions were varied, but all ran along the lines of barely stifled nosebleeds. Out of all the women assembled, only Soifon seemed uninterested in the semi-lit figure outlined in sculpted muscles and tattoos, long red hair spread on white sheets. All assembled, however, recognized the figure. It was finally Rangiku Matsumoto who spoke.
"Is that . . . Abarai Renji?" she asked, her voice quite a bit higher than normal.
"Yep!" Yachiru said, seeming very pleased with the reaction.
"How did you get this picture?" Nanao asked, her voice as composed as it usually was, though her cheeks were pink beneath her glasses.
"Trade secret, but Nemu knows how I got these," Yachiru answered, placing her hand on a stack of papers on the side of her desk. Glancing down, the other women saw a glossy stack of color copies of the Polaroid.
"The Bureau for Technological Development has this amazing machine that will copy pictures as many times as you want. These should be enough to spread all over Seireitei."
"Um . . . may I ask why?" Isane said, blushing fervently.
Yachiru's cute eyes shone above a decidedly evil smile.
"Because, like I said, it's a nearly a crime to keep something like this locked up. It's for the good of Seireitei."
No one contested this from their president, each taking a large stack of copies.
"Start by putting one in all of the paperwork for the Captains and Vice-captains, including your own. That way, no one will know how this got spread out."
Following her instructions, the Shinigami Women's Association broke up for the day, their mission understood.
It was around eleven thirty, and Byakuya was almost finished with all his paperwork for the day. He took the top paper from the last small stack and looked it over. It was a request for sixth squad members to be assigned to missions in the real world. Byakuya thought of several of the lower members that he deemed competent and wrote their names on the paper in his flowing handwriting, his brush graceful and composed. He set the request in the stack of finished papers at the side of his desk and took the next paper from the stack. It was actually two papers, clipped together.
He nearly disregarded it as something his fukutaicho could handle, seeing as the top page read Urgent Information in bright pink letters. He was curious though, so he flipped to the second page, and was unable to hold back a startled gasp at what he saw. A full color photograph of Renji was spread across the page, a photograph Byakuya recognized.
How . . . that's from my private photo collection!
He recognized the lay of the figure, the camera creating a bit of modesty at the lower edge, cutting off the deep black tattoos that Byakuya knew led further down. The firm muscles, outlined by shadow and more tattoo lines, the long red hair spread out across the sheets like a lover's after sex. Yes, it was his photograph, taken a few months ago, while the unknowing Renji had slept.
Byakuya found a blush was heating his cheeks as his eyes followed the lines of the muscles, and he forced his mind back to the situation before him. Someone in Seireitei had taken a photograph from his private collection, and would therefore know that it was his. Someone in Seireitei now knew he had a long-standing attraction to his fukutaicho. Someone in Seireitei wanted to die!
He flipped the paper over, setting it on his desk, trying to control his emotions, to force them under his mask. It was then that he noticed writing on the other side of the picture.
Watch your paperwork next week for more of the same!
This. Would. Not. Happen. Byakuya would make sure of it.
He strode to the door of the office, flinging it open, and nearly colliding with his fukutaicho, who was looking well rested and lazy.
"Eh, taicho," Renji began, drawling the words. Then he met his superior's eyes. Seeing death and fire flashing in the normally cold grey, he nearly jumped back.
"Taicho? What is it?"
The pain Byakuya had been itching to inflict faded away as he stared at his fukutaicho's confused face. The lovely concern knotting his eyebrows, those reddish eyes meeting his. This, after having that photograph thrust in his face, was almost too much for Byakuya. Never had he wanted to kiss those slightly parted lips more, to slide his palm across the soft skin of that cheek and tangled it in that red hair.
"N-nothing, Renji," he said, mortified that he had stuttered. He pushed past his fukutaicho, rekindling the flame in his eyes as he did. That photograph, those semi-lit muscles-he had wanted only his eyes to gaze upon Renji's form. He would find the source of this distribution, and end it by whatever means necessary, before they could further steal this fantasy from him.
"Wait, taicho," Renji called out, his tone and reiatsu still leaking confusion.
Byakuya turned back toward Renji, suddenly reconsidering. He knew how powerful that photograph could be. A vision of hundreds of admirers trying to steal his Renji away after seeing it haunted him. Composing himself, he stepped back toward his fukutaicho, knowing what had to be done.
Before Renji's brow could relax at his taicho responding to him, before he could close his mouth from calling his taicho back, Byakuya struck. Pressing his lips against Renji's, he caught the open mouth with an exploring tongue, not bothering to be patient or soft. His hand found the back of Renji's neck, his fingers the soft hair pulled up in a tail. Renji stood still for a single moment, an unresponsiveness that frightened Byakuya, before reaching his arms around and pulling his taicho against him.
Their tongues battled valiantly, until Byakuya yielded, letting Renji explore his mouth, letting Renji hold him pressed against the muscular form outlined in the photograph. Lost in the impossibility of what was happening, it took Byakuya few minutes to remember where they were: in a public hallway in the sixth squad offices. He stopped the kiss as quickly as he could without outright pulling away, a blush lighting his cheeks.
Before he could utter a word of explanation to Renji, the redhead grabbed his arm and pulled him through the still open door to their shared office. Slamming the door and letting the lock click, Renji held Byakuya against the wood with his body, meeting his mouth once again. When this kiss ended, Renji finally gave Byakuya a moment to catch his breath.
"This'd be 'bout that photo the Shinigami Women's Association let out?" Renji said, smirking at the surprised look on his taicho's face.
Byakuya raised an eyebrow. He'd never thought of his fukutaicho having good perception as one of his better qualities.
"Already found a bunch scattered 'round on my way here," Renji continued, giving a small explanation for his knowledge.
He sighed, still holding Byakuya against the door.
"Next time ya decide ta take dirty pictures of me, taicho, why don't ya make sure I'm really sleeping?"
He cut off Byakuya's sound of surprise with his mouth, eagerly making up for lost time.