I don't own anything but my ideas.
WARNING! Very mature content! Not for kitties! You have been warned!
There Will Be A Next Time
More pain than I thought I could live with, but somehow, I did.
He was the most high-and-mighty, holier-than-thou, self-righteous man I had ever had the privilege to meet, if you want to call it a privilege.
But then, who was I to complain? I was just Rukia's best friend. Just Rukia's dumb-fuck, screw-up of a best friend. It wasn't like knowing her from off the streets and growing up with her would give me any guarantee or right to expect anything else, hell, I was lucky to even know the man.
If you want to call it lucky.
We were so much from different worlds; it was sort of a miracle that someone like me even had the privilege to address him by his last name like I knew him, instead of like a business partner. In his world, Gucci suits rain out of the sky, he eats gold plated rice for breakfast, he drives a black Ferrari, he's the most successful lawyer I've ever heard of, and he could literally have anyone he wanted. Any girl he ever wanted in the entire world. He could be like the bad guy in movies and control the police to get some beautiful woman's husband arrested under false charges and then woo her into submission, probably in under an hour. Girls swoon every time they see him. He could have any fucking girl, or guy for that matter, in the universe.
So did he pick why me?
What could he possibly see in a college flunkout because I skipped class so often? I have red hair, and not your normal orange that people just called red, this was actual red-as-a-pomegranate red, and it was down past my shoulders. I was covered in tattoos. The ones on my chest were easy to hide, but the ones on my forehead I didn't even try to cover. I wore my hair in a ponytail as high as any other girl's and wore bands around my forehead. I'd almost dropped out of high school twice. One of my best friends was also tattooed in ridiculous places and my other one had bright orange hair, like as orange as an orange pepper, not even the normal orange that people called red.
Byakuya Kuchiki is also the coldest, harshest, most recluse, independent person I've ever known, if you want to call that a privilege too. He shows anger, coldness, sternness, and the rare shock (though it isn't for long), but I've never seen him smile, or show any warmth what so ever.
So why, why the hell, did I have to fall in love with him of all people?
If I'd wanted cold, I could have turned to Hichi Kurosaki, Ichigo's twin brother, possibly the most brutal, arrogant, disrespectful, and sadistic person I will ever meet. They've considered putting him in an institution more than once, but no matter how dangerous he may seem to others, he never does anything, and he's been so close to Ichigo after their mom's death that their dad doesn't dare separate them. Ichigo always goes to him when he going through a hard time, and somehow he finds comfort, though its beyond even his own family how he is comforted by Hichi. I swear to god, in the right light, the kid's eyes are yellow.
Ichigo was out, and I'm sickened that I even thought of it. He's been with Rukia since they met each other, though they both refuse to admit it.
If I'd wanted someone like me, then Shuuhei is the obvious next turn, but I'd be too scared to lose my best friend.
Why the one person who will never return my feelings?
I'm sitting in the waiting room of the courthouse, like always when he in court winning another case. There's a red mark on my temple from where I fell asleep leaning against the wall, my foot is asleep from lack of movement, my sunglasses have slipped off of my forehead to hide my eyes so people can't see that I'm trying to fall asleep again, my purple jacket and yellow shirt have earned a few odd looks, but nothing I'm not used to from the tattoos, and one of my shoelaces is undone, earning me a few glares just because we're in a goddamn courthouse. Christ, you'd think we were on fucking God's doorstep the way people were acting.
My arm just joined my foot in slumber, and my elbow will quickly follow, but the adrenaline is pulsing through my body like you wouldn't believe. My skin feels like it's on fire, my heart is lurching and spluttering unevenly, my stomach's clenched and unclenched itself so many times I'm actually fighting off the urge to hurl, firecrackers are exploding in my ears, my body's turning more to soup every second I set here, and I feel so pathetic, helpless and dependant it makes me sick.
How can he drive me to this? Every time I think of his name, hear him speak, remember his face, remember the feel of his skin and hair my knees disintegrate and I have to sit down before I fall down.
I was pretending to be asleep so I had a good reason to ignore the stick-up-the-ass receptionist who kept glaring at me because I wasn't in a suit. What I was really doing was thinking and frying my brains while trying to find some reason—scratch that, any reason why Byakuya Kuchiki would choose me. It made absolutely no sense what so ever.
Suddenly the door bangs open and everyone starts filing out into the room, hurrying to get out of the courthouse as fast as possible before Byakuya gets out here and scares the spit out of them all again. They probably all pissed their pants already during the case, including the judge, who seems in a damned odd hurry to get to his car. Damned odd I say. I can't help but smirk as he rushes by.
My heart lurches again and I turn to look up at him, standing up slowly so I don't collapse from the blood rushing to my head out of my legs and feet.
"Kuchiki-san," I nod carefully, making sure the movement isn't enough to embarrass him. He doesn't have to worry, the only one on here with us is the receptionist, the rest have cleared out like cockroaches under a light, and she's too busy ogling at him to even notice that I'm there in my suit-less state anymore, but I make sure anyway.
He stands there for a moment, his normal cold, emotionless face staring into mine (through my sunglasses, I wear them so it tones down the intensity of his eyes and the intensity of my blush following) before turning for the door and walking out. I follow, like always.
The car ride is silent. Utterly silent. Even his car engine is so perfectly created that it doesn't make a single noise during the drive, and the windows and doors were built to block out any outside noise. He hates distractions. I don't even ask if the case went well. I don't have to, I know he won it, and it would just be a bother to him. But unfortunately this time gives me more time to interrogate myself as to why he could possibly want me, why he could have possibly chosen me out of all of the world. It isn't because I know Rukia so well. Byakuya doesn't owe anyone anything, he just doesn't, and he isn't close enough to Rukia to want this just because I grew up with her.
I don't know how he feels about me, but I'd be shocked if he didn't know how I felt about him. I don't do it for money, I don't do it with anyone else, and I never ask for anything in return. It wouldn't make sense to anyone else, but I don't know, maybe because this is the type of person he is I feel it's the only way to stay close to him.
He glides the car into the three-car garage (one for his, one for Rukia's, and one for guests) and cuts the engine just as silently. The noise difference is so little when I was first riding in his car I wasn't even sure if it was off. He steps out, his head high and his posture perfect as he strides to the house, locking the car behind him with the power lock on his key after I'm out and following him to the house.
He punches in the key code and steps inside, slipping his suit jacket off once he's in and heads for his office. This time, I don't follow; I start right up the stairs to the third floor. I would be running if I could because my adrenaline is through the roof, but my knees wouldn't be able to keep me upright if I did, so I force myself to just walk.
The door to his room is open, and I drop my jacket on the desk and slip off my sunglasses, laying them by the purple fabric as I reach for the hem of my shirt and turn around for the bed, and out of nowhere he's there, slamming me back into the wall and slamming his lips against mine, pulling my hair out of the high ponytail. I'd gasped initially from how suddenly he appeared, but now I was biting back moans around our lips, fighting him with my own tongue and frantically wrestling off my shirt from beneath his tight hold on my upper arms and then battling the buttons of his shirt open with my shaking fingers.
I don't know which sounds are from me, they all sound disconnected, but I'm sure most of those yells and moans are mine. His hands wrap around me like iron and crush me against him, pressing my lower abdomen into him as he walks me back toward the bed and I fumble with my belt buckle.
I clamber onto the bed backwards, pulling off my jeans as I go and waiting until he climbs over me before I weave my fingers into his ebony hair and pull him down into another kiss. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, working his hands over my chest and sliding them slowly down across the black tattoos on my torso. I can't even tell what movements I'm making anymore. I'm writhing under his touch, that's all I can register through my haze of bliss.
I rip open his belt and push his pants down with my feet, covering every inch of his chest with my hands, pulling him as close to me as I can, I'm writing and half screaming into the kiss as he runs his hand over me through my boxers.
He slips a hand into my hair as he pushes the back of my boxers down slowly, slipping a finger into me and making me buck under him, our lips still never breaking the desperate contact. It's the cases, after all this time I've finally figured out that the court room is what arouses him this much, for me its just waiting for him, waiting for what comes after the cases.
I wasn't sure when he'd put three fingers in me, but my body was now thrashing on its own as he pressed into me. I didn't think I could wait if we were going to take as long as we normally did.
I push my hand into his boxers and grab him, making him grunt and stroking him with my every ability to control the movements of my hand.
"Please… I don't care," I grind out, "Kuchiki-san, just fuck me…"
He takes pity on me and slips the rest of our clothes off, but not before silencing me with his lips over mine and his tongue in my mouth. He slides his fingers out of me and throws one of my legs over his shoulder, positioning himself at my entrance. I throw my head back and grab the bars of the headboard with both hands, bracing myself. He goes slowly to not hurt me, but we're not using anything else but saliva and he didn't stretch me as much as he normally does. I know it's going to hurt, but the pain is worth it in the end. It always is.
I grit my teeth, and he leans forward, pushing into me. I hiss and clench the bars so tightly I hear the wood pop, threatening to break, as my back arches. He pulls me into another rough kiss, drawing my mind away from the pain as he eases into me with small thrusts, going just a little bit deeper every time. I'm breathing like I'm in fucking labor.
He pauses for a second once he's in, but I erase the pain from my face before he decides to wait any longer and wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist, pulling him into me to encourage him to move.
He's pushing in and out again, slowly at first, but then picking up speed I was almost positive I could match. Someone is yelling and screaming, maybe it's me, I can't tell, I'm too busy drowning in the ecstasy to care how loud I am.
The adrenaline is shooting through me at light speed, clenching up every muscle in my body as his tempo increases, though I didn't think it was possible, and then all at once another scream echoes through the walls of the room and down the stairs from the still open door, and my mind goes blank.
I'm not sure when I returned to my body, but Byakuya is breathing heavily over me, leaning on his hands so he isn't resting his weight on me. I unhook my leg from his shoulder and wrap it around his waist, rolling him to the side gently until he was lying next to me. My hair is in my eyes and splayed across the pillow and my chest is heaving, but I've never felt better in my life. I can't even move my hand to cover my mouth when I yawn.
I fish around for the covers blindly with my eyes closed for a minute before Byakuya pulls them up over us and settles down on the pillow next to me. I can't help but smile at his warmth before I fall into the blankness.
I couldn't explain to save my life why this man had chosen me, but I could do a damn better job at it than I ever could if asked to explain what he did to me, how he made me feel. I could wing why Byakuya would chose me, but couldn't explain what I feel when he's lying next to me to save my life.
A little while later I awaken to the black night sky out the window and his quiet, even breathing. Carefully, unsurely my hand reaches out and strokes gently through his hair, trying not to wake him at any cost. I've long since untangled my feet from his waist during my sleep, and I'm missing the warmth but I don't dare move closer.
I couldn't explain it, but I know I feel it. "I love you, Byakuya Kuchiki," I whisper before letting my hand drop back to my side and my eyes drift close as I fall back into the darkness of sleep.
Byakuya's eyes open slowly. Renji's asleep, his even breathing and motionless is the only thing that can say that. For someone so loud and active during the day, it's amazing how still he can stay when sleeping.
"I love you, Byakuya Kuchiki."
He knows he didn't dream it; he wasn't asleep, though Renji seemed to think he was.
Gingerly, a strong hand lifts from beneath the white covers and threads through Renji's hair, the gorgeous red color, mimicking what Renji had done.
He wont say it, he wont ever say it, but…
His other hand reaches out, sliding under Renji slowly enough not to wake him and wraps around his strong back. The hand in Renji's hair works alongside the one on his back and gradually pulls Renji into his chest. He pulls Renji as close as he can against his chest without hurting him or waking him and winds his fingers through Renji's hair, tucking his head under his chin and listening to the steady breathing in the muscular chest.
No, he would never say it. At least not yet.
He never thought anyone could have broken through his barriers, but somehow Renji had done that.
Maybe the younger, brash, arrogant man could even manage to make him submit enough to say it in return the next time Renji told him he loved him, because he knew there would be a next time. He wouldn't let Renji go.
Short, I know, but what do you think?
On a scale of 1-10, what do you rate it?