Came up with this on a whim, enjoy. Warning: M/M slash, this is a ONESHOT.


He did it to live; he did it because he needed it, because in the end he always had to have that sense of fulfillment for that one moment in time. When Tousen was there, he helped him, nurtured this feverish desire in him and made sure that he was not ashamed by it as he had been before he'd met him.

The frenzy burned beneath his skin, inwardly making him cringe because Tousen was the same – the same desire filled him – and when he had finally given in and told Tousen how he felt he had told him the same thing filled him.

But Tousen had left, leaving him in this world all alone with this filthy monster growing and flowing through his veins, burning him from the inside out in a molten haze. He couldn't stand it!

Komamura gasped and placed his palm flat on the wall beside him, this ache filling his nether region and causing the blood to flow rapidly in that direction. Why? Why now, of all times, why now? He cried out, almost sobbing in pain, the moonlight piercing the clouds and shining a beam on him, causing him to recoil into the darkness of a tree as the leaves shivered in the breeze.

The wind ran cool fingers through his fur, making him curl up with his knees to his chest, pressing his erection to his abdomen, arms folded on his knees and head pressed down with closed eyes. What point was there anymore?

The soft taking of sandals along the road didn't make him look up at all as the sound flowed by, perhaps just someone out for an evening stroll. He waited for the person to notice him – it wasn't possible for them not to – and for the footsteps to hurry away in some haphazard direction in fear. But contrary to what he thought, the steps stopped, the skid of dirt sounded and the breeze wavered as the figure stood there.

Perhaps they were just standing there in awe, shock, or maybe fear had paralyzed them? No, wait! He knew that spiritual pressure!

Eyes snapping open as the figure neared he was forced to look up into the eye of none other than, "Kenpachi Zaraki," he hissed, standing quickly to tower over the rough looking shinigami.

"Hello to you too," Kenpachi chuckled, sword over his shoulder, loosely gripped in his right hand. His dark hair was no longer up in spikes with jingling bells at every end, instead it was long and flowing down his back, spiked at the top and down, swept off the sides of his face and forehead. His eye patch was also new, more like a cover now, with no straps, just a slip of cloth that covered the eye and loped around to press onto his temple.

"What are you doing here?" Sajin growled, glaring at the bloodthirsty captain.

"What does it look like? Patroling, dog breath," Kenpachi frowned, giving a, "tch," on the end.

"I was doing the same, odd that they would send us on the same route," Sajin growled in irritation, glaring at the other captain.

Kenpachi shrugged, grin making itself known at the left corner of his mouth, "you gunna do something about it?"

"I just might at that," growled the wolf shinigami, still glaring at Zaraki.

That was how it started, a simple bout of words in a street, the dead of night and he wondered – later mind you – if Kenpachi hadn't chose to come find him that night what would have happened. His previous desires forgotten he was led to a large field where he learned later, Kenpachi himself used to spar with his massive amounts of spiritual pressure.

"Your move," the demon grinned, hair wavering in the breeze, the strands of his hair spikes sliding against one another.

Sajin drew his blade, gripping it in both hands as he quickly closed the space between them, clashing blades with the other captain. He was aware that – despite his enormous strength – Kenpachi was stronger than him. Zaraki had held Tousen and himself with a single parry, there was no way – unless he put all his effort into it – that he could break his solid defense.

Not to mention…Kenpachi started slashing away, hacking at Sajin with powerful strikes that left long gashes in the dry earth. He was fast, he may not have Shunpo but the muscles of his legs and arms were so powerful that his movements were blurred; it appeared that he had developed his own strange version of the fast techniques of Shunpo.

"I will not lose to you!" Komamura hissed, bringing his sword down in an arc to the spark of metal on metal, Kenpachi had once again parried the blast but he could see his arm sort of struggling to hold it there…Good.

He at least knew now that he was putting enough effort into it to break the eleventh division captain's skin. Kenpachi was also famous for his very tough skin, somewhat like a suit of armor that he wore all the time, only penetrable by true shinigami.

The wind brought with it the scent of the other captain and Sajin could not help but inhale deeply as Kenpachi slashed at him once again with sharp, precise attacks. The smell both shocked – and to his horror – pleased him, musky with a sort of woodsy scent underneath, with the scent of sweat starting to form on his being it was intensified, filling his very mind.

They exchanged blows for many moments, cuts, gashes, bruises, wounds of every kind finding their way over them as they hacked, slashed, and broke each other's defenses or found their way around them in quick movements. It was never ending and Kenpachi was grinning, laughing sometimes as they made their way through these powerful steps and strides.

As suddenly parted, feet skidding over the dry dirt, stirring dust in every direction they watched the other for many long moments. Sajin couldn't help it, the silent desire tugging at him, forcing him to look at his battle hardened enemy, cut and blood oozing over the lines and muscles of his skin.

Kenpachi was glistening, a strange sort of silver in the moonlight, the blood shining black as it made its way down his muscles, making his clothes stick to him and reveal every contour of his powerful form. His scent was now tainted – embellished – with the iron scent of blood, making Sajin feel that horrid, hard thing against his thigh, begging for the sweet release that could be brought.

Kenpachi either didn't notice or didn't care, charging forward and bringing in another series of sharp attacks. If anything, Komamura's arousal, this coursing need below his skin made him keener, more aware, and far more deadly. The batting spark of swords, this dance that Kenpachi mastered so long ago brought him some sort of peace, some part of himself long ago lost as he dodged and parried just as effectively as Sajin did.

This went on for what felt like ages, blood and sweat splattering the ground as they matched each other, eye for eye, their blades shining silver in the mist the moon brought in beams that cut the night better than any sword. He begged to be brought peace but it didn't come, not till Kenpachi brought him to his knees, then his hands hit the dirt as a pain seared down his abdomen in the form of that hateful desire.

"I knew it," he heard that gruff voice above him, Kenpachi's sword resting on his shoulders once more. "That you two were more than just buddy – buddy." And finally, Komamura realized that there was a wet spot on the front of his pants that must have been obvious to the other captain during their fight.

"Leave me be!" Sajin cried, "Leave me to my shame, damn you monster!"

"Tch, what's to be ashamed of?" Kenpachi asked, frowning slightly, "I don't see what getting off has to do with this…"

"W – What did you just say?" Sajin said; looking up in total shock as the other shinigami looked down at him.

"Tousen was the bitch wasn't he?" Kenpachi asked, noting the snarl that came across Komamura's face "wasn't he?"

Komamura refused to answer, but yes, the smaller man had been the more…Subservient one in the relationship. Kenpachi gathered this and smirked, "'fraid it ain't the same way with me." Zaraki smirked as Sajin looked at him in shock, his eyes wide in confusion as he stared at the shit eating grin that came across the division eleven captains face.

It was going to be a long night…

The Next Day…

Komamura left his division compound in irritation, the desire under his skin – the beast, sated for the time being – was finally gone. Making his way out into the streets he came across a certain shinigami wearing an eye patch, they did not speak to one another, instead walking their own ways…There was a certain understanding…One that came in the night. Monsters and Lovers, both dance by the moonlight.


This is a oneshot, I may do a few more of these two but the tension between them just seemed ideal…R&R please!