Mizuki: Through the window, I watched Kyouraku-taichō and Ukitake-taichō as they sat on the step. Ukitake-taichō smiled at something Kyouraku-taichō said before coughing lightly. As Ukitake-taichō's new fukutaichō, believe me when I say that if Urahara could bottle up my paranoia about Ukitake-taichō's health, he could sell it to human politicians. And that was why I was staring out the window and watching their interactions like some sort of voyeur, despite being aware of the fact that my new taichō is a very private person. Kyouraku-taichō smiled and shed his pink kimono and draped it over my taichō, who smiled at him and laughed, even as several strands of his long white hair fell into his eye. Feeling that my taichō's health was no longer at risk and that I should just let the two of them have a few personal moments without me spying on them, I turned back to my paperwork, which was, more accurately, my taichō's paperwork. I had been blessed: Kiyone and Sentarō had tried diligently to keep up with the paperwork until I had been selected, but it seemed that my co-fukataichō, Kutchiki Rukia, was not blessed with my enjoyment of paperwork. Thanks to their efforts, I didn't have a huge backlog –just several sizable stacks. The paperwork kept me at the division a lot –I felt more like a glorified office manager than a fukataichō most of the time. More frequently, I confused my role with that of an administrative assistant, especially since I spent a lot of time alone chasing after anything my taichō might need. My normal duties should have included training with the division, but luckily, I had been able to pass off that task to Rukia. The paperwork was my area of expertise: she could handle the rest of it better. Yet I spent more time watching my taichō than on work, like a high school girl with a crush on her sensei. I'd never been one to listen to idle gossip, but the Seireitei is a bit like a small-town in the fact that every shinigami seemed to live on the blasted gossip. I hadn't been dead long enough to assimilate that habit, but I did pay attention to it at times. Rumor had it that Ukitake-taichō and Kyouraku-taichō were in the middle of a secret long-term romantic fling. I know, I know, but that was the rumor, anyway. In all truth, I knew at least three shinigami that would cry their eyes out if it were true –and trust me, if it were truth, I would have seen some undeniable evidence with all the time I spent at my Division. Then again, I never had put much stock in rumors. If you wanted to believe those, apparently I was having secret trysts with Matsumoto-fukataichō and I only imbibe large amounts of sake when our relationship was on the fritz because I didn't know how to handle the age gap. In all honesty, I can acknowledge that Rangiku is a very attractive woman and if I were interested in women, that would be one thing. But apparently the rumor mill forgot to do their sexuality research. Again. Every rumor has it's origins, of course. For Kyouraku-taichō and Ukitake-taichō, it was their long-term friendship. Like since-we-went-to-the-Academy-together long-term. For Rangiku and myself, I suspected that it might stem from our long nights of drinking together -either that or the fact we were both so busty that we tried to escape our shihakusho. It doesn't help matters that all of the other female shinigamis would come to us for romantic advice. That fact I was at least sure could be partially blamed on the large breasts that apparently would scream "Earth Mother" to anyone who would listen. My eyes were drawn back to the backlog of paperwork. Now really isn't the best time to be thinking about the rumors flying around the Seireitei or staring longingly after your taichō, I chastised myself. With a heavy sigh, I retrieved a stack of fifty forms and a pen before getting to work. Normally, a shinigami that had achieved bankai, as I had, would not have simply taken a position as a co-fukataichō –it would have been more of a matter of working my way up into a position. However, at least two taichōs had steered me toward this position for ulterior motives that had yet to rear their ugly heads. Well, that, or because they wanted to watch me be tortured by being forced to memorize each form and how to fill it out and know the number for each form. I had been extensively prepared for my position as fukataichō for the Thirteenth Division because they wanted a "strong, nurturing shinigami" that could assist Rukia and help run things when the taichō was temporarily out of commission. I questioned how I fit the bill, but I went along with it. "Oi! Shindo-fukataichō," a familiar voice greeted. When I glanced up, I was a bit surprised. I hadn't heard him slip into the office. "Yes, Abarai-fukataichō?" I asked, assuming it was urgent business since the tall male had obviously run here from the Sixth Division. His crimson hair was visibly a little more than damp with sweat. Figuring he was somewhere between 'parched' and 'dying of dehydration', I rose from my seat and motioned for him to take a seat as I poured him a glass of water and handed it to him. He accepted the offering graciously. I knew a few people who would have objected to the way he gulped down half of it before he spoke, but it didn't bother me at all. "What are you still doing in your office, Shindo-fukataichō?" I raised my brow at him. Clearly, this was not a business matter. In fact, I was pretty sure it was the exact opposite of business. Motioning vaguely to the stacks of paperwork, I gave him my reply. "That surplus of paperwork is exactly why I'm still here. Rangiku sent you after me, I take it?" His cheeks turned bright pink. "She asked me to check on you, Shindo-fuka–" "Oh, for goodness sake. Please call me Mizuki," I groaned. "It's really weird to be called that right now, since you were sent here to drag me to the bar." A grin appeared, though the flush remained. "Then call me Renji, since you're supposed to be drinking with me right now." Our conversation would have sounded weird to anyone else, like we invited every person we drank with for a night to call us by our first names. However, Renji, Rangiku, and I had been drinking together for years now, and we already had the intimacy of close friends. But there's something about being in one of the Division rooms that made you want to use an honorific or a title every time you spoke. "Welll… then, give me another half hour, Renji. In half an hour, I'll be sitting right next to you at the bar and drinking way too much sake. In the meantime, I have paperwork." I crinkled my nose at him, like I hated to stay behind and do paperwork –quite a lie, since I actually really enjoy it. I shoved my glasses back up to the bridge of my nose. He raised a brow at me. "There's no way I can get you out of here any earlier?" "Nope. I've gotta catch up on these." I turned my attention back to the form I'd been in the middle of filling out when he had arrived. He stood and walked to the desk, only to touch a curly strand of hair that dangled in front of my ear. "I'll be back in a half hour if you've not gotten there." His fingers slid down the line of my jaw before he left me alone with my forms. Alone in the office for only ten minutes, I found my gaze drifting to the window to rest on my taichō. The setting sun reflected its colors on his long, pale hair. He sat alone, still draped in Kyouraku-taichō's kimono, staring at the sky as if trying to memorize this single moment in time. Taking a deep breath, I ripped my attention away and turned back to the forms, guessing I could get a chunk done in my remaining twenty minutes. Or I could spend the same twenty minutes mooning over my taichō. One of them was a more profitable endeavor. I had lost track of time, but I had made it a quarter of the way through the portion I had separated out before I felt the need to stretch. Rising to my feet, I arched my back until I heard –and felt– a very satisfying crack. My next priority was my abundant breasts, which were now spilling over my shihakusho because I'd spent so long leaning forward. As far as I knew, my taichō was still outside –he enjoyed the summer heat, so it wasn't much of an oddity. Absently, I wondered if I had been this exposed when Renji had slipped in as I tucked my breasts back where they belonged. Apparently, I had impeccable timing: I heard my taichō enter the room just as soon as I'd tucked them away. I spun to face him. The pink kimono was still draped over his shihakusho and his hayori, and I couldn't help but think to myself that it looked better on my taichō than on Kyouraku-taichō. He blinked at me in surprise. "Shindo-fukataichō. Why are you still here?" Gesturing at the piles of paperwork, I smiled in spite of myself. "Well, the paperwork doesn't complete itself, Ukitake-taichō. I won't be here all night –I have to meet Renji-kun and Rangiku-chan in a little bit." He gave me that smile that had always made me think of sunshine. "Are you always so diligent, Shindo-fukataichō?" "No," I answered truthfully. "There are a few moments that I'll let down my hair." My hand instinctively went to the prim bun I wore. He frowned at me. "Why did you choose to take this position?" he asked me. "You already have a bankai. You could do much better for yourself. After all, there are still divisions without a captain at all." He stepped closer to me. If I had just reached out with my hand, I would have touched his chest. I swallowed hard, having expected this question eventually. But his proximity added fear to my apprehension, though if I were perfectly honest, I was feeling more than just those things. "You needed a second fukataichō, since Rukia-chan flounders when it comes to the paperwork," I returned, trying to hide my nerves. "I was willing and able to take the position and the responsibilities that came with it. It isn't any more complicated than that." Swallowing hard, I permitted myself a step backward, still startled by how he affected me even through the heavy veil of fear. "…Shindo-funkataichō," he asked me softly, "why are you so afraid of me?" I shouldn't have been so stunned that he figured me out so quickly. I felt heat rise to crest in my cheeks. "It's… it's not you, Ukitake-taichō. It's more like… anyone who's male." "Yet you're fine with Renji-kun and the entirety of your former division," he remarked. I didn't feel like letting him poke any more holes into the way I saw the world. Besides, my previous choice of division had been so I would force myself to get over it, not that it had worked entirely. "Sake can make you comfortable topless, too, Ukitake-taichō," I returned, my tone wry and my comment meant to end this conversation.
Jūshiro: I was surprised at my strange and sudden urge to blush. I had obviously never anticipated that my new fukataichō would be so forward, mostly because of her mousey appearance and her shyness. When would I ever learn to stop judging the books by their covers? "I have been drinking with Rangiku and Renji for years now. I'm actually surprised we haven't managed to spark more of those infamous, ridiculous rumors. Anyway, when you find out that you hang all over the guy you drink with when you get drunk, it's just good etiquette to talk to him and make sure he's aware that most of what happened was the sake talking through your body. And as for my previous division, the same can also apply." She held herself stiffly, her gaze mostly leveled at the floor. One would have to be blind to not realize she was incredibly uncomfortable around me. Yet for some reason, she'd still taken this position. She could have chosen another division with more female influence, but she hadn't. I opened my mouth to reply to her blunt statements, only to be interrupted by a harsh, body-racking cough. I tried but couldn't control it. The force of the cough nearly doubled me over. The woman who couldn't seem to keep enough distance between us was by my side in an instant. Her hand rubbed my back in an attempt to sooth my discomfort as she gently led me to the chair across from her desk. If I hadn't been in the middle of a coughing fit, I would have been too shocked to stay upright. Was this the same woman had worn the look of cornered pray only mere moments before when I had stepped close enough to touch her? She had professed that her fear was of my gender, yet she now reacted completely unaware of that. She was gentle, efficient, and soothing, like the best practitioners in the medical profession. "Are you alright, Ukitake-taichō?" she inquired as my coughing subsided. With a soft smile, she handed me a hot cup of green tea with a little lemon and a little honey. Not waiting for an answer, she carefully looked over each of my hands before she let me take even a sip of the hot tea. Concern danced in her eyes. "Do I need to send for Unohana-taichō?" "I'm fine," I told her, my throat feeling remarkably better after a few sips of the tea. "There's no need to disturb Unohana-san." She stepped back suddenly, putting a little distance between us, and offered a small shy smile. "I… I apologize. I reacted without thinking." A silence fell between us, and it seemed to put a strain on both of us. However, she was the one to fill it. "I was a doctor when I was human. I guess some instincts and responses won't fade no matter how long I've been dead." Her smile was a little sadder than before and I found myself wanting to make her happier. I couldn't help but wonder why mentioning such things would make her so sad. A warm smile pulled across my lips. "It's fine, Shindo-fukataichō. No harm done. In fact, I think maybe Unohana-san won't have to make nearly as many trips out here." She flushed, and I couldn't help but notice how adorable she looked when she blushed. "A-anyway I can be of assistance, Ukitake-taichō," she responded, bowing to me. "You know, you can call me Jūshiro," I invited her, wondering how my first name would sound with her voice. I wasn't sure if it was a whim or some sort of deeper desire, but I couldn't help but offer her the intimacy of my first name. "O-okay, Jūshiro-taichō. You can call me Mizuki," she offered shyly. I wasn't surprised that she'd taken it that way. She was seriously shy around me, and nothing but time would be able ease her into accepting the intimacy I had offered. I was still a little surprised that I had offered such an intimacy to her, honestly. Yet, she did call me by my first name, and the way it sounded in her lovely voice didn't disappoint. Shoving those thoughts to the back of my mind, I smiled gently at her. "Alright, Mizuki-fukataichō." It might have been just me, but I had a feeling it wasn't. When our eyes met, I had trouble tearing my gaze away from her wide expressive eyes. Instead of looking away, I tried to decided on what color her eyes were: were they more emerald or dark jade? She finally managed to tear her gaze from mine, only to glace at her watch. "Oh! I'd better get going, or Renji will drag me out of here by my hair," she exclaimed, her tone walking a tightrope between wry and amused. She looked at me, a shy smile on her lips and a blush gracing her cheeks with color. Then she reached up and snagged the strands of hair that had fallen in front of my eyes before tucking them behind my ear. Her smile turned sweet an instant before she fled the office and ran out to meet Renji-kun, who'd already come looking for her. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him and wrapped her legs around his waist, since he'd managed to catch her. She smiled and laughed and touched so easily with Renji-kun. I didn't like that I envied him everything he had of her. Yet it was only fair, since he received her smile, her melodic laugh, her proximity. She was so at ease with him that it made me realize just how stiff and formal she was with me. I wanted her to be at ease with me. I wanted to hear her laugh, to receive her hugs and her smiles. I was utterly unprepared for the surge of envy that sung through me. What in the hell is wrong with me? I wondered, trying to remember what I'd been doing before I realized she was still here. It was a failure. All I could remember was how empty the rooms felt when she wasn't in them.
Mizuki: Ranguku would wait all day for that first hug. She'd told me so once while under the influence of a truly impressive amount of sake. Since then, I always tried to make that first hug count since I knew how much she waited for it. "How goes the unrequited love?" she asked into the curve of my ear, trying to by-pass having the fight the volume in the bar. "Not so great," I returned quietly, smiling wryly. Her answering smile was very sad. Hundreds of women in the Seretei would come to us on a weekly basis, all of them desperate for romantic advice. As such, it was horribly ironic that both of us were stuck on long-term unrequited loves. As fate would have it, we both ended up working under them: Rangiku under Hitsugaya-taichō and me under Jūshiro-taichō. After all, there had to be a reason we always drank together after the workday, and sadly, it wasn't the taste of the sake –unfortunately, what we drank bore the taste of a cheaper variety than it was. Any other shinigami we could have chosen would have thrown himself at our feet to have the opportunity to warm our beds, but I supposed it was human nature that made us both crave the unattainable. Renji eyed me critically. "You look exhausted, Mi-chan," he observed, reaching over to rub his thumb against the shadows beneath my eyes. I couldn't help but smile at the tenderness in his tone and in his touch. "Gee, Ren, you sure know how to boost a girl's self-esteem," I teased him, poking his arm. Rangiku handed me a cup of sake. "Have a drink. Maybe you'll feel better." "We can dream," I intoned, but still took it gratefully. She poured another cup and handed it to Renji. Grimly, we all clinked our cups together and downed it. The first few rounds were always this way. Then one of us got utterly smashed and it became the amusement of the other two. On rare occasions, all three of us got plastered and became the bar-room entertainment. When we drained the first bottle, Renji was the one to go after the new bottle. Rangiku leaned it, taking advantage of the brief moments before Renji would return and the drinking would continue. "What took you so long today, Mi-chan?" she asked, her eyes bright and dancing with curiosity. "Ah, Jūshiro-taichō. He had a coughing fit that was a bit worrisome for the moment. He's fine," I assured her as her eyes gained a worried haze. "It was only worrisome in the moment." Still, as one of the first shinigami I had met when I died 70 years ago, Rangiku knew me very, very well. "That's new –you calling him that, I mean. Did he ask you to, Mi-Mi?" she asked, forsaking the honorific in favor of her favored nickname for me when I was 'being completely adorable'. As predictable as the moonrise, my face grew hot and I knew without any doubt I was blushing uncontrollably. "A-actually, he asked me to call him 'Jūshiro', but I… I'm just not ready to have that level of intimacy with him, so I pretended to misunderstand what he meant." She cocked her head at me. "How long have you been one of his fukataichōs now?" "Uh, a month, maybe? Long enough that I've made a good dent in the backed-up paperwork but not long enough to have cleared it all out." I shrugged. "Has it really been so short a time? It feels like you've been his for years now." I tried hard not to blush at that statement, considering how long I'd been so drawn to my taichō. Unfortunately, with my complexion, I was pretty sure I'd blushed anyway. Normally, Rangiku would have teased me relentlessly for such a reaction. Instead, she sighed heavily. "You're doing much better than I am, then. Hitsugaya-taichō still won't let me call him by his first name, nor will he call me by mine, and I've been his fukataichō for a few decades now…" It was hard to conceal my wince. Toshiro called me 'Mi-chan', just like almost everyone else. It had to hurt to see the man you love speak so intimately to your friend but maintain such a cool distance from you. I hoped that it resulted from a desire to keep their relationship in the office as business-like as possible, because it was sad to see how much that one thing hurt Rangiku. A melancholy silence fell between the pair of us and lasted until Renji returned with the new bottle of sake. Her dejection seemed to dissipate like steam and her normal chipper attitude returned. Yet I couldn't seem to forget that moment that she seemed so close to despair in the light of my 'achievement'. So when Renji poured the next round, I downed it quickly, trying to drown out the pain I felt too much of from her with the sake she loved to imbibe.
Mizuki: It took a while, but I did get thoroughly drunk. It was funny: when I was trying to forget something, I hated my past experience with drinking in Division 11. Normally, the fact that I survived in Zaraki-taichō's squad without so much as a scratch –though, there were some pretty embarrassing photos from some of the drinking parties that Yumichika had insisted on sending to Kyouraku-taichō when I became a fukataichō– was a huge point of pride, especially since I was one person that could not be cowed by my former taichō's spiritual pressure. But whenever I drank, I regretted my time there. As a fresh recruit, I'd been an incredible lightweight; when I left, I could drink Ikkaku under the table. I knew I was finally drunk enough to forget what I wished to forget the moment I slipped into Renji's lap, my thighs framing his hips, and nuzzled against his neck. Rangiku, in her inebriated state, was extremely amused, if her loud wolf-whistles and cat-calls where any way to judge. Luckily, Renji was either blessed with a higher alcohol tolerance or he was further from our particular level of intoxication. He took my action as a flashing neon sign that screamed, 'Get Mizuki back to her quarters before she does this to someone else'. So he pushed back from the table and effortlessly lifted me as he stood. I locked my legs around his waist, moving against his hips until I could feel him stirring against me. I really have no idea what possessed me to kiss him like I wanted to devour his essence until there was nothing left of him –let alone, kiss him like that in front of everyone in the bar! But he was so sweet and he tasted so good that I couldn't help myself, somehow. He kissed me back readily enough, though, even as he navigated from the table toward the door. The walk to my quarters in the barracks was halting and awkward at best. I clung to his chest, my legs still circling his waist, the entire way back, all the while either kissing him or raining kisses on all the available skin I could reach. When I nibbled on his neck, he nearly dropped me. "Oi! Mi-chan!" he yelped, barely managing to balance me and pull away at the same time. By some miracle, he managed to maneuver me into the Thirteenth Division barracks, into my room, and onto my bed. More miraculous still, he managed to persuade me to unwrap my legs from around his waist. When he leaned in to press a goodnight kiss to my forehead, however, I intervened. And by "intervened", I mean that I framed his face with my hands and guided his lips to mine once more. He was so startled that he completely froze in place, and I allowed myself a small, husky chuckle. Sliding my arms around his neck, I pulled him down over me. "Stay with me, Ren," I implored him. "Mi-Mi, you'll regret it tomorrow. I know you. You will." He tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let him. I had been alone for so long. No one had touched me in the 70 years since I'd come to live in the Seretei, and for much of the time before that. Most of the time, that was more than just okay: it was encouraged. Tonight, however, I just wanted to feel wanted, loved, cherished. My one night of weakness. And I couldn't think of anyone better suited to the task than Abarai Renji, one of my dearest friends. He would understand that I couldn't make him promises, that if I did I wouldn't be able to keep them. He saw so much, felt so much, knew so much about me. Something told me he would understand. I gazed into his russet eyes. "Please, Ren. Just stay with me. Hold me. Let me feel something, for once." My tone was earnest, pleading with him to make me something better than I normally was on any given night. Watching it war in his eyes was difficult. I knew he wanted me –at least on a physical level– because I'd felt it against me. I knew that he needed a night like this as much as I did. Renji had been so long without being touched that it made my years feel paltry in comparison. But I wouldn't make him. I wouldn't cajole or seduce him into this, because I would hate myself for taking such advantage of my friend. I knew when he decided. He reached out and caressed from my cheek to my neck and I moved to achieve more of the contact. "We've both been alone too long," he murmured before bring his lips to mine of his own accord. His intensity was almost terrifying to me, but I reminded myself who this was. This was not that man. This was Renji, and I doubted that a gentler soul would ever walk upon the Earth. I kept my eyes open, a constant visual reminder that I trusted Renji and had practically begged for this. When I tilted my head slightly, improving the contact, his tongue snuck out to taste the seam of my closed lips. Willingly, I opened to him, sliding my tongue against his. My trembling hands made their down to untie his obi and let his shihakusho open so that I could trace his muscled chest, dance my fingertips along the zig-zagging tribal tattoos. His skin felt so soft under my calloused fingertips and I couldn't get enough of it. Yet I was quickly distracted by the crimson mane that I'd always wanted to touch. My hands quickly removed his hair tie and his headband, letting them fall wherever they would as I buried my hands in his silky hair. He immediately reciprocated the action, removing my hair tie and unwinding the prim bun that I usually sported. His fingers carded through the long strands gently. Looking up at him, I could read the tenderness in his eyes. I brought my lips back to his in a hungry desperate kiss, needy as I was for more of what he offered me. One of his arms wrapped securely around me while his other hand stayed buried in my hair. With a smile, I eased us into a reversal of positions: I sat atop his hips, looking down at the beautiful man pinned beneath me, panting with want. From what I could tell, he really didn't mind this change very much at all. I kissed his lips briefly before a soft smile took my lips. "You're so beautiful, Ren. So beautiful," I marveled. His face flushed bright red even before I moved to pay attention to the strong column of his neck. I rained kisses on his skin, covering every inch I could find. Nipping lightly at his adam's apple brought forth a low groan that I felt to my bones. Suckling on his pulse point had him arching his back for more contact. Parting his gaping garment even further, I measured his chest in kisses. Flat male nipples caught my attention, and I wondered if he was anywhere near as sensitive there as I was. Curiosity peaked, I tasted the skin around them first, circling closer and closer and closer until my tongue rested atop the now straining nipple. When I covered it with my mouth and began to suck on it, a rumbling noise echoed through his chest. "Mi-Mi," he moaned out when my teeth scraped the tender skin. His reactions made me feel powerful. As his reward for giving me that sensation, I turned my attention to his other nipple and repeated the cycle. When he was wriggling against me, his hips shallowly thrusting against my own and stirring sensations I hadn't felt in so long, I released my own moan, noting absently to myself that it was lower and throatier that I had expected it to be. His response to my moan was to untie my obi, allowing my shihakusho to fall open and frame my sides. Warm sword-calloused hands eased the garment off of my shoulders and down my arms. I shifted backwards, a bit embarrassed and fighting the urge to try to cover my breasts with my hands. Even so, startled russet eyes took in everything: what I was wearing and I was I wasn't. He sat up and pulled me forward: into his lap and straddling him as I had earlier this evening. Now it was his turn to drive me wild, and he took the task very seriously. His lips came back to mine as though linked and pulled together by strings. I kissed him back, giving just as good as I got even as my hands worked to fully disrobe my companion. When I achieved my success, his lips moved to trace my jaw-line. Sharp teeth nipped at my earlobe and a squeak slipped past my lips. I felt the evidence of his smile as he attended my neck with the same gentle, sensual persistence. When he sucked on my pulse point, my hips ground against his, our sexes separated only by a very thin barrier. By the time he reached my collarbone, my chest heaved with exertion and need that had escaped my own careful control. Ever so gently, he cradled the heavy weight of my breast in his hand before flicking his tongue out against the already straining nipple. A wanton moan tore out of the back of my throat. When he suckled upon my nipple, all I could hear were the soft, keening noises that poured past my lips as I continued to shift my hips against his. It was the sweetest torment imaginable for both of us. "Mi-Mi… Gods, you're going to kill me, Mi-Mi!" he gasped out when he took his attention away from my breast. I was about to make a noise of protest when his mouth came to torment my other breast. When he latched onto me and nipped at me, my head fell back as I cried out. "Ren-ji!" "So gorgeous. Just like that," he murmured against my skin, glorying in my reactions, just as I had in his. My hips continued to undulate against his. I was thoroughly aware of how my own arousal fed my desperation, how his arousal fed mine. If I kept shifting like this, I knew it would lead to release, especially feeling this as much as I was. Yet I was utterly and profoundly unprepared when he pressed a kiss to the tender skin in the valley between my breasts as his fingers slid tauntingly against the only barrier that remained between us: my underwear. The moan summoned by his attentions was louder still than any that preceded it. When one of those long, taunting fingers slid under the edge of the garment to caress the skin, I cried out again, thrusting my hips toward his hand. He groaned, fumbling hands easing the remaining garment down my thighs so that he could have better access to what he sought. When he caressed the bare flesh, he found me wanting and damp with it. Yet he teased me even further, even though I could feel the pleasure twisting and compounding in my stomach. A taunting finger slid against the slick flesh with deliberation and I wanted to growl. When that same taunting finger slipped inside of me, my body shattered around him and I came with a loud cry of ecstasy. He looked a bit stunned and awed as I gave way to pleasure. When the tides of the orgasm had eased, I wrapped my hand firmly around the flesh I had been riding so desperately, glorying in the fact I knew I was the one who had aroused him so far that he was already leaking pre-come. His gasp was sweet and I wanted to hear more of his sounds. I moved my hand around him, stroking and pulling him. Sometimes my pace eased, sometimes it increased. All I was doing was prolonging his pleasurable agony, I knew, but I liked knowing that I could bring a man to such a state. "Mi-Mi…" he whimpered. "Please, Mi-Mi." I allowed my pace to increase, my sword-roughed hands sliding around what had to be the softest part of this man, twisting sensually. When he came, he was breath-taking. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, sweat clinging to the soft crimson strands and to the toned muscular body, his chest heaving with exertion, his russet eyes wide and a cry on his lips. The warmth of his come splattered across my stomach didn't even bother me because I got to see him this way. I stroked his strong arms and kissed his chest as he came back from his euphoria. Renji wore the cutest blush I'd ever seen when he realized he'd come all over my stomach, but I kissed his lips softly, gently. Pulling back, I gave him a bit of a coy smile. "That was… intense," he panted, still winding down a bit. "Hm, I presume that could be one word for it." I smiled at him and reached for the handkerchief I kept beside my bed. I wiped away the most damning evidence of our union and pulled him down to lay beside me. "Stay?" I asked, not having the strength to be alone after that. He kissed my lips and curled his body around mine, signaling without a word that he would stay. I closed my eyes and laid my head against his chest. My strength was usually over-rated, anyway.