Do Words Make a Bit of Difference?

I woke with a scream lodged in my throat, my mouth opened so wide my jaw ached. The only sound I made was the whistle of air trying to rush out of my closed throat. Screaming would have been good, but I wasn’t able to make it audible. I was still propped uncomfortably against the wall. Cold sweat bloomed across skin that felt three sizes too small. I couldn't catch my breath and I couldn't stop shaking.

I was afraid when I looked down that my tattoos would be gone, that I would be back in that hopeless place. That I would be stuck stealing for a living. I saw the jeans and the t-shirt and the black markings on my biceps and nearly sobbed in relief.

I started violently when small hands patted my shoulder and when I looked over I saw Rukia’s huge eyes staring at me as she clutched a bottle of water.

A remembered flash, of blackness and unreal horror, and the meager relief drained away. I shuddered helplessly, still in the grips of the nightmare, even though I was awake. It had seemed so real. That’s what I hate about that dream; it always does that to me. It turns me into a helpless, frightened little boy. Normally, I’m alone so no one is there to see me break apart when I finally surface to reality. This time, my luck failed me.

“Are you OK?” she asked quietly and stroked a sweaty hank of hair from my face.

I couldn’t quite manage to put words together, so I nodded.

“No, you’re not, I can tell. Want to talk about it?” she whispered.

I couldn’t imagine anything worse, so I ignored her. I could still smell the dream, smoke and fear and blood and roasting people. I closed my eyes against it, but then the images flooded the backs of my eye lids and I cried out. I was in pieces in my mind, and I couldn’t put myself back together anymore than I’d been able to put any of the dead crowding my insides back together. My eyes popped open of their own accord, not that it helped much.

I could still see them.

Rukia crawled into my lap and wrapped her arms around me. I tried to push her away, but she held on. “Tell me, Renji. Talk to me, please,” she said.

“It’s nothing Rukia,” I told her and tried again to shift her off me.

“Fine,” she unhooked an arm and ran a hand down the side of my face. I felt the loss of her solidity as soon as she slid from my lap. She settled cross-legged propped against the wall next to me. She leaned her head back, stretching the white column of her neck as she gazed the play of shadows overhead on the ceiling. Dim light from cars driving down the street outside would splash across the ceiling in a sweeping pattern every so often. It had taken me forever to get used to that.

I was scared. I can look back from the distance of time and see that so clearly. I also know that there was no way in hell I would have admitted it then. Which was probably why I opened my mouth in the first place.

“Do you ever have dreams so real you can still feel them on your skin when you wake up, still smell them?” I asked flatly, in a low voice. I didn’t want to admit that I could still see them.

She hummed noncommittally, but her hand reached for mine. Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, making the hairs on my hands and forearms stand at attention. “It’ll be fine,” she told me softly.

I wasn’t so sure. My eyes were wide open, afraid even of letting them blink when she let go of my hand and settled it on my thigh. Just like that, she distracted me from the swirl of death trapped in my head. I remembered my earlier brutality, the completely unforgivable behavior I’d let myself indulge in. I could blame alcohol all I wanted, but I was the problem.

For all my training, for all that I’d accomplished, I was weak, too weak to protect her, even from myself.

The mist in the shadows overhead coalesced, and the eyeless faces of Ai, Takashi and Kenshin glared at me accusingly. I moved her hand off me, but it was too late, I was already hard, and she knew it.

I was defenseless, stuck between darkness and insanity as she somehow managed to pop the button on my suddenly tight jeans. The sound of my zipper being pulled down was loud enough to make my ears ring. I shut my eyes, almost hoping that the grip of the nightmare I endured would tighten its merciless grip on me again, instead of just cradling me with mocking softness.

I heard the rustle of fabric and the soft shifting of skin against tatami mats. Her hands were cool against my flesh as she pulled my cock free. The shock of the wet, sucking heat of her mouth made me grunt loudly.

I was too weak to push her away. I let her tongue me, suck me. My hands found their way into her soft hair and I held on tight as she slid up and down my length. For someone with such a small mouth, she sure could take an awful lot of me. Her teeth scraped gently, but not enough to hurt. I wanted it too, though, the pain. I deserved it.

The blood in my veins burned as she continued. I couldn’t understand why she was doing this. Not after what had happened earlier in the night. I remembered the sound of tearing fabric, the feel of my teeth sinking into her skin. The pop as her flesh yielded and I penetrated it like a savage.

My orgasm came up out of nowhere. It felt like the head of my dick shot clear off, like my balls were squeezed repeatedly in vice grips as I spurted over and over again into her mouth. She surprised me when she swallowed everything I had.

I gently untangled my fingers from her hair when she rested her face on the jeans-clad inside of my thigh. Fine tremors still ran through my body even though her mouth was no longer on me. One thing about getting sucked off is that it pretty much clears all thoughts from your head, even if it is just temporarily. I wondered how she knew.

I sat in a daze until she sat up and settled over me. Would we ever get to do this in a bed? I wondered as another type of wet heat enveloped me. It was hard to reconcile how dispassionately I evaluated the sensation of her around me with how much I loved her. I felt like I was analyzing everything so deeply, that I was somehow missing the wonder of her.

I let her set the pace, since I was so out of it. It was a slow, languid push and pull and I allowed myself eventually to sink back into the game. My hips jerked restlessly as our sighs rose and fell in the darkness, as the precipice approached relentlessly. She swallowed my cries with a well-timed kiss like I had with her before, when we were back in the Soul Society.

She whispered in my ear as I fell asleep; sweet, nonsensical promises to keep the nightmares away. I trusted her and allowed myself to drift off into sleep.


~*~


So my internet crapped out on me before Thanksgiving. My so-called internet service provider sent somebody to fix it, but it worked for less than a day. Bastards. But I guess it freed up time to cook and clean, so that's good. Anyway, they finally sent another guy to fiddle with it today- so here I am. Maybe it's really fixed this time? (crossing fingers and toes)

Anyway, time for thanks(!):
SexyBleach, whose reviews and stories I adore, and makes me try just a little bit harder. You are awesome!

Miss-Asuka: I'm really happy you are enjoying the story so far!

I am back to Pure Reason Revolution for the chapter title. Have I suddenly become the owner of their music, and have I started making gobs of money from it? Nope. Sadly, I haven't. But I figured this chapter is short, the song is short. The lyrics fit. It fits.

I've gabbled on enough... All that's left to say is: REVIEW! For the love of all that's holy, please review. Or rate. Whichever you prefer. They're both wonderful. :)