Tuesdays with Shuuhei

Rangiku sat at her desk, completely and absolutely miserable. The stack of paperwork she’d so skillfully avoided the previous day had grown in her absence. It now qualified as huge, and it currently seemed to mock her as it leaned precariously to the side. She wanted to sigh, but was afraid if she did the whole unstable structure would fall over and then there would be not only paperwork to finish, but a mess to clean up first, on top of that.

She gingerly picked up a piece of paper from the top with the very tips of her fingers as if it were somehow tainted. She felt the sort of sigh only the long suffering made straining to be freed all the way from the depths of her massive chest. It was only by the force of sheer will that she managed to stop it from escaping.

The pile still shuddered alarmingly, as if just thinking about sighing was enough to cause structural instability. She quickly dropped the paper she held to try to stop the calamity in progress. With precise and delicate motions she straightened the stack, and somehow, miraculously, stopped it from slithering off the desk entirely.

Disaster averted, she picked up her brush and sucked it up.

Seven and a half hours later her back ached and her fingers were cramped. The good news was that the mountainous heap of paper had shifted from her inbox to her outbox. The bad news was she couldn’t feel her feet. She tried to stretch out the kinks in her back, but every movement was pure, unadulterated agony. Not to mention, her manicure was a wreck, her fingers ink stained.

And her darling Captain, that deceptively sweet-looking, little half-man, didn’t even notice. All of that work, and not so much as a shrug in acknowledgement from him. As she clambered out of her highly uncomfortable chair, she mentally threw as many uncomplimentary thoughts as she could in her boss’s direction. Slave-driving, growth-impaired, snobby, narrow-minded, sexually frustrated, little boy!

The short walk back to her quarters was excruciating, and further convinced her that paperwork was not only unhealthy, but also the work of pure, unadulterated evil. She ignored the certainty that there would be more of the nasty stuff to finish when she returned to the office in the morning, and instead concentrated on putting one foot elegantly in front of the other till she was safely ensconced in her tidy apartment.

Normally, after a day like that, she would have met the boys for sake after work, but the cramping in the muscles along her spine needed tending before she could even consider it. With none of her customary grace she disrobed, and went through the routine of folding and placing her uniform in the hamper and taking off the silver chain and putting it gently in her jewelry box.

The robe she swirled around herself was an ancient one; blue and soft, worn cotton. It was the kimono she’d purchased with her first paycheck, too many years ago for her to want to remember. The frayed edges and faded color embarrassed her, so she saved its use for those times she was alone and feeling particularly miserable.

Her steps were heavy as she wandered to her back porch to soak in the tub for a while. Technically, she shared the space with her Third Seat, but he was a man, and so, it had been almost too easy to bend him to her will. By the time she’d finished simpering and flirting, he had come up with the grand idea to let her, the fragile, needy woman that she was, have the space all to herself. Ha.

There was a time when she’d not been quite so cynical, but that was so long ago as to have been lost forever in the sands of time.

When steam rose invitingly from the round wooden tub, she’d lit the softly scented candles she enjoyed so much. With that long repressed sigh finally free, she sank into the warm depths of her tub. The tense muscles that had spent the day complaining so vigorously, finally eased as the heat and oils she’d added to the water did their job. She allowed yet another sigh to escape her lips as she resolutely relaxed. Her eye lids slid closed of their accord after a few more moments, and she just couldn’t find the strength to fight it.

~*~

She was so tired, so tense, and the bath she’d taken hadn’t helped. If she could have stomached yet another highly unsatisfying encounter with her hand, she would have just rubbed one out. Releasing some of her sexual frustration in that fashion had helped in the past, but not at all in the week and a half since Gins betrayal and the upcoming war. If she was honest, masturbating hadn’t helped all that much even before those horrifying events, either.

That left going out, getting hammered, as the only option to relieve herself. Sake in great quantities had both a soporific and relaxing effect on her. Perhaps if she got drunk enough, she’d stop thinking about the fact that she hadn’t had a toe-curling orgasm in… she resisted the urge to start counting months on her fingers and toes and rounded up to years. Gods, she wanted to get laid. And not just a ‘Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ type of encounter, but one that would satisfy all her needs.

She might as well have been wishing that Aizen had never existed.

~*~

It didn’t seem to matter how many times she lifted the cup to her lips that night, all she could think of was the distracting speculations of her various companion’s penis sizes. She finally gave up trying to concentrate on less lewd matters, and gave her mind free reign to hypothesize. To imagine she was choosing between these men around her for her next lover.

Shunsui- even with that stupid hat, he was an adorable drunk. Quite a bit older than her, but that just meant she was young compared to him. Not such a bad thing. But he was too flighty, even for her. And hairy. Though, he had an excellent build, and all signs pointed to ‘Big Penis’, she just couldn’t imagine running her fingers through that pelt of hair on his body and being turned on.

Kira- cute, if one went for the self-flagellating type, but she didn’t really like blonds. He had a decent enough body, though a bit on the thin side. He didn’t have much going on in the front of his hakama. Maybe he was a grower, and not a shower. She almost giggled.

Iba- ugh, thought just a bit too much of himself, and he was probably the type to say stuff like “Who’s your daddy?” This time she couldn’t help the snicker that escaped.

She covered it with a cough when the men looked at her, and made the lame excuse that sake had gone the wrong pipe. When their attention strayed away from her, her thoughts returned to the remaining members of their party.

Ikkaku- drool-worthy body, and at times witty, for all his obsession with fighting. And hung like a freaking donkey if the bulge in his hakama was anything to go by.

Then again, Gin had also been well-endowed, but that ass-wipe had barely managed to get the thing hard. Her personal opinion was that he hadn’t had enough blood in his skinny, little body to maintain an erection of that size. Was it irony that he had been blessed with what was probably the biggest prick in the Soul Society, but had barely been able to get hard or stay hard if he managed to get there?

Shaking her head to clear thoughts of her former lover, the traitor, she focused again on the men surrounding her.

Obviously, Ikkaku wouldn’t warrant further consideration, since her thoughts had taken such a disturbing turn just observing him. It really was too bad there was something about Ikkaku that reminded her of Gin- the limp-dicked, the betrayer- because he was one fine specimen of man flesh.

She couldn’t hold back her smirk anymore. So she drank some more as she tried to contain herself.

Her thoughts wandered again as she looked at Yumichika, and as much as she tried to imagine him in bed, all she could see was him pushing her out of the way to get to her collection of lotions and skin exfoliants.

Renji- holy crap, what a body on him. And he was always good for a giggle, though lately he’d been more focused on drinking, and less on having a laugh... He’d changed since the ryoka had invaded, and not in a good way. She considered him for another moment, his bright red hair, wide mouth, strong chin. Something was broken behind those eyes. She recognized it because she saw the same thing every day when she looked in the mirror. What fun would it be to break someone already so broken?

As she slammed another sake, her eyes fell upon the last man at the table. She couldn’t believe she’d missed him in her musings. Shuuhei.

She tried to look away when he glanced up at her, but she couldn’t. The sounds around her, the chattering and jokes, faded to a mute buzz in her ears as the eye contact stretched out and out until she could pick apart the individual colors of his irises.

Shuuhei. Wounded by his captains betrayal, but not broken.

The moment was they shared was interrupted when Iba elbowed Shuuhei in the side and as he finished telling his latest joke. Rangiku was suddenly scared. She stood abruptly, jostling the table in her haste, making cups and bottles rattle. The conversation stopped, and six pairs of eyes swiveled to focus on her.

She let a drunken smile settle on her face as she made her excuses and turned to leave. She was mentally kicking herself for being so incredibly stupid as she started the walk home from the bar. She was just about to give herself a roundhouse kick to the head, when someone grabbed her arm.

She whipped around, and prepared to physically replicate the maneuver she’d been ready to mentally do to herself. She was surprised to see that Shuuhei was the one who was clutching her arm. His grip was almost painful, and the look in his eyes intense. She looked pointedly at his arm, and he removed it as a look of chagrin crossed his face.

She needed to get laid. Drunken logic took over her common sense as she looked at the black-haired man in front of her. The 69 written across his left cheek must have been a sign from the gods. That’s the only thing that could have explained what came out of her mouth, when she’d meant to say something like ‘See you’, and instead said, “You’re coming back to my place.” Not a question, but rather a statement of fact.

He nodded and looked as if he’d expected the offer. Without checking to see if he was following, she shunpo’d to her quarters. She’d just unlatched the door when he appeared, typically soundless, behind her. The thrill that he’d followed her was swiftly tamped down, to be replaced by an unreal sense of entitlement. She deserved this… And she would have it on her own terms.

She smiled sweetly as she invited him in.

She could practically smell the anticipation wafting from him as she gestured to a fluffy floor pillow next to a small table. In short order, she’d lit candles and placed two cups and a bottle of sake on the table she waxed to a bight shine twice a week. His dark eyes reflected the soft light as he watched her gracefully settle on the pillow opposite from him.

Her sleeve fell back to reveal the supple and lithe length of her forearm as she reached across the table to pour his drink. It was gratifying that while his gaze strayed to her bosom, it also lingered on the exposed flesh of her arm. Not just interested in her, admittedly, massive teats then, she concluded.

The hand he wrapped around his cup was large for someone no taller than she, scarred and callused as most of the Shinigami, and also perfectly clean. She looked at his face from under her lashes as she poured her own drink.

She took a dainty sip from her cup despite the urge to just chug the whole bottle in one go. She brushed an errant lock of nearly strawberry blonde hair from her face and as she did calm settled over her.

“Ran, I just wanted to-,” he started say something, but he got no further before she interrupted.

“Matsumoto-sama,” she said quietly, but firmly, unsure why it was so important.

“Huh?” the poor dear made that single syllable sound so confused.

“You’ll call me Matsumoto-sama in my home,” she said, enunciating the words very clearly, as his eyes flew to her face. She took another tiny sip of sake as he watched, and carefully, slowly ran her tongue across her top lip. He flushed as his eyes followed the movement, and she knew she had him precisely where she wanted him.

“Now, what were you going to say, Shuuhei?” she asked, and his eyes narrowed at her use of his first name.

“Uhm, are we… that is, what am I doing here?” he asked as she leaned forward, elbows on the table, tilted face cradled in her left hand as she gave every appearance of hanging on his every word. In fact, she could have given a shit what he said, thinking two or three conversational gambits ahead, as if she were engaged in a verbal chess match.

It appeared unintentional that her right hand caressed the edge of her robe, the tips of her fingers brushing the exquisitely soft skin of her breast. Of course it wasn’t. His eyes followed the motion of her hand avidly. “Why, we’re discussing my nonnegotiable prerequisites, or ground rules, if you will, for a possible liaison,” she said huskily, as she lifted her head and folded her hands primly on the table before her.

“First and foremost, this stays between us. If I hear so much as a breath of a rumor about anything between us, I will personally, and with utmost glee, ruin your reputation among the other ladies. Do you understand? Nod if you do, dear,” she said condescension clear in her words, if not her saccharine tone.

He nodded, though he looked somewhat shell-shocked. She was still smiling when she said, “Secondly, you will heal yourself before you leave my quarters. Third, you will speak only when asked something directly. I don’t like noise. Fourth, and this is very important, you will obey me. I am very particular, and I do not like to be questioned. I think that covers it for now. Are these conditions acceptable to you, Shuuhei?” her voice was like honey, and the bright, hungry gaze she’d pinned him with promised sex.

He nodded slowly. She lowered her gaze, and smiled demurely, as she said, “I’m afraid, this time, I have to hear the words, Shuuhei.”

“Sure, Ran-”

Her gaze was needle sharp, and her tone as frosty as her Captains bankai when she interjected, “What do you call me?”

“Uhm, Matsumoto-sama?” he answered, turning it into a question.

She made a circular, get-on-with-it motion with her hand. “I suppose I agree,” he finally said softly.

“Good,” she stood up and crooked her finger at him as she slowly wandered into her bedroom. She couldn’t believe he’d acquiesced so easily to her demands. Her pulse hammered, and all she could think about was his face between her thighs as he licked her to completion. She hoped he was good at it.

He followed her and wrapped his arms around her as she looked at her perfectly made bed. His lips tickled her throat as he nuzzled her pulse point. It freaked her out. She squirmed out of his hold, and said in a voice that was a bit too breathless for her liking, “Undress, and lay down on the bed.”

He looked nonplussed, but complied readily, stripping down quickly, revealing a body that was lean, but well muscled, a bit pale, but almost mouth-watering in its simple perfection. She was a little disturbed by the messy pile of clothes in the middle of her perfectly neat bedroom, but he wouldn’t be staying all that long, no doubt, so she pushed the compulsion to straighten up away.

He stretched out on her bed as if he belonged there, arms folded behind his head as he watched her from under hooded eyes. Aware that he watched her every movement, she took her time, bending over and displaying her impressive cleavage as she pulled a few hand-wraps from a box under her bed. She tied one on each of the bottom legs, checking to ensure that they were secure with sharp tugs. His eyes had widened to the point of being comical when she crawled to the head of the bed. Perhaps she should have warned him of her particular proclivities, but where was the fun in that?

The third strap was tied on the left leg of her bed, and she had to walk around the bed to secure the last one. In order to fasten his hands, she had to lean her chest perilously close to his face. It was a test, of sorts, to see how he would react. His head swiveled and he stretched his neck to get closer. The instant before his mouth would have made contact with her skin; she flicked his nose as if he were a naughty puppy. “Uh-uh, not yet,” she said with an almost laugh, that hinted at steel.

“What are you doing?” he asked once he’d recovered his voice. With precise movements she pulled his arms out from under his head, and wrapped them together at the wrist with the strap. He squirmed and jerked, asking again what she was doing. She smiled at him as she made her way to back to the foot of her futon. Rangiku sat as she considered the question he’d asked twice. What was she doing? This couldn’t end well.

“Isn’t it obvious, Shuuhei?” she replied lightly, with another of those almost laughs, “I’m tying you up.”

He didn’t fight her as she circled the straps around first one leg then the other. The loops around his appendages weren’t especially tight, and should give him plenty of circulation and a modicum of room to shift and move.

When she was done, she stood to admire her handiwork. He was shifting slightly, obviously trying to find a comfortable position, and it didn’t appear as if he was successful. She was more turned on than she could remember being in years, a dull pounding having settled between her legs, and her nipples having turned to pebbles chafing against the fabric of her uniform.

It would take very little to send her over the edge. She could probably just slip her hand down the front of her uniform and brush her clit with the lightest pressure of her index finger and she’d shudder her completion before she ever even touched him. That, however, would sort of defeat the purpose of bringing Shuuhei back to her place.

It had been a long time since she’d disrobed in front of a man… Gin hadn’t been all that interested in her nudity after the countless times he’d prematurely ejaculated. She didn’t know why she thought of that now, nor was she interested in continuing along that thought path, so she loosened the various ties of her uniform and undressed. As she placed her folded uniform in the hamper, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and saw the dull shine of her silver necklace. She almost lost herself in the unwanted memory of the choke chain, before she focused on the present, the now.

Rangiku jerked the chain over her head and flung it in the general direction of her jewelry box. She turned resolutely to face Shuuhei. He shifted against the ties that bound him in place, and as she looked on that tattooed 69 on his cheek, she made up her mind. She straddled his chest, so she faced his feet. She lifted her ass in the air and inched her way backwards. She glanced over her shoulder as she felt his hot breath wash across her ass and said, “You will lick me, you will suck me, and you will not stop until I say so. Do you understand?”

The sharp edge in her voice surprised even her. It brooked no argument or dissension.

He didn’t answer, just gave a tentative lick against her swollen lips. “You will answer me when I ask you a direct question.”

“Ok, whatever you say, Ran-”

“My name is Matsumoto-sama!” she shouted as she grabbed a patch of sensitive skin on the inside of his inner thigh between her fingernails and twisted viciously. “Now, say ‘Yes, Matsumoto-sama’ and lick my clit firmly,” her voice had quieted in volume, but it had lost none of the command.

He obeyed without thinking, and she sighed as the contact was made. “More,” she said simply. And he complied readily. His tempo increased as she moaned and writhed against him, giving direction here and there; “Suck me,”, “Fuck me with your tongue,” till her thighs shook from the onslaught of unfamiliar pleasure.

Her earlier assertion that she wouldn’t last long was untrue. She lingered on the brink of her orgasm, wanting it, reaching for it almost desperately as she first settled herself more firmly and finally practically rode his face. Then it burst over her with the force of a tsunami. She might have been smothering him under her, but she couldn’t help it or seem to care as she rode the crest of the best orgasm she’d had in years. He licked her still. “Stop,” she whispered, unable to handle more of the sensation.

She fell forward when the almost painful seizing of her muscles finally stopped. Fine tremors still wracked her body, but they were delicious little reminders. She opened her eyes, and looked at the stiff, throbbing length of Shuuhei’s penis in front of her.

Her hair was sticking to her face and neck, and it was pissing her off. She might have considered sucking him off, but her hair would just get in the way as things stood. She gathered her hair behind her head, and knotted it as best she could. She hoped it would be enough to keep it out of her face.

The first swipe of her tongue circled the head of his penis. He moaned. “Be quiet. Don’t make a sound,” she told him as she wrapped her around the base of his cock. She saw a pearl of clear liquid accumulate at the slit on the top, and licked it away. He had an interesting, salty, musky taste. Feeling a bit more confident, she opened her mouth wide, and slid his cock in her mouth. The smell of him, the texture of his skin against her tongue was fantastic.

His hips lifted to meet her mouth, and she stopped moving. She lifted her head, releasing him, “No, don’t move.” She was pleased that he obeyed, and fell to her task again. It was beyond nice to feel him curb need under her ministrations, to know she had commanded his restraint. It didn’t last long, though. His breath was coming in little panting moans and his hips jerked in tiny motions. She could tell he was trying to control himself and she could tell he was about to come.

She raised her head, setting his length free, “You will not come until I give my permission. Do you understand?” She waited for a moment for him to respond. “Answer me, Shuuhei,” she said softly.

“I understand, Matsumoto-sama. How will I know?” His voice was low and his words had a strained quality. It was like the sweetest music to her ears.

“You’ll know.” She licked him slowly, top to bottom, lingering to trace the ridge at the head. Then she took him in her mouth and reveled in her power over him. She sucked him hard, going up and down his cock faster and faster… He shivered, and she felt a moment of pity for him. She hmmm-hmm’ed deep in her throat as she took him as far down her throat as she could without gagging. He came in an instant as she savored every drop of the thick liquid. When the flow finally stopped, she let him go and licked the head like a lollipop, making sure every drop was cleaned.

Rangiku rolled off her bound guest, and considered the still-hard cock so readily available. It was smaller than Gin’s, but it was perfectly erect. She could have wept for the perfection of its shape, the way the veins made a pretty pattern under the velvety looking skin.

It had been too long since she’d been penetrated by anything that hard, not counting her fingers. She mounted him easily, simply throwing her leg over his middle and using one to brace herself on his chest and the other to guide him. He tried to stifle a groan, and she smiled at the incomparable sensation of being filled. He continued moan softly as she pushed down. She didn’t want it, didn’t want his sounds, didn’t want to know if this pleased him. She used her right hand to pinch his nipple mercilessly. “Quiet, Shuuhei.”

He obeyed her.

She lifted her hips slowly. The slide, the friction made her breath catch in her throat. His wince as her nails dug into his flesh only made it better. His eye lids drifted shut, those absurdly long lashes of his brushing his cheeks. She picked up the pace and threaded the fingers of her left hand through his spiky, black hair and pulled his head back.

“Look at me.”

His dark eyes opened, and she felt the tightening deep inside that meant she was, once again, closing in on her climax. She could have cared less about his pleasure at that point. Her motions were jerky; sweat was dripping, splashing him, as she tried to pass the point of no return. Her eyelids fluttered shut, but she forced them open.

He was still looking at her.

She came.

She could feel every hard inch of him inside as the hand in his hair turned into a fist. As her back arched back and she relished the feel of a man inside her, as the first penetratory orgasm she’d had in years broke over her. It felt like she was fracturing into a million tiny, little pieces... Gods, she’d missed that.

Then it was over and she realized she was still perspiring, as well being smelly, sticky and with a rapidly flagging erection slipping out of her. She got up hastily and flung her favorite pink kimono on despite the various bodily excretions covering and dripping from her skin.

It took less time to untie him than it had tying him up. He had angry, red marks on his skin from where she’d pinched him with her nails and where he’d been bound. He stood unsteadily, looking dazed as he picked up his clothes. She had to remind him to heal himself, which he promptly did as soon as she mentioned it.

He tried to kiss her when he stood at her door to go. She pushed him away, but her lips lifted in a small smile.

“Are Tuesdays convenient for you, say, nine thirty?”

~*~

She startled awake for no reason. The bathwater was cold and she was horny again. There were six more nights before their next encounter.

~*~


Chapter title = Eurythmics (don't own/make money from)

Since this chapter was primarily a dream, it was obvs told in Matsumoto's POV, but I expect we'll be hearing more from Shuuhei as the story progresses. It's odd, this is pretty far from my comfort zone writing-wise, but I'm having an strangely good time with these characters.

Thanks to shadowkittea (damn right she couldn't resist that!), Coffee Gyrl (I think the crumbling is what I especially enjoy writing), Kazes (the darned thing jumped up and said TELL ME NOW), brainfear (I so glad you like it- I'm psyched to hear from you over in this fic too!) for their reviews.

As always, a special-shout out and monster hugs to my girl, SexyBleach for her continued and unwavering support.

Review or rate, my pretties. Pretty please, with whipped cream and cherries on top.