Handful of Dust
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Bleach › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
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1
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Bleach › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,791
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Handful of Dust
Title: Handful of Dust
Author: Sintari
Warnings: NC-17, Yaoi, D/S, Dark, Psychological
Summary: Renji has come to realize that there isn't a thing in Byakuya's world that is not intrinsically designed to wound. RenjiByakuya.
Handful of Dust
This is how Abarai Renji lives his life.
When Byakuya calls a squad meeting, it's Renji's job to corral the squad and bring the level of conversation down to a dull roar. Only then will Byakuya deign to step out of his quarters and impart to them, in clipped, disinterested tones, whatever information he has seen fit to share with them. Today the squad is as calm as can be expected with winter approaching, but Byakuya still hasn't appeared.
It's also Renji's job to gauge the squad's mood, so he's been eavesdropping. As always, consensus holds that Byakuya is a fair captain, if not a friendly one. It's true that, unlike the captains of the eight or eleventh divisions, he's never seen slumming it down to the pub to knock back a few with his subordinates. But he has proven time and again that, despite his noble birth, he'll promote based on merit rather than who your father happens to be, and he's always scrupulously fair in assignments or punishments.
As he stands at attention waiting for Byakuya, Renji overhears a couple of compliments on his own leadership skills as well, and he squares his shoulders. Aside from all that, the general mood among the squad is expectant. Everyone knows that the arrancar threat will soon come to a head.
Presently, Byakuya's door opens and every tongue stills just before every set of eyes falls to the ground. Renji is no different. There's something about his captain that demands absolute respect. Renji had puzzled over this extensively, why he was always compelled to defer to Kuchiki Byakuya since the day they met, but it wasn't until Ichigo defeated him that he found an answer. Byakuya got respect because he expected it. Renji had never expected anything, and look what he had.
Byakuya stands beside him, so to speak, but far enough away that their fingertips wouldn't touch even if both of them, for some odd reason, decided to spread their arms wide. The nobles, Renji has observed, always seem to preserve a larger than normal radius of personal space, and Byakuya's is even larger than most. Renji has seen him, with a mere arch of his eyebrow, banish a hurrying servant – impertinent enough to dare pass the head of Clan Kuchiki – from a sidewalk down into the mud. And last fall, he had to endure the bitching for a month after he "allowed" Matsumoto to make the tragic mistake of trying to touch his captain's heirloom scarf. It was certainly the first time Renji had ever seen anyone recoil in horror from her touch.
The meeting lasts a little longer than usual. There are preparations to be made, extra orders and assignments. They're working with the other squads to fill in the gaps left by the three absent captains and the Central 46. Unknown to the rest of the squad, several Kuchiki have been tapped for the council, and their sudden proximity has left Byakuya strained. As Renji well knows, familial piety and politics are interchangeable to his captain. And to the rest of his family, it seems. Every time Renji sees two Kuchiki converse in passing about something simple like the weather, he gets the feeling that they're not actually talking about the state of the trade winds at all.
That morning, Byakuya's first cousin had greeted him with a deferential bow. "This sun is pleasant again today, Kuchiki-sama, but one wonders if a sudden west wind will blow a storm in."
Renji noticed Byakuya whitening slightly around his mouth at that seemingly innocuous remark. "One does indeed wonder," his captain had replied politely though noncommittally before hurrying away on imaginary business in the opposite direction.
Hours later, he is still just as tense. Renji can see it even from this distance. In the process of trying to surpass Byakuya, he's memorized his carriage, his carefully blank expression, the way his long fingers encircle his left wrist when his mind is elsewhere. He does that as he dismisses the squad, and that's when Renji is certain Byakuya will ask him to stay behind.
"Come, Renji." This is the first time his captain has acknowledged him since the meeting started, either with a word or a look. The squad is still milling about, but none of them seem to think it unusual for their vice-captain to follow their captain into his private quarters.
They both instinctively glance around the spartan room, checking the bolts on the door and the dark shades on the windows. Then Byakuya graces him with the smallest of nods.
Renji's cock has been straining against his hakama since he heard his name said in Byakuya's toneless voice.
"Strip," Renji growls. Byakuya begins to comply.
If he had it his way, there would be whispering instead of growling at this point. Kissing, maybe. But this is Byakuya's game; Renji may be the key piece, but he's still just a pawn. And the last thing this game is meant to be is amusing.
Byakuya is naked now -- no kimono, no hakama, no haori or kenseikan. He might believe that, stripped of the symbols of his rank, that he could be anybody. But one look at Kuchiki Byakuya, even naked, and it's clear to Renji that he could never be just anybody.
"Kneel in front of me." Even as he says it, he knows Byakuya will welcome the sensation of the tatami scoring his bare knees.
Now he takes his time removing his own uniform, making Byakuya wait and watch.
"Hands behind your head." He is sure to keep an edge of menace in his tone. Byakuya's eyes grow bright, though his expression is still schooled carefully blank. Renji encloses his captain's – no, he's just Byakuya now – encloses Byakuya's wrists in one hand. In a duel, Byakuya could still kill him with ease, but in the bedroom, he allows Renji to restrain him.
Renji's cock, dark with blood, is bobbing in that stoic face, and he sees the telling flush spreading over Byakuya's chest and neck.
"Suck me off."
Without the use of his hands, Byakuya will be clumsy and unable to maintain the rhythm necessary to achieve Renji's orgasm. He'll almost assuredly fail. Outside, in Seireitei, failure brings death. But not in here.
Renji can't stop himself from straining against Byakuya's lips, fucking his mouth until he begins to choke. Even then, the expression on that normally stoic face is as close to bliss as Renji has ever seen.
"Enough," he finally relents. That could be disappointment on Byakuya's face, but he knows better than to try and ask. "You failed, Byakuya." The lack of honorific still gave him pause, even now. "Apologize."
"I am sorry, Renji-sama." For the first time that day, the flat voice is tinged with emotion. The hitch in his breath is an aphrodisiac, making Renji's cock jump. "I'm sorry I couldn't suck you off. I wanted your come on my face."
Renji's grip around Byakuya's wrists tightens involuntarily.
"Then what are you going to do for me?"
"I'll allow you to do anything you want. Fuck me. Hurt me. Humiliate me. I deserve nothing from you, Renji-sama."
"Do you know what I should do?" Byakuya was looking up at him, rapt, his wrists still crossed behind his head. "I should open that door and let them all see you like this. What a whore you are. What you do to me. I should make you finish me and then show all of Seireitei my come on your pretty face." Renji pauses. He's purposefully avoided touching Byakuya's cock, but despite that, the flush on Byakuya's face and neck is spreading and his breath is growing ragged. Not only does Renji have his captain's carriage memorized, but he also knows intimately the slight curve of his cock, the sound of his breath when he's close to climax, and the way that he always, without fail, closes his eyes when he comes.
Byakuya's eyes are half-lidded now.
"You said you'd let me do anything," Renji reminds him, after they've both gained control of themselves. "I should crash one of your captain's meetings. I should fuck you up the ass right there on the table. But I'm feeling generous today, so I'm just going to fuck you on this floor instead."
It doesn't last. It never does. Renji whispers the dirty things that Byakuya needs to hear and Byakuya finds some kind of release.
Renji tried to kiss him once, when this was all new, and Byakuya's erection wilted instantly. He knows now that this is the way it has to be. Renji has come to realize that there isn't a thing in Byakuya's world that is not intrinsically designed to wound.
He dresses afterward, leaving Byakuya lying listless on his futon. The don't speak at all, but if they did, Renji knows he damn well better address his captain as "Kuchiki-taichou" now or he'll spend the winter filing, bankai or no bankai.
This is how Renji will live his life, going about his business until his captain is tense again and in need of release. Until then, Byakuya will always stand carefully far away from him, giving him instructions in precise, clipped tones all the while talking knowingly in weather metaphors with junior clan members.
This is how Abarai Renji will live his life. His captain expects it.
END
Author: Sintari
Warnings: NC-17, Yaoi, D/S, Dark, Psychological
Summary: Renji has come to realize that there isn't a thing in Byakuya's world that is not intrinsically designed to wound. RenjiByakuya.
This is how Abarai Renji lives his life.
When Byakuya calls a squad meeting, it's Renji's job to corral the squad and bring the level of conversation down to a dull roar. Only then will Byakuya deign to step out of his quarters and impart to them, in clipped, disinterested tones, whatever information he has seen fit to share with them. Today the squad is as calm as can be expected with winter approaching, but Byakuya still hasn't appeared.
It's also Renji's job to gauge the squad's mood, so he's been eavesdropping. As always, consensus holds that Byakuya is a fair captain, if not a friendly one. It's true that, unlike the captains of the eight or eleventh divisions, he's never seen slumming it down to the pub to knock back a few with his subordinates. But he has proven time and again that, despite his noble birth, he'll promote based on merit rather than who your father happens to be, and he's always scrupulously fair in assignments or punishments.
As he stands at attention waiting for Byakuya, Renji overhears a couple of compliments on his own leadership skills as well, and he squares his shoulders. Aside from all that, the general mood among the squad is expectant. Everyone knows that the arrancar threat will soon come to a head.
Presently, Byakuya's door opens and every tongue stills just before every set of eyes falls to the ground. Renji is no different. There's something about his captain that demands absolute respect. Renji had puzzled over this extensively, why he was always compelled to defer to Kuchiki Byakuya since the day they met, but it wasn't until Ichigo defeated him that he found an answer. Byakuya got respect because he expected it. Renji had never expected anything, and look what he had.
Byakuya stands beside him, so to speak, but far enough away that their fingertips wouldn't touch even if both of them, for some odd reason, decided to spread their arms wide. The nobles, Renji has observed, always seem to preserve a larger than normal radius of personal space, and Byakuya's is even larger than most. Renji has seen him, with a mere arch of his eyebrow, banish a hurrying servant – impertinent enough to dare pass the head of Clan Kuchiki – from a sidewalk down into the mud. And last fall, he had to endure the bitching for a month after he "allowed" Matsumoto to make the tragic mistake of trying to touch his captain's heirloom scarf. It was certainly the first time Renji had ever seen anyone recoil in horror from her touch.
The meeting lasts a little longer than usual. There are preparations to be made, extra orders and assignments. They're working with the other squads to fill in the gaps left by the three absent captains and the Central 46. Unknown to the rest of the squad, several Kuchiki have been tapped for the council, and their sudden proximity has left Byakuya strained. As Renji well knows, familial piety and politics are interchangeable to his captain. And to the rest of his family, it seems. Every time Renji sees two Kuchiki converse in passing about something simple like the weather, he gets the feeling that they're not actually talking about the state of the trade winds at all.
That morning, Byakuya's first cousin had greeted him with a deferential bow. "This sun is pleasant again today, Kuchiki-sama, but one wonders if a sudden west wind will blow a storm in."
Renji noticed Byakuya whitening slightly around his mouth at that seemingly innocuous remark. "One does indeed wonder," his captain had replied politely though noncommittally before hurrying away on imaginary business in the opposite direction.
Hours later, he is still just as tense. Renji can see it even from this distance. In the process of trying to surpass Byakuya, he's memorized his carriage, his carefully blank expression, the way his long fingers encircle his left wrist when his mind is elsewhere. He does that as he dismisses the squad, and that's when Renji is certain Byakuya will ask him to stay behind.
"Come, Renji." This is the first time his captain has acknowledged him since the meeting started, either with a word or a look. The squad is still milling about, but none of them seem to think it unusual for their vice-captain to follow their captain into his private quarters.
They both instinctively glance around the spartan room, checking the bolts on the door and the dark shades on the windows. Then Byakuya graces him with the smallest of nods.
Renji's cock has been straining against his hakama since he heard his name said in Byakuya's toneless voice.
"Strip," Renji growls. Byakuya begins to comply.
If he had it his way, there would be whispering instead of growling at this point. Kissing, maybe. But this is Byakuya's game; Renji may be the key piece, but he's still just a pawn. And the last thing this game is meant to be is amusing.
Byakuya is naked now -- no kimono, no hakama, no haori or kenseikan. He might believe that, stripped of the symbols of his rank, that he could be anybody. But one look at Kuchiki Byakuya, even naked, and it's clear to Renji that he could never be just anybody.
"Kneel in front of me." Even as he says it, he knows Byakuya will welcome the sensation of the tatami scoring his bare knees.
Now he takes his time removing his own uniform, making Byakuya wait and watch.
"Hands behind your head." He is sure to keep an edge of menace in his tone. Byakuya's eyes grow bright, though his expression is still schooled carefully blank. Renji encloses his captain's – no, he's just Byakuya now – encloses Byakuya's wrists in one hand. In a duel, Byakuya could still kill him with ease, but in the bedroom, he allows Renji to restrain him.
Renji's cock, dark with blood, is bobbing in that stoic face, and he sees the telling flush spreading over Byakuya's chest and neck.
"Suck me off."
Without the use of his hands, Byakuya will be clumsy and unable to maintain the rhythm necessary to achieve Renji's orgasm. He'll almost assuredly fail. Outside, in Seireitei, failure brings death. But not in here.
Renji can't stop himself from straining against Byakuya's lips, fucking his mouth until he begins to choke. Even then, the expression on that normally stoic face is as close to bliss as Renji has ever seen.
"Enough," he finally relents. That could be disappointment on Byakuya's face, but he knows better than to try and ask. "You failed, Byakuya." The lack of honorific still gave him pause, even now. "Apologize."
"I am sorry, Renji-sama." For the first time that day, the flat voice is tinged with emotion. The hitch in his breath is an aphrodisiac, making Renji's cock jump. "I'm sorry I couldn't suck you off. I wanted your come on my face."
Renji's grip around Byakuya's wrists tightens involuntarily.
"Then what are you going to do for me?"
"I'll allow you to do anything you want. Fuck me. Hurt me. Humiliate me. I deserve nothing from you, Renji-sama."
"Do you know what I should do?" Byakuya was looking up at him, rapt, his wrists still crossed behind his head. "I should open that door and let them all see you like this. What a whore you are. What you do to me. I should make you finish me and then show all of Seireitei my come on your pretty face." Renji pauses. He's purposefully avoided touching Byakuya's cock, but despite that, the flush on Byakuya's face and neck is spreading and his breath is growing ragged. Not only does Renji have his captain's carriage memorized, but he also knows intimately the slight curve of his cock, the sound of his breath when he's close to climax, and the way that he always, without fail, closes his eyes when he comes.
Byakuya's eyes are half-lidded now.
"You said you'd let me do anything," Renji reminds him, after they've both gained control of themselves. "I should crash one of your captain's meetings. I should fuck you up the ass right there on the table. But I'm feeling generous today, so I'm just going to fuck you on this floor instead."
It doesn't last. It never does. Renji whispers the dirty things that Byakuya needs to hear and Byakuya finds some kind of release.
Renji tried to kiss him once, when this was all new, and Byakuya's erection wilted instantly. He knows now that this is the way it has to be. Renji has come to realize that there isn't a thing in Byakuya's world that is not intrinsically designed to wound.
He dresses afterward, leaving Byakuya lying listless on his futon. The don't speak at all, but if they did, Renji knows he damn well better address his captain as "Kuchiki-taichou" now or he'll spend the winter filing, bankai or no bankai.
This is how Renji will live his life, going about his business until his captain is tense again and in need of release. Until then, Byakuya will always stand carefully far away from him, giving him instructions in precise, clipped tones all the while talking knowingly in weather metaphors with junior clan members.
This is how Abarai Renji will live his life. His captain expects it.
END