At the Feet of the Master

Just a short piece that came out of a drabble I wrote a bit ago. Enjoy.

Renji’s hair was pulled back tightly and not by his usual hair tie. Instead his blood red locks were trapped by thin aristocratic fingers. They were guiding his head (but mostly his mouth) over a similarly slim aristocratic cock.

This was Renji’s usual position under his captain; receiving what was his to receive, giving only his obscured grunts and moans. And pleasure.

But today was a little different. Not just because Renji was moaning around Byakuya’s cock causing shudders through the captain. That was an old trick. But he was going at it in a way that seemed more aggressive than normal.

Renji’s performance today in training was terrible. Byakuya often watched his subordinates in training. He would be a poor captain if he did not take some interest. Indeed it was impossible to ignore the brash redhead, brutal and beautiful as he was and seemingly endlessly passionate.

Not today. He had been sloppy, almost deliberately so. It was like he wanted his captain angry with him. No words had been exchanged between them, but really, none needed to be. Renji would know soon enough what his captain thought. Not to mention the fact that he should know if his own performance was up to snuff or not.

Byakuya was always quiet when they did this; never encouraging or discouraging with more than his hand. Even when Renji’s tongue was rippling along the underside of his cock the way he liked. When had he learned that? This stimulation had been barely satisfactory at the beginning; the tattooed man wouldn’t so much as lick his captain. Now he was deep throating the older man and Byakuya felt his balls tightening as he came to the edge of orgasm.

Lately Renji had taken to palming his own crotch as he performed his daily duty. Yesterday he had been so enthusiastic about it he had reached his completion almost simultaneous with his captain. Byakuya tried to think of himself as uncaring toward the emotional connection this physical action made. As far as he was concerned this was how things had to be and no emotion could change that. But seeing the look of lust and devotion in Renji’s eyes as he kneels is starting to make this cold endeavor hotter.

What happened to the resentful man who had to be forced into this the first time? He had fought the old custom for months until one day he, like so many others before him, broke. But unlike many before him he had always looked fierce and defiant even as he knelt down. It had been months since Byakuya had seen the fire and hate in his subordinates eyes. It made it so much easier to keep his distance when he knew Renji hated what he was doing. When had the fire in his eyes turned from hate to lust?

Byakuya is right where he needs to be. Emotions or no, there was a distinct physical response to this physical activity. He pulled Renji with no small force until his face was a few centimeters away from its former place and came.

Usually when he did this Renji looked shamed, knowing his captain was unhappy with him. Today there was lust in his eyes and he cried out when the first white strands hit his face. There was more than usual, beads of it started rolling down his chin to drop on floor. Renji didn’t stop panting though his flush seemed brighter under its new white addition and his mouth still hung open, though it did little to capture the mess. The moment was forever burned into Byakuya’s mind as the perfect scene of lust.

Byakuya had the overwhelming need to flee, lest he get too invested in this moment. But before he could go his eyes wandered to Renji’s crotch where the hand that had snuck through his many layers of clothing was stilled against a growing damp spot.