Cat's Cradle

"M, Matsumoto-san!"

The sound of her name, all but shouted like that, makes her purr a little in that way that so amuses Haineko. (No human being could ever purr properly.) But Rangiku can't help it; no one ever calls her that. She even got the dutiful little Hinamori trained, despite her red cheeks: It's Rangiku, Rangiku! Rangiku-san if you absolutely must. But Kira had been less accommodating.

Even like this, he still wouldn't look her in the eye.

Well, Rangiku amended, maybe especially like this.

She dipped her head to brush her lips over his jaw, down, kissing the thick vein in his neck, making him swallow very audibly. He hadn't argued so fiercely when she first caught his hand, tugged him down the halls and out into the streets, across Seireitei to her division. She thought he might have been too red in the face to do more than squeak uncertainly and hide behind her whenever he thought they might be passing someone he knew. And he hadn't argued so fiercely when she led him to this room, pushing the door open with her body still pressed to his, tugging him to her mouth and drawing softly on his warm wet tongue.

He was trying to argue now, that he had realized where they were, which room it was. But it was much, much too late for that.

"We, we really shouldn't--"

Rangiku kissed him and cut off the words she knew he only half-meant. (No man could manage more than half meaning words like that.) But she thought, Kira really had the nicest voice. She hadn't expected it to be quite so low and husky, it should have been shriller with what they were doing here. He sounded a little lost, a little overwhelmed, but not quite frightened. He wasn't that much of a boy.

He let her kiss him for another long moment, sinking into it, his own hands wandering up to cup the back of her head uncertainly, and then she felt him try to take the lead, try to nudge his own tongue into her mouth, so she allowed that. If Kira thought that men were meant to choke women on their tongues and paw at them clumsily, she wouldn't let him leave this office feeling like he hadn't been a man.

For this same reason, she wouldn't ask him if this was his first time, even though she thought it must be.

Younger men had their advantages. Willingness to please was one of them. You just had to put up with a bit of awkward posturing, some very fragile egos. They were worth the coddling, most of the time.

He still wound up flat on his back with her kneeling above him in the end, but he had the illusion that he was there because he had chosen to surrender himself, because he wanted to be, and not because she liked the look of him with his hair out of place and his face flushed, only in the open kosode now and very much bared to her gaze.

Rangiku smiled down at him, and began to strip. His eyes were enormous, and she liked the way he would look down at her breasts, her belly, her thighs, and then quickly back up to her face again, as though he were a peeping tom, somehow molesting her with his eyes in a way she hadn't patently encouraged. He started to reach for her again, like he wanted to take the lead, but this time she was sure he only thought it was expected, and so she caught his hands and kissed his knuckles (he was much too thin), and with one of her own hands she tugged her panties down her legs, over her feet, and wrapped them tight around his wrists.

"Matsumoto-san...?"

She noticed with some amusement that he had stopped protesting, and ducked her head to kiss his knuckles again, to jut her tongue out and lap between his fingers so that he shuddered hard and stared fixedly at her mouth and completely forgot his hesitation. When she began to suck at his skin, he made a wanting little moan, very low in his throat, that she loved.

She didn't really love him, and it occurred to her as she spread her legs to lower herself onto his extremely eager dick that maybe this was wrong. Maybe, with a man like Kira, loving his first was something important to him. But then the tip of him was at her sex, and he cried out, and she shivered, and thinking was much more difficult. They weren't in love, but they liked each other well enough, and there were holes in each of them, holes that needed filling badly right now, even if the filling was only temporary.

All of that, and she was wet, hot, had been for days, beyond frustrated and not quite willing to be so pathetic as to touch herself for relief and risk thinking of him.

Kira was so ready beneath her, he didn't even seem to care about the binding, and he was so sweet, she let herself fall forward just enough to kiss him, her breasts soft against his chest, the kosode rough and scraping her nipples. She felt him jerk beneath her, all at once pushing in, and then she was full, stretching, the slow sweet friction of something much bigger than a finger rubbing at her insides deliciously.

With their position, he didn't have the leverage he needed to fuck her; she had planned it that way deliberately, so that she would have to lift herself up and slide back down and ride him like an animal. It was good, it was good, and she watched his body twist through her lashes, licking her lips because she was making him very loud.

Someone would hear him, someone would wonder...

She didn't care.

He was a man, but still a virgin, and he came quickly, twitching and shaking and gasping as he filled her with more wet heat she couldn't quite feel, and vaguely Rangiku reminded herself to tell him later, when he was more conscious and might worry, that he hadn't gotten her pregnant, that he couldn't, that there were medical arts for guarding against that sort of thing, but now she only watched him, his pleasure and release, and slipped from his softening cock to crawl up his body and sit on his face.

"Well?" she asked him, playful when he forced his unfocused eyes open to stare up at her. "I don't believe in faking orgasm, it gives men all sorts of bad ideas. And you seem like you'd be good with your tongue."

It wasn't entirely a lie; he seemed like he'd be attentive with his tongue. But she knew the rolling heat in her voice and the warmth in her eyes would encourage him, take some of the sting out of this horrible thing that boys-becoming-men always thought had never happened to anyone else before, always felt compelled to explain and excuse and apologize for. Rangiku didn't like apologies or excuses or explanations. She preferred compensation.

And, ahh, there he went, ohhh. She braced her weight on the arms he still held above his head, fingering the silk and elastic that held his hands together, and moaned through her teeth while he worked his tongue in a wonderful little circle, stirring her up and making her toes curl. There was no such thing as doing this badly, as long as you were enthusiastic and had half a brain...

"F, fuck--" Rangiku swallowed something that wouldn't quite have been his name and felt her back arching, yesss. The fucking had been good, could have been better in a way, but this -- this was wonderful, she rocked her hips into his mouth and suggested in a blind, less tactful way, "Use your teeth, just a little, drag and scrape and ahhhh--"

Kira turned out to be quite a fast learner -- although she would admit, he could probably concentrate better now, without her wet heat squeezing his dick -- and she felt it welling up in her, the orgasm building, very quickly. He did hesitate a bit to use his teeth, but when he found her clit and teased it with the tip of his tongue, she came anyway, a rush of hot liquid she was sure he hadn't quite expected, and groaned thinly when he began to lap it up like fucking cream.

They were still like that when the door opened, and she didn't have to look to know who it was. She felt as much as saw Kira turning his head into her arm, as if by not seeing their discoverer, he might be himself unseen, but Rangiku didn't really waste time with silly things like shame.

"Good afternoon, Captain Hitsugaya," she addressed him cheerfully. "I promise I'll clean up the mess."