Sugar and Spice

Her lips were hot on the side of his neck, silken over the pulse in his throat, and Renji held himself very, very still, only moving to tip his head back a second later when she went to worry at his ear with her teeth.

"Anywhere you're supposed to be?" she asked.

God, her voice was just the barest husk, it shivered over his skin in the most fucking incredible way. She couldn't know what she did to him. Weak, vague, distracted by the buzzing in his ears and the throb between his legs, he shook his head.

"Good."

Renji wouldn't have said he liked strong women. It wasn't a kink of his, not the way he understood these things. He'd never fantasized about anything like this, never jerked off with his fist in his mouth while he imagined being strung up and helpless and touched all over. He wasn't the kind of guy who spilled candle wax on himself and moaned at the burn. If he liked strong women, well. He'd grown up in the worst part of Rukongai, and now he was a Shinigami. Consequently, he didn't really get the part where there was any other kind of woman to like.

A word pulled something tight above him, jerked him half off his feet, and he hissed in startled pain. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the damn binding spell was giving him rope burn, slippery threads of reiatsu cutting off the circulation and making him feel dizzy.

The truth of the matter was that he had no idea why he was letting her do this to him. He wasn't even sure how it had happened, what part of her careful explanation and helpful diagrams had made being tied up and fucked with for the better part of an hour sound like his idea of a good time. And the thing she'd said, leaning forward sweetly to whisper in his ear, about not letting him come until she was good and ready--

It should have scared him off.

But like the fingertips ghosting now over his chest, twisting one nipple just enough to make him shudder like a fucking professional, her little promise had only made him harder.

He'd wanted to ask her where she had even heard about these things. At the very least, he should have wondered where she'd gotten the nipple clamps. Their other times so far had been nothing like this. Stolen, sweet, clumsy like the teenagers they really weren't anymore, and as gentle as he could make himself be when all he really wanted was to last long enough to be deep inside her when he came. Vanilla. As innocent, as boring, as sex ever got. Admittedly, Renji had thought once or twice about trying to spice things up a bit, but this...

Another twist, and he felt his breath catching, felt his eyes rolling back. Felt his whole body responding. His vision was blurred and dark, but he knew her eyes were fixed on his face, bright blue and intent. He wondered what she was thinking, and if--

Fuck, her nails bit into his skin, and the sting a second later said they'd drawn blood.

--if she liked this half as much as he did.

"Ru... Rukia..."

"Not 'Rukia-sama'?" she asked softly, and this, too, he could feel on his skin like a cool breeze. He thought she was joking, but dazed as he was he couldn't be sure, and god just the possibility that she'd meant it made him hot.

She stepped back and paced around behind him, prowling like a tiger to lay her hands on the small of his back. The edge of her sleeves brushed his bare thigh, his ass, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stay silent. Stripping him out of his clothes was the first thing she'd done when she led him here, to this small empty room in his former captain's estate. Somehow he had known without being told that she wasn't planning to get naked with him for quite a while, but the tactile reminder now, when he was already so -- vulnerable, really -- just went straight to his aching dick.

Back there, out of his sight, she could do anything to him.

He swallowed, tight, and was very much aware of the dry throat and senselessly ragged breathing. God, he thought, maybe this was one of his kinks.

"You trust me, right, Renji?"

The fingers of her hand skittered, resting lightly just above the curve of his ass, and then she withdrew them, leaving him to twist there in the middle of the room, hands already bound above his head by threads he couldn't see, and she wanted to know if he trusted her, she planned on doing something else to him. A million different answers sprung to mind, from the awkward and gentle to the bitingly sarcastic. At the very least, he should have asked her if she didn't think this was a little much for their first experimentation. But Renji only wet his lips and nodded again.

He felt her fingers on his shoulders, then the nape of his neck. She reached for his bandana, tugged it free and then deftly tugged it down over his eyes and tied it back into place with a quick knot at the base of his head. Blinding him.

Now he wouldn't be able to see anything she did.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Distracted by his makeshift blindfold, he almost didn't notice her hands pulling on the thin cord that kept his hair bound until it was spilling wildly down his back, tickling his skin and making him itch all over in a completely unrelated way. "Rukia, what the hell--" He liked his hair up, it didn't get in the way when it was up, this was going to drive him crazy.

Then she stuffed the cord into his mouth.

It probably tasted very strongly of hair. It probably should have triggered his gag reflex, the way hair would have. Only he couldn't taste it, couldn't smell or hear or see anything that wasn't her still-clothed body pressing suddenly up against his back, her small wet tongue flickering out to taste what he knew was the edge of the tattoo that ran over his left shoulder blade, her husky voice murmuring, "Don't be such a baby. If you really don't like it, you can always... make a lot of strangled noises and jerk around."

She gave a low, rough chuckle. She had never been the type of girl to giggle.

"'Course, you'll probably end up doing that anyway. But I promise I'll pause and make sure you mean it."

When she wound an arm around him and slid a hand down his belly to tangle in coarse hairs, Renji didn't even try to reply. His tongue was tangled up in cord, and he was pretty sure that only funny, strangled noises would come out of he tried. He... really didn't want to make strangled noises.

He... really didn't want to make her stop.

Rukia wrapped her fingers around him and dragged her palm down his length, once -- twice -- three times. She grinned against his skin, like she approved of the way he twisted into her hand, gasping thinly and trying hard not to make any other noise. By the third stroke, he would have been blind even without the cloth over his eyes, and when she pulled away from him, he twisted into the open air and panted, making his numb hands into such tight fists that he felt a warm trickle of blood from where the nails sliced into his palms.

There was something really perverse about that, even more than the rest of this. Maybe he did like strong women that way, but he was damn sure he didn't like pain--

The sound of rustling fabric.

He perked his ears and listened carefully, held his breath to hear it better. Another rustle, muted, and then the soft noise of cotton falling in a cloth puddle to the floor. She was taking off her clothes. She was getting naked. In spite of himself, he turned his head, forgetting for a moment that he wouldn't be able to see her. She had such beautiful skin, he could almost taste the sweat that beaded on her forehead, her collar bones, her breasts while he fucked her...

She had long-since learned the trick to moving silently, and so he didn't hear her come close to him any more than he had heard her walk away, but this time he did feel the air shift in front of him just before she murmured the words that snapped the threads of reiatsu above his head and let him fall rather gracelessly to his knees. She caught his head with her hands, smoothing them gently over his jaw, and then dragged his head to her smooth firm stomach. It hadn't been a comfortable landing, and he was still recovering from that, still leaning into what was almost a caress, when the scent of her sex hit his nose and made him shudder all over.

God, oh god, she was wet. She was so wet. He could almost taste her on his tongue, the thick liquid, the soft flesh. She would have been open, ready for him, ready for anything, ripe and hot and dripping and he wanted so badly to twist out of her grasp and put his lips on her, suck hard and drain her of her moisture like a man in the fucking desert.

Even then, even dazedly, it occurred to Renji that he was harder now and more desperate for her than he'd ever been. When he finally fucked her -- if she let him fuck her, oh god -- he was going to be an animal, a starving beast, ripping her thighs apart and shoving in and pistoning in and out of her until the friction set them both on fire.

Yeah. They were going to have to do this again sometime.

He felt her fingers in his hair, running through it, petting him like a dog, and when she nudged his head down, gentle but firmly commanding, he obeyed. When she shivered and squeezed his shoulders to keep her balance, tightening around his tongue and moaning as she came, her grip so tight even as she relaxed again that he knew she wanted him to clean up the extra surge of wet, he obeyed her there, too. He didn't move so much as an inch until she pulled hard on his hair and jerked him away from her sweet, sweet sex.

It would have been easy to break the binding spell then. She had already torn it loose from the ceiling, all he had to do was snap the remaining threads around his much-abused wrists.

He didn't even try.

"You're so hard," she said, and her voice wasn't as rough as it had been; the orgasm had softened her some. But there was still something about her tone of voice, something that noticed his erection as if it were a tribute to her, as if his dick were one of her most prized possessions. "You should probably do something about that."

Renji held his breath, waiting, but she didn't say the simple word that would have freed his bound arms completely. When her fingers closed around him again, he cried out, couldn't stop himself. Oh fuck, oh hell, he must have been wet at the tip, leaking little drops of precum. He knew he was throbbing again, every heartbeat felt keenly in his rigid cock, every rush of blood in his veins another futile twitch, and if she withdrew her hand again, he wasn't sure he would be able to control the needy roll of his hips. He would thrust hungrily into nothing, body begging for release.

"Too much?" he heard her say from very, very far away, and almost didn't understand the question in time to shake his head. "Hmm, well. I'd better make sure..."

She reached into his mouth, probing fingers that were somehow violating, and tugged the cord free so fast he very nearly choked.

"No," he told her the instant he could breathe again. "No -- I -- it's not... not too much..."

He thought she might have smiled a little, the way she always smiled right before she did something really mean to him. "You're totally sure?" And she punctuated the question with a tug, firm and sweet and so intensely good that he all but came right there. "Because I can stop, and let you go, if it's too much..." Another tug.

The plaintive groan that slipped out of him was far too much like a mewl for his already-shaky masculinity. "I, uh... No... I'm sure," he added, just to be absolutely clear, and because he was finding it kind of difficult to concentrate on her questions and might have been saying no to the wrong part.

"Oh, okay," she said lightly, squeezing his dick. "That's good to hear."

And then, without warning, she hissed a word that made the binding spell tear into his wrists, made him snarl incoherently with the sudden burst of pain, made him come so hard into and onto her hand that, for the first time in his life, he actually blacked out.

It was more than an hour later when he woke, much to the protests of his body, and rolled over on his side to find that he was still naked, still bound by the fragile tendrils of Rukia's spell, and still blinded by his own bandana. Worst of all, if he remembered right, the clothes he'd worn there would be several feet away, shredded by Sode no Shirayuki's pure white blade.

Rukia, of course, was nowhere to be seen. She'd just left him there, to be discovered by the servants and probably executed on sight as a crazed pervert.

Well, fuck.