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ann89103.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kinkfest2010-03-02 05:49 am
ann89103.livejournal.com) wrote in kinkfest2010-03-02 05:49 am
Need (Bleach, Renji/Shuuhei, R)
Title: Need
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ann89103
Rating: R
Warnings: Frottage, handjobs
Prompt: Renji/Shuuhei: Sex standing up (including against a wall) – heat and hair.
Word count: 1,547
Summary: Sometimes you just can’t wait
A/N: Alternating second-person POV
***
You let him take two steps into your office before slamming the door shut behind him with one hand and pushing him back against the wood paneling with the other. You stand stock-still for a moment, watching his eyes first widen in surprise then fixate boldly upon your own, challenge and desire clear in his brash, direct gaze. It is almost enough to push you into further action, but you hold back - he takes it as a victory if he breaks through your cool, composed demeanor too quickly - and remain unmoving except for your hand still pressed to his chest that moves with every deep, ragged breath he takes.
He taunts you with a lazy grin, a sensuous mouth parting slowly to reveal the sharp white teeth that have marked you as his hundreds of times before. You want to rip his clothing from his body and return the favor but for now you restrain yourself with that iron-clad control he’s cursed you for more than once before. You wait, because you enjoy teasing him in much the same manner; you wait, because you need more from him than an eager body and a wicked smile.
He tries one last time to sway you, a moist tongue darting out to glide over parted lips, and growls at you when you don’t visibly react. You want to, hungrily, desperately, but this - he - is more important to you than a mindless, empty fuck like the ones you both endured during your early, lonely years in Rukongai, and you are obsessed with making sure he knows that every single time you are together.
So you reach out with your other hand to remove the band that holds back unruly hair and card your hand carefully through the tangled strands, pulling his head down slightly in the process. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, feeling the warmth of heated skin and the pounding of a racing heart. You move in closer, deliberate, intent, until you are only one step away from full body contact. You keep your eyes on his - your gaze honest, forthright - until your breath caresses his skin and your mouth meets his.
You press your lips against his, desire and affection joyfully combined. You ask for entrance with your tongue as it traces moist patterns over the soft fullness of his lower lip, and eagerly push forward as his lips part for you. You delve into his mouth, exploring teeth and palate before brushing up against his tongue and twining it with your own.
It’s perfect, yet it’s not enough: you move the hand resting over his heart upwards, over his collarbone and past the racing pulse in his throat; pausing briefly at the smooth, heated skin on his cheek before taking possession of another fistful of hair.
The movement allows you to press your body fully against his own. The difference in your height means you should feel a small twinge of discomfort as you keep your head tilted up to maintain the kiss, but that slight ache is totally lost in the heady sensation of heated bodies and silken hair, the soft wetness of kisses and the hard ache of cocks rubbing against each other through the rough thickness of clothing.
You want to touch him everywhere, but you can’t bring yourself to release your hold on that rich, vibrant hair. You want to bite, lick and suck at flushed, sweaty skin but can’t tear yourself away from that warm, inviting kiss. You want everything, and assure yourself you’ll have it later, just as soon as you’ve satisfied this consuming, primal need right now, and move erratically, mindlessly against him for more of that glorious friction.
Thankfully, while your hands are occupied, his are not. You groan into his mouth when his hands move into action: one large palm settling easily into the curve of a buttock, directing your movements to perfection; the other shoving coarse material down far enough to free two aching, hardened lengths and take them in a firm, sold grip.
It doesn’t take more than a good half-dozen strokes and you’re gone, gasping out your enjoyment, the force of your orgasm catching you by surprise: you see flashes of light behind your eyes as you reach your peak, waves of pleasure released in hot, thick spurts of cum.
***
You’ve barely crossed the threshold before he’s on you, holding you still with one hand and his unshakeable resolve. It shouldn’t be a shock - you’ve always been the one with strength, him the one with uncanny speed - but he still surprises you each and every time. Your competitive nature emerges and so you face him without fear or hesitation, determined to shatter that impassive manner and release his true, ardent nature.
Just being here together is as exciting as a battle, even more so when you realize this this case you both will emerge victorious. You cannot help but smile - it is too easy to welcome the lust rising within you as you see it mirrored in the dark eyes lit with passion, an all-encompassing need that can be restrained for the moment, but never denied.
You want to bite those lips savagely, taste his sweat and blood, but settle for a more sedate exploration of your own. You think you have him - he hisses in reaction, and you swear the vein on his left temple seems ready to burst - but he holds back and his stubbornness makes you want to howl. You settle for growling, a curse rendered unintelligible in the deep snarl, and swear to yourself if he doesn’t do something right now you’re going to take matters into your own hands.
That’s when you feel his fingers moving through your hair, playing with the strands while the intimacy of the gesture breaks your heart. For all his talent with the written word, he cannot bring himself to say them out loud: instead, you must read his intentions in every glance and movement, experience the emotions through every touch and kiss. You don’t mind this at all.
You groan out your pleasure as he finally reaches you, his lips caressing yours. You do not hesitate to part your lips, eager for his touch in every way. The manner in which he explores your mouth is both sensual and reverential: you share in the lust and the underlying emotions, and return them in full measure. Your tongues caress and wind together, and you couldn’t ask for more.
But you get more, and you would express your approval out loud if only you had the breath to spare. You feel that warm, calloused hand move over you, rising up to take hold of you by the hair, pulling you even deeper into the kiss.
And now he’s fully pressed against you, and every nerve receptor is zinging with pleasure: you are lost in the heady sensation of heated bodies and silken hair, the soft wetness of kisses and the hard ache of cocks rubbing against each other through the rough thickness of clothing.
You want to touch him everywhere, but you simply can’t wait, not this time. Soon, you promise yourself, in the luxury of a bed and with more time to spare: that’s when you’ll explore him slowly, generously, and be treasured in return. But for now you need this immediate, reckless satisfaction and lose yourself in frenzied, wanton thrusts mirroring his own.
You want to touch him everywhere, but you settle for the most immediate, gratifying actions: fondling the firm muscle of one buttock as you guide his irregular thrusts; taking possession of his cock and yours, your hand moving strong and steady over both swollen, aroused lengths.
You know it won’t take long, and it doesn’t: within a few strokes he’s shuddering his way through orgasm, vulnerable and beautiful in a way only you are allowed to see. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for more than a few moments, however, because you follow him over the edge right after: you cum in intense, violent pulses, barely managing to stay on your feet in the aftermath of your release.
***
You hold him up, still leaning against the wall as you relax, sated, content. After a few minutes of this simple pleasure, you finally decide a hot bath and a comfortable bed conductive to more sensual, leisurely bouts of sex might be a better option for the rest of the night.
Your lover must reach the same conclusion, because he murmurs, “Byakuya-taichou is off visiting his family estate. We would have more privacy at my place.”
“My quarters are closer,” you answer, eyes still closed and a blissful expression on your usually composed features.
You don‘t want to move, but you finally do, moving back far enough to allow Renji to unplaster himself from the wooden paneling.
“Your place it is then,” Renji agrees as he steps over to your side. “Race you there,” he calls out good-naturedly before using shunpo to leave.
You smile in your empty office, allow him a few minutes lead. It will make the race that much more challenging, and no matter the result of the chase, you’ve already won.
Author/Artist:
ann89103Rating: R
Warnings: Frottage, handjobs
Prompt: Renji/Shuuhei: Sex standing up (including against a wall) – heat and hair.
Word count: 1,547
Summary: Sometimes you just can’t wait
A/N: Alternating second-person POV
***
You let him take two steps into your office before slamming the door shut behind him with one hand and pushing him back against the wood paneling with the other. You stand stock-still for a moment, watching his eyes first widen in surprise then fixate boldly upon your own, challenge and desire clear in his brash, direct gaze. It is almost enough to push you into further action, but you hold back - he takes it as a victory if he breaks through your cool, composed demeanor too quickly - and remain unmoving except for your hand still pressed to his chest that moves with every deep, ragged breath he takes.
He taunts you with a lazy grin, a sensuous mouth parting slowly to reveal the sharp white teeth that have marked you as his hundreds of times before. You want to rip his clothing from his body and return the favor but for now you restrain yourself with that iron-clad control he’s cursed you for more than once before. You wait, because you enjoy teasing him in much the same manner; you wait, because you need more from him than an eager body and a wicked smile.
He tries one last time to sway you, a moist tongue darting out to glide over parted lips, and growls at you when you don’t visibly react. You want to, hungrily, desperately, but this - he - is more important to you than a mindless, empty fuck like the ones you both endured during your early, lonely years in Rukongai, and you are obsessed with making sure he knows that every single time you are together.
So you reach out with your other hand to remove the band that holds back unruly hair and card your hand carefully through the tangled strands, pulling his head down slightly in the process. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, feeling the warmth of heated skin and the pounding of a racing heart. You move in closer, deliberate, intent, until you are only one step away from full body contact. You keep your eyes on his - your gaze honest, forthright - until your breath caresses his skin and your mouth meets his.
You press your lips against his, desire and affection joyfully combined. You ask for entrance with your tongue as it traces moist patterns over the soft fullness of his lower lip, and eagerly push forward as his lips part for you. You delve into his mouth, exploring teeth and palate before brushing up against his tongue and twining it with your own.
It’s perfect, yet it’s not enough: you move the hand resting over his heart upwards, over his collarbone and past the racing pulse in his throat; pausing briefly at the smooth, heated skin on his cheek before taking possession of another fistful of hair.
The movement allows you to press your body fully against his own. The difference in your height means you should feel a small twinge of discomfort as you keep your head tilted up to maintain the kiss, but that slight ache is totally lost in the heady sensation of heated bodies and silken hair, the soft wetness of kisses and the hard ache of cocks rubbing against each other through the rough thickness of clothing.
You want to touch him everywhere, but you can’t bring yourself to release your hold on that rich, vibrant hair. You want to bite, lick and suck at flushed, sweaty skin but can’t tear yourself away from that warm, inviting kiss. You want everything, and assure yourself you’ll have it later, just as soon as you’ve satisfied this consuming, primal need right now, and move erratically, mindlessly against him for more of that glorious friction.
Thankfully, while your hands are occupied, his are not. You groan into his mouth when his hands move into action: one large palm settling easily into the curve of a buttock, directing your movements to perfection; the other shoving coarse material down far enough to free two aching, hardened lengths and take them in a firm, sold grip.
It doesn’t take more than a good half-dozen strokes and you’re gone, gasping out your enjoyment, the force of your orgasm catching you by surprise: you see flashes of light behind your eyes as you reach your peak, waves of pleasure released in hot, thick spurts of cum.
***
You’ve barely crossed the threshold before he’s on you, holding you still with one hand and his unshakeable resolve. It shouldn’t be a shock - you’ve always been the one with strength, him the one with uncanny speed - but he still surprises you each and every time. Your competitive nature emerges and so you face him without fear or hesitation, determined to shatter that impassive manner and release his true, ardent nature.
Just being here together is as exciting as a battle, even more so when you realize this this case you both will emerge victorious. You cannot help but smile - it is too easy to welcome the lust rising within you as you see it mirrored in the dark eyes lit with passion, an all-encompassing need that can be restrained for the moment, but never denied.
You want to bite those lips savagely, taste his sweat and blood, but settle for a more sedate exploration of your own. You think you have him - he hisses in reaction, and you swear the vein on his left temple seems ready to burst - but he holds back and his stubbornness makes you want to howl. You settle for growling, a curse rendered unintelligible in the deep snarl, and swear to yourself if he doesn’t do something right now you’re going to take matters into your own hands.
That’s when you feel his fingers moving through your hair, playing with the strands while the intimacy of the gesture breaks your heart. For all his talent with the written word, he cannot bring himself to say them out loud: instead, you must read his intentions in every glance and movement, experience the emotions through every touch and kiss. You don’t mind this at all.
You groan out your pleasure as he finally reaches you, his lips caressing yours. You do not hesitate to part your lips, eager for his touch in every way. The manner in which he explores your mouth is both sensual and reverential: you share in the lust and the underlying emotions, and return them in full measure. Your tongues caress and wind together, and you couldn’t ask for more.
But you get more, and you would express your approval out loud if only you had the breath to spare. You feel that warm, calloused hand move over you, rising up to take hold of you by the hair, pulling you even deeper into the kiss.
And now he’s fully pressed against you, and every nerve receptor is zinging with pleasure: you are lost in the heady sensation of heated bodies and silken hair, the soft wetness of kisses and the hard ache of cocks rubbing against each other through the rough thickness of clothing.
You want to touch him everywhere, but you simply can’t wait, not this time. Soon, you promise yourself, in the luxury of a bed and with more time to spare: that’s when you’ll explore him slowly, generously, and be treasured in return. But for now you need this immediate, reckless satisfaction and lose yourself in frenzied, wanton thrusts mirroring his own.
You want to touch him everywhere, but you settle for the most immediate, gratifying actions: fondling the firm muscle of one buttock as you guide his irregular thrusts; taking possession of his cock and yours, your hand moving strong and steady over both swollen, aroused lengths.
You know it won’t take long, and it doesn’t: within a few strokes he’s shuddering his way through orgasm, vulnerable and beautiful in a way only you are allowed to see. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for more than a few moments, however, because you follow him over the edge right after: you cum in intense, violent pulses, barely managing to stay on your feet in the aftermath of your release.
***
You hold him up, still leaning against the wall as you relax, sated, content. After a few minutes of this simple pleasure, you finally decide a hot bath and a comfortable bed conductive to more sensual, leisurely bouts of sex might be a better option for the rest of the night.
Your lover must reach the same conclusion, because he murmurs, “Byakuya-taichou is off visiting his family estate. We would have more privacy at my place.”
“My quarters are closer,” you answer, eyes still closed and a blissful expression on your usually composed features.
You don‘t want to move, but you finally do, moving back far enough to allow Renji to unplaster himself from the wooden paneling.
“Your place it is then,” Renji agrees as he steps over to your side. “Race you there,” he calls out good-naturedly before using shunpo to leave.
You smile in your empty office, allow him a few minutes lead. It will make the race that much more challenging, and no matter the result of the chase, you’ve already won.
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I'm amassice RenShuu fan - they just FIT together, especially as ex-schoolmates :) but personality-wise too, to me...
You got it perfectly :)
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