[Fanfiction] - Bleach - Flexibility (2/?)
Byakuya flinched as pain shot through his back, radiating from the bass of his spine upwards towards his neck. He inhaled sharply, trying to resist the urge to come up out of ‘the pigeon’ to relieve the pressure. ‘Reach up with your left hand and open up your chest,’ Renji instructed. Byakuya fought the desire to blanch. His left hand had parted company with the ground for about three seconds before his lower back announced vehemently that it would not be cooperating. He landed gracelessly on all fours, wincing as his back continued to protest. Thankfully, everybody else seemed too occupied with not falling flat on their faces to notice his ignominious tumble.
‘You ok?’ Everyone, of course, except Renji. The week in between classes, a week of board meetings and emails and mobile phone calls, had dimmed Byakuya’s memories of Renji. Muted them. Drained some of the red from his hair and some of the warmth from his smile. But Renji himself, still all perfect angles and arresting brown eyes, had crashed back into Byakuya’s carefully ordered world with neither intent nor apology. He was clearer than ever in Byakuya’s mind now, crackling with energy and exuberance.
He’d walked in with his hair loose, a tousled mess of fire and blood barely contained by his green bandanna. He’d looked wilder with his hair long, older and darker and somehow sharper, more jagged edges and less poise. It had made Byakuya wonder, for a moment, whether his casual charm hid something different. And that had made him wonder in turn, for he wasn’t in the habit of giving the mechanics of other people’s souls a huge amount of thought. But then the hair had been caught back in a black tie and Renji had turned his smile on his class and pressed play on his CD. Within moments, Byakuya had been far too occupied with not appearing completely incompetent to worry about Renji.
‘My back,’ he explained grudgingly, not liking to admit weakness. Renji frowned.
‘Does it usually bother you?’
None of your business, a cold, unimpressed corner of Byakuya’s mind snapped.
‘A little,’ he admitted. ‘I have been running more than usual. That tends to exacerbate it.’ Renji nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
‘Well take it easy,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t do anything that hurts. No matter how much you want to prove you can.’ He winked, turning away before Byakuya could retort. Forced to concede defeat, Byakuya contented himself with watching as Renji corrected Mashiro’s arm position. He’d deliberately arrived perfectly on time, robbing Mashiro of the chance to renew her assault of his defences. She’d grinned in his direction though, and the blonde girl she seemed to be good friends with had said something that, even from the other side of the room, Byakuya had identified as being rude. He’d smiled back, using his best company face, and calmly unfurled his mat just in time for Renji to bound through the door. One week of communal yoga mat use had been more than sufficient, and his beleaguered PA had leapt at the opportunity to get out of the office to buy him his own. The office had, of late, been fraught.
Byakuya coaxed his mind away from work and gingerly tried the next position. This one offended his wounded back less, and he found a certain quiet satisfaction in managing it. It was ridiculous - he spent all day managing one of the most powerful firms in the country and he was getting excited about yoga - but even that thought couldn’t entirely erase the contentment.
The class went quickly, and before long Byakuya found himself rolling up his mat, tired but remarkably energised.
‘How’s the back?’ People in this class, he thought somewhat reprovingly, had a remarkable habit of managing to pop up when he wasn’t anticipating them. To just materialise at his elbow or behind his back. They didn’t startle him per se, but it was a close thing. He wasn’t accustomed to being startled. Being startled, along with being obviously embarrassed, being seen to fail, being excited, being annoyed and being happy, were on the expansive list of emotions he frowned upon.
‘It seems a little better.’ Renji nodded.
‘Yeah, stretching it out probably helped. Why’ve you been running so much, if you know it makes it worse?’ Renji sighed, tipping his head apologetically and shrugging one shoulder. ‘Sorry, not really any of my business, I guess.’ And it wasn’t, not really, but for some bizarre reason Byakuya found himself flattered that Renji wanted it to be his business. That Renji was concerned.
‘Things have been difficult at work,’ he found himself saying. ‘I have always found exercise helpful.’ Renji chuckled.
‘ Sorry,’ he said as Byakuya raised a querying eyebrow. ‘I just had an image of you in a suit on a treadmill, and yeah, sorry,’ he said again. Byakuya tried to be annoyed. He tried. He just couldn’t muster the energy.
‘Usually,’ he said coolly, ‘I find the time to change.’ But he knew there was humour in his eyes, and he knew from Renji’s grin in response that Renji had seen it.
‘Wouldn’t want to be you,’ Renji told him. ‘I’m sure it’s got perks and all, but still. Not my cup of tea. ‘D rather teach yoga and live off instant ramen.’ He reached up to close the high set window and Byakuya’s response died in his throat. He was sure there was something cutting to be said about life ambitions and responsibilities and education, but he lost his grip on it as Renji reached up, his singlet riding up to reveal a portion of tanned lower back slashed with black. His track pants were sitting sinfully low on his hips, and Byakuya’s eyes followed the line of his back as he stretched, the muscles shifting beneath his skin.
Byakuya’s eyes travelled up to Renji’s extended arms, following his tattoos. Those tattoos. Byakuya, as a rule, disapproved of tattoos, but Renji’s were beautiful in the same way Renji himself was beautiful. Stripes of black on his skin, they made Byakuya wonder why, for tattoos like that had to have a reason why. They looked as though they might come alive at any moment to undulate across his skin, hungrily search out the secrets and crevasses of his body. For now they sat dormant. Waiting.
Byakuya wondered suddenly what they’d taste like.
The window slammed shut, jolting Byakuya out of his thoughts. He dropped his eyes as Renji turned back to him.
‘Hey, you wanna stay?’ Renji asked. ‘Watch the intermediates, they’re pretty good.’ He hesitated. ‘Afterwards, if you want, I can see if I can help with your back. I know it’s kind of weird to be offering you a massage, but you know. If you want.’ His hand went to his head, and Byakuya suspected he wanted to run a hand through his crimson hair, but had forgotten it was tied back. Sure enough, the hand dropped and Renji looked suddenly awkward. He was, Byakuya realised, not all that old.
‘Are you qualified?’ Byakuya asked, surprising himself. He could have sworn he’d been about to say something like ‘no thankyou’.
‘Yeah,’ Renji said, still not meeting Byakuya’s eyes. ‘Got a certificate and everything. Did it as part of…well, a year or so back now, and I make a bit of money on the side with it, mainly with people I’ve taught. They seem to like it.’
Did it as part of what? Byakuya wanted to ask, but didn’t.
‘Thankyou it’s a very kind offer, but…’
But I want your hands on me too much to allow you to touch me.
Renji’s face fell momentarily, the sudden disappointment snatched quickly away as he shrugged. ‘’Sok, figured you’d probably say no.’ The grin lacked some of it’s usual carelessness.
‘Actually,’ Bykuya found himself saying, as though his brain had disengaged itself completely from any operation of his rational mind, ‘perhaps it would be helpful. If you don’t mind.’ Renji’s smile turned genuine, his eyes warming.
‘Trust me, I don’t mind,’ he said. There was a dangerous flash of heat in those amber-flecked eyes. Something in Byakuya kindled in response to it and he found himself suddenly slightly breathless. Renji turned away to fiddle around with the CD player, and Byakuya wondered dazedly when exactly his voice box had disconnected itself so thoroughly from logical thought and reason.
His feet, too, carried him to a seat at the back of the room without his telling them to do anything of the sort, and he found himself watching Renji intently, almost hungrily, as he moved fluidly from pose to pose, his class following along behind. Byakuya knew he was supposed to be watching the other students, but Renji had some sort of arcane magnetism that kept him from tearing his eyes away. Renji glanced up, catching Byakuya’s eyes, and Byakuya was stricken suddenly with the urge to run, to leave, to get up and walk away before he betrayed himself further. Before he diverged any more fatally from who he was, what he was.
But he stayed. Stayed to watch Renji. Stayed because if he left he’d have to turn on his phone and deal with his world. Stayed because nobody here knew who he was. Stayed because he thought that even if Renji did know, he might not care.
-
Renji wiped his face dry with a towel and pulled on a hoodie as his intermediate class filed out of the room, mats tucked neatly under their arms. He exchanged words with several of them, and a couple of people lingered to ask him yoga-related questions. Something shifted in Byakuya’s stomach, something between nervousness and….anticipation.
The last enquirer filed out the door and Renji beckoned him over. ‘Come over here,’ he ordered, pulling a heavier gym mat off the stack in the corner. Byakuya rose without comment. He and Renji were alone now, but for the steady tick of the clock on the wall and the brisk night breeze rattling the windows. ‘Don’t have a table, so we’ll have to make do,’ Renji explained. He glanced up, and must have seen the hesitation on Byakuya’s face. ‘Unless…you’re not up for it anymore, that’s cool.’
‘No, I’m still…’ up for it ‘…interested,’ Byakuya finished. Renji's teeth glinted as he grinned.
‘Right. Shirt off.’ Byakuya knew he hadn’t completely managed to keep his surprise from showing. If he’d thought about it he would, of course, have realised that most back massages required the removal of clothing. But he hadn’t thought about it. He hesitated for a moment, and Renji laughed without malice.
‘I promise I won’t bite.’ Byakuya pulled his singlet over his head to give himself something to do, and to hide the colour he knew had surged to his cheeks. He folded his singlet neatly and set it on top of the beaten old piano crouched beside the equally battered looking CD player. He could feel Renji’s eyes on his body, running up his back, caressing his hips and sliding over his torso. He turned back, and Renji’s warm brown eyes had turned hot.
‘You’ve got a pretty good body for a brain,’ Renji informed him lightly, as though his teasing tone could undo the intensity of his gaze. Byakuya allowed himself a small smile.
‘I like to keep fit,’ he admitted. Renji’s fingers twitched, and Byakuya realised the other man was fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. The knowledge simmered under his skin and he found himself longing for that touch, for the feel of Renji’s warm fingers on his skin. Stupid, he told himself. He felt as though somebody had set his nerve endings on fire, and surely, surely Renji couldn’t be oblivious to the something crackling between them. It’s just a friendly offer, Byakuya told himself firmly. He’s just being kind.
I’m having some difficulty deciding what makes you more of an idiot, the snide voice that lurked somewhere within his cerebral cortex snapped. The fact you’re harbouring some sort of bizarre attraction to this uneducated, impoverished yoga instructor or the fact you’re not horrified that you’re harbouring some sort of bizarre attraction to this uneducated, impoverished yoga instructor.
‘Hey, earth to…damn, I don’t even know your name.’ Renji’s voice jerked him back to the present.
‘Byakuya,’ he supplied without thinking.
‘Japanese?’ Renji asked. Byakuya nodded.
‘My family are,’ he said shortly. Renji either didn’t notice his reticence, or did notice it and decided to press on regardless.
‘You don’t have an accent,’ he observed.
‘I spent most of my childhood in America.’ Renji, taking the hint this time, gestured to the mat. Byakuya attempted to be graceful while arranging himself. Renji rustled around in his backpack and pulled out a vaguely suspicious looking tub.
‘What’s that?’ Byakuya asked, trying not to sound alarmed. Renji grinned.
‘Don’t look so freaked out, it’s just massage oil.’
‘Oh.’
Oh?
‘Put your head in your arms and close your eyes,’ Renji ordered. Byakuya turned his head to the side, resting it on his hands, and shut his eyes gently. Something in his stomach twisted. He felt…vulnerable. Terrifyingly naked and terrifyingly vulnerable. Naked in a way that had nothing to do with the meticulously folded singlet on the piano.
Renji’s hands settled on his back and he flinched reflexively. Renji murmured a sorry as he began to smooth the oil over Byakuya’s bare skin, hands firm but gentle. Byakuya closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Renji’s long fingers slid down his spine, pressing down as they searched out the sore points, and Byakuya exhaled shakily. He was normally finicky about being touched, but the warmth of Renji’s fingers, the gentle sound of Renji’s breathing above him, Renji’s knee just barely resting against his side, were anything but unpleasant. They were dangerously pleasant, dangerously tempting.
‘That ok?’ Renji asked, and it took Byakuya a moment to answer.
‘Yes,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Renji’s magical hands began kneading his lower back and Byakuya bit back a groan. He could feel the knots of tension bound up in his spine unravelling. It hurt, but in a good way. It hurt because it needed to hurt. Renji’s strong fingers found a particularly tender spot and he flinched reflexively.
‘Sorry,’ Renji said softly. His hands gentled, and Byakuya tried to focus on the pain rather than the touch. Because the touch was intoxicating.
‘You’re insanely tense, you know,’ Renji observed quietly. His voice was low. Soft. Intimate. His hands skimmed up Byakuya’s spine, settling on his shoulders. Renji pressed his thumbs into a spot between Byakuya’s shoulder blades and Byakuya couldn’t restrain a shaky breath. The pain as the corded muscles slowly relaxed was as beguiling as pleasure. ‘You should do this more often or you’ll hurt yourself.’ And a new, sinful voice in Byakuya’s head murmured that he’d willingly submit to this on a regular basis, providing it was Renji’s warm, knowing hands sliding all over his skin.
‘Wait a sec,’ Renji said, and Byakuya heard him shifting. He opened his eyes briefly, Renji’s right knee swimming into view by his side. Something settled against his other side and he realised Renji was straddling him. Renji’s hands ran down his sides, and Byakuya felt the path of each finger burning on his skin. Any hope he’d had of convincing himself Renji’s touch was soothing, not sensual, crumpled to ashes as Renji’s hands brushed over his hips. They repeated their journey as Byakuya fought back his arousal.
And Renji, surely Renji couldn’t be oblivious to the increase in the tempo of this breathing, the colour in his cheeks. Surely Renji couldn’t be oblivious to the battle he was fighting with desire.
What on earth do you think you’re doing?
‘Renji,’ he said sharply. The hands stilled, and Byakuya felt Renji shift. He sat up too fast, the world swimming a little, and Renji’s hand on his shoulder steadied him.
‘What’s wrong?’ Renji asked.
And Renji was too close, much too close. Renji’s lips were too close, and all Byakuya could think about was closing the distance between them. He ached suddenly, ached to lean forward and taste Renji’s breath, explore his mouth, unbind that beautiful hair and glut himself on heat and passion and need. It was like a physical pain, but it started deep inside his soul and tore outwards, stretching desperately towards Renji and everything he was. Renji’s eyes softened and Byakuya knew with dreadful certainty that Renji was going to kiss him. All he need do was stay still, and Renji’s warm lips would be on his own. The moment stretched between them, an eternity of knowing and yes and tentative hope.
Too close. He’s too close.
Byakuya pulled away, cold swallowing him up from the inside out.
‘I think that’s enough,’ he said. The hand fell from his shoulder. He could almost taste Renji’s bewilderment.
‘Yeah, ok,’ Renji said, floundering for nonchalance. Byakuya stood gracefully, recoiling from the warmth that had moments ago been drawing him in. He needed…he needed to find his centre. Needed to calm the thundering of his heart. Needed to shrink back into himself and remind himself who he was.
You’re Byakuya Kuchiki.
‘Hope it helps a bit,’ Renji said, and Byakuya was distantly aware of the painful awkwardness. Everything was dim. Emotions. Colour. Pain. ‘I’ll see you next week?’
‘I’m not sure whether I will continue to attend.’
Renji’s eyes were like broken glass.
‘Wha-‘
‘I’m quite busy at the moment. I do not need any…distractions.’
He knew Renji understood the double meaning from the naked embarrassment on his face. And Byakuya didn’t flee, because he wouldn’t allow himself to feel the emotion that would lend haste to his feet, but he did walk away. He walked away and left Renji on the floor, fingers still damp with oil, kneeling in the middle of the abandoned hall.
The night hit him like a blow and he realised he’d walked out shirtless.
You’re Byakuya Kuchiki.
He unlocked his car calmly and slid gracefully into the driver’s seat. He knew these motions. He’d practiced them over and over again until he had them down to a fine art. He wouldn’t permit himself to feel the aching loss of Renji’s touch. Or crippling guilt at the pain that had smothered the laughter in Renji’s gentle brown eyes. He simply would not allow it. It had worked before
He was Byakuya Kuchiki. He could not afford to feel.
-
Renji had a plan. He was going to drink himself insensible. He thought it was a pretty damn good plan. Solid, sensible, achievable. He was going to methodically drink himself to the point where he could stop thinking about cold grey eyes, stop thinking about hot skin under his fingers, and stop feeling the sting of rejection. He was, in short, going to drink himself to the verge of unconsciousness and hope one of his friends would be merciful enough to lug him home and deposit him on a flat surface.
‘You’re drinking with purpose.’ Shuuhei appeared in his peripheral vision. As per usual, his strange scars and stark facial tattoo were garnering him the attention of half the bar. His tousled hair, tight jeans and battered leather jacket weren’t hurting either. He set his soda water down next to Renji and sat, stretching out his legs.
‘Don’t want to talk about it,’ Renji said brusquely. Shuuhei knew him too well to be offended.
‘Talk about what?’ Ikkaku asked, plonking a pint glass down on the bar. Renji fought the urge to knock his head repeatedly against the wooden surface. He wasn’t in the mood for friends.
‘Is it a girl?’ Kira asked, somewhat morosely, from beneath his fringe.
‘Fffff, it’s not a girl. Renji’s got booooooy troubles.’ Renji knew without looking that Yumichika was fluttering behind him, some sort of fruity cocktail in hand. Like, he thought sourly, a giant, glittering, irritatingly knowing fly. A fly Renji would have liked to swat.
‘Are you ok, Renji?’ Momo laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
‘Where,’ Renji growled, with less venom than he intended, ‘did you all come from?’
A hand descended on his back, almost sending him nose first into the bar.
‘Kensei,’ Shuuhei said reprovingly.
‘Yes, Kensei.’ Yumi trilled, ‘be gentle. Our Renji’s all pitiful and lovelorn. Save the rough stuff for Shuu, he likes it.’
Shuuhei spluttered into his drink. Ikkaku snorted with laughter. Momo hid a giggle with her hand. Kensei asked for a scotch on the rocks and Kira downed half his schooner. Renji, for his part, found himself almost smiling.
‘What’re you moping about?’ Kensei demanded with characteristic force. Renji glared half-heartedly.
‘He doesn’t want to talk about it,’ Shuuhei answered for him.
‘But I want to hear about it,’ Yumi said sorrowfully. ‘I want details. Who he is, where he’s from, what he’s like.’
‘Yumi!’
Listening to Momo and Yumi bicker good-naturedly, Renji grudgingly allowed himself to be borne off to one of the booths out of the way of the main bar. Insensibility seemed to be off the table, but Kensei was a good drinking buddy and Yumi’s vicious wit was balm for a wounded ego.
-
Byakuya stared at the flashing digits of his bedside clock. 1:59:31.
You’re a fool.
1:59:32
What were you thinking? He’s a yoga instructor. If the media discovered your little indiscretion…
1:59:35
If your family discovered your little indiscretion…
1:59:39
He likely never even graduated…
1:59:42
When did you beginning succumbing to the demands of your body? Has your discipline slipped so far? Are you so weak?
1:59:44
Why are you so weak?
1:59:48
He’s nothing.
1:59:51
He’s nobody.
1:59:55
He’s meaningless.
2:00:00
You hurt him.
Thoughts? Comments?
‘You ok?’ Everyone, of course, except Renji. The week in between classes, a week of board meetings and emails and mobile phone calls, had dimmed Byakuya’s memories of Renji. Muted them. Drained some of the red from his hair and some of the warmth from his smile. But Renji himself, still all perfect angles and arresting brown eyes, had crashed back into Byakuya’s carefully ordered world with neither intent nor apology. He was clearer than ever in Byakuya’s mind now, crackling with energy and exuberance.
He’d walked in with his hair loose, a tousled mess of fire and blood barely contained by his green bandanna. He’d looked wilder with his hair long, older and darker and somehow sharper, more jagged edges and less poise. It had made Byakuya wonder, for a moment, whether his casual charm hid something different. And that had made him wonder in turn, for he wasn’t in the habit of giving the mechanics of other people’s souls a huge amount of thought. But then the hair had been caught back in a black tie and Renji had turned his smile on his class and pressed play on his CD. Within moments, Byakuya had been far too occupied with not appearing completely incompetent to worry about Renji.
‘My back,’ he explained grudgingly, not liking to admit weakness. Renji frowned.
‘Does it usually bother you?’
None of your business, a cold, unimpressed corner of Byakuya’s mind snapped.
‘A little,’ he admitted. ‘I have been running more than usual. That tends to exacerbate it.’ Renji nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
‘Well take it easy,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t do anything that hurts. No matter how much you want to prove you can.’ He winked, turning away before Byakuya could retort. Forced to concede defeat, Byakuya contented himself with watching as Renji corrected Mashiro’s arm position. He’d deliberately arrived perfectly on time, robbing Mashiro of the chance to renew her assault of his defences. She’d grinned in his direction though, and the blonde girl she seemed to be good friends with had said something that, even from the other side of the room, Byakuya had identified as being rude. He’d smiled back, using his best company face, and calmly unfurled his mat just in time for Renji to bound through the door. One week of communal yoga mat use had been more than sufficient, and his beleaguered PA had leapt at the opportunity to get out of the office to buy him his own. The office had, of late, been fraught.
Byakuya coaxed his mind away from work and gingerly tried the next position. This one offended his wounded back less, and he found a certain quiet satisfaction in managing it. It was ridiculous - he spent all day managing one of the most powerful firms in the country and he was getting excited about yoga - but even that thought couldn’t entirely erase the contentment.
The class went quickly, and before long Byakuya found himself rolling up his mat, tired but remarkably energised.
‘How’s the back?’ People in this class, he thought somewhat reprovingly, had a remarkable habit of managing to pop up when he wasn’t anticipating them. To just materialise at his elbow or behind his back. They didn’t startle him per se, but it was a close thing. He wasn’t accustomed to being startled. Being startled, along with being obviously embarrassed, being seen to fail, being excited, being annoyed and being happy, were on the expansive list of emotions he frowned upon.
‘It seems a little better.’ Renji nodded.
‘Yeah, stretching it out probably helped. Why’ve you been running so much, if you know it makes it worse?’ Renji sighed, tipping his head apologetically and shrugging one shoulder. ‘Sorry, not really any of my business, I guess.’ And it wasn’t, not really, but for some bizarre reason Byakuya found himself flattered that Renji wanted it to be his business. That Renji was concerned.
‘Things have been difficult at work,’ he found himself saying. ‘I have always found exercise helpful.’ Renji chuckled.
‘ Sorry,’ he said as Byakuya raised a querying eyebrow. ‘I just had an image of you in a suit on a treadmill, and yeah, sorry,’ he said again. Byakuya tried to be annoyed. He tried. He just couldn’t muster the energy.
‘Usually,’ he said coolly, ‘I find the time to change.’ But he knew there was humour in his eyes, and he knew from Renji’s grin in response that Renji had seen it.
‘Wouldn’t want to be you,’ Renji told him. ‘I’m sure it’s got perks and all, but still. Not my cup of tea. ‘D rather teach yoga and live off instant ramen.’ He reached up to close the high set window and Byakuya’s response died in his throat. He was sure there was something cutting to be said about life ambitions and responsibilities and education, but he lost his grip on it as Renji reached up, his singlet riding up to reveal a portion of tanned lower back slashed with black. His track pants were sitting sinfully low on his hips, and Byakuya’s eyes followed the line of his back as he stretched, the muscles shifting beneath his skin.
Byakuya’s eyes travelled up to Renji’s extended arms, following his tattoos. Those tattoos. Byakuya, as a rule, disapproved of tattoos, but Renji’s were beautiful in the same way Renji himself was beautiful. Stripes of black on his skin, they made Byakuya wonder why, for tattoos like that had to have a reason why. They looked as though they might come alive at any moment to undulate across his skin, hungrily search out the secrets and crevasses of his body. For now they sat dormant. Waiting.
Byakuya wondered suddenly what they’d taste like.
The window slammed shut, jolting Byakuya out of his thoughts. He dropped his eyes as Renji turned back to him.
‘Hey, you wanna stay?’ Renji asked. ‘Watch the intermediates, they’re pretty good.’ He hesitated. ‘Afterwards, if you want, I can see if I can help with your back. I know it’s kind of weird to be offering you a massage, but you know. If you want.’ His hand went to his head, and Byakuya suspected he wanted to run a hand through his crimson hair, but had forgotten it was tied back. Sure enough, the hand dropped and Renji looked suddenly awkward. He was, Byakuya realised, not all that old.
‘Are you qualified?’ Byakuya asked, surprising himself. He could have sworn he’d been about to say something like ‘no thankyou’.
‘Yeah,’ Renji said, still not meeting Byakuya’s eyes. ‘Got a certificate and everything. Did it as part of…well, a year or so back now, and I make a bit of money on the side with it, mainly with people I’ve taught. They seem to like it.’
Did it as part of what? Byakuya wanted to ask, but didn’t.
‘Thankyou it’s a very kind offer, but…’
But I want your hands on me too much to allow you to touch me.
Renji’s face fell momentarily, the sudden disappointment snatched quickly away as he shrugged. ‘’Sok, figured you’d probably say no.’ The grin lacked some of it’s usual carelessness.
‘Actually,’ Bykuya found himself saying, as though his brain had disengaged itself completely from any operation of his rational mind, ‘perhaps it would be helpful. If you don’t mind.’ Renji’s smile turned genuine, his eyes warming.
‘Trust me, I don’t mind,’ he said. There was a dangerous flash of heat in those amber-flecked eyes. Something in Byakuya kindled in response to it and he found himself suddenly slightly breathless. Renji turned away to fiddle around with the CD player, and Byakuya wondered dazedly when exactly his voice box had disconnected itself so thoroughly from logical thought and reason.
His feet, too, carried him to a seat at the back of the room without his telling them to do anything of the sort, and he found himself watching Renji intently, almost hungrily, as he moved fluidly from pose to pose, his class following along behind. Byakuya knew he was supposed to be watching the other students, but Renji had some sort of arcane magnetism that kept him from tearing his eyes away. Renji glanced up, catching Byakuya’s eyes, and Byakuya was stricken suddenly with the urge to run, to leave, to get up and walk away before he betrayed himself further. Before he diverged any more fatally from who he was, what he was.
But he stayed. Stayed to watch Renji. Stayed because if he left he’d have to turn on his phone and deal with his world. Stayed because nobody here knew who he was. Stayed because he thought that even if Renji did know, he might not care.
-
Renji wiped his face dry with a towel and pulled on a hoodie as his intermediate class filed out of the room, mats tucked neatly under their arms. He exchanged words with several of them, and a couple of people lingered to ask him yoga-related questions. Something shifted in Byakuya’s stomach, something between nervousness and….anticipation.
The last enquirer filed out the door and Renji beckoned him over. ‘Come over here,’ he ordered, pulling a heavier gym mat off the stack in the corner. Byakuya rose without comment. He and Renji were alone now, but for the steady tick of the clock on the wall and the brisk night breeze rattling the windows. ‘Don’t have a table, so we’ll have to make do,’ Renji explained. He glanced up, and must have seen the hesitation on Byakuya’s face. ‘Unless…you’re not up for it anymore, that’s cool.’
‘No, I’m still…’ up for it ‘…interested,’ Byakuya finished. Renji's teeth glinted as he grinned.
‘Right. Shirt off.’ Byakuya knew he hadn’t completely managed to keep his surprise from showing. If he’d thought about it he would, of course, have realised that most back massages required the removal of clothing. But he hadn’t thought about it. He hesitated for a moment, and Renji laughed without malice.
‘I promise I won’t bite.’ Byakuya pulled his singlet over his head to give himself something to do, and to hide the colour he knew had surged to his cheeks. He folded his singlet neatly and set it on top of the beaten old piano crouched beside the equally battered looking CD player. He could feel Renji’s eyes on his body, running up his back, caressing his hips and sliding over his torso. He turned back, and Renji’s warm brown eyes had turned hot.
‘You’ve got a pretty good body for a brain,’ Renji informed him lightly, as though his teasing tone could undo the intensity of his gaze. Byakuya allowed himself a small smile.
‘I like to keep fit,’ he admitted. Renji’s fingers twitched, and Byakuya realised the other man was fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. The knowledge simmered under his skin and he found himself longing for that touch, for the feel of Renji’s warm fingers on his skin. Stupid, he told himself. He felt as though somebody had set his nerve endings on fire, and surely, surely Renji couldn’t be oblivious to the something crackling between them. It’s just a friendly offer, Byakuya told himself firmly. He’s just being kind.
I’m having some difficulty deciding what makes you more of an idiot, the snide voice that lurked somewhere within his cerebral cortex snapped. The fact you’re harbouring some sort of bizarre attraction to this uneducated, impoverished yoga instructor or the fact you’re not horrified that you’re harbouring some sort of bizarre attraction to this uneducated, impoverished yoga instructor.
‘Hey, earth to…damn, I don’t even know your name.’ Renji’s voice jerked him back to the present.
‘Byakuya,’ he supplied without thinking.
‘Japanese?’ Renji asked. Byakuya nodded.
‘My family are,’ he said shortly. Renji either didn’t notice his reticence, or did notice it and decided to press on regardless.
‘You don’t have an accent,’ he observed.
‘I spent most of my childhood in America.’ Renji, taking the hint this time, gestured to the mat. Byakuya attempted to be graceful while arranging himself. Renji rustled around in his backpack and pulled out a vaguely suspicious looking tub.
‘What’s that?’ Byakuya asked, trying not to sound alarmed. Renji grinned.
‘Don’t look so freaked out, it’s just massage oil.’
‘Oh.’
Oh?
‘Put your head in your arms and close your eyes,’ Renji ordered. Byakuya turned his head to the side, resting it on his hands, and shut his eyes gently. Something in his stomach twisted. He felt…vulnerable. Terrifyingly naked and terrifyingly vulnerable. Naked in a way that had nothing to do with the meticulously folded singlet on the piano.
Renji’s hands settled on his back and he flinched reflexively. Renji murmured a sorry as he began to smooth the oil over Byakuya’s bare skin, hands firm but gentle. Byakuya closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Renji’s long fingers slid down his spine, pressing down as they searched out the sore points, and Byakuya exhaled shakily. He was normally finicky about being touched, but the warmth of Renji’s fingers, the gentle sound of Renji’s breathing above him, Renji’s knee just barely resting against his side, were anything but unpleasant. They were dangerously pleasant, dangerously tempting.
‘That ok?’ Renji asked, and it took Byakuya a moment to answer.
‘Yes,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Renji’s magical hands began kneading his lower back and Byakuya bit back a groan. He could feel the knots of tension bound up in his spine unravelling. It hurt, but in a good way. It hurt because it needed to hurt. Renji’s strong fingers found a particularly tender spot and he flinched reflexively.
‘Sorry,’ Renji said softly. His hands gentled, and Byakuya tried to focus on the pain rather than the touch. Because the touch was intoxicating.
‘You’re insanely tense, you know,’ Renji observed quietly. His voice was low. Soft. Intimate. His hands skimmed up Byakuya’s spine, settling on his shoulders. Renji pressed his thumbs into a spot between Byakuya’s shoulder blades and Byakuya couldn’t restrain a shaky breath. The pain as the corded muscles slowly relaxed was as beguiling as pleasure. ‘You should do this more often or you’ll hurt yourself.’ And a new, sinful voice in Byakuya’s head murmured that he’d willingly submit to this on a regular basis, providing it was Renji’s warm, knowing hands sliding all over his skin.
‘Wait a sec,’ Renji said, and Byakuya heard him shifting. He opened his eyes briefly, Renji’s right knee swimming into view by his side. Something settled against his other side and he realised Renji was straddling him. Renji’s hands ran down his sides, and Byakuya felt the path of each finger burning on his skin. Any hope he’d had of convincing himself Renji’s touch was soothing, not sensual, crumpled to ashes as Renji’s hands brushed over his hips. They repeated their journey as Byakuya fought back his arousal.
And Renji, surely Renji couldn’t be oblivious to the increase in the tempo of this breathing, the colour in his cheeks. Surely Renji couldn’t be oblivious to the battle he was fighting with desire.
What on earth do you think you’re doing?
‘Renji,’ he said sharply. The hands stilled, and Byakuya felt Renji shift. He sat up too fast, the world swimming a little, and Renji’s hand on his shoulder steadied him.
‘What’s wrong?’ Renji asked.
And Renji was too close, much too close. Renji’s lips were too close, and all Byakuya could think about was closing the distance between them. He ached suddenly, ached to lean forward and taste Renji’s breath, explore his mouth, unbind that beautiful hair and glut himself on heat and passion and need. It was like a physical pain, but it started deep inside his soul and tore outwards, stretching desperately towards Renji and everything he was. Renji’s eyes softened and Byakuya knew with dreadful certainty that Renji was going to kiss him. All he need do was stay still, and Renji’s warm lips would be on his own. The moment stretched between them, an eternity of knowing and yes and tentative hope.
Too close. He’s too close.
Byakuya pulled away, cold swallowing him up from the inside out.
‘I think that’s enough,’ he said. The hand fell from his shoulder. He could almost taste Renji’s bewilderment.
‘Yeah, ok,’ Renji said, floundering for nonchalance. Byakuya stood gracefully, recoiling from the warmth that had moments ago been drawing him in. He needed…he needed to find his centre. Needed to calm the thundering of his heart. Needed to shrink back into himself and remind himself who he was.
You’re Byakuya Kuchiki.
‘Hope it helps a bit,’ Renji said, and Byakuya was distantly aware of the painful awkwardness. Everything was dim. Emotions. Colour. Pain. ‘I’ll see you next week?’
‘I’m not sure whether I will continue to attend.’
Renji’s eyes were like broken glass.
‘Wha-‘
‘I’m quite busy at the moment. I do not need any…distractions.’
He knew Renji understood the double meaning from the naked embarrassment on his face. And Byakuya didn’t flee, because he wouldn’t allow himself to feel the emotion that would lend haste to his feet, but he did walk away. He walked away and left Renji on the floor, fingers still damp with oil, kneeling in the middle of the abandoned hall.
The night hit him like a blow and he realised he’d walked out shirtless.
You’re Byakuya Kuchiki.
He unlocked his car calmly and slid gracefully into the driver’s seat. He knew these motions. He’d practiced them over and over again until he had them down to a fine art. He wouldn’t permit himself to feel the aching loss of Renji’s touch. Or crippling guilt at the pain that had smothered the laughter in Renji’s gentle brown eyes. He simply would not allow it. It had worked before
He was Byakuya Kuchiki. He could not afford to feel.
-
Renji had a plan. He was going to drink himself insensible. He thought it was a pretty damn good plan. Solid, sensible, achievable. He was going to methodically drink himself to the point where he could stop thinking about cold grey eyes, stop thinking about hot skin under his fingers, and stop feeling the sting of rejection. He was, in short, going to drink himself to the verge of unconsciousness and hope one of his friends would be merciful enough to lug him home and deposit him on a flat surface.
‘You’re drinking with purpose.’ Shuuhei appeared in his peripheral vision. As per usual, his strange scars and stark facial tattoo were garnering him the attention of half the bar. His tousled hair, tight jeans and battered leather jacket weren’t hurting either. He set his soda water down next to Renji and sat, stretching out his legs.
‘Don’t want to talk about it,’ Renji said brusquely. Shuuhei knew him too well to be offended.
‘Talk about what?’ Ikkaku asked, plonking a pint glass down on the bar. Renji fought the urge to knock his head repeatedly against the wooden surface. He wasn’t in the mood for friends.
‘Is it a girl?’ Kira asked, somewhat morosely, from beneath his fringe.
‘Fffff, it’s not a girl. Renji’s got booooooy troubles.’ Renji knew without looking that Yumichika was fluttering behind him, some sort of fruity cocktail in hand. Like, he thought sourly, a giant, glittering, irritatingly knowing fly. A fly Renji would have liked to swat.
‘Are you ok, Renji?’ Momo laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
‘Where,’ Renji growled, with less venom than he intended, ‘did you all come from?’
A hand descended on his back, almost sending him nose first into the bar.
‘Kensei,’ Shuuhei said reprovingly.
‘Yes, Kensei.’ Yumi trilled, ‘be gentle. Our Renji’s all pitiful and lovelorn. Save the rough stuff for Shuu, he likes it.’
Shuuhei spluttered into his drink. Ikkaku snorted with laughter. Momo hid a giggle with her hand. Kensei asked for a scotch on the rocks and Kira downed half his schooner. Renji, for his part, found himself almost smiling.
‘What’re you moping about?’ Kensei demanded with characteristic force. Renji glared half-heartedly.
‘He doesn’t want to talk about it,’ Shuuhei answered for him.
‘But I want to hear about it,’ Yumi said sorrowfully. ‘I want details. Who he is, where he’s from, what he’s like.’
‘Yumi!’
Listening to Momo and Yumi bicker good-naturedly, Renji grudgingly allowed himself to be borne off to one of the booths out of the way of the main bar. Insensibility seemed to be off the table, but Kensei was a good drinking buddy and Yumi’s vicious wit was balm for a wounded ego.
-
Byakuya stared at the flashing digits of his bedside clock. 1:59:31.
You’re a fool.
1:59:32
What were you thinking? He’s a yoga instructor. If the media discovered your little indiscretion…
1:59:35
If your family discovered your little indiscretion…
1:59:39
He likely never even graduated…
1:59:42
When did you beginning succumbing to the demands of your body? Has your discipline slipped so far? Are you so weak?
1:59:44
Why are you so weak?
1:59:48
He’s nothing.
1:59:51
He’s nobody.
1:59:55
He’s meaningless.
2:00:00
You hurt him.
Thoughts? Comments?