Bleach Drabble (424)
I have had NO time to do anything lately, it feels like. -_-;; Well, here's me telling work to SUCK IT for a bit. XD
424.
Title: Learning the Steps
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuheixYumichika
Word Count: 996
Warning/s: Spoilers for the SS arc and OOCness up the wazoo, but I’ve been feeling weird about my writing lately. O.o
Summary: Shuuhei’s got a great teacher.
Dedication: sophiap- for your prize drabble!
A/N: The prompt was “two steps forward, one step back”- I kind of took some liberties with it? Sorry! XD
Sometimes, Shuuhei thinks he’s being taught to dance.
One two, one two, left, right, backwards, forwards, dip, spin, cha-cha-cha.
Sometimes, Shuuhei thinks he can’t quite keep up.
One, two, one two, dodge left, feint right, flip back, duck, parry, parry, thrust, miss.
Ow.
“Ow.”
Clucking at him then, half-amused and all unrepentant. Tender hands on his face and a soft, sweet tongue on his collar, right at the spot where Fujikujaku had drawn a thin line of blood.
Punishment for not following the rhythm maybe. For being unable to quite keep up.
Beauty with sharp edges, that sword. Not unlike its owner, really.
Shuuhei grunts. “I’m alright.”
Bright eyes laugh up into his, and that means the two pink spots on his cheeks are there (like always) even though he’d tried his damdest to not let them blossom when he’d spoken just now.
There’s one last, lingering lap of tongue against his skin anyway, and then a kiss on top of the wound for luck. “Mmm, you taste good anyway. Nice and clean.” A giggle.
Shuuhei knows he’s being teased then, knows that despite their appearances, he’s the less battle-hardened of the two, the most naïve.
The idealistic one.
He hasn’t seen men slaughtered over something as simple as a pair of shoes before after all, hasn’t watched people act their worst-violent and cruel and angry-- just because the world in which they’d lived had taught them to be like that and no other way.
Hisagi Shuuhei has never fought for fighting’s sake, though he’s been in his fair share of battles. Never for himself, for his own joy or pride or benefit. He fought for ideals. For duty, for honor, for his captain, for that elusive thing called good.
Just like Tousen-taichou had always said.
Fight for the greater good.
And for a while, that’s what he thought he’d been doing.
He’d never fought because he’d felt like it, because he was strong and he could. Things like that were frowned upon. “Unjust.” Like Tousen-taichou said.
He’d been made to believe in an ideal world-- someone else’s rules.
Dancing to a tune he didn’t understand, maybe. Or moving when he didn’t know the right steps…both worked.
“Maa, just because you won’t hit a person from behind doesn’t mean that they’ll extend the same courtesy to you, my lovely.”
He scowls at the teasing tone as best he can but knows those two pink spots on his cheeks are there even still. “I know.”
“Mmm, do you?” a gentle, placating kiss to his cheek, Yumichika’s panted breath in his ear. “Would you be able to slit someone’s throat from behind, I wonder? Or reach around and snap their neck before they saw you if you had to?”
He knows the words to this part of the song thus far, at least. Has heard it lots of times from that petal-soft mouth.
Fight to survive. Fight to be strong.
Fight because you can.
Fight for yourself.
Make your own rules.
Shuuhei swallows. Grits his teeth. “I would if I had to.”
“My sweet love,” Yumi sighs, and lashes out again.
Two steps back, a parry, a feint, a lunge.
Yumichika spins and laughs and slips right out of the vice-captain’s attack like water between his fingers. Shuuhei wonders if he’s in trouble or something, if he’s gotten in too deep when he feels something like joy pierce his heart at the sound of that beautiful, mocking laughter, when he feels anticipation at the prospect of catching and crushing such a dangerously lovely flower between his hands.
Just because he could.
Sometimes, Shuuhei thinks he’s beginning to learn how to dance.
He’s got a good teacher.
Yumichika is a man who, despite his looks, has fought for the mere sake of fighting a hundred thousand times. He’s destroyed men because he could, has battled for his own sake and no one else’s. He fights and dances like they’re one and the same.
His own blade, his own pride.
And oddly enough, underneath it all, his own ideals.
A man who makes his own universe.
Tells it how to spin just like he wants and doesn’t have a Tousen-taichou to convince him how it ought to be done.
Right now, Shuuhei’s blood is on his tongue and there’s the same flush on his cheeks he gets when the two of them fucking right before bed, or right before work, or just because. Only difference between that and this is it’s not the sound of Yumichika’s breathless moans and hoarse shouts splitting the space between them now, just the explosive clash of their blades making love in the pre-dawn air.
Shuuhei’s heart rate speeds up and he can feel his blood pounding in his ears like drums. Can feel the cold air hitting that tender spot on his chest where he’d been cut and it throbs in time with the rest of the world.
Two steps forward, one step back, pivot, duck, wait, wait, wait, grasp, thrust, pin.
A sharp hiss from Yumi then, when Shuuhei’s zanpakutou pricks into the skin on the side of his milk-white throat, draws forth just one drop of blood onto that flawless surface.
“Mmmm,” the smaller man murmurs, and smiles like he does after he comes.
Shuuhei grins at that--pride, joy, self-- and Yumi sees it.
Loves it.
“Now you’re getting it, my sweet.”
“Yeah?”
A move like lightning, the feeling of the earth reaching up to meet him as he falls.
Then the wind is rushing out of his lungs and pale, deceptively delicate-looking fingers are wrapped around his throat.
The face of an angel gazes down at him and smiles like hell.
“Yeah. You really are.”
Hisagi laughs and pulls him down then, kisses Yumi hard enough that the vice-captain can taste his own blood on that wicked little tongue.
They both smile into it and Shuuhei can’t help but think that step by step, he’s learning how to dance.
END
Edits? So needed. I wrote this with half-a-brain or something. o.o
424.
Title: Learning the Steps
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuheixYumichika
Word Count: 996
Warning/s: Spoilers for the SS arc and OOCness up the wazoo, but I’ve been feeling weird about my writing lately. O.o
Summary: Shuuhei’s got a great teacher.
Dedication: sophiap- for your prize drabble!
A/N: The prompt was “two steps forward, one step back”- I kind of took some liberties with it? Sorry! XD
Sometimes, Shuuhei thinks he’s being taught to dance.
One two, one two, left, right, backwards, forwards, dip, spin, cha-cha-cha.
Sometimes, Shuuhei thinks he can’t quite keep up.
One, two, one two, dodge left, feint right, flip back, duck, parry, parry, thrust, miss.
Ow.
“Ow.”
Clucking at him then, half-amused and all unrepentant. Tender hands on his face and a soft, sweet tongue on his collar, right at the spot where Fujikujaku had drawn a thin line of blood.
Punishment for not following the rhythm maybe. For being unable to quite keep up.
Beauty with sharp edges, that sword. Not unlike its owner, really.
Shuuhei grunts. “I’m alright.”
Bright eyes laugh up into his, and that means the two pink spots on his cheeks are there (like always) even though he’d tried his damdest to not let them blossom when he’d spoken just now.
There’s one last, lingering lap of tongue against his skin anyway, and then a kiss on top of the wound for luck. “Mmm, you taste good anyway. Nice and clean.” A giggle.
Shuuhei knows he’s being teased then, knows that despite their appearances, he’s the less battle-hardened of the two, the most naïve.
The idealistic one.
He hasn’t seen men slaughtered over something as simple as a pair of shoes before after all, hasn’t watched people act their worst-violent and cruel and angry-- just because the world in which they’d lived had taught them to be like that and no other way.
Hisagi Shuuhei has never fought for fighting’s sake, though he’s been in his fair share of battles. Never for himself, for his own joy or pride or benefit. He fought for ideals. For duty, for honor, for his captain, for that elusive thing called good.
Just like Tousen-taichou had always said.
Fight for the greater good.
And for a while, that’s what he thought he’d been doing.
He’d never fought because he’d felt like it, because he was strong and he could. Things like that were frowned upon. “Unjust.” Like Tousen-taichou said.
He’d been made to believe in an ideal world-- someone else’s rules.
Dancing to a tune he didn’t understand, maybe. Or moving when he didn’t know the right steps…both worked.
“Maa, just because you won’t hit a person from behind doesn’t mean that they’ll extend the same courtesy to you, my lovely.”
He scowls at the teasing tone as best he can but knows those two pink spots on his cheeks are there even still. “I know.”
“Mmm, do you?” a gentle, placating kiss to his cheek, Yumichika’s panted breath in his ear. “Would you be able to slit someone’s throat from behind, I wonder? Or reach around and snap their neck before they saw you if you had to?”
He knows the words to this part of the song thus far, at least. Has heard it lots of times from that petal-soft mouth.
Fight to survive. Fight to be strong.
Fight because you can.
Fight for yourself.
Make your own rules.
Shuuhei swallows. Grits his teeth. “I would if I had to.”
“My sweet love,” Yumi sighs, and lashes out again.
Two steps back, a parry, a feint, a lunge.
Yumichika spins and laughs and slips right out of the vice-captain’s attack like water between his fingers. Shuuhei wonders if he’s in trouble or something, if he’s gotten in too deep when he feels something like joy pierce his heart at the sound of that beautiful, mocking laughter, when he feels anticipation at the prospect of catching and crushing such a dangerously lovely flower between his hands.
Just because he could.
Sometimes, Shuuhei thinks he’s beginning to learn how to dance.
He’s got a good teacher.
Yumichika is a man who, despite his looks, has fought for the mere sake of fighting a hundred thousand times. He’s destroyed men because he could, has battled for his own sake and no one else’s. He fights and dances like they’re one and the same.
His own blade, his own pride.
And oddly enough, underneath it all, his own ideals.
A man who makes his own universe.
Tells it how to spin just like he wants and doesn’t have a Tousen-taichou to convince him how it ought to be done.
Right now, Shuuhei’s blood is on his tongue and there’s the same flush on his cheeks he gets when the two of them fucking right before bed, or right before work, or just because. Only difference between that and this is it’s not the sound of Yumichika’s breathless moans and hoarse shouts splitting the space between them now, just the explosive clash of their blades making love in the pre-dawn air.
Shuuhei’s heart rate speeds up and he can feel his blood pounding in his ears like drums. Can feel the cold air hitting that tender spot on his chest where he’d been cut and it throbs in time with the rest of the world.
Two steps forward, one step back, pivot, duck, wait, wait, wait, grasp, thrust, pin.
A sharp hiss from Yumi then, when Shuuhei’s zanpakutou pricks into the skin on the side of his milk-white throat, draws forth just one drop of blood onto that flawless surface.
“Mmmm,” the smaller man murmurs, and smiles like he does after he comes.
Shuuhei grins at that--pride, joy, self-- and Yumi sees it.
Loves it.
“Now you’re getting it, my sweet.”
“Yeah?”
A move like lightning, the feeling of the earth reaching up to meet him as he falls.
Then the wind is rushing out of his lungs and pale, deceptively delicate-looking fingers are wrapped around his throat.
The face of an angel gazes down at him and smiles like hell.
“Yeah. You really are.”
Hisagi laughs and pulls him down then, kisses Yumi hard enough that the vice-captain can taste his own blood on that wicked little tongue.
They both smile into it and Shuuhei can’t help but think that step by step, he’s learning how to dance.
END
Edits? So needed. I wrote this with half-a-brain or something. o.o