Make Some Noise {Kenpachi/Jushiro}
Title: Make Some Noise
Characters/Pairing: Kenpachi/Jushiro, Eleventh Division
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,740
Summary: The Eleventh Division may be quiet at the dinner table whenever Jushiro comes around, but its captain turns out to be quite the opposite.
A/N: Written for prompt #4: sweet to eat of 7snogs and prompt #18: length of otp_100.
Jushiro sat at the quiet dining table, slipping a piece of steamed fish into his mouth with a pair of chopsticks, handling them with skilled, delicate hands. Around him the so-called "thugs" of the Seireitei had their heads lowered, munching and chewing away at their own food, the only sounds of clinking china shattering the peaceful silence.
It wasn't often Jushiro came to the Eleventh Division for dinner. He had never even imagined himself sitting in the hall, the only outsider surrounded by those large, muscular, scarred men with coarse mouths - along with their small, pink-haired lieutenant beaming eagerly at him from across the table.
But then, following his involvement with their captain, Jushiro eventually found himself dragged here for meals, or just to hang out and have a chat with the lower-ranking members. They were relatively easy to talk to, uncaring as to their own opinions, open and loose about everything. Jushiro enjoyed their company, to say the very least. They provided him with some much-needed laidback personalities, a way for him to escape the stress of work and dealings with his square Third Seats.
Despite all that though, he thought it rather awkward to have such a quiet atmosphere during dinnertime when they were always so…noisy. He had imagined them to be knocking sake bottles out of each others' hands, spilling alcohol all over themselves, shoving nearby fellows away just for the sake of grabbing the last piece of chicken meat; he'd expected them to go about the usual clamour they indulged in during the day, but to see them in such a state - respectful, polite, hardly talking - was rather…odd.
Jushiro finished the last of his food, and when he placed the empty bowl on the table, Aramaki and a few others twitched. It was just a slight movement, but he noticed it straight away. With a slightly raised eyebrow, he caught Kenpachi's eye. The man only flashed him a grin, stuffing a large proportion of rice into Yachiru's awaiting mouth. It was more than enough to choke the little girl, and Jushiro was about to protest, but she swallowed it a second later with ease and tugged Kenpachi's sleeve, eager for another round. With a small shake of his head, Jushiro picked up his bowl and chopsticks and rose to his feet.
"Sit yer ass down, Ukitake," Kenpachi instantly snapped, holding his sake bottle out of reach as Yachiru climbed into his lap to ravage his share, and pointed at Aramaki. "You. Get off yer lazy ass an' go clean up for 'em."
"Y-Yes, Captain." Aramaki leaped to his feet, nearly knocking his own chair over, and bowed to Jushiro. "Sir, would you mind…"
"It's all right." Jushiro smiled, giving him a grateful nod. "Carry on with your meal. As opposed to what your dear captain," here, he shot an accusing look at Kenpachi out of the corner of his eye, to which the younger man responded with an indifferent grunt, "I'm perfectly capable of tending to my own chores."
And with that, he bowed his head slightly at the rest and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them stunned. Really, Kenpachi couldn't just let him do his own work without being fussy. Jushiro had initially thought that he couldn't care less about something even if he tried, but then eventually he found out that he could be quite the possessive one. It just rested on the circumstances - so far, only Yachiru and himself managed to dig the man out of his nonchalant shell. But Jushiro wasn't complaining all that much; he found it rather cute, if one could even describe Zaraki Kenpachi as such.
Jushiro didn't have to look up when he heard the door open and close, knowing who it was in a moment's notice. "Is something bothering you today?" His eyes never left the dishes as he washed them in the sink, hands buried in soap bubbles. "Or your squad? They seem rather…uptight."
"They're always like that whenever ye're 'round. Thought ye were already used to it." Kenpachi scoffed, folding his arms across his chest, and leaned against the counter. "An' I thought ye were the observant one."
Jushiro shrugged and, upon placing the washed and dried dishes in the cabinet above his head, reached for a small towel to dry his hands. "I'm just not used to the silence. I mean, they're always so…energetic when it comes to fighting. Who knew they'd be without words at a dinner table?"
"I remember tellin' 'em that if they upset ye, I'd have their fucked up brains for breakfast an' let 'Chiru play with their innards." Kenpachi laughed at the frown that etched itself on Jushiro's face that very moment. "C'mon, Ukitake. Thought ye like it when it's so damn calm'n quiet?"
"I do prefer some peace and quiet while eating, but it feels strange coming from your division," he said, curt in his tone as he stole a glance at the door. He could hear the muffled sounds of muttering accompanied by the gentle clinking of chopsticks upon china, and Yachiru smacking Ikkaku over his bald head, demanding for his share. Apparently, the child still wasn't satisfied with finishing her father's fill.
"But if it's noise that ye want…" Kenpachi took a step towards Jushiro, grin widening with mischief. Jushiro backed away, fixing him with a warning glare.
"Not now, Zaraki."
"If not now, then when?"
"We have the whole night ahead of us. You do know that your whole division's just right outs-" Before Jushiro could even finish his sentence, Kenpachi was on him, pushing him back against the counter and pinning his hands down. Sharp teeth sunk into his shoulder, biting, and he had to tug a hand away to clasp it over his mouth, muffling the surprised cry of pain that escaped him. Kenpachi trailed his tongue up Jushiro's neck, encircling his ear, sucking on his lobe.
"Cut the crap, Ukitake." Kenpachi pushed a knee between Jushiro's legs, forcing them apart, and pressed it up against his groin. "Ye've been starin' at me all throughout dinner. Don't think I didn't see ye - I ain't that blind."
Jushiro squeezed his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself. The man was right; he indeed was stealing glances over at Kenpachi. One couldn't blame him though. He was in his lover's territory, free for once from his obnoxious Third Seats and stressful paperwork, and the bedroom was just a floor above their heads. That large bed Jushiro often bunked in awaited him, soft and warm from the heat of Kenpachi's body, much in contrast to the cold, airy feeling he got whenever he turned in for the night alone.
"We can't, Zaraki." He tried pushing Kenpachi away, but his half-hearted attempts failed miserably. His hands were weak, meek from his fellow captain's ministrations. The irritating yet pleasurable pulse between his legs did a good job of distracting him from his initial plight, and soon Jushiro found himself seeking Kenpachi's lips. But the other man was still too preoccupied with his neck, hands caressing his sides, knee applying just the right amount of pressure to make Jushiro crave for more.
"Damn it," Jushiro hissed, hands moving of their own accord, peeling away Kenpachi's haori, but Kenpachi, for once, refused to take it off. He swiped Jushiro's hands away and, easily lifting his light form off the floor, placed him on the counter instead.
"No can do, ol' man." He brushed a thumb over the significant bulge in Jushiro's hakama, smirking in amusement. "Ain't got time t'take that shit off."
"Suit yourself, then." Jushiro took his face in his hands and pulled him closer. "Just kiss me, you bastard."
"Impatient prick." And Kenpachi crashed his lips to Jushiro's, tugging his mouth open with a hand, plunging his tongue right in to a fierce battle. Jushiro eventually found himself pushed back against the wall, clutching fistfuls of his haori, pulling him in. He felt his obi being ripped right off his hakama, and out of the corner of his eye he saw it being flung to the floor like a rag doll. The next moment, his hakama was down, his bare backside coming in contact with the cold countertop, and his legs spread apart with a rather smug Kenpachi in between.
"I thought you sa - Zaraki!" Jushiro blurted out when Kenpachi grabbed hold of his growing erection and gave it a swift lick.
"Fuck, Ukitake," he grasped Jushiro's hips and pulled him closer, sneering, "don't blame me if we make too much noise in 'ere."
"Correction," Jushiro snapped, smacking his hands away, a faint shade of red painted across his cheeks, "don't blame me if your division comes in and finds us like this. They'll see their captain with someone else's…" he stole a glance at his length. Those irritating throbs were driving him out of his mind, and Kenpachi's hands were right there. Those large hands that were just so damn good at pleasing Jushiro, that knew just what to do at the right time…
Jushiro shook his head, slapping Kenpachi on the shoulder, glaring at him when all he responded with was a laugh. "Stop that, Zaraki!"
"Well, ye asked for it." He brushed his lips to Jushiro's, a gentle gesture that effortlessly softened the older captain's steel will, and that was when Jushito faltered, when Kenpachi took advantage of the moment and swooped down on him. He took his lover in one swift motion, lips wrapped around it, hand caressing the base, tongue teasing its head. And the groan that left Jushiro resonated throughout the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and back at them with such force. Immediately, he clasped a hand over his mouth, muffling another curse, the other free hand grasping Kenpachi's haori once again.
"Stop it," he hissed through gritted teeth. It was hard to ignore the sensations building inside him, the flame of desire that had been ignited by Kenpachi's ministrations. It was so effortless, the way the man managed to drive him to the edge of sanity. Jushiro never really figured out just how he could do that, but it was a question he'd gladly drop if he continued to receive such treatments. He was good, Jushiro had to admit, so damn good that he couldn't help but plead for more.
"Stop," he gasped out, straining against Kenpachi's large frame, watching as his lover trailed his lithe, skilful tongue up his length. That wet feel was almost enough to strip Jushiro of his senses, but he hung on to what little understanding he still had left just to take in more. The sight of Kenpachi doing such things to him, things that he could only fantasize about in private - and then, being the prude that he was, only rarely - was one to behold, even if only in its own perverse way.
Ignoring his pleas, Kenpachi took him in deeper. He allowed his teeth to scrape lightly at the flesh, causing Jushiro to slip a little ways down the wall, thrusting his hips upwards for more. Jushiro wished he could entangle his fingers in Kenpachi's hair, but the neatly fashioned spikes made it impossible. Why he settled on such an odd hairstyle was beyond him, but he had eventually grown fond of it - one of the unique traits he found so endearing of the hulking captain.
He ran a palm over Kenpachi's forehead where sweat began to gather as he worked Jushiro. Granted, it was a rather small kitchen, with only a window above the sink for ventilation. But despite how stuffy it was, Jushiro was grateful for it being closed and curtained - gods knew who or what lay out there. Being intimate in the kitchen with the rest of the division just outside was one thing, being spied upon by outsiders was another.
As the sensations built, fast and strong, within his system, Jushiro wrapped his legs around Kenpachi's waist, bringing him ever closer. After another thrust of his hips, the one that would be his last, Kenpachi pinned them down with a growl that sent shivers up his spine. With his own movements limited, Jushiro entangled his fingers in his own hair and lay back on the counter, having slid all the way down the wall by now, and tried his very best to muffle his cries as pleasure crashed over him in violent waves.
"Gods…" He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth as blinding light flashed inside his lids. An overwhelming array of passion swept through him, and he managed to stifle his cries into breathless groans and gasps as he rode out his release. Kenpachi held his hips, steadied him until he was done, and hovered above him with a smug grin plastered to his face.
"Liked it?"
Jushiro let out a strained chuckle, letting his eyelids drift to a close. Exhausted, spent, he could only lie there as Kenpachi grabbed the dishrag to clean the sticky moisture from his thighs. He stole a few licks for himself though and, upon dumping the rag into the bin, kissed all the way up Jushiro's clothed torso. He nudged the hems of the shihakusho away to nuzzle his chest, nibbled at his jaws, pecked at his chin before claiming his lips in a chaste kiss.
"You're so full of yourself," Jushiro murmured against his mouth, smiling in satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around Kenpachi. "So very full of yourself."
"Jus' the way ye like it." Kenpachi licked Jushiro's bottom lip. "The soba was good, eh? Surprised me, 'cause I never thought that pretty-boy had it in 'em t'cook anythin' worth shit."
"You underestimate your division sometimes."
"In fightin', no way. They ain't no match for me, but they're way better than those other pansies - that includes yer Third Seat shitheads. Fuck, those two need some bricks to the head, Ukitake. Someday, I'm gonna have t'pound some sense in-" Kenpachi was cut off when Jushiro pressed an index finger to his lips, gentle smile in place, eyes closed in contentment.
"Shush." Jushiro brought his head closer, pressed a kiss to his cheek to which Kenpachi replied with a scoff.
"Thought ye wanted noise?"
"Didn't we have enough of that already?" Jushiro eyed him, teasing, running his hands over Kenpachi's chest.
"Ye fussy asshole." Kenpachi stole a quick kiss from him, fond and gentle, and helped him back into his hakama. He retrieved the obi from the floor, but it was already torn, unable to live up to even tie the uniform in place. Instead of bursting into a nag however, Jushiro laughed, dropping the ruined piece of clothing into the bin, watching it rest beside the sticky dishrag. Kenpachi shrugged nonchalantly and wrapped his arms around Jushiro, licking at his throat.
"Ye don't need that shit anyway."
Jushiro blinked, puzzled, and felt a sudden chill as Kenpachi let slip a low growl thick with renewed desire. His heated breath against his ear served to excite him even more; Jushiro kissed his jaw, ran his lips along his collarbone as the growing din from outside reached his ears. All throughout their intimacy, he hadn't heard anything other than his own breathless moans, and now he realized that the division had sprung to life. With him and their captain away, they seemed to regain their courage. Jushiro shook his head - he'd never be able to understand them. Best to leave them to their own business - besides, he had his own hands full at the moment, and Kenpachi didn't look like he was leaving him anytime soon.
"I don't need my obi, do I?" Jushiro ventured, twisting Kenpachi's suggestively, half-lidded eyes fixating their gaze on the other man's. A sneer, one that spoke volumes of his anticipation, his eagerness, formed on Kenpachi's face.
"Shit like that's useless where we're goin'."
"Oh, really?"
With that, Kenpachi took Jushiro into his arms, lifting him off the countertop, stole out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, resembling a madman on the run. Jushiro couldn't help but laugh, holding on to him as he sped down the corridor, past the balcony overlooking the garden, and when they were finally in the bedroom, Kenpachi pinned him down on the mattress, stripping his hakama right off his hips. The grin he flashed through the darkness, one that revealed much of his sharp, sharp teeth, sent jolts of excitement throughout Jushiro.
"Now we're gonna make some real noise."
Characters/Pairing: Kenpachi/Jushiro, Eleventh Division
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,740
Summary: The Eleventh Division may be quiet at the dinner table whenever Jushiro comes around, but its captain turns out to be quite the opposite.
A/N: Written for prompt #4: sweet to eat of 7snogs and prompt #18: length of otp_100.
Jushiro sat at the quiet dining table, slipping a piece of steamed fish into his mouth with a pair of chopsticks, handling them with skilled, delicate hands. Around him the so-called "thugs" of the Seireitei had their heads lowered, munching and chewing away at their own food, the only sounds of clinking china shattering the peaceful silence.
It wasn't often Jushiro came to the Eleventh Division for dinner. He had never even imagined himself sitting in the hall, the only outsider surrounded by those large, muscular, scarred men with coarse mouths - along with their small, pink-haired lieutenant beaming eagerly at him from across the table.
But then, following his involvement with their captain, Jushiro eventually found himself dragged here for meals, or just to hang out and have a chat with the lower-ranking members. They were relatively easy to talk to, uncaring as to their own opinions, open and loose about everything. Jushiro enjoyed their company, to say the very least. They provided him with some much-needed laidback personalities, a way for him to escape the stress of work and dealings with his square Third Seats.
Despite all that though, he thought it rather awkward to have such a quiet atmosphere during dinnertime when they were always so…noisy. He had imagined them to be knocking sake bottles out of each others' hands, spilling alcohol all over themselves, shoving nearby fellows away just for the sake of grabbing the last piece of chicken meat; he'd expected them to go about the usual clamour they indulged in during the day, but to see them in such a state - respectful, polite, hardly talking - was rather…odd.
Jushiro finished the last of his food, and when he placed the empty bowl on the table, Aramaki and a few others twitched. It was just a slight movement, but he noticed it straight away. With a slightly raised eyebrow, he caught Kenpachi's eye. The man only flashed him a grin, stuffing a large proportion of rice into Yachiru's awaiting mouth. It was more than enough to choke the little girl, and Jushiro was about to protest, but she swallowed it a second later with ease and tugged Kenpachi's sleeve, eager for another round. With a small shake of his head, Jushiro picked up his bowl and chopsticks and rose to his feet.
"Sit yer ass down, Ukitake," Kenpachi instantly snapped, holding his sake bottle out of reach as Yachiru climbed into his lap to ravage his share, and pointed at Aramaki. "You. Get off yer lazy ass an' go clean up for 'em."
"Y-Yes, Captain." Aramaki leaped to his feet, nearly knocking his own chair over, and bowed to Jushiro. "Sir, would you mind…"
"It's all right." Jushiro smiled, giving him a grateful nod. "Carry on with your meal. As opposed to what your dear captain," here, he shot an accusing look at Kenpachi out of the corner of his eye, to which the younger man responded with an indifferent grunt, "I'm perfectly capable of tending to my own chores."
And with that, he bowed his head slightly at the rest and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them stunned. Really, Kenpachi couldn't just let him do his own work without being fussy. Jushiro had initially thought that he couldn't care less about something even if he tried, but then eventually he found out that he could be quite the possessive one. It just rested on the circumstances - so far, only Yachiru and himself managed to dig the man out of his nonchalant shell. But Jushiro wasn't complaining all that much; he found it rather cute, if one could even describe Zaraki Kenpachi as such.
Jushiro didn't have to look up when he heard the door open and close, knowing who it was in a moment's notice. "Is something bothering you today?" His eyes never left the dishes as he washed them in the sink, hands buried in soap bubbles. "Or your squad? They seem rather…uptight."
"They're always like that whenever ye're 'round. Thought ye were already used to it." Kenpachi scoffed, folding his arms across his chest, and leaned against the counter. "An' I thought ye were the observant one."
Jushiro shrugged and, upon placing the washed and dried dishes in the cabinet above his head, reached for a small towel to dry his hands. "I'm just not used to the silence. I mean, they're always so…energetic when it comes to fighting. Who knew they'd be without words at a dinner table?"
"I remember tellin' 'em that if they upset ye, I'd have their fucked up brains for breakfast an' let 'Chiru play with their innards." Kenpachi laughed at the frown that etched itself on Jushiro's face that very moment. "C'mon, Ukitake. Thought ye like it when it's so damn calm'n quiet?"
"I do prefer some peace and quiet while eating, but it feels strange coming from your division," he said, curt in his tone as he stole a glance at the door. He could hear the muffled sounds of muttering accompanied by the gentle clinking of chopsticks upon china, and Yachiru smacking Ikkaku over his bald head, demanding for his share. Apparently, the child still wasn't satisfied with finishing her father's fill.
"But if it's noise that ye want…" Kenpachi took a step towards Jushiro, grin widening with mischief. Jushiro backed away, fixing him with a warning glare.
"Not now, Zaraki."
"If not now, then when?"
"We have the whole night ahead of us. You do know that your whole division's just right outs-" Before Jushiro could even finish his sentence, Kenpachi was on him, pushing him back against the counter and pinning his hands down. Sharp teeth sunk into his shoulder, biting, and he had to tug a hand away to clasp it over his mouth, muffling the surprised cry of pain that escaped him. Kenpachi trailed his tongue up Jushiro's neck, encircling his ear, sucking on his lobe.
"Cut the crap, Ukitake." Kenpachi pushed a knee between Jushiro's legs, forcing them apart, and pressed it up against his groin. "Ye've been starin' at me all throughout dinner. Don't think I didn't see ye - I ain't that blind."
Jushiro squeezed his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself. The man was right; he indeed was stealing glances over at Kenpachi. One couldn't blame him though. He was in his lover's territory, free for once from his obnoxious Third Seats and stressful paperwork, and the bedroom was just a floor above their heads. That large bed Jushiro often bunked in awaited him, soft and warm from the heat of Kenpachi's body, much in contrast to the cold, airy feeling he got whenever he turned in for the night alone.
"We can't, Zaraki." He tried pushing Kenpachi away, but his half-hearted attempts failed miserably. His hands were weak, meek from his fellow captain's ministrations. The irritating yet pleasurable pulse between his legs did a good job of distracting him from his initial plight, and soon Jushiro found himself seeking Kenpachi's lips. But the other man was still too preoccupied with his neck, hands caressing his sides, knee applying just the right amount of pressure to make Jushiro crave for more.
"Damn it," Jushiro hissed, hands moving of their own accord, peeling away Kenpachi's haori, but Kenpachi, for once, refused to take it off. He swiped Jushiro's hands away and, easily lifting his light form off the floor, placed him on the counter instead.
"No can do, ol' man." He brushed a thumb over the significant bulge in Jushiro's hakama, smirking in amusement. "Ain't got time t'take that shit off."
"Suit yourself, then." Jushiro took his face in his hands and pulled him closer. "Just kiss me, you bastard."
"Impatient prick." And Kenpachi crashed his lips to Jushiro's, tugging his mouth open with a hand, plunging his tongue right in to a fierce battle. Jushiro eventually found himself pushed back against the wall, clutching fistfuls of his haori, pulling him in. He felt his obi being ripped right off his hakama, and out of the corner of his eye he saw it being flung to the floor like a rag doll. The next moment, his hakama was down, his bare backside coming in contact with the cold countertop, and his legs spread apart with a rather smug Kenpachi in between.
"I thought you sa - Zaraki!" Jushiro blurted out when Kenpachi grabbed hold of his growing erection and gave it a swift lick.
"Fuck, Ukitake," he grasped Jushiro's hips and pulled him closer, sneering, "don't blame me if we make too much noise in 'ere."
"Correction," Jushiro snapped, smacking his hands away, a faint shade of red painted across his cheeks, "don't blame me if your division comes in and finds us like this. They'll see their captain with someone else's…" he stole a glance at his length. Those irritating throbs were driving him out of his mind, and Kenpachi's hands were right there. Those large hands that were just so damn good at pleasing Jushiro, that knew just what to do at the right time…
Jushiro shook his head, slapping Kenpachi on the shoulder, glaring at him when all he responded with was a laugh. "Stop that, Zaraki!"
"Well, ye asked for it." He brushed his lips to Jushiro's, a gentle gesture that effortlessly softened the older captain's steel will, and that was when Jushito faltered, when Kenpachi took advantage of the moment and swooped down on him. He took his lover in one swift motion, lips wrapped around it, hand caressing the base, tongue teasing its head. And the groan that left Jushiro resonated throughout the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and back at them with such force. Immediately, he clasped a hand over his mouth, muffling another curse, the other free hand grasping Kenpachi's haori once again.
"Stop it," he hissed through gritted teeth. It was hard to ignore the sensations building inside him, the flame of desire that had been ignited by Kenpachi's ministrations. It was so effortless, the way the man managed to drive him to the edge of sanity. Jushiro never really figured out just how he could do that, but it was a question he'd gladly drop if he continued to receive such treatments. He was good, Jushiro had to admit, so damn good that he couldn't help but plead for more.
"Stop," he gasped out, straining against Kenpachi's large frame, watching as his lover trailed his lithe, skilful tongue up his length. That wet feel was almost enough to strip Jushiro of his senses, but he hung on to what little understanding he still had left just to take in more. The sight of Kenpachi doing such things to him, things that he could only fantasize about in private - and then, being the prude that he was, only rarely - was one to behold, even if only in its own perverse way.
Ignoring his pleas, Kenpachi took him in deeper. He allowed his teeth to scrape lightly at the flesh, causing Jushiro to slip a little ways down the wall, thrusting his hips upwards for more. Jushiro wished he could entangle his fingers in Kenpachi's hair, but the neatly fashioned spikes made it impossible. Why he settled on such an odd hairstyle was beyond him, but he had eventually grown fond of it - one of the unique traits he found so endearing of the hulking captain.
He ran a palm over Kenpachi's forehead where sweat began to gather as he worked Jushiro. Granted, it was a rather small kitchen, with only a window above the sink for ventilation. But despite how stuffy it was, Jushiro was grateful for it being closed and curtained - gods knew who or what lay out there. Being intimate in the kitchen with the rest of the division just outside was one thing, being spied upon by outsiders was another.
As the sensations built, fast and strong, within his system, Jushiro wrapped his legs around Kenpachi's waist, bringing him ever closer. After another thrust of his hips, the one that would be his last, Kenpachi pinned them down with a growl that sent shivers up his spine. With his own movements limited, Jushiro entangled his fingers in his own hair and lay back on the counter, having slid all the way down the wall by now, and tried his very best to muffle his cries as pleasure crashed over him in violent waves.
"Gods…" He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth as blinding light flashed inside his lids. An overwhelming array of passion swept through him, and he managed to stifle his cries into breathless groans and gasps as he rode out his release. Kenpachi held his hips, steadied him until he was done, and hovered above him with a smug grin plastered to his face.
"Liked it?"
Jushiro let out a strained chuckle, letting his eyelids drift to a close. Exhausted, spent, he could only lie there as Kenpachi grabbed the dishrag to clean the sticky moisture from his thighs. He stole a few licks for himself though and, upon dumping the rag into the bin, kissed all the way up Jushiro's clothed torso. He nudged the hems of the shihakusho away to nuzzle his chest, nibbled at his jaws, pecked at his chin before claiming his lips in a chaste kiss.
"You're so full of yourself," Jushiro murmured against his mouth, smiling in satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around Kenpachi. "So very full of yourself."
"Jus' the way ye like it." Kenpachi licked Jushiro's bottom lip. "The soba was good, eh? Surprised me, 'cause I never thought that pretty-boy had it in 'em t'cook anythin' worth shit."
"You underestimate your division sometimes."
"In fightin', no way. They ain't no match for me, but they're way better than those other pansies - that includes yer Third Seat shitheads. Fuck, those two need some bricks to the head, Ukitake. Someday, I'm gonna have t'pound some sense in-" Kenpachi was cut off when Jushiro pressed an index finger to his lips, gentle smile in place, eyes closed in contentment.
"Shush." Jushiro brought his head closer, pressed a kiss to his cheek to which Kenpachi replied with a scoff.
"Thought ye wanted noise?"
"Didn't we have enough of that already?" Jushiro eyed him, teasing, running his hands over Kenpachi's chest.
"Ye fussy asshole." Kenpachi stole a quick kiss from him, fond and gentle, and helped him back into his hakama. He retrieved the obi from the floor, but it was already torn, unable to live up to even tie the uniform in place. Instead of bursting into a nag however, Jushiro laughed, dropping the ruined piece of clothing into the bin, watching it rest beside the sticky dishrag. Kenpachi shrugged nonchalantly and wrapped his arms around Jushiro, licking at his throat.
"Ye don't need that shit anyway."
Jushiro blinked, puzzled, and felt a sudden chill as Kenpachi let slip a low growl thick with renewed desire. His heated breath against his ear served to excite him even more; Jushiro kissed his jaw, ran his lips along his collarbone as the growing din from outside reached his ears. All throughout their intimacy, he hadn't heard anything other than his own breathless moans, and now he realized that the division had sprung to life. With him and their captain away, they seemed to regain their courage. Jushiro shook his head - he'd never be able to understand them. Best to leave them to their own business - besides, he had his own hands full at the moment, and Kenpachi didn't look like he was leaving him anytime soon.
"I don't need my obi, do I?" Jushiro ventured, twisting Kenpachi's suggestively, half-lidded eyes fixating their gaze on the other man's. A sneer, one that spoke volumes of his anticipation, his eagerness, formed on Kenpachi's face.
"Shit like that's useless where we're goin'."
"Oh, really?"
With that, Kenpachi took Jushiro into his arms, lifting him off the countertop, stole out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, resembling a madman on the run. Jushiro couldn't help but laugh, holding on to him as he sped down the corridor, past the balcony overlooking the garden, and when they were finally in the bedroom, Kenpachi pinned him down on the mattress, stripping his hakama right off his hips. The grin he flashed through the darkness, one that revealed much of his sharp, sharp teeth, sent jolts of excitement throughout Jushiro.
"Now we're gonna make some real noise."