Bleach (Byakuya/Kenpachi)
Title: With Bells On
Author: worblehat
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Byakuya/Kenpachi
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Bleach, Kenpachi/Byakuya: Blood kink - "Equal match"
Word Count: 1,167
Secretly, Byakuya doesn't mind a good fight. In fact, when done correctly and within boundaries, he even enjoys it.
Kenpachi is the only one to notice this. He pushes ineffectively, trying to get Byakuya to respond. His verbal jabs, his glances that don't look away until Byakuya sighs - all methods prove ineffective.
Until the day he touches Byakuya's hair.
If fighting is an unspoken commonality between them, hair is doubly so. Despite his gangly, gruff appearances, Kenpachi seems to take great pains in the arrangement of his bells. Byakuya also takes pains, though more silent ones.
When Kenpachi reaches up to "see how that sort of thing works," Byakuya smacks his hand away, satisfied at the swift break of small bones in Kenpachi's left wrist. "Do not touch," Byakuya says coldly.
"Or else what?" challenges Kenpachi.
Byakuya wants to sigh, to stare coldly at Kenpachi with regality. Instead, his fingers wrap around the blade of his zanpakutou, firm yet relaxed as he draws. "You should have left well enough alone," he warns.
Kenpachi laughs loudly. "Are you kidding?" he finally says. "I've been waitin' for this day for years. Hell, centuries." He steps closer to Byakuya, who uses shunpo to move backward. "I didn't know you were a fraidy-cat, Byakuya," said Kenpachi, teeth gleaming, bared white and sharp.
"Stop talking," says Byakuya.
He doesn't remember much of their first fight, except the sound of bells, some falling to the ground. He remembers Kenpachi's hair, falling soft around his shoulders, and Kenpachi's chest, legs and arms, torn to shreds from Byakuya's bankai. More than anything else, he remembers the way his eyes traced over the mess of wounds, the thin lines of blood beautiful in pattern across Kenpachi's stomach. He wanted to run his fingertips across them, to paint across Kenpachi's body.
It takes him three weeks to fully recover from the fight. His back is scraped, cut deep in four lines. It hurts to move, and he wonders how Kenpachi manages to hurt with enough force to stick. He almost wants to ask him but that means talking, and possibly another fight.
After he's mostly healed, Byakuya approaches Kenpachi, standing before him. Kenpachi blinks, then smirks wide. "You here so I can kick your ass again?" asks Kenpachi, smirking wide.
Byakuya looks down at Kenpachi's waist, which still has a short line of bandages wrapped around. He takes three steps closer, one finger pressing to the spot just above the knot of bandages. He looks up at Kenpachi.
"You wanna see?" The gleam in Kenpachi's eyes is impossible to miss. "Help yourself."
Feeling more uncomfortable by the moment, Byakuya avoids looking up at Kenpachi as he gently undoes the bandages, his breath catching oddly in his throat as he finally discards the last healing gauze. A complex highway of cuts and scrapes blossoms outwards from Kenpachi's stomach. Byakuya rests his palm over this area, closing his eyes and running his fingertips over the many lines. Kenpachi laughs and Byakuya swears he hears something about tickling. He lets go but Kenpachi's hand is swifter.
"I know you like fighting," says Kenpachi, pressing close. "Don't worry," he adds, after seeing the look on Byakuya's face, "It's not like I'm gonna tell anyone. I'd be jeopardising my chances to fight your girly but fucking brutal bankai."
"There is nothing girly about my -" begins Byakuya, cut off mid-sentence.
"Yeah, yeah," says Kenpachi. "You're...really enjoying that aren't you?"
Byakuya blinks. "...What?"
"Tracing over my wounds," says Kenpachi. "You wanna open 'em up again?"
It takes a few seconds for Kenpachi's words to register. Byakuya doesn't hear himself say yes, but suddenly his zanpakutou is drawn a second time and Kenpachi is barely resisting, laughing in the face of pain and death and blood. Byakuya walks in silent steps, reaching out with pale, steady hands to touch the new cuts - and the old cuts that are simply deeper now. His back hurts just thinking about it but Kenpachi doesn't seem to mind. He invites Byakuya closer silently, until Byakuya's nails are scraping over barely-healed skin, blood pooling tight in his stomach, excitement threading through cold desire.
The blood spreads outward and Byakuya paints Kenpachi, tracing over circles and squares, making swirls up at Kenpachi's neck; raising one thumb to his own mouth and licking, tasted acid and salt and Kenpachi; tasting blood.
Kenpachi reaches up, and for a brief and scary moment, Byakuya thinks that Kenpachi is about to cup his cheek sweetly, even intimately; but Kenpachi brushes one thumb across Byakuya's cheek and Byakuya flinches, wondering at the pain. Kenpachi repeats Byakuya's action, bringing a faint-bloodied thumb to his lips, licking down and across it, tasting Byakuya's unknown pain.
There's more he wants but Byakuya finally pulls back. Kenpachi considers him a while, until Byakuya looks away. When he takes his first steps, he hears Kenpachi behind him, simply waiting.
"What is it you want?" asks Byakuya.
He can feel Kenpachi shrug. "Not sure."
"Then stop staring at my back as I retreat."
"Does it annoy you that much?"
"...That's not the point," says Byakuya as avoidantly as possible.
"Listen," says Kenpachi. He leans over Byakuya's shoulder, breathing against his ear; leaning still further, biting on Byakuya's soft, royal neck - playfully, enough to hurt. His hair barely moves and it feels oddly silent.
"Come find me if you wanna fight," says Kenpachi. "And..." He hesitates.
"If you want...anythin' else...well. We can talk about that later, dependin' on how messed up you can get me."
"I think you are able to get to that point without me," says Byakuya haughtily.
"I don't taste like you," breathes Kenpachi and Byakuya feels a slight shiver at the top of his spine, threatening to turn into a full one. He begins walking, trying not to think of Kenpachi's words of bells or the way there is dried blood on his hands, bright and red across his palms especially.
"Don't hold your breath," he tells Kenpachi; ignoring the steadily-knowing look in his eyes three days later when his sword is drawn and Kenpachi is on the other end, waiting to fight him. He ignores the heartbeat he can feel, and he ignores the world around him until he sees every attack Kenpachi throws at him, offering his own body to pain.
Kenpachi doesn't touch his kenseikan anymore. Though sometimes...only sometimes...Kenpachi sits down for long enough and Byakuya taps at the small bells in his hair until Kenpachi passes out.
His fingertips remain stained a dark pink. He likes the colour. Kenpachi thinks it's girly, but he stops making fun when Byakuya points out the similar stains on Kenpachi's arm, dark across his lips especially. Kenpachi enjoys the spoils, no matter what the cost.
And though he never says it aloud, Byakuya comes to crave the same, hands on edge for that battery taste of acid along his tongue that lets him taste sensation.
Author: worblehat
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Byakuya/Kenpachi
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Bleach, Kenpachi/Byakuya: Blood kink - "Equal match"
Word Count: 1,167
Secretly, Byakuya doesn't mind a good fight. In fact, when done correctly and within boundaries, he even enjoys it.
Kenpachi is the only one to notice this. He pushes ineffectively, trying to get Byakuya to respond. His verbal jabs, his glances that don't look away until Byakuya sighs - all methods prove ineffective.
Until the day he touches Byakuya's hair.
If fighting is an unspoken commonality between them, hair is doubly so. Despite his gangly, gruff appearances, Kenpachi seems to take great pains in the arrangement of his bells. Byakuya also takes pains, though more silent ones.
When Kenpachi reaches up to "see how that sort of thing works," Byakuya smacks his hand away, satisfied at the swift break of small bones in Kenpachi's left wrist. "Do not touch," Byakuya says coldly.
"Or else what?" challenges Kenpachi.
Byakuya wants to sigh, to stare coldly at Kenpachi with regality. Instead, his fingers wrap around the blade of his zanpakutou, firm yet relaxed as he draws. "You should have left well enough alone," he warns.
Kenpachi laughs loudly. "Are you kidding?" he finally says. "I've been waitin' for this day for years. Hell, centuries." He steps closer to Byakuya, who uses shunpo to move backward. "I didn't know you were a fraidy-cat, Byakuya," said Kenpachi, teeth gleaming, bared white and sharp.
"Stop talking," says Byakuya.
He doesn't remember much of their first fight, except the sound of bells, some falling to the ground. He remembers Kenpachi's hair, falling soft around his shoulders, and Kenpachi's chest, legs and arms, torn to shreds from Byakuya's bankai. More than anything else, he remembers the way his eyes traced over the mess of wounds, the thin lines of blood beautiful in pattern across Kenpachi's stomach. He wanted to run his fingertips across them, to paint across Kenpachi's body.
It takes him three weeks to fully recover from the fight. His back is scraped, cut deep in four lines. It hurts to move, and he wonders how Kenpachi manages to hurt with enough force to stick. He almost wants to ask him but that means talking, and possibly another fight.
After he's mostly healed, Byakuya approaches Kenpachi, standing before him. Kenpachi blinks, then smirks wide. "You here so I can kick your ass again?" asks Kenpachi, smirking wide.
Byakuya looks down at Kenpachi's waist, which still has a short line of bandages wrapped around. He takes three steps closer, one finger pressing to the spot just above the knot of bandages. He looks up at Kenpachi.
"You wanna see?" The gleam in Kenpachi's eyes is impossible to miss. "Help yourself."
Feeling more uncomfortable by the moment, Byakuya avoids looking up at Kenpachi as he gently undoes the bandages, his breath catching oddly in his throat as he finally discards the last healing gauze. A complex highway of cuts and scrapes blossoms outwards from Kenpachi's stomach. Byakuya rests his palm over this area, closing his eyes and running his fingertips over the many lines. Kenpachi laughs and Byakuya swears he hears something about tickling. He lets go but Kenpachi's hand is swifter.
"I know you like fighting," says Kenpachi, pressing close. "Don't worry," he adds, after seeing the look on Byakuya's face, "It's not like I'm gonna tell anyone. I'd be jeopardising my chances to fight your girly but fucking brutal bankai."
"There is nothing girly about my -" begins Byakuya, cut off mid-sentence.
"Yeah, yeah," says Kenpachi. "You're...really enjoying that aren't you?"
Byakuya blinks. "...What?"
"Tracing over my wounds," says Kenpachi. "You wanna open 'em up again?"
It takes a few seconds for Kenpachi's words to register. Byakuya doesn't hear himself say yes, but suddenly his zanpakutou is drawn a second time and Kenpachi is barely resisting, laughing in the face of pain and death and blood. Byakuya walks in silent steps, reaching out with pale, steady hands to touch the new cuts - and the old cuts that are simply deeper now. His back hurts just thinking about it but Kenpachi doesn't seem to mind. He invites Byakuya closer silently, until Byakuya's nails are scraping over barely-healed skin, blood pooling tight in his stomach, excitement threading through cold desire.
The blood spreads outward and Byakuya paints Kenpachi, tracing over circles and squares, making swirls up at Kenpachi's neck; raising one thumb to his own mouth and licking, tasted acid and salt and Kenpachi; tasting blood.
Kenpachi reaches up, and for a brief and scary moment, Byakuya thinks that Kenpachi is about to cup his cheek sweetly, even intimately; but Kenpachi brushes one thumb across Byakuya's cheek and Byakuya flinches, wondering at the pain. Kenpachi repeats Byakuya's action, bringing a faint-bloodied thumb to his lips, licking down and across it, tasting Byakuya's unknown pain.
There's more he wants but Byakuya finally pulls back. Kenpachi considers him a while, until Byakuya looks away. When he takes his first steps, he hears Kenpachi behind him, simply waiting.
"What is it you want?" asks Byakuya.
He can feel Kenpachi shrug. "Not sure."
"Then stop staring at my back as I retreat."
"Does it annoy you that much?"
"...That's not the point," says Byakuya as avoidantly as possible.
"Listen," says Kenpachi. He leans over Byakuya's shoulder, breathing against his ear; leaning still further, biting on Byakuya's soft, royal neck - playfully, enough to hurt. His hair barely moves and it feels oddly silent.
"Come find me if you wanna fight," says Kenpachi. "And..." He hesitates.
"If you want...anythin' else...well. We can talk about that later, dependin' on how messed up you can get me."
"I think you are able to get to that point without me," says Byakuya haughtily.
"I don't taste like you," breathes Kenpachi and Byakuya feels a slight shiver at the top of his spine, threatening to turn into a full one. He begins walking, trying not to think of Kenpachi's words of bells or the way there is dried blood on his hands, bright and red across his palms especially.
"Don't hold your breath," he tells Kenpachi; ignoring the steadily-knowing look in his eyes three days later when his sword is drawn and Kenpachi is on the other end, waiting to fight him. He ignores the heartbeat he can feel, and he ignores the world around him until he sees every attack Kenpachi throws at him, offering his own body to pain.
Kenpachi doesn't touch his kenseikan anymore. Though sometimes...only sometimes...Kenpachi sits down for long enough and Byakuya taps at the small bells in his hair until Kenpachi passes out.
His fingertips remain stained a dark pink. He likes the colour. Kenpachi thinks it's girly, but he stops making fun when Byakuya points out the similar stains on Kenpachi's arm, dark across his lips especially. Kenpachi enjoys the spoils, no matter what the cost.
And though he never says it aloud, Byakuya comes to crave the same, hands on edge for that battery taste of acid along his tongue that lets him taste sensation.