Log; Complete
When; Sept. 3rd, evening
Rating; NC-17
Characters; Cirucci {thunderwitch} & Luppi {true_sexta}
Summary; In which Luppi graduates to being allowed in Cirucci's bed, the Privaron admits to shame, and commitments are made.
Log;
“Luppi?” They were on the couch, with Luppi in her apartment it was always on the couch. Well, not just the couch. Anywhere but her bedroom, rather. No one was allowed in Cirucci Thunderwitch’s bedroom, only Il Forte.
… But how long had it been since Il Forte had been in that bed? She tried to count, shifting against the smaller male five… six months? So long, and her bed was so cold.
She hated it.
“I don’t want to do it on the couch.” The Privaron whined, slid her eyes closed to the vision of beating the white haired captain in their fights earlier that day, glad at least she’d had Orihime to heal them after. Not that they’d lost, but still. Bleeding still hurt.
>>>
"Mmm?" Luppi hummed, his eyes flickering upwards for where he had been lazily resting against her. He was still a little sore, not as strong as some of his other siblings.
Not doing it on the couch meant quite a few things. From the kitchen counter to the wall to the floor, anything was a good place for sex for the pair and Luppi could guess that at least most of Cirucci's apartment that he was allowed into had been christened by the pair in their usual fashion of bloodthirsty passion.
"The floor, then?"
>>>
“Mmm, no.” Cirucci pouted, pressed her lips against his neck in half-distracted kisses, eyes lidded and hidden by long lashes. Her small hands tugged idly on his uniform, still bloodstained, though his skin was unbroken once more, and she knew some of that blood belonged to the former 12th’s captain, like the blood on her white clothing belonged to the 13th’s captain.
“Try again~” She teased, licked at a spot of crimson on his skin.
It tasted of bitter copper.
>>>
Luppi squirmed against her appreciatively, his mind idly turning over the other places where they could play together if she didn't feel like playing on the couch or the floor.
"The door, maybe?" he breathed, leaning forward to catch her earlobe between his lips ponderously and gave it a playful tug.
"The countertop?"
>>>
Cirucci giggled, a breathy sound, and nipped at his ear in return, nibbling before she trailed kisses down his jaw. Luppi was always playful, always available for her… he never got that mad at her, never kicked her out of his bed like Grimmjow or Noitora would if they didn’t want her anymore, never broke her like Szayel Aporro did.
“Cirucci’s bed.” She murmured softly, appreciatively, wondering how those sheets would feel warmed and damp after so long cold and empty.
>>>
It was the last place he expected, at least from Cirucci's mouth and not his own in jest. Luppi raised an eyebrow, lips hovering over the tender skin. He pulled away, looking up at her with some measure of surprise.
Ever since he'd come here, Cirucci's bed had been off-limits, not just to him, but to all the arrancar. The sudden change seemed downright odd.
"Are you sure, precious?" he hummed.
>>>
“Don’t question it, Luppi~!” Cirucci smirked, wicked with painted lips, a pretty face and pretty body hiding, and not too well, the nature of a devil. She clambered off the couch, beckoning him with the crook of a finger, hips swaying beneath bloodstained fabric as she disappeared into her bedroom, the sounds of snaps being undone going with her.
“He’s her favorite, mm?” Her voice almost felel quiet, remembering another favorite she missed more than she would ever be willing to admit. But he wouldn’t come back. He didn’t… deserve her. And Luppi was here.
“Doesn’t he know?” Luppi was here, but she couldn’t deny something akin to a pain in her chest when she actually saw her bed, recalling the last male that had slept in it, so long ago now.
>>>
Luppi laughed, neat, quick steps quickly covering the distance between them. He had long known he was just that. After all, he made it a habit to not make enemies with those of his siblings that could turn out particularly useful in the future. And Cirucci, well...
She had gone from being more than simply useful to a joy to play with, someone he could almost consider himself at home and safe with.
"He might have had an idea," he remarked, coyly.
>>>
“Surely more than that?” She pouted, turning to look over her shoulder paused before she actually touched the bed, one hand disentangling from the complicate snaps down the front of her uniform to tug on his, cocking her head inquisitively.
But she still didn’t actually take the last half step to touch the cold sheets, not yet…
It wasn’t because she was afraid, or anything… no… it was something… else…
>>>
"Maaaaybe," he drawled, his coy smile growing just a bit more as he settled into his usual tones. She seemed almost shy about this. It was kind of sweet, in a particularly easy to destroy way. He reached up to brush his tiny fingers against her cheek, delicately teasing the tear-marked skin.
"But, with the way you're taking your time, he wonders if he really is now."
>>>
“I…” Cirucci leaned into the touch, as she always did, too sensual, too focused on touch and pleasing things, on the touch of skin on skin and body heat. “I am not.” She protested, threading a gloved hand over his, cradling and soft.
“I’m not.” She protested again, quieter, eyes soft, in an uncharacteristic way.
>>>
"Show him, then?" Luppi implored, applying just a little bit of verbal pressure, even if his hand was still just as gentle and soft as ever against her soft skin that blood had looked so wonderful against earlier that night.
He stepped closer, never appreciating hesitance when it came to showing him proper appreciation.
>>>
“I am.” Cirucci nearly snapped, but she kept the edge out of her voice, managed to temper it more to a whine, drawing away from him to plop onto the bed, palms running over the sheets almost nostalgically. It had been a long time since she’d even slept in her own bed, let alone took a male to it.
“It’s just cold.” She murmured, fingers working agitatedly at the snaps of uniform down her breasts.
>>>
A low chuckle emerged from Luppi's throat as he brushed her hands away from her uniform, speeding things up a bit. He could enjoy the wait, yes, but it didn't mean that he had to drag things out so. Undressing by himself seemed so dull.
He pressed the Privaron down towards the bed, crawling over her with a childish sense of superiority flickering in his dark eyes.
>>>
Cirucci whined in her throat, let him push her down because for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to make that final move, to actually initiate what she thought she could initiate, what she thought she wanted. She did, didn’t she? Of course she did. Her arms draped above her head, fingers twisting nervously in the sheets, tilting her head back as his hands bared skin.
“Too cold.” She reminded, the sullen chill in her bones everywhere but where she was touched, the feel of abandoned sheets.
>>>
Luppi straddled her, fingers slowly working down the snaps that kept her skin from him. Now, he could take his time. Now, he could play the game like he wanted to.
"Then, we should warm it up, hmm, precious?" he drawled, pressing a line of kisses down her chest.
>>>
“Mmm, that’s right.” Cirucci’s back arched to press into the touch of mouth, couldn’t not, even as nervous fluttering rose in her she couldn’t not, ever. Her fingers tangled tighter in the sheets above her head.
“Luppi is so soft.” She breathed, more to reassure herself than the other, bare leg rising to finally move against him, to return the touch, stroking along the inside of thigh, toes dragging and tugging on hakama.
“And he did well today.” She flattered, always flattered, to receive her own in return. When had the other… when had he flattered her?
>>>
Whereas there was little that came from Luppi's girlish lips that wasn't flattery of some form, at least amongst the ones he wanted to play nice with, the ones that didn't include the awful shinigami from before who had wounded him so.
"Did he?" he crooned, squirming against her in appreciation for the praise, "Cirucci did so well, too. Even if hers was already so sick."
>>>
“He was not that sickly!” Now that got her attention. Cirucci whined, kicked one of her feet in protest and wriggled out of her dress, almost self conscious as she dropped the garment over the side, quick to flick her nails against the bone mask on the side of Luppi’s skull.
“He was a captain, and he was strong enough!” The idea that she could have won by that means was insulting. “And he only nicked my tail a bit.” She finished, running her other hand over her rear, wriggling at the memory of the mouth on the end of her tail screaming.
>>>
Luppi made a little face at the rap against his mask. It was sensitive after all. He pulled away just a little, pressing a row of teasingly apologetic kisses down the further exposed skin.
"Luppi was just telling the truth, hmm~?" he laughed.
>>>
“No…” Cirucci sighed, squirming gently against his touch, wondering, nearly confusing herself that there was soft under her back, not a hard floor, the edge of a countertop, sheets even, for her fingers to clutch at.
Why was she nervous?
The Privaron arched, needy, but a gentle, soft need, tempered from her wild, tantric desperations of the days before, after that stupid mortal and his sensations, of flowers inside of her, of hands and mouths and feathers on her skin, scales in the sensitive hole between her breasts.
>>>
Luppi watched her with lids hooded, each kiss more insistent than the last. Something was off and it was starting to creep into his enjoyment of the matter.
He let his hand drift lower, fingers curious and exploratory, "Perhaps he hurt the Thunderwitch more than it seems. She's being so passive~."
>>>
“No…” Cirucci hissed out, her hips and the muscles beneath tightening on instinct when his fingers drifted, feet scrabbling for purchase in sheets, but flouting in a failure, her stockings slipped.
“Luppi didn’t.” She insisted, one hand rising to his cheek, her own eyes averted, almost something like shameful, if she could be ashamed. Dietrich.
>>>
"Mmmmm~?" Luppi hummed. He stopped moving against her as his brow wrinkled in confusion. Whatever could she mean? He nuzzled the soft touch against his skin. He didn't like his sex with all this thinking, this wondering, this worrying that he was doing something wrong.
"What do you meaaan?" he pressed.
>>>
Cirucci tried to relax the muscles, taught, too taught, to tangle her fingers in Luppi’s hair and not in sheets, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t good at hiding things from Luppi. Shinigami, easy, the Espada she hated so much, also easy, but Luppi wasn’t like that.
“I feel dirty.” She breathed, heavy words for this one, for a Privaron. But she did, couldn’t explain it fully but there was something shameful about how she couldn’t control her body, could only feel, and feel such horribly pleasurable sensations, feel such odd, odd, pressures and like it. And want it. Get off on it.
>>>
Luppi pulled away, letting her fingers slip free of his hair. He had no intention of playing with her until she explained herself. He settled over her, straddling her still, but being quite careful not to give her any leeway to start things up again until he was satiated.
"Teeeeell, Cirucci," he pressed, "Tell me about it."
>>>
“It was horrible.” She murmured, turning her face to the side, thick black hair spilling out on white sheets beneath her. He wasn’t for touching right now; she could tell by the way he straddled, held himself apart.
“It felt like…” The Privaron’s voice was quiet, hushed, she hated what had happened, hated it, and it showed, her brow furrowed, eyes dark, a faint flush to her skin, shame, embarrassment.
“… Hands.” She drew her small hands over her body as she spoke.
“All over.” They ghosted over her breast, teased and stroked.
“Like mouths, like touching.” Her hand drifted down between her legs dipped in and stroked moist.
“Like flowers petals.” Fingers brushed back up her body again, small twitches against her own touch.
“Feathers.” Nails scrambled into the hole between her breasts.
“Scales.” She released a breath, let her hands fall from her skin. “Without being touched.”
>>>
Luppi's brow furrowed in turn as he shifted back. He didn't understand what she was trying to say. She didn't seem like she was experiencing it now, at least he didn't think she was.
"How, Privaron?" he pressed, fingers fisting in the sheets, "Where?"
>>>
“I don’t know how.” She seemed angry, hateful, and she was. She didn’t know how at all.
“I was eating his soul, and then...” She squirmed uncomfortable, fighting the flush of skin, of arousal, even, brought on just by the memory of how it had felt.
“Days ago, now… at his apartment?” She huffed in her throat, fingers tangling in sheets and gripping to distract her. “He didn’t even touch me.” The idea confused her, overwhelmed her, and made her so confused she couldn’t get around it.
>>>
Luppi's frown of confusion was tinted with just a bit of jealousy. He was starting to get the picture. He remembered that night Cirucci had come home flushed without any teasing or touching on his part.
"So, that's what happened," he said, lowly, his eyes veiled underneath delicately, girlishly curled lashes as he shook his head, "That's what that human did."
>>>
“Mmm…” Cirucci whined, fingers curling around his wrist, clinging. “Don’t be mad at me, Luppi.” She pleaded, close to actual pleading, troubled expression and something like shame. Cirucci was hardly ever ashamed of anything like sex. Just that time with Noitora, when everyone had called it rape, and just that time with Dietrich, when she’d felt more worthless than ever.
“I tried to yank his soul out.” She explained, pressing her legs together. “And I didn’t mean to wa- to like it.”
>>>
"Mmmm~," he hummed, leaning forward just a little to brush her hair. He couldn't stay mad at her for long, after all, especially when she hadn't particularly liked it anyways. He leaned against her, pressing a lone kiss to her neck.
"And you didn't get him back~?"
>>>
Cirucci leaned into the touch, the kiss, before she drew back, rolled over on her stomach, bared back and rear and legs to him, as if hiding, tucking her face away into a pillow.
“No.” She murmured, hands clenching noticeably in anger, in hatred. “He left.” What she didn’t say, but hung audible, was that she couldn’t move, too hot, too tired, too limp and satisfied by something she couldn’t even see, wasn’t even touched by.
>>>
"Shall we fix it?" he pouted, giving her privacy, but not intending to let her get away entirely. He pressed the trail of kisses further along her back as one of his hands shifted to start working on his own uniform.
"We can't let him embarrass our dear Privaron like that, hmm?" he breathed, shifting only barely to return to kiss her ear, "We can make him pay."
>>>
She squirmed in response, wriggled against kiss and touch, encouraging, though she seemed to shrink away, let out contented sighs, tipped her face into the kiss on her ear.
“I want...” Cirucci managed a flutter of her eyelids, lashes, fingers knitting tighter, knuckles cracking and sharp nails, talons digging in to mattress. “I want to hurt his pet.”
>>>
Luppi stroked her hair with a gentle sort of familiarity, one that would scare many of his lovers. He was never gentle without a purpose, without a need of his own. He stretched, pressing against her, the touches to his skin making it warm.
"What are you waiting for, then?" he pressed, tongue flicking out to trace along her ear.
>>>
“I can’t find it.” She pouted, appreciating more than she’d say the gentle touch, acknowledging his need and hers both, pressing up her hips against him, untangling her fingers from the fabric beneath and easing up onto knees, her offer.
“But I will,” Cirucci assured, assured with the memory of those touches she hadn’t wanted. “And I’ll devour it.”
>>>
Luppi's fingers traced lower in rather obvious appreciation of her understanding of what he needed. His fingers were delicate and playful as always, dipping to press into the moisture inspired by someone so far different from himself.
"Good girl," he breathed, pressing against her.
>>>
Cirucci gasped, eyes closed and pressing up in a half-buck against his hand, fingers, shifting to spread her legs, a brief tremble arcing though her legs, past stocking and garters.
“I-” She whispered, took in the compliment along with the digits between her legs. “I will.” She assured again.
>>>
"Mmmm," Luppi murmured, content that it was now his fingers, his touch that was exciting her now. He didn't like to share his bed with anyone who wasn't really there, after all. He didn't like to lose the attention of his partner, whoever it might be at the time.
He wasted little time squirming out of his hakama as he continued to stroke and toy at that memory-inspired dampness. "But, for now, you're Luppi's, hmm?"
>>>
The Privaron muffled moans in the pillow, her twitches and trembles in her hips, rocking against his hand as he spoke. This was her bed, she knew, and no matter what she said or did, whomever she chose to occupy it was hers.
“Yes,” She gasped out, her voice hitching at a stroke in moistened flesh.
>>>
Luppi leaned against her, knowing how hard he already was, but holding off as he continued to toy and tease with her, his fingers the only part of his body really moving anymore. They caught and toyed with her clit as he watched her face.
>>>
“Luppi!” Cirucci whined, rocking hard against each stroke and touch, breath shortening as her back arched painfully, legs spread more to facilitate. She struggled to hands and knees, head lowered and teeth grit, to muffle moans and pants, beads of sweat appearing on her back, but she couldn’t finish, couldn’t no, not just on this, only wound tighter and tighter, beginning to jerk up and writhe at the touches to too sensitive nerves.
>>>
There was that sweet voice and Luppi couldn't help but oblige. His insecurity satiated by the want in her voice, making him all the more confident, he pulled his fingers free, shifting against her to make the first thrust.
"Is that better~?"
>>>
“Y-” She trembled, let out a hitched breath and moaned into the sheets, fingers scrabbling at the fact that there were sheets, not just floor or cushion or hardened wood, raised her hips and thrust back against the other Arrancar’s hips, needing it to assuage the arousal from the mere memory of what she’d experienced, felt, done. Needed him, needed someone in her bed, unable to go this long, so long, in one that was cold, not like this, hot and sweat.
“Yes.” Cirucci begged in her tone, wound up by fingers, elbows locking to prop herself up, raise her chest and face from pressed into the pillows.
>>>
Luppi leaned closer, his hips bucking at a leisurely pace as he pressed against Cirucci's slender form. He could never truly get tired of this, his body all too familiar in a good way with the other's.
"Good," he breathed.
>>>
Cirucci didn’t respond, was fighting pants for breath, bit back groans and settled for syncing into rhythm with the shorter male, trying to concentrate on not thinking of a blonde, in clenching sweating palms in too clean sheets. She moved her legs, hooked stocingked feet around his knees to grind back against him, pushing up to pull herself back, holding them still by arms behind her head twining around his neck and managing, with a bend of spine, to kiss him, hard and openmouthed, body trembling lightly on its way to breaking.
“Luppi…” She rocked against him in short, jerking shots, speaking against his mouth. “If you leave-” The Privaron had to cut off to moan, driving him deeper. “I’ll kill you.”
>>>
Luppi laughed, shaking his head as he pressed his lips against hers, playful and lazy, if a little sloppy from the rhythm of his thrusts.
"Luppi promises," he whispered, "But only if he can kill you for leaving him, hmm~?"
>>>
She shuddered, arched against each motion and met him thrust for thrust, struggling to stay upright, bent so painfully but she gave it up, gloved hands released his neck and back to hands and knees, back to her face pressed into the pillow, muffling her moans and cries.
“Promise.” Cirucci choked out, the closest she could ever get to a commitment of any kind as she felt muscles and warmth begin to coil and tense, tightening and winding, the sweat on her back, her thighs, between her breasts, shocking until she broke with a high-strung whine and tensed around him, hands clutching helplessly in dampening sheets.
>>>
Luppi choked, gasping as she tightened around him. His hand slipped, dropping to the sheets to grasp at them as he rode out the last of his orgasm. Doing it here seemed really no different than doing it on his own bed, but there was something almost a little satisfying that he was the first one to have done it here, at least in his time.
"Cirucci," he hissed, closing his eyes tight.
>>>
She rode it out, shuddering, breathing hard, slowly lowering her hips, off of him, the familiar slick and warm feel between her legs that made her relax, sinking back down to her stomach and taking a moment to steady her breathing, to gather herself, before she turned over.
“Mm?” Cirucci hummed, reaching up to caress the side of his face, gentle, soft, as she could usually only be like this.
>>>
"Mmm," was all he could manage in response, leaning into the warm touch of her hand, soft and familiar was always. Luppi lowered himself into the bed beside her, squirming to make himself comfortable, the warm, sticky feeling settling over him just as familiar and loved.
"That was nice," he finally finished.
>>>
“Warm.” Cirucci crooned, wrapped her arms around him and fit against him, tucked her face neatly in the crook of neck, lips idly kissing at sweaty skin. Sweat, she liked, this warm, peaceful feeling she liked. Warm, not cold, and the fact that her sheets were slightly damp, also warm, made her murmur softly in delight.
“Warm.” She repeated again, it was important, after all, as important as having someone in her bed was.
>>>
Luppi laughed, curling against her to savor the feeling. It was a little strange, in a way, how both of them could be dead beyond the mere reaches of simply being souls, and still be able to generate this warmth between them.
"Very warm," he murmured, brushing aside some of her dark hair to return the favor against her neck, "Luppi can't get enough, you know.”
>>>
“Mm, Cirucci neither.” The Privaron scooted closer, flush against skin to keep that warmth from fading, crooning wordless comforts when he moved the hair sticking to her neck, a soft, avian warble.
“So we’ll just never let it be cold.” It was something she knew would happen, of course, the cold, but she liked it better like this, when she could actually relax not only her body, worn, but her defenses, able to trust this one not to try and kill her, not to betray her like that, able to close her eyes and not worry too much about whether shinigami were coming for her head or not, tucked so neatly against Luppi’s collarbone. She didn’t have to worry about humans with invisible pleasures, curses, shinigami, enemies, or stupid domesticities.
She wanted to stay warm forever.
Rating; NC-17
Characters; Cirucci {thunderwitch} & Luppi {true_sexta}
Summary; In which Luppi graduates to being allowed in Cirucci's bed, the Privaron admits to shame, and commitments are made.
Log;
“Luppi?” They were on the couch, with Luppi in her apartment it was always on the couch. Well, not just the couch. Anywhere but her bedroom, rather. No one was allowed in Cirucci Thunderwitch’s bedroom, only Il Forte.
… But how long had it been since Il Forte had been in that bed? She tried to count, shifting against the smaller male five… six months? So long, and her bed was so cold.
She hated it.
“I don’t want to do it on the couch.” The Privaron whined, slid her eyes closed to the vision of beating the white haired captain in their fights earlier that day, glad at least she’d had Orihime to heal them after. Not that they’d lost, but still. Bleeding still hurt.
>>>
"Mmm?" Luppi hummed, his eyes flickering upwards for where he had been lazily resting against her. He was still a little sore, not as strong as some of his other siblings.
Not doing it on the couch meant quite a few things. From the kitchen counter to the wall to the floor, anything was a good place for sex for the pair and Luppi could guess that at least most of Cirucci's apartment that he was allowed into had been christened by the pair in their usual fashion of bloodthirsty passion.
"The floor, then?"
>>>
“Mmm, no.” Cirucci pouted, pressed her lips against his neck in half-distracted kisses, eyes lidded and hidden by long lashes. Her small hands tugged idly on his uniform, still bloodstained, though his skin was unbroken once more, and she knew some of that blood belonged to the former 12th’s captain, like the blood on her white clothing belonged to the 13th’s captain.
“Try again~” She teased, licked at a spot of crimson on his skin.
It tasted of bitter copper.
>>>
Luppi squirmed against her appreciatively, his mind idly turning over the other places where they could play together if she didn't feel like playing on the couch or the floor.
"The door, maybe?" he breathed, leaning forward to catch her earlobe between his lips ponderously and gave it a playful tug.
"The countertop?"
>>>
Cirucci giggled, a breathy sound, and nipped at his ear in return, nibbling before she trailed kisses down his jaw. Luppi was always playful, always available for her… he never got that mad at her, never kicked her out of his bed like Grimmjow or Noitora would if they didn’t want her anymore, never broke her like Szayel Aporro did.
“Cirucci’s bed.” She murmured softly, appreciatively, wondering how those sheets would feel warmed and damp after so long cold and empty.
>>>
It was the last place he expected, at least from Cirucci's mouth and not his own in jest. Luppi raised an eyebrow, lips hovering over the tender skin. He pulled away, looking up at her with some measure of surprise.
Ever since he'd come here, Cirucci's bed had been off-limits, not just to him, but to all the arrancar. The sudden change seemed downright odd.
"Are you sure, precious?" he hummed.
>>>
“Don’t question it, Luppi~!” Cirucci smirked, wicked with painted lips, a pretty face and pretty body hiding, and not too well, the nature of a devil. She clambered off the couch, beckoning him with the crook of a finger, hips swaying beneath bloodstained fabric as she disappeared into her bedroom, the sounds of snaps being undone going with her.
“He’s her favorite, mm?” Her voice almost felel quiet, remembering another favorite she missed more than she would ever be willing to admit. But he wouldn’t come back. He didn’t… deserve her. And Luppi was here.
“Doesn’t he know?” Luppi was here, but she couldn’t deny something akin to a pain in her chest when she actually saw her bed, recalling the last male that had slept in it, so long ago now.
>>>
Luppi laughed, neat, quick steps quickly covering the distance between them. He had long known he was just that. After all, he made it a habit to not make enemies with those of his siblings that could turn out particularly useful in the future. And Cirucci, well...
She had gone from being more than simply useful to a joy to play with, someone he could almost consider himself at home and safe with.
"He might have had an idea," he remarked, coyly.
>>>
“Surely more than that?” She pouted, turning to look over her shoulder paused before she actually touched the bed, one hand disentangling from the complicate snaps down the front of her uniform to tug on his, cocking her head inquisitively.
But she still didn’t actually take the last half step to touch the cold sheets, not yet…
It wasn’t because she was afraid, or anything… no… it was something… else…
>>>
"Maaaaybe," he drawled, his coy smile growing just a bit more as he settled into his usual tones. She seemed almost shy about this. It was kind of sweet, in a particularly easy to destroy way. He reached up to brush his tiny fingers against her cheek, delicately teasing the tear-marked skin.
"But, with the way you're taking your time, he wonders if he really is now."
>>>
“I…” Cirucci leaned into the touch, as she always did, too sensual, too focused on touch and pleasing things, on the touch of skin on skin and body heat. “I am not.” She protested, threading a gloved hand over his, cradling and soft.
“I’m not.” She protested again, quieter, eyes soft, in an uncharacteristic way.
>>>
"Show him, then?" Luppi implored, applying just a little bit of verbal pressure, even if his hand was still just as gentle and soft as ever against her soft skin that blood had looked so wonderful against earlier that night.
He stepped closer, never appreciating hesitance when it came to showing him proper appreciation.
>>>
“I am.” Cirucci nearly snapped, but she kept the edge out of her voice, managed to temper it more to a whine, drawing away from him to plop onto the bed, palms running over the sheets almost nostalgically. It had been a long time since she’d even slept in her own bed, let alone took a male to it.
“It’s just cold.” She murmured, fingers working agitatedly at the snaps of uniform down her breasts.
>>>
A low chuckle emerged from Luppi's throat as he brushed her hands away from her uniform, speeding things up a bit. He could enjoy the wait, yes, but it didn't mean that he had to drag things out so. Undressing by himself seemed so dull.
He pressed the Privaron down towards the bed, crawling over her with a childish sense of superiority flickering in his dark eyes.
>>>
Cirucci whined in her throat, let him push her down because for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to make that final move, to actually initiate what she thought she could initiate, what she thought she wanted. She did, didn’t she? Of course she did. Her arms draped above her head, fingers twisting nervously in the sheets, tilting her head back as his hands bared skin.
“Too cold.” She reminded, the sullen chill in her bones everywhere but where she was touched, the feel of abandoned sheets.
>>>
Luppi straddled her, fingers slowly working down the snaps that kept her skin from him. Now, he could take his time. Now, he could play the game like he wanted to.
"Then, we should warm it up, hmm, precious?" he drawled, pressing a line of kisses down her chest.
>>>
“Mmm, that’s right.” Cirucci’s back arched to press into the touch of mouth, couldn’t not, even as nervous fluttering rose in her she couldn’t not, ever. Her fingers tangled tighter in the sheets above her head.
“Luppi is so soft.” She breathed, more to reassure herself than the other, bare leg rising to finally move against him, to return the touch, stroking along the inside of thigh, toes dragging and tugging on hakama.
“And he did well today.” She flattered, always flattered, to receive her own in return. When had the other… when had he flattered her?
>>>
Whereas there was little that came from Luppi's girlish lips that wasn't flattery of some form, at least amongst the ones he wanted to play nice with, the ones that didn't include the awful shinigami from before who had wounded him so.
"Did he?" he crooned, squirming against her in appreciation for the praise, "Cirucci did so well, too. Even if hers was already so sick."
>>>
“He was not that sickly!” Now that got her attention. Cirucci whined, kicked one of her feet in protest and wriggled out of her dress, almost self conscious as she dropped the garment over the side, quick to flick her nails against the bone mask on the side of Luppi’s skull.
“He was a captain, and he was strong enough!” The idea that she could have won by that means was insulting. “And he only nicked my tail a bit.” She finished, running her other hand over her rear, wriggling at the memory of the mouth on the end of her tail screaming.
>>>
Luppi made a little face at the rap against his mask. It was sensitive after all. He pulled away just a little, pressing a row of teasingly apologetic kisses down the further exposed skin.
"Luppi was just telling the truth, hmm~?" he laughed.
>>>
“No…” Cirucci sighed, squirming gently against his touch, wondering, nearly confusing herself that there was soft under her back, not a hard floor, the edge of a countertop, sheets even, for her fingers to clutch at.
Why was she nervous?
The Privaron arched, needy, but a gentle, soft need, tempered from her wild, tantric desperations of the days before, after that stupid mortal and his sensations, of flowers inside of her, of hands and mouths and feathers on her skin, scales in the sensitive hole between her breasts.
>>>
Luppi watched her with lids hooded, each kiss more insistent than the last. Something was off and it was starting to creep into his enjoyment of the matter.
He let his hand drift lower, fingers curious and exploratory, "Perhaps he hurt the Thunderwitch more than it seems. She's being so passive~."
>>>
“No…” Cirucci hissed out, her hips and the muscles beneath tightening on instinct when his fingers drifted, feet scrabbling for purchase in sheets, but flouting in a failure, her stockings slipped.
“Luppi didn’t.” She insisted, one hand rising to his cheek, her own eyes averted, almost something like shameful, if she could be ashamed. Dietrich.
>>>
"Mmmmm~?" Luppi hummed. He stopped moving against her as his brow wrinkled in confusion. Whatever could she mean? He nuzzled the soft touch against his skin. He didn't like his sex with all this thinking, this wondering, this worrying that he was doing something wrong.
"What do you meaaan?" he pressed.
>>>
Cirucci tried to relax the muscles, taught, too taught, to tangle her fingers in Luppi’s hair and not in sheets, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t good at hiding things from Luppi. Shinigami, easy, the Espada she hated so much, also easy, but Luppi wasn’t like that.
“I feel dirty.” She breathed, heavy words for this one, for a Privaron. But she did, couldn’t explain it fully but there was something shameful about how she couldn’t control her body, could only feel, and feel such horribly pleasurable sensations, feel such odd, odd, pressures and like it. And want it. Get off on it.
>>>
Luppi pulled away, letting her fingers slip free of his hair. He had no intention of playing with her until she explained herself. He settled over her, straddling her still, but being quite careful not to give her any leeway to start things up again until he was satiated.
"Teeeeell, Cirucci," he pressed, "Tell me about it."
>>>
“It was horrible.” She murmured, turning her face to the side, thick black hair spilling out on white sheets beneath her. He wasn’t for touching right now; she could tell by the way he straddled, held himself apart.
“It felt like…” The Privaron’s voice was quiet, hushed, she hated what had happened, hated it, and it showed, her brow furrowed, eyes dark, a faint flush to her skin, shame, embarrassment.
“… Hands.” She drew her small hands over her body as she spoke.
“All over.” They ghosted over her breast, teased and stroked.
“Like mouths, like touching.” Her hand drifted down between her legs dipped in and stroked moist.
“Like flowers petals.” Fingers brushed back up her body again, small twitches against her own touch.
“Feathers.” Nails scrambled into the hole between her breasts.
“Scales.” She released a breath, let her hands fall from her skin. “Without being touched.”
>>>
Luppi's brow furrowed in turn as he shifted back. He didn't understand what she was trying to say. She didn't seem like she was experiencing it now, at least he didn't think she was.
"How, Privaron?" he pressed, fingers fisting in the sheets, "Where?"
>>>
“I don’t know how.” She seemed angry, hateful, and she was. She didn’t know how at all.
“I was eating his soul, and then...” She squirmed uncomfortable, fighting the flush of skin, of arousal, even, brought on just by the memory of how it had felt.
“Days ago, now… at his apartment?” She huffed in her throat, fingers tangling in sheets and gripping to distract her. “He didn’t even touch me.” The idea confused her, overwhelmed her, and made her so confused she couldn’t get around it.
>>>
Luppi's frown of confusion was tinted with just a bit of jealousy. He was starting to get the picture. He remembered that night Cirucci had come home flushed without any teasing or touching on his part.
"So, that's what happened," he said, lowly, his eyes veiled underneath delicately, girlishly curled lashes as he shook his head, "That's what that human did."
>>>
“Mmm…” Cirucci whined, fingers curling around his wrist, clinging. “Don’t be mad at me, Luppi.” She pleaded, close to actual pleading, troubled expression and something like shame. Cirucci was hardly ever ashamed of anything like sex. Just that time with Noitora, when everyone had called it rape, and just that time with Dietrich, when she’d felt more worthless than ever.
“I tried to yank his soul out.” She explained, pressing her legs together. “And I didn’t mean to wa- to like it.”
>>>
"Mmmm~," he hummed, leaning forward just a little to brush her hair. He couldn't stay mad at her for long, after all, especially when she hadn't particularly liked it anyways. He leaned against her, pressing a lone kiss to her neck.
"And you didn't get him back~?"
>>>
Cirucci leaned into the touch, the kiss, before she drew back, rolled over on her stomach, bared back and rear and legs to him, as if hiding, tucking her face away into a pillow.
“No.” She murmured, hands clenching noticeably in anger, in hatred. “He left.” What she didn’t say, but hung audible, was that she couldn’t move, too hot, too tired, too limp and satisfied by something she couldn’t even see, wasn’t even touched by.
>>>
"Shall we fix it?" he pouted, giving her privacy, but not intending to let her get away entirely. He pressed the trail of kisses further along her back as one of his hands shifted to start working on his own uniform.
"We can't let him embarrass our dear Privaron like that, hmm?" he breathed, shifting only barely to return to kiss her ear, "We can make him pay."
>>>
She squirmed in response, wriggled against kiss and touch, encouraging, though she seemed to shrink away, let out contented sighs, tipped her face into the kiss on her ear.
“I want...” Cirucci managed a flutter of her eyelids, lashes, fingers knitting tighter, knuckles cracking and sharp nails, talons digging in to mattress. “I want to hurt his pet.”
>>>
Luppi stroked her hair with a gentle sort of familiarity, one that would scare many of his lovers. He was never gentle without a purpose, without a need of his own. He stretched, pressing against her, the touches to his skin making it warm.
"What are you waiting for, then?" he pressed, tongue flicking out to trace along her ear.
>>>
“I can’t find it.” She pouted, appreciating more than she’d say the gentle touch, acknowledging his need and hers both, pressing up her hips against him, untangling her fingers from the fabric beneath and easing up onto knees, her offer.
“But I will,” Cirucci assured, assured with the memory of those touches she hadn’t wanted. “And I’ll devour it.”
>>>
Luppi's fingers traced lower in rather obvious appreciation of her understanding of what he needed. His fingers were delicate and playful as always, dipping to press into the moisture inspired by someone so far different from himself.
"Good girl," he breathed, pressing against her.
>>>
Cirucci gasped, eyes closed and pressing up in a half-buck against his hand, fingers, shifting to spread her legs, a brief tremble arcing though her legs, past stocking and garters.
“I-” She whispered, took in the compliment along with the digits between her legs. “I will.” She assured again.
>>>
"Mmmm," Luppi murmured, content that it was now his fingers, his touch that was exciting her now. He didn't like to share his bed with anyone who wasn't really there, after all. He didn't like to lose the attention of his partner, whoever it might be at the time.
He wasted little time squirming out of his hakama as he continued to stroke and toy at that memory-inspired dampness. "But, for now, you're Luppi's, hmm?"
>>>
The Privaron muffled moans in the pillow, her twitches and trembles in her hips, rocking against his hand as he spoke. This was her bed, she knew, and no matter what she said or did, whomever she chose to occupy it was hers.
“Yes,” She gasped out, her voice hitching at a stroke in moistened flesh.
>>>
Luppi leaned against her, knowing how hard he already was, but holding off as he continued to toy and tease with her, his fingers the only part of his body really moving anymore. They caught and toyed with her clit as he watched her face.
>>>
“Luppi!” Cirucci whined, rocking hard against each stroke and touch, breath shortening as her back arched painfully, legs spread more to facilitate. She struggled to hands and knees, head lowered and teeth grit, to muffle moans and pants, beads of sweat appearing on her back, but she couldn’t finish, couldn’t no, not just on this, only wound tighter and tighter, beginning to jerk up and writhe at the touches to too sensitive nerves.
>>>
There was that sweet voice and Luppi couldn't help but oblige. His insecurity satiated by the want in her voice, making him all the more confident, he pulled his fingers free, shifting against her to make the first thrust.
"Is that better~?"
>>>
“Y-” She trembled, let out a hitched breath and moaned into the sheets, fingers scrabbling at the fact that there were sheets, not just floor or cushion or hardened wood, raised her hips and thrust back against the other Arrancar’s hips, needing it to assuage the arousal from the mere memory of what she’d experienced, felt, done. Needed him, needed someone in her bed, unable to go this long, so long, in one that was cold, not like this, hot and sweat.
“Yes.” Cirucci begged in her tone, wound up by fingers, elbows locking to prop herself up, raise her chest and face from pressed into the pillows.
>>>
Luppi leaned closer, his hips bucking at a leisurely pace as he pressed against Cirucci's slender form. He could never truly get tired of this, his body all too familiar in a good way with the other's.
"Good," he breathed.
>>>
Cirucci didn’t respond, was fighting pants for breath, bit back groans and settled for syncing into rhythm with the shorter male, trying to concentrate on not thinking of a blonde, in clenching sweating palms in too clean sheets. She moved her legs, hooked stocingked feet around his knees to grind back against him, pushing up to pull herself back, holding them still by arms behind her head twining around his neck and managing, with a bend of spine, to kiss him, hard and openmouthed, body trembling lightly on its way to breaking.
“Luppi…” She rocked against him in short, jerking shots, speaking against his mouth. “If you leave-” The Privaron had to cut off to moan, driving him deeper. “I’ll kill you.”
>>>
Luppi laughed, shaking his head as he pressed his lips against hers, playful and lazy, if a little sloppy from the rhythm of his thrusts.
"Luppi promises," he whispered, "But only if he can kill you for leaving him, hmm~?"
>>>
She shuddered, arched against each motion and met him thrust for thrust, struggling to stay upright, bent so painfully but she gave it up, gloved hands released his neck and back to hands and knees, back to her face pressed into the pillow, muffling her moans and cries.
“Promise.” Cirucci choked out, the closest she could ever get to a commitment of any kind as she felt muscles and warmth begin to coil and tense, tightening and winding, the sweat on her back, her thighs, between her breasts, shocking until she broke with a high-strung whine and tensed around him, hands clutching helplessly in dampening sheets.
>>>
Luppi choked, gasping as she tightened around him. His hand slipped, dropping to the sheets to grasp at them as he rode out the last of his orgasm. Doing it here seemed really no different than doing it on his own bed, but there was something almost a little satisfying that he was the first one to have done it here, at least in his time.
"Cirucci," he hissed, closing his eyes tight.
>>>
She rode it out, shuddering, breathing hard, slowly lowering her hips, off of him, the familiar slick and warm feel between her legs that made her relax, sinking back down to her stomach and taking a moment to steady her breathing, to gather herself, before she turned over.
“Mm?” Cirucci hummed, reaching up to caress the side of his face, gentle, soft, as she could usually only be like this.
>>>
"Mmm," was all he could manage in response, leaning into the warm touch of her hand, soft and familiar was always. Luppi lowered himself into the bed beside her, squirming to make himself comfortable, the warm, sticky feeling settling over him just as familiar and loved.
"That was nice," he finally finished.
>>>
“Warm.” Cirucci crooned, wrapped her arms around him and fit against him, tucked her face neatly in the crook of neck, lips idly kissing at sweaty skin. Sweat, she liked, this warm, peaceful feeling she liked. Warm, not cold, and the fact that her sheets were slightly damp, also warm, made her murmur softly in delight.
“Warm.” She repeated again, it was important, after all, as important as having someone in her bed was.
>>>
Luppi laughed, curling against her to savor the feeling. It was a little strange, in a way, how both of them could be dead beyond the mere reaches of simply being souls, and still be able to generate this warmth between them.
"Very warm," he murmured, brushing aside some of her dark hair to return the favor against her neck, "Luppi can't get enough, you know.”
>>>
“Mm, Cirucci neither.” The Privaron scooted closer, flush against skin to keep that warmth from fading, crooning wordless comforts when he moved the hair sticking to her neck, a soft, avian warble.
“So we’ll just never let it be cold.” It was something she knew would happen, of course, the cold, but she liked it better like this, when she could actually relax not only her body, worn, but her defenses, able to trust this one not to try and kill her, not to betray her like that, able to close her eyes and not worry too much about whether shinigami were coming for her head or not, tucked so neatly against Luppi’s collarbone. She didn’t have to worry about humans with invisible pleasures, curses, shinigami, enemies, or stupid domesticities.
She wanted to stay warm forever.