Melting [R; Ryuuken/Uryuu]
Title: Melting
Author: worblehat
Genre: Bleach
Pairing: Ryuuken/Uryuu
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns this.
Notes: Written a while back for illuminations. Um, incest? Possible spoilers? Might be AU, I have no idea. Self-beta'd.
Word Count: 934
Ryuuken is always cold. When he adjusts Uryuu's hands to grip the strung bow tighter, his fingers touch the smaller wrist and Uryuu pulls back; when they drink tea late at night, Uryuu rests his head against the back of his chair and Ryuuken wraps both hands around his cup. His hands are still cool to the touch when their fingers brush, Uryuu cleaning away their mugs silently, without being asked. Ryuuken's face is stern and he doesn't smile; not when Uryuu jumbles his words and laughs nervously, not even when it's quiet, the way he likes. Ryuuken just waits, his gaze patient until Uryuu calms down or until life starts up again, a little noisier than before.
Practice takes away nearly all sensation and after the first week, neither can tell how much time has passed without looking at a calendar or clock. Uryuu is regaining his powers, little by little under the tutelage of his father. He can feel his reiatsu growing and he works as hard as he can, pushing himself until Ryuuken tells him to rest, and sometimes a little past that.
Uryuu has always known that he and his father are different; it is something anyone looking for longer than a brief second sees. Their seriousness and determination don't match, don't corrolate; their enjoyment of life varyies greatly. Uryuu holds back his emotions only sometimes, while Ryuuken barely shows any. And Uryuu is warm, from his hands to his knees that grow sturdier and stronger with eash passing day of training. Ryuuken is methodical and patient and Uryuu wants nothing other than to move forward fast, to push until he is straining. Uryuu wants and Ryuuken waits and time strains their interactions.
Uryuu doesn't know how Ryuuken can stand to be that way. He has never understood it, and even when they are working on their Quincy powers together, it feels like they're going in opposite directions instead of running side-by-side. One night, Uryuu shouts at Ryuuken, heat pouring from his soul outward, fighting against the cold exterior his father has adapted to himself. He pushes until his eyes dampen; nothing changing, nothing moving until Uryuu's hands slip around Ryuuken's neck and he is crying without knowing why. It feels so cold to be close to his father but he forces his body still closer; forces himself not to wince when Ryuuken's hands go to his waist, squeezing gently, as if to steady him.
They break apart and Uryuu shivers, his father looking at him impassively as he adjusts his glasses. Uryuu stares at the carpet, face red. Then he turns around and doesn't talk to his father the rest of the day.
Ryuuken knocks the next night, murmuring Uryuu's name before closing the door behind him. Uryuu opens his eyes, blinking at him from where he sits on the bed. A book lies in his lap, which Ryuuken takes and places on the nearby desk before sitting on the bed. Uryuu moves over even though there is plenty of room. It feels cold again when Ryuuken leans close, resting one hand on his shoulders; then he kisses Uryuu, first on the forehead, whispering his name softly, as if in apology; before kissing him on his cheek. Uryuu's face is warm when Ryuuken's lips, cold and thin, kiss him a third time. The hand on his shoulder has moved to his neck and he turns to ask his father why this, why now. Lips meet lips awkwardly in an almost-kiss, words swallowed backward. Uryuu's eyes widen and he stays still for a moment, waiting; Ryuuken doesn't move either until Uryuu leans in, pressing his lips deliberately against his father's.
Ryuuken is too cold to melt, but Uryuu feels warmer when their bodies sink back onto the bed, hands uncertain and slow. Their mouths are warm but Ryuuken's hands are still cold when they move underneath his son's shirt, chilling his skin. Uryuu feels the goosebumps spreading along his arms and stomach and he pulls Ryuuken closer. One zipper is undone then two, and Ryuuken is kissing harder now. His cock is pressing against Uryuu's stomach, rubbing back and forth, their legs intertwining and moving apart. Ryuuken moans and Uryuu slides his hand up his father's back, his nails raking downward, knowing Ryuuken will feel the heat of irritated skin. Ryuuken bites once and Uryuu gasps and comes. It's cold, the feeling that moves from his stomach to his chest and he leans into it, letting it wash through him, letting it mark him with cold teeth and colder lips.
"Uryuu," Ryuuken moans and he comes soon after, warm and hot on his stomach, and Uryuu closes his eyes.
The light is still one when Ryuuken leaves. Uryuu sits up and wraps a blanket around himself. One finger traces the line of his lips, the spot his father bit down on just before he came.
He shivers a little more at the remembered feel, his body cold and numb.
Ryuuken walks towards the kitchen, clothing rumpled but not entirely unpresentable. He makes tea, his movements slow and laboured. The cup is hot in his hands when he raises it to his lips; he drops it and it crashes to the ground, breaking into small, unrepairable pieces, tea scattering over the white tiles.
He stares at the mess through calm eyes and wonders how many more things will break.
Author: worblehat
Genre: Bleach
Pairing: Ryuuken/Uryuu
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns this.
Notes: Written a while back for illuminations. Um, incest? Possible spoilers? Might be AU, I have no idea. Self-beta'd.
Word Count: 934
Ryuuken is always cold. When he adjusts Uryuu's hands to grip the strung bow tighter, his fingers touch the smaller wrist and Uryuu pulls back; when they drink tea late at night, Uryuu rests his head against the back of his chair and Ryuuken wraps both hands around his cup. His hands are still cool to the touch when their fingers brush, Uryuu cleaning away their mugs silently, without being asked. Ryuuken's face is stern and he doesn't smile; not when Uryuu jumbles his words and laughs nervously, not even when it's quiet, the way he likes. Ryuuken just waits, his gaze patient until Uryuu calms down or until life starts up again, a little noisier than before.
Practice takes away nearly all sensation and after the first week, neither can tell how much time has passed without looking at a calendar or clock. Uryuu is regaining his powers, little by little under the tutelage of his father. He can feel his reiatsu growing and he works as hard as he can, pushing himself until Ryuuken tells him to rest, and sometimes a little past that.
Uryuu has always known that he and his father are different; it is something anyone looking for longer than a brief second sees. Their seriousness and determination don't match, don't corrolate; their enjoyment of life varyies greatly. Uryuu holds back his emotions only sometimes, while Ryuuken barely shows any. And Uryuu is warm, from his hands to his knees that grow sturdier and stronger with eash passing day of training. Ryuuken is methodical and patient and Uryuu wants nothing other than to move forward fast, to push until he is straining. Uryuu wants and Ryuuken waits and time strains their interactions.
Uryuu doesn't know how Ryuuken can stand to be that way. He has never understood it, and even when they are working on their Quincy powers together, it feels like they're going in opposite directions instead of running side-by-side. One night, Uryuu shouts at Ryuuken, heat pouring from his soul outward, fighting against the cold exterior his father has adapted to himself. He pushes until his eyes dampen; nothing changing, nothing moving until Uryuu's hands slip around Ryuuken's neck and he is crying without knowing why. It feels so cold to be close to his father but he forces his body still closer; forces himself not to wince when Ryuuken's hands go to his waist, squeezing gently, as if to steady him.
They break apart and Uryuu shivers, his father looking at him impassively as he adjusts his glasses. Uryuu stares at the carpet, face red. Then he turns around and doesn't talk to his father the rest of the day.
Ryuuken knocks the next night, murmuring Uryuu's name before closing the door behind him. Uryuu opens his eyes, blinking at him from where he sits on the bed. A book lies in his lap, which Ryuuken takes and places on the nearby desk before sitting on the bed. Uryuu moves over even though there is plenty of room. It feels cold again when Ryuuken leans close, resting one hand on his shoulders; then he kisses Uryuu, first on the forehead, whispering his name softly, as if in apology; before kissing him on his cheek. Uryuu's face is warm when Ryuuken's lips, cold and thin, kiss him a third time. The hand on his shoulder has moved to his neck and he turns to ask his father why this, why now. Lips meet lips awkwardly in an almost-kiss, words swallowed backward. Uryuu's eyes widen and he stays still for a moment, waiting; Ryuuken doesn't move either until Uryuu leans in, pressing his lips deliberately against his father's.
Ryuuken is too cold to melt, but Uryuu feels warmer when their bodies sink back onto the bed, hands uncertain and slow. Their mouths are warm but Ryuuken's hands are still cold when they move underneath his son's shirt, chilling his skin. Uryuu feels the goosebumps spreading along his arms and stomach and he pulls Ryuuken closer. One zipper is undone then two, and Ryuuken is kissing harder now. His cock is pressing against Uryuu's stomach, rubbing back and forth, their legs intertwining and moving apart. Ryuuken moans and Uryuu slides his hand up his father's back, his nails raking downward, knowing Ryuuken will feel the heat of irritated skin. Ryuuken bites once and Uryuu gasps and comes. It's cold, the feeling that moves from his stomach to his chest and he leans into it, letting it wash through him, letting it mark him with cold teeth and colder lips.
"Uryuu," Ryuuken moans and he comes soon after, warm and hot on his stomach, and Uryuu closes his eyes.
The light is still one when Ryuuken leaves. Uryuu sits up and wraps a blanket around himself. One finger traces the line of his lips, the spot his father bit down on just before he came.
He shivers a little more at the remembered feel, his body cold and numb.
Ryuuken walks towards the kitchen, clothing rumpled but not entirely unpresentable. He makes tea, his movements slow and laboured. The cup is hot in his hands when he raises it to his lips; he drops it and it crashes to the ground, breaking into small, unrepairable pieces, tea scattering over the white tiles.
He stares at the mess through calm eyes and wonders how many more things will break.