Summary: Once is for experimentation, once is for pleasure
Spoilers and/or Warnings: Vague spoilers up through Ichigo's period of training with the Vaizards; sex.
Title, Author and URL of original story: Me Desculpa but kasuchi
Kisuke makes sure to have the best tea ready for Kuchiki and the Inoue girl each time they return from their training in Soul Society. It isn’t every day, but they have do have to use his senkaimon to get Inoue there, and anyway he’s always been a difficult man to surprise.
Aizen managed it once.
Kuchiki declines every day even though the tea is already made, and Inoue hesitantly follows her lead, but that’s all right. It isn’t a waste; it’s an investment, so he never pouts, just smiles behind his fan as he watches them walk off into the crisp air of early fall evening.
Tonight is the same as ever. He is there waiting, when they return from Soul Society, hair mussed from exertion; Tessai is there with his impeccably prepared tea tray; and others are so pointedly not there that their absence is felt by all, nearly making them part of the proceedings in an absurd twist.
“Tea, Inoue-san?” he asks, a harmless grin on his face. “Ah—and of course, for you, Kuchiki-san.”
The younger of the two hesitates, glancing at her friend before smiling weakly and shaking her head.
“Maybe later,” Kuchiki says, as she always does. He watches them leave, as he always does.
“Keep it warm, Tessai, would you please?” he asks a minute later. “I do believe our guest will be back.”
It is just a belief, not something he knows for sure, but he believes it very strongly. She doesn’t need to come to him for a place to stay, of course…but some kinds of emptiness are on the outside of oneself, and everyone has limits.
In all of his research, it’s never before been important to know what another person’s skin tastes like, but nevertheless Kisuke does his very best to explore the flesh of Kuchiki’s neck and shoulders. Her pale complexion looks like it should taste like vanilla, but of course, it just takes like skin.
It’s the texture of it that he finds far more interesting, running his mouth and tongue over her as he pulls her yukata down and open. Smooth at first, it goosebumps wherever he moves his mouth. He has fun with that for a while, testing which spots get the best reaction.
“Pervert,” she grumbles, though she’s done nothing to push him away.
“You wound me, Kuchiki-san. This is for your benefit, after all.” He slides his hand down to one of her breasts, then the other, stroking firmly. “Did I not build this gigai? I’m just making sure it responds to proper—“ He pauses to close his mouth over her nipple for just a moment. “—stimulation.”
She rolls her eyes, but then closes them.
Interesting, he thinks, how short a time it’s taken for this to happen. The thunderstorm overhead hasn’t passed by yet, so it can’t have been very long since she returned to his humble abode. Yet, perhaps he’s measuring time wrong; maybe the countdown began much earlier than that, when she first began relying on him for help.
She surprises him again when he swiftly removes his own yukata and joins her on the floor, his body pressing her smaller frame down. Instead of acting surprised or annoyed, she winds her arms around his torso, ending with her hands clasped over his shoulders. When he kisses her, her mouth is even more demanding than his, prompting a battle of lips, teeth and tongue. This isn’t at all what he expected she’d be like in bed; it might be what he hoped for, but he’d be a poor scientist if he’d intervened to attain the desired results.
Still, he has more questions that need answering, so he pulls away, ignoring her growl of frustration. It’s not that he lacks desire, but first things first. He makes sure to remember everything as he moves down her body, from the way each muscle tenses as he presses open-mouthed kisses against them, to the way her perspiration increases as he reaches her hips. All of it might be important, or maybe none of it; right now he’s just gathering information, so to speak.
A shiver runs down the entire length of her spine as he kisses the inside of one thigh, and he pauses to look up. Her eyes, unreadable in the darkness, are on him; he smiles again, slowly, before he focuses again on the task at hand. He has so very much left to learn.
The tea is still hot by the time Kuchiki returns, but alas, the sky has opened up and torrents of rain have soaked her through. Judging by how long it takes to walk from the Kurosaki residence to here and how long ago the rain started, he calculates that the storm arrived just after the point where it would be faster to finish the trip than to turn back. No turning back now for either of them.
She doesn’t explain herself when she enters, doesn’t say why she’s come back, just glares at him. Like it’s his fault. But even Kuchiki should know that he cannot control the weather, though he’s got a few experiments in mind.
“Tessai, see to her things, would you?” he requests airily, not bothering to greet her properly. Rudeness begets itself. When she starts, he just flaps his fan a little more and chuckles. “Oh, don’t be so scandalized, Kuchiki-san. You’re drenched! A less gentlemanly shopkeeper would be staring.”
“You’re no gentleman, Urahara,” she sniffs, but moves to follow a gesturing Tessai.
“Perhaps not.” Another smile. “But even I have standards. Somewhere.”
He manages to occupy himself while she dries off and changes before returning, a lovely vision in a borrowed white yukata. Quite similar to the first time they formally met, though not exactly the same. The last time, whether she knew it or not, she was in a position of power over him; she carried within her something he desperately needed to keep safe.
This time around, there’s nothing he needs from her.
“Just you and me, Kuchiki-san,” he says as she sits. “Tessai and the children are all ready for a good night’s sleep. They’re not night owls like us.”
She accepts the tea but not the conversation starter, and he lets the silence reign for a few minutes. It’s practically a palpable thing in the small room.
Kisuke doesn’t wear a watch, but he figures it’s been long enough once he finishes his first cup. “How are you feeling now, Kuchiki-san?”
She doesn’t answer at first, and he wonders if she really heard him. Then—“Nothing,” she says. “I feel…nothing.” She frowns, and he knows whatever’s caused that expression to mar her lovely face isn’t his doing. The glares she aims at him have a sharper edge. “I know he’s in there, but I can’t…”
No names are mentioned. None are needed.
“Surely he has his reasons.” She nods, acknowledging but not really agreeing, he can tell. “Perhaps he’s trying to control the Hollow inside his soul?”
Lightning flashes again, but this time it’s in her eyes, not the storm outside.
Kuchiki Rukia after sex is just as inscrutable as she is before her clothes come off. Prolonged physical intimacy does nothing to bring her closer from the chilly distance at which she normally holds herself. If anything, she’s further away. Only the drying sweat on her skin and the faint half-moon nail marks on her hips give any indication of what she just did. Kisuke finds her fascinating, not least because he put those marks there.
Having completed this experiment, as it were, he could be entirely content to walk away and evaluate his findings at leisure, but she’s right here, and it would be a shame to waste an opportunity; one never knows when it will crop up again. And despite rumors to the contrary in certain circles, he is just a man, and a naked, willing woman is not to be wasted, either.
Her eyes shoot to look at him with a hard glance when he runs a hand down her body, but she makes no move to leave or push his hand away. When he reaches her breast and lingers there, fingers teasing her nipple to stiffness just because they can, there’s only an irritated sigh and the faintest of tremors to indicate that she is far more affected than she lets on.
Wonderful. He’ll have to remember that for later.
“You’re thinking this was a mistake,” he says out of the blue, and even that only gets a raised eyebrow. Such self-possession really does deserve applause.
“Wasn’t it?” The first words she’s said in an hour only sound a little hoarse.
“Probably!” he replies happily, and pulls her on top of him before she can react. Though he could have watched her leave with regret only a few minutes ago, Kuchiki is not without charm, and for the moment, he’d prefer she stay.
Of course, it has to be her decision in the end.
Carefully but quickly, he positions her on top of him just so, squeezing her hips in the same place as before and moving up from there. He’s not such a lousy scientist that he can’t think of other erogenous zones than the nipples, but her sudden shortness of breath indicates she likes that well enough, and anyway it often pays to make a secret of just how much one knows.
It’s easy to slip inside of her again, but after he does, he holds himself very still, looking her in the eye and not smiling anymore. She just looks back, cool as ever yet burning hot, until she finally moves her hips against his. That’s all he needs to thrust up into her, moving hard and not stopping, and if the first time was for knowledge, perhaps he can admit—just to himself—that this is for pleasure.
Even after the first cup, Kuchiki doesn't look much better than when she came in. Dryer, perhaps, but the low lighting of the evening does nothing to conceal the dark circles under her eyes, or the slow, tired movement of her hands.
Lightning flashes outside the window, and Kisuke takes a moment to appreciate the dramatic timing of it all.
"You're tired, aren't you," he says. It isn't a question.
"Very observant of you," she says in a resigned tone. "Yes. I'm tired."
"Well, there's an extra futon in the back if you'd like one."
"Hmm, it is your choice. But you haven't slept well in a while, have you?" he takes a sip of tea. "And it's starting to show."
She's a master at hiding her reactions (and does she come by that naturally, or is it the Kuchiki influence, he wonders) but that gets one. Her hands tighten into fists and she glares, and he's a little glad there's no kidou he knows of that allows one to shoot lasers from one's eyes. "I'll sleep when I choose."
"Of course," he says. "But be careful, would you, Kuchiki-san? If you keep pushing yourself, you could hurt someone." He takes another sip. "Like yourself."
Before he can blink, she's knocked the cup out of his hand on one sharp blow; tea slops over his clothing and seeps into the tatami mats. "Don't concern yourself with matters that you know nothing about," she says, and it's her reiatsu more than her tone that feels blisteringly cold. "That are none of your business."
"That's going to stain," he says, looking mournfully at the damp spots.
“Stop speaking nonsense.” Her words aren’t loud, but her tone rips through the air.
“Nonsense?” he raises an eyebrow, the picture of insulted surprise, though he isn’t either of those things. “I never say anything that isn’t true, Kuchiki-san.”
She smiles at that, and he knows that if he has a plan for tonight, he’s not the only one. “Then tell the truth about something else.”
“Why have you been speaking to my brother?”
The room lights up as lightning flashes again outside, and then every light in the house goes dark. Kisuke can’t help but be cheered; it really is so appropriately dramatic.
In the morning, when he wakes, the sheets are cool beside him; she’s long gone.
He doesn’t mind, just prepares some more tea and sips it as he looks out upon the damp pavement outside that’s strewn with fallen branches. It’s all right that she left without saying goodbye.
She’ll be back, after all.