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renjinobankai · 4 years

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Another byaren fanfiction I found

Joy (joyinthedance)

2006-06-11 23:42:00

Title: “Captain Material”

Characters: Byakuya x Renji

Rating: NC-17, maybe.

Word Count: 2490

Warnings: Spoilers through end of Soul Society arc, and oh yeah, yaoi.

Disclaimer: If these guys were my property, I’d be happy for life. ^_^

Summary: This is just my take on how the definition of hotness (aka ByaRen) began.

Damn that Kurosaki Ichigo! Thanks to the boy’s interruption that day in the healing ward, Abarai Renji had never told his captain the really cool line that had been on the tip of his tongue. Afterwards, he had chickened out and made up some throwaway comment, because really, it didn’t sound that cool. It sounded pathetic. Pathetic to think that a street rat from Rugonkai could so much as lay a finger on the Kuchiki heir without throwing off the balance of the universe, much less confess the fact that his long obsession with surpassing his captain was more than mere rivalry. Renji was certainly competitive, but this passion went deeper than a drive to be the best, deeper even than the desire to show the frustratingly snobby noble that class did not determine ability. He had never realized what his feelings meant until Rukia’s rescue, but now it was impossible for him to deny them. However bitterly, however hopelessly, it was true: Renji was in love with Kuchiki Byakuya.

* * *

The Sixth Division captain was seated at his desk, facing a tidy but daunting stack of paperwork. Business had just begun to return to normal after the chaos surrounding the Aizen debacle, and the serious injuries both he and his lieutenant had suffered only compounded the problem. Being behind drove Byakuya crazy, but it wasn’t just his work that was bothering him. Somehow, something else felt unfinished, but what that was exactly was dangling just out of reach of his consciousness. He tried to concentrate, but his pen slipped and spattered ink across the page. With a silent curse he crumpled the paper and cast it into the empty wastebasket he seldom had the need for. He closed his eyes, trying to relax his furrowed brow and cleanse his mind of thoughts, but it was feelings, not thoughts, that were distracting him. He should have been able to suppress the beginnings of emotion before they even registered, but he found he could not. They bubbled up to mar the calm surface of the clear pool of his inner world, forming an image out of recent memory: Abarai Renji, his fiery hair pooling about his body like the blood he lay in, eyes fierce with a resolve unbroken by defeat. Again Byakuya felt the sensation grip him, a profound and conflicted intermingling of feelings, some of which he barely recognized as belonging to him…

“Taichou!” a familiar voice barked, and Byakuya’s eyes snapped wide open. Renji took a step back; it threw him off to see the usually imperturbable man appear so startled, almost embarrassed. Before the lieutenant could let out his breath, however, Byakuya had composed himself completely.

“Renji.” There was something unusual about the captain’s tone, but Renji couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just thought I’d bring you some – ” Renji was struck suddenly by the way the moonlight illuminated the sleek black hair and the gleaming kenseikan that bound it. In that moment Byakuya seemed to be composed entirely of soft light and stark shadows…such ethereal beauty disarmed him.

“—uh, tea.” Renji finished, flustered. He quickly set the cup down on the desk, hoping the captain couldn’t detect the slight trembling of his hand that almost made the steaming liquid slosh over the rim and onto Byakuya’s meticulous work.

Byakuya’s face didn’t change, but he took the drink gingerly and immediately took a long sip. He was exhausted, Renji realized. Only with the recent chain of events had he begun to understand the burden that the older man carried and the strain he hid behind his aloof countenance.

“Thank you,” Byakuya said, setting the cup down and once again taking up his pen. It was a signal for his subordinate to leave, but Renji lingered.

“It’s late, Taichou. I was wonderin’ how long you were plannin’ to work tonight. I know you don’t wanna, but you need rest. You still haven’t completely recovered from your wounds.”

Byakuya raised one eyebrow as if to say that he had more than recovered, thank you, and that Renji should speak for himself.

Renji looked away. “Well I’m gonna head off to bed.”

Byakuya took another silent sip of his tea, but he didn’t take his eyes off the lieutenant. “Goodnight, Renji.”

Dammit! Renji thought as he closed the door behind him. Why does he always have to make things so damn awkward? They had never exactly been friends, but now that they had faced each other as enemies, a fog of unresolved tension had settled over their every interaction. Renji had grown accustomed long ago to the icy glares and disdainful words, but this was different. He couldn’t tell how Byakuya’s estimation of him had changed, or if it even had. Though Byakuya had ultimately come around to Renji’s point of view, the fact remained that the lieutenant had defied his captain and misjudged his character. Now that he understood Byakuya’s motivations better, Renji felt slightly ashamed of his rash actions. Not that he had done the wrong thing, he was sure of that, but he wondered whether he had done it the wrong way. Had he heard an extra helping of condescension in the noble’s voice as he pronounced his name? Or…could it possibly have been a trace of tenderness?

No, no, no! Renji thought. I can’t kid myself like that. Facing out from the balcony, he looked down at the lamplit streets of the Seireitei below him, and beyond that, Rugonkai…and above it all, the thin pale moon. He could not understand how two people could work together so closely and yet maintain such an insurmountable gulf between them, which he was not sure was growing or receding. Certainly it had widened as their ideological conflict had come to a head, and yet, in certain moments since then, the barrier had seemed to give way ever so slightly, like a veil fluttering in the wind. It was these fleeting glimpses that fed Renji’s desire. He wanted to have physically what he knew he could never have emotionally – that is, nothing between them. He sighed and turned around to leave, then stopped with a start as he found himself face to face with the very object of his thoughts. “K-kuchiki-taichou!” he stammered.

Byakuya looked only slightly surprised to see his lieutenant loitering outside his door. “Is there something you want, Renji?”

You bet there is, Renji thought, imagining himself pouncing on the unsuspecting Byakuya and pinning him against the door with a passionate kiss. How glorious it would be to cup that porcelain jawline in his hand, to weave his fingers thorough that night-black hair, to gleefully and spitefully and lovingly defile the captain’s untouchable dignity with his own raw and feral passion. Except, he realized suddenly, he was not imagining this at all. He was kissing Byakuya, and rather intensely at that.

Now you’ve done it, Renji you fool, he scolded himself as his tongue explored the warm recesses of his astonished captain’s mouth. You’re going to get yourself Senbonzakura’d to shreds again. But in that moment, it was worth it. Byakuya wasn’t exactly kissing back, but that didn’t matter. Just the sweetness of penetrating those perfect lips was enough. Renji kept his eyes closed, fearing that if he opened them he would wake from a dream – and also fearing to see the look on Byakuya’s face. At any rate, his other senses were giving him plenty to work with: the softness of that impeccable hair with its aroma of opulence, the flawless skin surprisingly warm under his fingers. Renji had his captain right where he wanted him, he realized with a thrill of delight. He had never felt so powerful in his life, and this heightened his growing arousal as his hand glided beneath edges of the noble’s robes.

Unfortunately for Renji, his newfound supremacy was short lived. Suddenly he was falling forward as Byakuya’s free hand grappled for the doorknob and the door swung back open into the room, taking the two shinigami with it. The impact broke Renji’s hold on Byakuya; he opened his eyes, and their mouths parted. If he kills me right now, Renji thought, at least I’ll go with no regrets. Finally daring to look, Renji saw the slight pink flush in the captain’s cheeks, and in those bottomless eyes, a glimmer of…what?

“I suppose I should not be surprised by your want of restraint, Renji,” Byakuya said as he pushed the door shut, “but if we are to proceed, it would be unwise to do so in such a conspicuous location.” Before Renji even had time to process the other man’s words, Byakuya was returning his lieutenant’s kiss with an intensity that betrayed real feeling. Even if his tongue hadn’t been otherwise occupied, Renji would have been dumbstruck by three simultaneous realizations: one, that he was still alive; two, that the notorious ice prince seemed capable of genuine passion; and three, that he enjoyed being kissed by Kuchiki Byakuya even more than he enjoyed kissing him.

As Renji recovered from his blissful shock and responded to Byakuya’s advance, they shared a moment of heated chaos: tongues fighting for dominance, ravenous hands moving of their own accord, robes loosening and falling open around sculpted shoulders. Then, before he realized it was happening, Renji was on his back, pinned to the floor and completely bereft of control. Renji’s eyes widened; Byakuya’s narrowed. “Really, Renji,” he said archly, “don’t tell me you expecting it the other way around.” He slipped a finger under the band that held back Renji’s hair and snapped it in two, letting the brilliant locks cascade over the floor as he moved in for another kiss with fierce, efficient grace.

Now Byakuya’s own hair was unbound and both shinigami were stripped to the waist. Byakuya’s tongue began tracing Renji’s tattoos with incredible lightness, lingering at a chiseled collarbone, a taut nipple, the contours of flexed abdominals. Though his tongue was warm, its electricity sent shivers over Renji’s body. It flickered along the edge of Renji’s waistband and paused there mischievously. Then Byakuya raised his head and just looked at the lieutenant for a minute, drinking in his body with his eyes. For a moment Renji appeared transfixed by the deep blue-gray gaze; then his arm shot out to untie the captain’s hakama in one swift pull. Byakuya’s eyes widened for an instant as the garment fell down around his ankles. So did Renji’s, but for a different reason.

“Caught ya off guard, eh Taichou?” Renji started to say, but he was silenced by aristocratic lips against his own. Byakuya undid Renji’s sash with one hand and buried the other in his scarlet hair as he deepened the kiss. Renji had given up hope of regaining dominance; it was enough to know that he of all people had reduced the aloof Kuchiki heir to this primal state. Byakuya’s tongue had recommenced its calligraphic dance down his lieutenant’s body, now unencumbered by clothing, continuing downward and taking Renji’s erection into his mouth. Renji moaned and arched into the motion that sent hot waves of pleasure coursing though him. You bastard, Kuchiki, he thought as Byakuya deftly teased his arousal to new heights, you’ve totally done this before. Once again the fear he might be dreaming seized him, but never in his most private fantasies had he dared imagine this sweet delirium. Just as he was up against the very brink of release, Byakuya pulled back.

“What the hell?!” Renji cried breathlessly. “What’dja stop for?! Don’t torture me like that, Bya – gaaah!” In his indignation he had sat up too quickly, allowing Byakuya to flip him in one quick maneuver. Renji suddenly found himself face down, still throbbing with need.

“It seems you have forgotten your place, Abarai-fukutaichou,” said Byakuya, as first one, then two slick and slender fingers prepared Renji for what was to come. Even now, Byakuya’s voice kept its collected, commanding tone, but its refined edge had given way to a lustful hunger. “Do you remember when I told you the difference between you and me?”

“Yeah,” Renji answered weakly, between gasps of painful pleasure. “Level.”

“You will find, Renji, that in some things, there are only two levels. Yours – ” Renji cried out as his captain entered him, “ – and mine.” Renji’s body burned with the delicious ache of Byakuya filling him, rocking him, pressing up against the deep core of his desire. He squeezed his tearing eyes shut and his breath came in ragged moans as Byakuya drove hard into him again and again. Somewhere, he felt hands, lips, teeth, nails, heaven, pain, more heaven…everything blurring in the blinding pleasure. Years of being disparaged, reprimanded, and even imprisoned now seemed to Renji like torturous foreplay leading up to this impossible yet inevitable moment. His whole body belonged to Kuchiki Byakuya, and Renji couldn’t have wanted anything more. Their rhythm quickened, and their glistening, quaking bodies seemed to fuse together, scarcely able to contain the rising energy between them. Renji braced himself as his captain’s thrusts intensified, feeling the heat within him breach its threshold. “Byakuya – !” he managed to cry, wracked by the throes of climax. For an instant they were equals as they both came at once and collapsed on the thin carpet of discarded clothing.

They lay there, damp and fatigued and silent, as their breathing gradually returned to normal. Finally, feeling confident that it was safe to move of his own volition, Renji looked up to meet his captain’s eyes. Byakuya looked spent, and absolutely radiant. Renji had never seen him look so beautifully human. For someone who had just been ravished, Renji was feeling exceedingly proud of himself. “Well, what did you think, Kuchiki-taichou?” he asked, flashing a roguish grin. “Was I captain material?”

“Don’t be cheeky, Renji,” replied Byakuya before kissing his forehead with a touch as soft as a single cherry blossom.

Renji closed his eyes. His life had just gotten amazingly better. And, he realized, much more complicated. How were they supposed to keep this under wraps? Could he make it back to his room unseen? Where were his clothes, anyway? Oh, yeah.“Um, am I supposed to go back to my room in…this?” Renji asked, lifting up one rather wrinkled and less-than-clean sleeve of the robes they had substituted for sheets.

Byakuya looked down at his own uniform and once-pristine white captain’s cloak, which had also seen better days. Trailing a smooth hand across his lieutenant’s shoulders, he replied, “That depends on whether you decide to go back to your room.”

Renji managed to mask his giddy delight with his well-honed sarcasm. “Somehow I get the feeling this isn’t really my decision.”

“Catching on, are we?” Byakuya smirked. “You always have been a fast learner, Renji.”

Renji just smiled. Sex and a compliment from Byakuya in one night.

He wasn’t sure which surprised him more.

#anime bleach #anime #fanfiction #byaren #abarai renji #kuchiki byakuya #byakuya x renji #yaoi

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renjinobankai · 4 years

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I’d like to share one of my most beloved #byaren fanfics on archiveofourown.org from lucymonster

Walls We Build Around Us

lucymonster

Summary:

Renji copes with Byakuya’s reticence in the only way he knows how.

Notes:

For matchynishi, who planted this whole scene in my head and put up with my endless flailing. :)

Beta’d by w3djyt.

Work Text:

There are lines that Renji wouldn’t dream of crossing.

Some of them are obvious. Neither in public nor in private, under the dark shelter of nighttime nor in the very throes of passion, does Renji call his captain by his given name. Thinks of him by it, in the safe haven of his innermost thoughts, where he lets it echo through his mind like a divine hymn - Byakuya - and the contraband intimacy of it makes his heart race and his skin prickle. But spoken aloud it’s always ‘Kuchiki-Taichou’, and that’s fine too. It’s reassuring to know that, whatever else passes between them, the fixed relationship of commander and subordinate will be waiting unchanged beneath it all.

Other lines aren’t quite so clear. The value Kuchiki-Taichou places on propriety pervades even the most intimate moments of his life. It’s not that he lacks passion. It’s just that passion is so much more subdued with him, and Renji - who’s used to going through life at full volume, shouting his passions to the heavens - spends a lot of time biting his tongue before he learns to keep his noise to an acceptable level. To speak, not to shout. To whimper, not to sob. To sigh, not to scream and swear and beg - and try not to bring the whole security detail rushing in to defend them at an inopportune moment.

They speak a lot more than they used to, these days, but their conversations are always stilted and relentlessly shallow. They don’t talk about the past, or the future; they don’t talk about themselves. Kuchiki-Taichou shies away from too much softness or affection, and so Renji doesn’t try to catch his hand or hold him or even kiss him. Only sometimes, in his sleep, the captain rolls over and presses close against him as though drawn to the warmth of his body, and when that happens Renji wraps his arms around him tightly and kisses his hair and savours every precious moment before the even breathing by his ear lulls him back to sleep. It’s these little moments of unchecked vulnerability that remind Renji why respecting the boundary lines is so important. Because what he has now is more than enough - and the rest, he knows, will come in time.

Even if that time is not today.

Kuchiki-Taichou’s hands are deft and businesslike as he works at the ties of Renji’s uniform, faltering only when he leans in to run possessive teeth and tongue over the network of tattoos he is exposing. There’s no kindness or tenderness in the captain’s touches - he doesn’t even make eye contact, and Renji has to bite his tongue to hold back an impatient whimper as he submits to the one-sided ministrations. That warm mouth leaves his skin crawling with goosebumps in its wake.

Tentative, he brings a hand up between them, strokes his fingers over the growing hardness he can feel pressed against him, and hisses when Kuchiki-Taichou’s teeth sink into his shoulder. An insistent shift of his hips tells Renji the attention is permissible, and so he keeps palming gently as the last knot comes undone and the shirts of his uniform slither down his shoulders to bunch around his waist.

Kuchiki-taichou looks at him now, but it’s only to frown at his hakama as though they’ve personally insulted him. “Take the rest off,” he says. It’s a command, not a request, and it sparks a strange, jittery feeling in Renji’s stomach. A restless, reckless feeling - like he’s about to jump from a great height.

Renji doesn’t buy that the distance Kuchiki-Taichou holds himself at is a matter of desire or preference. He doesn’t buy it because he’s seen every wistful glance, every faint glimmer of emotion behind that indifferent facade. He steps back, and the captain continues to watch him, eyes dark and glassy with desire, though the rest of his face remains impassive. There’s not a lot of show Renji can put on for him tonight; it’s just an inelegant hop-step out of his hakama, a clumsy flourish of fabric as he removes his fundoshi, and then he’s standing stark naked in the cold evening air before a man who hasn’t even seen fit to shrug off his captain’s haori yet. Renji’s stomach gives another strange lurch. He’s always wondered if Kuchiki-Taichou knows just how much he gives away in these moments - because Renji can see the faint tremble of his hands now. Can feel the impatience of those hands as they reach out to him again with just a little more haste than is strictly necessary.

Renji sees more than anyone’s ever really given him credit for. He knows that Kuchiki-Taichou is a man who has spent his whole life systematically fortifying his soul: concealing every vulnerability behind towering walls of impenetrable rock. And Renji adores his captain - respects him with an intensity that borders on reverence - but he isn’t bewitched and he isn’t deluded. He bites back a small moan as Taichou’s hand runs down his chest and across his stomach, still possessive, still in control - still not meeting his eyes. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know that Renji can see every crack in his walls, every crumbling stone, every point of weakness.

That hand dips down further between his thighs, and Renji hisses as the captain cups his balls in a warm palm and rolls them gently back and forth, teasing. This is how it always is between them: Kuchiki-Taichou tests and teases, stretching Renji’s limits, stretching his control while staying always just a little out of reach. It’s as though he’s afraid to surrender his pleasure to another’s hands, and Renji finds the irony too heavy for words; that a man as proud and privileged as Kuchiki Byakuya doesn’t know how to sit back and just take what Renji would offer him, if he had the chance. He wishes he could reach out and pull Byakuya in, thread his fingers through his hair, press their bodies together and show him just how much he craves this closeness. Instead he brings his hand back between them, fisting the captain’s erection through the cloth of his hakama and starting a slow stroke that elicits a quiet sigh and a subtle shift of hips to ask for more.

I’d give you everything, if you asked for it.

It’s moments like these that the Renji risks losing sight of the boundaries between them, caught up in the swirling tide of passion that says: no. It’s not right, for a man like Byakuya to think he has to hold back in front of a man like Renji. And so he lets himself be guided forward on pure impulse; he needs to show this gorgeous, infuriating man before him that there is so much more than the stunted, cautious contact he’s been allowing between them. The idea swells in his mind, blotting out everything else, and then all of a sudden his knees are folding and he’s moving down, pulling away from the torturous caress, to kneel at his captain’s feet.

For a moment, there is nothing but silence.

Byakuya’s eyes are wide, uncertain: looking on in surprise as Renji dips his head low, pressing his lips against the tip of one pale toe and skimming slowly upwards. Kuchiki-Taichou has narrow, elegant feet and slender ankles - and a voice that sounds irresistible when he’s surprised or confused.

“Renji, what are you-”

“May I?” The soft, plaintive request cuts through the captain’s astonishment, and in the ensuing silence Renji’s mouth simply moves along his foot, sprinkling every inch with kisses and listening for the quiet hitch of breath that means permission.

Maybe tonight isn’t the night that the walls are going to come down, but Renji wants his captain to know that they can, if ever he decides to let them.

And Byakuya lets it happen - relinquishes the reins more readily than Renji had expected, staring down at him with wide eyes that seem to tremble as warm lips move higher to graze over the firm muscle of his calf. “Yes,” he murmurs, so belatedly that Renji’s already half-forgotten what question he’s answering; he’s distracted by the low, husky murmur of that voice, so different from the captain’s usual clipped tone. A million things go unsaid between them, but it doesn’t matter - all Renji can think is that somehow, kneeling naked at Byakuya’s feet feels closer and more intimate than any face-to-face interaction they’ve ever had.

He keeps it slow. Cherishes every second. Pours into each touch all the devotion and yearning he’s never given voice to. By the time he rises up on his knees, hands grappling blindly with hakama ties as he mouths at a still-clothed inner thigh, Byakuya has given up trying to keep his breathing even - there’s a tremor running through his muscles with each worshipful touch, and when Renji chances a glance up, grey eyes latch onto his and burn with a light that’s hungry and bewildered and scorching.

“What are - what are you doing?” Byakuya demands again, breathless.

“I’m showing you.” Renji’s own voice is beginning to grow hoarse; the knot comes loose in his hands, and he tugs away loosened fabric to reveal flawless pale skin and a bobbing, needy erection. He licks his lips, hungrily. “How much I want this. How much I want to please you...how much I...” Words fail him, and so he does the only thing that makes sense: he leans forward and, in one swift movement, swallows his captain’s cock deep down his throat.

Once, a long time ago, Renji had dropped to his knees in the office and begged for permission to do what he is doing now; what he had longed to do since he first took up his position in the Sixth Division. Back then Kuchiki-taichou had guided the movements of his mouth with gentle hands and quiet murmurs of encouragement, carding his fingers through Renji’s hair, tightening only briefly in warning as he neared his peak. Afterwards, he’d lowered them both to the ground and reciprocated, too proud to go down on his knees, but too thorough to leave Renji with any breath left in his lungs by the time they were done. Tonight is nothing like that time. The hands that grip Renji’s hair now are fisted so tight that his scalp burns, and the only sound Byakuya makes is a choked groan: strange and urgent and pleading, somehow. Renji works his mouth up and down the hardened length, tongue rubbing firmly along the underside the way he knows Byakuya likes, and he’s so focused on his task that he’s almost forgotten the persistent aching throb of his own cock in sympathy.

All too soon Byakuya pulls him back, breath hissing through gritted teeth as he pulls himself back from the very edge of his control. “This is...you aren’t...this wasn’t the plan,” he whispers brokenly.

“Do you need a plan, for something like this?” asks Renji, even though he already knows the answer. He doesn’t rise. He can’t keep his hands from rubbing up and down Byakuya’s legs, caressing, soothing, relishing the feeling of skin beneath his hands. He licks a bead of precome from the tip of Byakuya’s arousal and feels a harsh jolt run through him, like an electric shock. “Will you let me... just let me give you this...” The words are little more than a soft rush of air from his lips, and he resists the urge to dig his fingers into the captain’s thigh and refuse to let go. Keep him there.

Their eyes meet. Byakuya looks... scared, Renji realises. Confused and alarmed by the strange, unwieldy intimacy that has turned the air to treacle between them since Renji dropped unprompted to his knees. This isn’t the subdued, impersonal passion they’ve both grown accustomed to. This is something fiercer, more primal, and it threatens to sweep away the cracked stones of Byakuya’s protective outer walls in its eddying tides. He can see the battle in Byakuya’s eyes, desire and hesitancy, and Renji lowers his head a little further, and holds his body very still, and hopes.

Byakuya. I’m only asking you to let me serve you. Nothing more.

At long last, Byakuya’s eyes flicker shut. He gives a short, almost imperceptible nod.

Renji’s mouth when it descends again is frantic, ravenous. Something snaps inside him and the lines, the rules - they all fade into the background. The only thing that matters is touching and tasting and feeling as much of Byakuya as he can; the need consumes him until he’s plunging forward wildly, eyes watering, unsteady enough to topple sideways if not for the hand anchored in his hair, swallowing as fast as he can around the solid length in a desperate attempt to hold back his gag reflex. He has to have this. He has to. He can feel Byakuya beginning to tremble in earnest, hips bucking forward clumsily, messily, and when his climax hits it tears a sharp, sobbing cry from his throat.

It ends on the slow rattle of a breathless sigh, and Renji falls back on his heels to gulp down air and fight against the vertigo that’s taken hold of him. And all at once he’s so overcome that he barely notices Byakuya sinking down to kneel beside him until a warm, gentle hand comes to rest against his bare shoulder. The other one flutters down almost shyly to his groin, and Renji’s nerves are so overwrought that the first soft touch brings him undone. A blissful tremor tears through his body and he spills himself out on the floor with a shuddering groan.

“Renji.” Byakuya’s voice is slightly hoarse, like he’s never heard it before. “Why?” He sounds shaken, urgent - lost.

There’s so much that Renji could say. His breath is returning to him in shallow gasps, and as he comes back down to earth, he realises Byakuya’s hand hasn’t left his shoulder. He leans into the touch and lets a quiet laugh rumble low in his throat, a placeholder for the words he knows he can’t say - yet. “What?” he says instead. “Sucked you off, is all. Felt like it. Do I need a reason?” Because you’re everything. Because you need to know that I’m here. Because I worship you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life on my knees for you if that’s what it takes for you to look at me like you did just now.

“I suppose not,” says Byakuya. And that’s all he says, but there’s something there in his voice, something shattered and painfully open, that tells Renji everything he needs to know.

They understand each other.

@bulma775

#byaren #bleach #bleach renji #byakuya kuchiki #kuchikibyakuya #kuchiki byakuya #fanfiction #abarairenji #abarai renji #yaoianime #yaoi

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