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Penumbra	By : Sardonicista Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2583 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The author does not own Bleach or its characters, and does not earn any profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-I
- 2-II
- 3-III
- 4-IV
- 5-V
- 6-VI
- 4
- 5
- 6
Penumbra, Chapter Five
                A pleasant din of shouted greetings and laughter infused the Sixth Division already basking in the late afternoon sun. Byakuya was making quick work of an imposing stack of papers, hand, brush, and ink moving as one over the plethora of forms and reports that threatened to take over his desk.

                “Hey, Taichou,” came Renji’s voice from the doorway as a mosaic of red and black leaned in to Byakuya’s peripheral vision. “You about done?”

                “Yes, Abarai. And yourself?” Byakuya signed and stamped another page, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet Renji’s.

                “For once, yeah.” The way Renji scratched at his hair was at odds with his purposefully relaxed pose, arms crossed and shoulder propped against the doorjamb. “Sure you don’t wanna come?”

                “Quite. While I enjoy the company of yourself and Rukia, the karaoke bar and its infernal machine are something that I prefer remain a rare treat.”

                A chuckle escaped Renji, though his face was perfectly composed by the time Byakuya glanced at him again. “We’ll get you up on stage someday, Taichou. Can I bring you anything?”

                “Bring my sister home safely, Fukutaichou. That will be all.” He dismissed Renji with a nod of the head as he went back to work.

                Renji laughed, made a salute that seemed to be more of a wave and ambled down the hall.

                Seizing on the last ream of papers, Byakuya fell into an easy rhythm of scanning, editing and signing, so much so that it took him quite a while to notice the change in the background noise. The steady stream of congenial voices had faded as twilight commenced, so that when a chorus of hails and shuffling feet sounded out, he set his brush down and stood to peer out the window.

                There was nothing unusual to note in the practice yard, yet the whole division seemed to fall silent.

                “Ah, there you are. You do work awfully long hours, Bya-kun.”

                “Is that so?” Byakuya turned to find Kyouraku Shunsui, clad in typical pink kimono and weathered sakkat, strolling into his office and whistling to himself. “I thought it typical to go home after one’s work is done, not before.”

                “Perhaps.” Shunsui stopped to run a finger down the spine of a thick tome on an upper bookshelf. “You do realize that your poor guards have to stay until you retire?”

                It occurred to Byakuya that the nearby sentries and unseated soldiers were being unusually quiet so as to be unobtrusive…and eavesdrop more effectively. “Good, then, that their schedule rotates so that no one individual is overly oppressed. Is there something I can be of help with, Kyouraku Soutaichou?”

                “There are a number of things I had hoped to accomplish tonight, all of which would be impossible without you.” Shunsui sauntered up and sat on the edge of the desk, fingers drumming on the tall tower of completed papers. “But first, how about dinner?”

                Byakuya tilted his head and gave him a long look. “I suppose.”

                Shunsui ushered him out and gave an amicable wave to each and every shinigami they passed on the way out of the division, leaving just as the rear guard of daylight dipped below the horizon. “There’s something different about your office, yes?”

                “Be quiet.”

                “I hope you’re not upset that I came calling in person, Byakuya.” Shunsui moved close enough for their fingers to brush, though he subsequently tucked his hands into his sleeves.

                “Of course not,” Byakuya glanced at him before lifting his eyes to the darkening skies and the stars and planets just twinkling into view. “Unless you left any unpleasant surprises for my subordinates to deal with.”

                Kyouraku gave him a surprised look, which, in time, gave way to recognition. “Ah. Please don’t worry yourself on that account. Katen Kyoukotsu wouldn’t pursue the unwitting.”

                “Is it typical for them to…” Byakuya didn’t intend to trail off, but words did not well encapsulate what he had experienced.

                “The ladies do adhere to a code, and they follow the rules of their games without fail,” Shunsui guided him through an intersection and onto a quiet, tree-lined lane. “In most circumstances they prefer that their fellow players actually know the rules, though.”

                This is a game? He didn’t react when Shunsui put an arm around him. They had left the mercantile district behind, the homes growing grander and further removed from the road as they went. It may be a failure of my imagination, but I can’t say that I’ve seen any discernible pattern or objective. Perhaps this, too, is a game.

                “Relax,” Kyouraku whispered and squeezed his shoulder. “They mean you no harm. If anything, they’re fond of you and have limited means to show it.”

                Crickets and cicadas filled the silence between them as they neared the traditional Kyouraku manor and its extensive, manicured gardens.

                “I suppose none of this is what you expected.” Shunsui opened the gate and they entered the walled estate. The clack of a shishi-odoshi, the bustle of servants and warm light spilling out into the garden beckoned them in.

                  Byakuya allowed himself to be swept up in a kiss as they stood on the stone footpath. “You may be many things, but predictable is not among them.”

                The stars were bright and brilliant that night under the auspices of a new moon. The songbirds and cicadas, bold and brazen by day, had retired and crickets took up a song in their place, the occasional rustle of leaves their accompaniment. From his position on the apex of the half-moon bridge over the koi pond, the only man-made light that Byakuya could see was the walkway lantern that the servants had thoughtfully dimmed after their dinner.

                Though the air was thick with jasmine, a different type of floral bouquet wafted his way every time Shunsui spoke. As if reading his thoughts, Kyouraku extended a daintily painted porcelain cup and held it beneath his nose.

                “Plum wine, older than your sister- you really must try it.” Shunsui’s eyes twinkled even in the star-speckled darkness; the remainder of the Captain Commander was still swathed in the shadow of the opposite railing against which he leaned. Tall as he was, his long legs spanned the width of the bridge and nudged against Byakuya’s side at regular intervals.

                Byakuya sniffed it, a wholly unnecessary gesture given the potency of Shunsui’s breath. “Perhaps later,” he set is aside, balancing it on one of the red painted beams that made of up walkway of the bridge.

                “While we’re on that topic,” Shunsui drained and placed his own cup on the nearby tray, “I believe I have a yukata to return to you.”

                “Ah.” The garment came to mind, gray striped and belonging to his uncle. Byakuya had rarely seen it and had never worn it, as it was several sizes too big for him.

                “Gauging from the detritus I left in my division, I probably owe you an apology as well.” Kyouraku traced the wine bottle with his fingertip, but made no move to pour himself more.

                “How much do you remember?”

                “Remarkably little; I’ve not been that drunk since my Academy days.” Shunsui toyed idly with his cup. “Though I’ve been able to fill in a few of the details.”

                “I see.” Byakuya scanned the heavens and settled on a constellation to analyze. He was at no loss for the details of said evening, but had no intention of discussing them.

                “I believe I’ve offended you,” Shunsui stated, tone as neutral as ever.

                “Not exactly.” The Kuchiki kept his gaze on the stars while he considered his words. “You would hardly be the first to drink yourself into oblivion.”

                The crickets filled the gap between them as a soft breeze blew, then subsided into the darkness.

                “I will gladly help those in need,” Byakuya went on after a while as he turned his gaze towards his companion, “but I will not make a habit of caring for those who will not care for themselves.”

                Shunsui hummed and shifted, lacing his fingers together behind his head and leaning back to better watch the sky. “Why did you come to me?”

                Byakuya didn’t have time to reply before Shunsui spoke again. “Not the drunken disaster night – I’m assuming my zanpakutou beckoned you then.”

                Choosing to remain silent, Byakuya straightened and stretched his legs in parallel with Shunsui’s- the bridge was not a very forgiving surface.

                “Reports and bribes aside,” the Captain Commander clarified as he poured himself another drink, “Why did you seek me out in my office?”

                Byakuya felt the sudden urge to stand so he went with it, stretching a bit more and turning away to look over the starlit koi pond. The lily pads and lotus blossoms swayed and swirled slightly as tiny bubbles appeared and evaporated in the otherwise smooth surface of the water.

                “Shortly after my wife died, Ukitake-taichou began to visit the Kuchiki estate once a week to picnic in the gardens. I knew it wasn’t coincidental, but otherwise I didn’t think too much of it- I was simply grateful that unlike my other visitors and well-wishers, it demanded little to none of my time.”

                There was a rustle and snap in the branches of a maple tree overhead. Byakuya glanced in the general direction of the disturbance, but the dark obscured any details from his view. “I only attended him a couple of times – my grandfather had insisted that to do otherwise would reflect badly on the family. I barely spoke and did not eat, but simply sat there stewing in my thoughts until I could make an excuse to leave.”

                The only response from Kyouraku was the soft shifting of silk and the occasional clink of glass and porcelain. Byakuya did not turn to look – the stars seemed a more receptive audience.

                “He tried something similar after Rukia’s arrest, though I was just as oblivious and unreceptive. I went to see him after returning from Hueco Mundo, but like most lessons from Sempai, I grasped it far too late.”

                A sudden weight settled on his shoulders; Byakuya glanced down at the large, hairy hands smoothing over his haori. He hadn’t realized how cool the night had become until Shunsui pressed against his back, his broad chest radiating warmth.

                “That’s enough,” Kyouraku whispered into his hair as he slid his arms around Byakuya. “He wasn’t the type to keep score.”

                Fighting the instinct to freeze, Byakuya calmed himself by force of will until his pulse slowed and their breathing fell into synchrony. In time he fully relaxed into the embrace, his head coming to rest against Shunsui as his arms draped themselves over those encircling his waist.

                “Your story seems plausible, though I have to wonder,” Kyouraku murmured, his breath tickling Byakuya’s temple as they watched the play of insects along the water. “Is it a sense of obligation that keeps you here?”

                “Nothing so virtuous.” Byakuya admitted as his eyelids grew heavy; the combined aromas of plum wine and Shunsui were proving an effective soporific.

                “Oh, I like the sound of that.” Shunsui chuckled, sending vibrations rumbling along Byakuya’s spine. “Do tell.”

                Unable to keep his eyes open, Byakuya still scowled ineffectually into the darkness. “Up until the reclamation of the soul palace, I’d never before been a witness to your sword release.”

                Though I had imagined it many times, he mused to himself; the wishes and wanderings of an adolescent mind were not something to speak of, though, even in the thick of the night.

                “Sheer power aside,” the Kuchiki’s jaw tightened, as if reliving the bone-jarring blast that threatened to shake the palace apart, “it was the flavor of your reiatsu that caught my attention.”

                “Flavor?”

                “Like the smoke of cedar incense searing your mouth as electricity arcs over your tongue,” was the best description Byakuya could produce, as annoyed as he was with himself for voicing the odd sensation. “It tasted of…rage, of pain long held in check and released with unerring precision.”

                In that moment, I realized that we were very much alike, and that you are much more capable of schooling your emotions than I will ever be. He was vaguely aware that Shunsui’s hands were moving over him, that his own hands hung limply at his sides. And as much as I admire your control, it is the loss of it that I find…exhilarating…

                “And now that you’ve had more than a taste, why is it that you remain?” Shunsui stepped away to fold something with care, something that turned out to be Byakuya’s haori, much to his surprise.

                “I…” Byakuya faltered as the kenseikan’s many chains and clasps were loosened and removed from his hair with efficiency. “I am not in the habit of shying away from a challenge.”

                “Nor do you seem overly concerned with self-preservation.” Kyouraku’s voice was but a growl threatening his ear.

                “You have little room to talk,” Byakuya intended to sound sharp with disapproval, though his words were disconcertingly breathless as they floated into the night air.

                “But I will speak, and you are going listen.” Shunsui pulled him close with a possessive grip, his hands delving in to Byakuya’s uniform without ado. “The magnanimous, easygoing Captain of the Eighth is gone, though few know and even fewer care. Unlike my zanpakutou, I’m inclined to ignore the rules and do what I damned well please.”

                Shunsui’s grim, bitter tone was at complete odds with the way he nuzzled Byakuya’s hair.

                “Yama-jii was disciplined, resolute in every sense for as long as I knew him. Ukitake, for being such an unrepentant busybody, was every bit as upright, but so generous and compassionate that you just couldn’t fault him for it.” Shunsui tightened his grip, trapping him in an iron embrace. “The best part of me died with them. Are you sure that you want to deal with the leftovers?”

                He should be wary, Byakuya decided, apprehensive even, but it was indignation that bubbled up out of his depths and flushed his cheeks. “Fool,” he hissed over his shoulder, “who do you think you are talking to? We are nothing but the refuse of our grief.”

                Shunsui grunted and stepped in, pinning him to the railing and restraining his upper body with an arm over his chest. He grabbed Byakuya’s jaw and wrenched it to the side before crushing their mouths together. Byakuya shifted and his nascent hardness nudged the baluster before him – he wanted to move away, to relieve the cramp in his neck or the skin that stung from the friction of Shunsui’s beard, but there was no escape- and with that realization he grew even harder. Likewise, Shunsui was slowly rocking against him, his jutting erection poking Byakuya in the hip.

                All of a sudden, Byakuya found that his arms were no longer pinned to his sides, that he could draw breath without choking on someone else’s tongue. The reprieve was brief, though, and his head was wrenched back by a vice-like grip in his hair.

                “Move only as I say.” Shunsui turned Byakuya’s head to face him to make the point. He stole another kiss and punctuated it with a tug.

                Unlike his haori, the remainder of Byakuya’s uniform was removed without ceremony and left crumpled at his feet. Though the wind did not stir, Byakuya shivered anyway, clad in only his fundoshi, tabi and waraji in the dead of night. He shivered again as Shunsui’s hand swept over his hip and trailed along his ribcage to come to rest around his neck.

                “You’ll tell me if there’s pain that is more than you can bear,” Shunsui commanded as he gently squeezed his throat. “Make whatever noise you need to, but know that there will be consequences if you stifle yourself.”

                Byakuya leaned in to the grip on his neck and flushed with shame as his heart rate accelerated. Rather than remove his fundoshi, Shunsui seized the end of the cloth and pulled it even tighter, lifting his scrotum and producing delicious friction against his rigid and already leaking erection. A groan escaped him as fully-clothed Kyouraku ground against him and increased the pressure on his airway.

                “Yes, that’s it,” Shunsui licked the shell of his ear after nibbling on the lobe. Releasing his neck and giving his cock a squeeze, Shunsui rested his bristly cheek against Byakuya’s. “Put your hands on the railing,” he rumbled.

                The Kuchiki complied. He didn’t even shudder when Shunsui did away with his fundoshi, but he did when the man leaned forward and gave a good, long lick to the damp spot that had formed on the silk.

                “Time for more wine.” Kyouraku might have grinned, though the deepening darkness made it impossible to tell.

                Even had Shunsui been more explicit, it wouldn’t have prepared Byakuya for the shock of chilled liquid trickling down his back and into the cleft between his buttocks.

                “I told you this was a vintage to be savored,” Shunsui chuckled and moved to stand behind him, completely out of sight. “Spread your legs and bend over.”

                Byakuya let himself be pushed forward until his chest met the railing. Shunsui was kind enough to free his legs of his shed clothing and position him to his liking, while all Byakuya could do was try to remember to breathe. The wine left tingling trail in its wake that began to burn the longer it remained; a few drops made it to his scrotum and fell down to splatter on the floor boards of the bridge.

                Shunsui slid his fingertips along the outside of Byakuya’s legs and thighs, his touch light enough to leave gooseflesh in his wake. Giving Byakuya’s hips a light squeeze, Shunsui gripped his buttocks firmly and spread them apart.

                Byakuya grit his teeth; he’d never been penetrated without at least cursory preparation, but he was confident he could withstand the pain. What he didn’t count on was the wet, slick heat that swept over and around his opening, and he cried out in surprise.

                Kyouraku had the gall to laugh, his breath searing Byakuya’s wine-soaked perineum. He flicked the tip of his tongue and snorted when Byakuya tried to writhe out of his grasp.

                “Consequences,” Shunsui rasped and bit him, teeth sinking in to the globe of flesh that was his left cheek.

The scent of wine drifted past him again; Byakuya held his breath as he was breeched by something with cold fire in its wake. It wriggled and curled and stabbed into him without mercy, each slick thrust stretching and burning and agonizing and amazing.

                And then a hand landed on the bite with a good amount of force, a hint of crackling reiatsu and a resounding smack!

                Byakuya wanted to think that the sound reverberating off the roof tiles was something other than his voice, but Shunsui prodded him and curled the tip of his tongue just so, and some new, shameful noise erupted from his throat and out into the open.

                “Stop, please,” Byakuya whispered to the distorted reflection staring back at him from the pond.

                “Is that what you really want?” Nails raked down his thighs.

                “I don’t know,” he admitted into the railing as his fingertips dug into the wood.

                “Am I hurting you?” Shunsui licked his way up from the back of Byakuya’s knee to the top of his thigh.

                “Not nearly enough.”

                “Does this help?” Shunsui spanked him again with another mighty blow that made his back arch and loosed his tongue.

                “Yes, damn you.” Byakuya’s voice nearly broke as he collapsed against the railing again. “Spare me the questions and just get on with it.”

                “Now, now,” Shunsui tutted as his hand collided with Byakuya’s perineum and both buttocks. “Let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” He licked a slow path along the cleft, somehow making the skin sting all the more.

                Byakuya’s breath- and most of his sense- left him as Shunsui continued to tickle him with his tongue while spanking his thighs and flanks at odd intervals. He felt himself getting close, balls tightening with no small amount of urgency, when Shunsui suddenly pulled away, leaving him cursing and panting as quietly as he could manage.

                “You’re exquisite like this, frustrated and struggling,” Kyouraku whispered and swept away the hair that clung to his neck to plant a kiss there.

                There was rustling and fumbling behind him, and the potent scent of the plum wine washed over Byakuya’s heightened senses again.

                “These probably weren’t meant to be mixed,” Shunsui muttered and grabbed his hip, steadying him. “It should suffice, though.”

                Shunsui pressed a couple of fingers into him and set to work as his insides grew chilled, then warm, then scalding.

                “What did you do?” Byakuya hissed as he tried to get away, though he ended up leaning back into Shunsui instead.

                “I added a bit of wine to the lube,” Kyouraku purred into his ear as his fingers spread him open. “I figured you’d prefer that to getting the remainder, bottle and all.”

                You wouldn’t, Byakuya started to say, but enough uncertainty peppered his thoughts to help him hold his tongue.

                “Don’t worry,” Shunsui slid his free hand up Byakuya’s torso and settled into his hair with a firm grip. “The only thing that’ll be inside you anytime soon is me.”

                Byakuya groaned when Shunsui finally entered him, and his voice seemed to leak out with every thrust thereafter. They were a tight fit under ideal circumstances, and with the evening’s turn of events he felt sure that he would split open before Shunsui was through with him; he was aching already, even though Kyouraku had set a gentle pace, and he couldn’t help but twitch and cramp around the rigid heat spearing him incessantly.

The wooden railing, which had seemed so cool and smooth earlier in the evening, scratched his chest and rubbed his nipples raw as he was pushed and pulled over the grain. Shunsui let go of his hair and his head fell forward into a helpless sway that made the starlit bridge and water below dance in a dizzying display; he had to close his eyes to keep his stomach from rebelling against the motion. Ignorant- or indifferent- to his plight, Shunsui grabbed his hips hard and sped up to a dizzying pace before coming to an abrupt halt.

                “Not…yet,” Shunsui rasped, sounding as strained and breathless as Byakuya felt. “Not yet.”

                Though they had slowed to a standstill, Kyouraku had swelled within him and delved into every sensitive spot just so. He wedged a hand between Byakuya and the railing and pulled him upright, so that Byakuya’s back was flush against his chest; Shunsui kept him pinned there as his hand curled around Byakuya’s purpling manhood.

                “Go ahead,” Shunsui murmured and stroked him once, twice, thrice in succession.

                Byakuya opened his eyes in time to see his release shoot away from him, up over the railing and land in the pond below with a plop. The next sound to register was Shunsui’s breath quickening in his ear as warmth blossomed within him. They stood there, chests heaving and eyes registering little. Byakuya swallowed and stumbled a bit as Shunsui tugged at him, walking them backwards and collapsing onto the floorboards in a sweaty heap, still connected. The crickets grew louder, or perhaps the blood rushing through his ears was starting to slow, and he shivered from the sweat cooling on his skin.

                Shunsui pulled something black, grey and vaguely flowery over them that fluttered up before clinging to Byakuya’s clammy skin. The Captain Commander’s shihakushou likewise adhered to his back as he shifted in Shunsui’s lap with what dignity he could muster. Byakuya was just about to allow his eyes to close when soft green light sprung up beneath his kimono-turned-blanket and cast shadowy stripes and shapes over the bridge.

                “Don’t.” Byakuya grasped Shunsui’s wrists and held them to his chest, arresting the healing kidou before it could take effect.

                “Why?” Shunsui brushed his lips along Byakuya’s neck with a feather-light touch.

                “If you feel the need to apologize, make your apology.” Byakuya tilted his head to expose more of his throat. “Otherwise save your healing for incapacitating injuries.”

                “Why?” Kyouraku repeated into the pale, taut skin over his clavicle.

                “It will make the morning less surreal.”

                “Hnnh.” Shunsui freed himself from Byakuya’s grip and wrapped his arms around the Kuchiki’s narrow waist.

                Enough time passed that Byakuya’s mind started to wander. He was determined not to fidget but his toes were getting cold, despite being enveloped in the cocoon of Shunsui’s body heat.

                “Is that something you anticipate?” Shunsui’s abrupt question seemed deafening in the stillness of the atrium’s garden. “Incapacitating injuries?”

                Byakuya cleared his throat. “There is a…distinction to be made, I suppose, between expecting such a thing…and knowing it is possible.”

                And something horribly perverse about being excited by the prospect, Byakuya decided as he flushed with shame. There was a tickle in his throat, but he refused to even consider coughing again, or revealing any other hint of his discomfiture.

                Shunsui responded by tucking Byakuya’s feet into the folds of his loosened hakama while tightening his embrace. “It’s funny how the most repugnant ideas can also be quite titillating.”

                He couldn’t help but cough then, but Byakuya was grateful for the reprieve from the conversation, however fleeting. This time, when Shunsui offered him a cup of wine, he accepted it with a nod of gratitude.

                “I want you to know,” Shunsui began as Byakuya finished his drink, “that you are not alone when it comes to finding release in the balance of restraint and disarray. It’s a high, and unimaginable high to take control of you and your pleasure, but at the same time, knowing that things could get ugly with the tiniest misstep…”

                Shunsui sighed and let his head fall back against the baluster with a thud. Byakuya found Shunsui’s hand and squeezed it before shifting and lifting his hips, finally separating himself from Shunsui’s flaccid member.

                “We’re making a mess of your uniform,” Byakuya decided that a change of topic was in order.

                Kyouraku laughed and patted his hand. “I should certainly hope so; that’s what comes with proceeding with all due haste.”

                It was only then that Byakuya turned his attention to his own clothing…or, to be more precise, the floorboards of the bridge where his uniform had been.

                He blinked. “Did-?”

                “No, we didn’t kick your clothes into the pond, though it wasn’t for lack of trying,” Shunsui was still chuckling to himself. “I believe your secret admirers squirreled your uniform away, probably to my chambers.”

                “Oh.”

                “Amateur mistake, thinking that would be enough to keep you here had you decided against it.” Somehow, Shunsui managed to stand up while scooping up Byakuya’s legs behind the knee.

                “It will take more than that to dupe me into naked shunpou, you old lecher,” Byakuya frowned, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a mutinous twitch.

                Shunsui let loose another rumbling laugh and took off with Byakuya in his arms.

                Illuminated only with starlight that twinkled and dimmed with the passing clouds, the half-moon bridge stood deserted, save for a tray of scattered porcelain cups and an empty bottle of wine.
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