Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Revelations	By : gypsygrrl420 Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any money off of this fic.

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The door snapped shut with a subtle ‘click’ that seemed to echo in the quiet confines of the darkened room, but the man seated behind the desk didn’t look up, his pen ‘scritching’ steadily across the page without pause.
Ikkaku’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at that bent head, his anger sparking hotter at being ignored, and he had to remind himself that he was here for a purpose that wasn’t beating the shit out of the younger man—at least, not just yet.
“I don’t know what he fucking sees in you.”
The pen slowed, but Hisagi didn’t look up, and the 3^rd seat gritted his teeth—not yet, not yet, not yet.
“I said—”
Cool, dark eyes lifted from the page in front of him, and something in that gaze halted the words in the bald man’s throat. After a long moment—eternally long, pinned beneath that stare—Hisagi sighed and laid down his pen, shoving a long-fingered hand through his messy dark hair as he regarded the man standing just inside his office evenly.
“I heard you the first time, Madarame-san.”
The very sound of the other man’s voice, deep and measured and completely devoid of any inflection—hell, he could match Kuchiki for lack of expression—only served to anger the bald-headed man further. Without meaning to do so, he left his position by the door and closed the distance between them, glaring down at the seated man from the other side of the wide desk.
“And?”
One dark eyebrow lifted in response, not a flicker of expression showing on that scarred face at the snarled question.
“And what? What Ayasegawa likes or dislikes is his business, and I don’t make a habit of gossiping about my fellow officers. If you wish an answer to your question, you would be better off asking him instead.”
Ikkaku bit back a growl of annoyance. He’d already asked Yumichika, and all he had gotten in reply was a small, dark chuckle that had told him absolutely nothing (but had made his cock harden and goose bumps break out all along his spine) and a teasing: “I don’t kiss and tell, ‘Kaku. If you reallywant to know, you should go see Hisagi-chan and find out for yourself.”
That’s what he was trying to do—but the bastard was not being cooperative at all. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at the 3^rd seat any longer, having turned his attention back to the document he’d been reading when Ikkaku had burst into his office, and the 11^th division officer could only stare at him incredulously when he absently picked up the pen he’d set aside and scrawled a note in the margin, coolly dismissing the other man’s presence completely.
Fuck this, and fuck him.
Thoroughly pissed at being ignored, he reached across the desk and grabbed the front of the younger man’s shihakushou, yanking him across the desk and scattering reports everywhere, fully intending on beating the arrogant little shit into a bloody pulp, but a stifled gasp that sounded suspiciously like a choked-off moan halted the trajectory of the fist he’d aimed at the other man’s face, the sound cutting through the haze of fury that had engulfed him only a heartbeat later, shocking him back to his senses.

No fucking way.
He stared down at Hisagi, drinking in the suddenly blown pupils and that lush mouth—did he really just think that?—the face that was tattooed and scarred but still fucking beautiful—yes, he just called Hisagi beautiful and so what if he did?—and he suddenly understood exactly what it was that his oldest friend saw in this man.
In fact, he was seeing it himself.
“Madarame-san—”
He watched as the younger man licked his lips slowly, shuddered at the sound of his name delivered in that hoarse, sex-roughed voice that was barely louder than a whisper in the gathering twilight shrouding the office as the sun sank beneath the horizon to signal the end of the work day (he could dimly hear muffled voices in the corridor as the division cleared of its officers, but they were on the other side of the door and not likely to disturb their acting captain) and he tried to tell himself that this was a very bad idea…but when he felt a tiny tremor go through the other man’s lean frame he threw caution and sanity to the wind, dipping his head to take that lush, ripe mouth roughly, hungrily, with his own.
He half expected Hisagi to shove him away and punch him—or, fuck, possibly try and kill him with that demon-sword of his—but the acting captain was kissing him back just as hungrily, hands slipping between them to tug impatiently at the 3^rd seat’s obi and delve beneath his loosened shihakushou, shoving the heavy fabric aside to get at the skin beneath.
“Fuck!”
Abdomen and chest stinging from the rake of blunt nails, he bit the younger man’s lower lip harshly in retaliation and snatched Hisagi’s hands away from his torso, pinning his wrists together with one hand while the other shot down to fumble with the dark-haired shinigami’s sash, loosening it just enough to get at the ties holding up his hakama and snapping them in his haste. Hisagi didn’t seem to notice the destruction of his uniform, but if he did he wasn’t objecting, his mouth slick and hot against Ikkaku’s as he pressed closer, tugging at the hold on his wrists but not hard enough to indicate that he truly wanted to get away, and damn if he wasn’t hot as fuck like this…
Hisagi tore his mouth free on a long, drawn out moan as sword-calloused fingers closed around his cock, his hips undulating in a slow, sensual roll that rocked his length through the bald man’s loosely fisted hand and set the 3^rd seat’s own arousal to throbbing within the confines of his uniform, and Ikkaku knew that if he waited any longer he might just embarrass the fuck out of himself by creaming his hakama like a green Academy student reading their first dirty magazine. Releasing his hold on Hisagi’s wrists and cock (oh yeah, he liked that breathless whimper of disappointment), he turned the smaller man and bent him across the littered surface of his desk with a hand between his shoulder blades.
“Spread your legs for me.”
Stepping back, he watched as Hisagi adjusted his stance so his feet were shoulder-width apart, watched as he reached back to sweep the trailing hem of his shihakushou away from his ass to bare himself to the older man’s glittering gaze, and for a bare instant the 3^rd seat found himself wondering at the younger man’s sudden compliance when only moments before he’d been treated like an unwanted nuisance...
But then the acting captain was looking back over his shoulder at the taller, broader officer with lust-blown eyes, and any reservations the 11^th divisioner might have had about continuing vanished beneath the weight of that heavy-lidded gaze.
At the arch of a single black brow, he fumbled his zanapkuto from his sash with one hand and twisted open the compartment hidden in Hozukimaru’s hilt, coating his fingers generously with the salve secreted inside. It wasn’t ideal, and it certainly would earn him at least a half-days’ worth of grumbling from the sword’s spirit, but it was slick and would serve as a better lubricant than his saliva. Placing the zanpakuto on the desk beside Hisagi, he used his clean hand to untie his obi and unknot hakama strings, stepping out of the voluminous folds once they had pooled at his sandaled feet, then shifted aside his fundoshi to bare his achingly erect cock, hissing softly as the cool air caressed the overly sensitive flesh.
Satisfied that Ikkaku wasn’t about to change his mind, the dark-haired shinigami turned his head, pressing his face against the smooth surface beneath his cheek as he spread his legs further, lifting his hips in open invitation, and the bald-headed man nervously licked his lips before stepping closer, one hand closing around a narrow hip to hold him steady as he brought his slick fingers to the younger man’s entrance, smoothly pressing two digits past the first ring of muscle and into unbelievably tight, scorching heat.
Hisagi bucked beneath him with a breathless cry that might have pain or might have been pleasure—Ikkaku couldn’t tell—and his hands scrabbled for the edges of the desk, gripping tightly enough that his knuckles whitened, but when the 3^rd seat paused for the other man to adjust, that dark head turned to level a glare at the older man.“Stop pussyfooting around—fuck me, dammnit!”
A feral grin much like his captain’s curved the bald man’s mouth at the snarled demand, and he quickly scissored his fingers to just barely stretch the tight passage before pulling his hand away and slicking up his cock in short, quick strokes. If that’s the way Hisagi wanted it…well then, who was he to object?
Positioning himself at the younger man’s entrance, his fingers bit into soft skin as his grip tightened on Hisagi’s hip, and he sheathed himself inside the lean body bent across the desk before him with one quick, brutal thrust, tearing a keening wail from the other officer’s throat at the sudden, violent claiming. Ikkaku held absolutely still, fighting down the urge to mindlessly rut into the body beneath him—it was probably a good thing he had used the salve as lubricant, there was no way he hadn’t torn the other man—waiting for Hisagi to adjust to the thick length spearing him, and after only a moment he felt slim hips roll cautiously—invitingly—back against him, indicating that the younger man was ready for more.
Dark eyes met glittering green as Hisagi glanced back at him once more, that damned eyebrow cocking upwards once more as if askingWell? Is that all you got? and the 11th division officer smirked, his hand cracking down sharply on a pert ass cheek and dragging a strangled moan from the other man—even as his back arched and he lifted that gorgeous little ass higher in wordless demand.
Ikkaku laughed breathlessly at his partner’s reaction: “Such a dirty little slut.”
And then he proceeded to give him the fucking he’d been begging for, grinning savagely at the wailing cries, hoarse moans, and surprisingly filthy curses that belied Hisagi’s Rukon origins that spilled from the usually reserved young man’s throat to fill the air as he pounded into the lean form beneath him.
All too soon he could feel the familiar lightning sizzle of impending orgasm building low in his spine, the combined heat and tightness of Hisagi’s body surrounding him dragging him dizzyingly towards climax before he was quite ready to end this, but the litany of curses were growing breathless, and he could feel the snug passage beginning to clamp down around him, and he couldn’t halt his headlong rush towards completion as it hurtled towards him. He had enough wits left to reach down under Hisagi and close his hand around his straining cock, fisting it roughly in time to his thrusts, and he felt the moment the other man toppled over the edge as the already tight channel grew impossibly tighter, the long, lean body arching up off the desk with a ragged cry, driving Ikkaku even deeper into his body, and seed spurted over his stroking hand, spattering smooth wood and reports scattered by the 3^rd seat’s reckless loss of temper.
A harsh shout tore from his own throat as his own climax hit, his vision whiting out as he released within Hisagi’s body, jerking the other man back against him to sink his teeth into firm, yielding flesh to muffle the noise as his cock jerked once, twice, three times to fill the snug passage wrapped around him. Only distantly did he hear Hisagi cry out, feeling him shudder as he was brought to a second, weaker orgasm from the combination of the bite and Ikkaku’s cock roughly twitching against his abused prostate, and when the last aftershocks faded away, the 3^rd seat found himself draped over the younger man’s back, his weight having borne them both down to the surface of the desk, their panting breaths harsh in the gathering twilight of the office.
“G’off—you’re heavy,” the younger man grumbled, struggling to nudge the broader man off of him, and the 11^th division officer chuckled breathlessly against the nape of Hisagi’s neck before pushing himself upright, carefully sliding out of the other man’s body with a groan.
“Where’s the washroom? You’re a mess,” he asked, and was treated to a baleful glare as the dark-haired shinigami turned his head carefully to one side, wincing as the movement reminded him of the bite mark where neck joined shoulder.
“And whose fault was that?”
He struggled to lever himself up off the desk, hissing in discomfort, and Ikkaku hurriedly helped him rise, steadying him on his feet when he swayed drunkenly.
“Yours, I would say. You fucking moaned when I grabbed you and hauled you across your desk…” Hisagi flushed darkly at the reminder, his glare intensifying, but the 3^rd seat ignored the scowl, frowning when the younger male winced again as he reached for his discarded hakama. “I was too rough.”
“He likes it rough.”
The low, rumbling voice coming from the doorway behind him—along with the wild, barely restrained reiatsu that accompanied it—made him freeze, and he stared at Hisagi in confusion as the acting captain’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, one that was directed not at Ikkaku but at the man standing in the doorway behind the 3^rd seat. What the fuck was his captain doing here? And why the hell was Hisagi smiling at him?
More importantly, what did his captain know about the other shinigami’s sexual tastes?
Curiosity mingling with dread, he turned his head to find the spike-haired captain lounging against the doorjamb, eyeing them both with amusement.
“You’re early, Zaraki-taicho,” Hisagi murmured, calm-as-you-please, and Ikkaku’s captain let out a rough bark of laughter, pushing away from the doorway to stroll into the room, his officer turning warily to keep him in view.
“Eh, what have I told you about that, kid? There ain’t any need to be all formal and shit with me. ‘Sides, I think the cat’s outta the bag now, don’t you?”
Ikakku frowned in confusion then nearly swallowed his tongue when his captain stopped in front of the smaller shinigami, amusement glinting in his visible eye even as he lifted one hand to skate his fingertips along Hisagi’s scarred cheek in a gesture that looked far too close to tenderness for the 3^rd seat’s comfort.
“Well now it is, idiot,” the acting captain said tartly, but he tipped his head to lean into the touch, dark eyelashes sweeping down to veil his gaze in a manner that was almost feline.
A crooked smile that was completely at odds with his usual bloodthirsty grin curved the larger man’s mouth.
“Oops—so it is.” He didn’t sound the least little bit sorry either, and Hisagi rolled his eyes. Ikkaku stood frozen, an unwilling witness to this previously unknown side of his captain. They were…his captain and Hisagi…what about Yumichika?!
Almost as if he was reading his 3^rd seat’s thoughts, the 11^th division’s captain turned his head, his uncovered eye still gleaming with some secret amusement. Would his captain really look this amused after catching his lover with another man?
“Eh, Madarame—Ayasegawa is waiting for your report, though I think one look at your face and he’ll know all about it. Don’t worry about Hisagi, I’ll get him cleaned up.”
There was no mistaking that for anything other than a leer, and Ikkaku swallowed hard, nodding at the obvious dismissal. Oh, Yumi was going to have some explaining to do, that was for sure. He only hoped he could get an explanation out of his best friend without letting it slip that he’d fucked Hisagi and been caught by their captain.
A startled yelp jerked him from his thoughts, and he felt his eyes go wide when he saw that his captain had scooped Hisagi right off his feet—thankfully after the dark-haired shinigami had pulled on his hakama—and was now holding him securely with an arm beneath his knees and one behind his back. Bridal-style. His captain was holding Hisagi Shuuhei like a woman—much to Hisagi’s obvious displeasure if the narrowed eyes and darkening scowl were any indication. Ikkaku decided that it was a good time for him to leave—he had no desire to stick around and risk getting skewed even accidentally by the acting captain’s lethal shikai.
Hurriedly pulling on his pants and tying them loosely, he grabbed Hozukimaru off the desk he’d just fucked Hisagi across and fled—er, manfully retreated—from the office and the 9^th division before he could witness any other incidents sure to scramble what was left of his brains.
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