dracoqueen22 (dracoqueen22) wrote,
dracoqueen22
dracoqueen22

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Flash Fiction (Take Eight - Part Three)

a/n: Right. So I thought I had a day off but it turns out... I didn't. I got called in to BOTH jobs and had to make a choice between them. Argh. I only got two of the last three written. Sorry guys. I'll post the last one tomorrow. Please, be wary of the bad grammar.

For mistress_pirate 
Prompt: Ichigo/Aizen, seduction

Ichigo and Sousuke are from Tite Kubo's Bleach. Warning here for hints of slashy smutness, an obvious seduction, and half-nudity.

He has to be doing it on purpose, Sousuke thinks as he stands in the doorway of the practice room and watches Ichigo swing around his zanpakutou, bathed in reiatsu and a pair of hakama but nothing else. His body is coated in sweat, hair clinging stickily to his scalp, breathing in sharp pants. His eyes are brown and silver with power, the same which rises from his body in intoxicating waves.

Sousuke licks his lips, and tries to resist. He folds his arms over his chest, leans against the door frame and watches. Watches as power fluxes in the air, as dust settles and adds to the sheen of sweat on Ichigo's skin. Watches as muscles ripple, as glimpses of skin are visible in the slits on the hakama. Watches as Ichigo definitely is doing this on purpose.

He has to know Sousuke is watching, and has been for the past twenty minutes. Ichigo's abilities to sense and hide reiatsu are improving by leaps and bounds, so he has to know that Sousuke is there, even if he's doing his best to conceal his presence.

It's unbecoming for a lord and master to stand here, staring without taking, his own clothing growing uncomfortably hot, his blood coursing through his veins. Sousuke's fingers dig into his arms, and he squares his jaw. He will not be seduced like a common man. He is the master here. He won't be called by his younger lover like some sort of--

Ichigo comes to a halt and lowers Zangetsu, the black blade shimmering back into its less-powerful form. His back is to Sousuke, shoulderblades starkly visible and all the more alluring for it. His spine is rigid, and Sousuke's eyes track a bead of sweat from the nape of Ichigo's neck and down the expanse of his back.

And then Ichigo looks over his shoulder, eyes dark and heated, more sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Well?” he asks, the tiniest hints of a smirk, a come-hither gesture on his lips. “Are you just going to watch or what? I don't have all day you know.”

Sousuke's legs carry him into the room before he can convince himself to do otherwise, cock leading the way as it's pointing quite firmly in Ichigo's direction. This is his damn practice room in his damn palace and he'll be damned if he doesn't take what he wants.

Ichigo doesn't flinch as Sousuke stands in front of him, reiatsu rippling wildly around him, tempted to the edges of his control. “You did that on purpose,” Sousuke growls.

Ichigo smirks, balances Zangetsu dull side down on his shoulder, and cocks his head to the side. “I had to get you to pay attention somehow.”

“Well, it worked,” Sousuke says, pulling off his clothes in jerky, quick motions.

“It does every time,” Ichigo retorts, and slowly licks his lips. Is it really Sousuke's fault that he pounces seconds later?
 
For azardarkstar 
Prompt: Forgiven not forgotten, Aizen and Shunsui from The Beautiful Lie

Shunsui and Sousuke are from Tite Kubo's Bleach. This flash fic is a canon piece of my fanfic The Beautiful Lie. Warnings for some mild battle imagery, light warnings, and general angst.

There is a half-moment that he has to think. It's a half-moment when he sees the blade coming toward him, when he doesn't have time to duck or block, when Shunsui knows that it is the end.

It's strange. People talk about their life flashing before their eyes in certain situations. Shunsui always thought that was a load of bullshit, but right now, he swears the world is slowing. The half-moment stretches into a second, a minute, an hour, and he closes his eyes, memories flashing through him.

Somehow, it's appropriate that it's ending this way. Of course, Shunsui would rather live. If he had a choice, it wouldn't be death. He can't leave Jyuu-chan alone, not now that Yama-jii is dead. And who will help Nanao-chan realize she's a lovely woman that deserves to be treated well? Who's going to help Ichigo-kun survive the aftermath of the war?

Who's going to be there for Sousuke in the end? Who's going to fight for him, speak for him, see more than a villain?

Shunsui has regrets, lots of them. He's always tried to live his life without regretting anything, but invariably, there are things not even he can do. Places where he's been too weak, too helpless, too useless to do anything but watch pathetically on.

He regrets nothing more than his inability to help Sousuke. To be there for him, to speak up when he should have. He should have taken that risk. Shouldn't have cared about propriety and all that. He should have claimed Sousuke, taken him in, made the boy his son as he'd always wanted to do.

Should have, would have, could have.

In this half-moment he has left, all Shunsui can think about is the boy that Sousuke had once been. He sees the startled look in Sousuke's eyes, the unwavering regret, the wish to take back an awkward swing, and he knows that Sousuke hadn't intended his death. Not even with this terrible war, Sousuke wouldn't have wanted to kill him. He's made a lot of terrible choices, but he's not an inherently evil person. There's still a goodness in him, Shunsui is sure of it.

He just wishes he could live long enough to remind Sousuke of it.

By the time the blade touches his neck, and he feels the cold sting of it's touch, Shunsui closes his eyes in surrender. By the time the darkness falls, he's already forgiven Sousuke for it. He only wishes he could have lived long enough to tell him so.

It's one more regret to add to the list before Shunsui knows nothing else.

 
a/n: I PROMISE to get you the last one tomorrow. Sorry you've had to wait so long!

I hope you enjoyed nonetheless.
Tags: bleach, flash fiction, the beautiful lie
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