SWORD PORN
Jul. 30th, 2005 02:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheen...with hotchick!Zabimaru THIS IS NOT MY FAULT.
There was a woman at the edge of Renji’s bed when he woke from the fight. It wasn’t Rukia, and it wasn’t Hinamori—but he knew who it was. If waking the moment she’d arrived hadn’t been enough, the fact that she was crouched in the misty air a meter or two above the edge would have given it away. She was leaned over him, hands dangling between her knees, head tipped, and she didn’t look happy.
“Dumbass,” hissed his sword, her blank eyes narrowing. “Idiot. Mooooron.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Fool,” she punctuated, significantly, and shoved her foot out of its hover to land it on his abdomen, one knee still bent over air. He grunted. Her lip curled. “I told you, did I not? Ya heard me, didn’tcha! We were not ready.”
Renji turned his head to the side. “I heard.”
All of the sudden her second foot was planted in the bed sheet next to his bandaged ribs. She stood over him imperiously, the white baboon pelt draped over her offering no modesties, her equally white hair flared in the deepest irritation.
“Not one bite of her,” she snarled. “Not one bite of that stuffy bitch, that Senbonzakura. Would that I could have torn her apart, t’was my right to! —if you weren’t so fucking stupid--”
“I said,” Renji snarled back. “I said I HEARD YOU THE FIRST THOUSAND GODDAMN TIMES.”
This gave the sword some pause. Renji had lifted himself up onto one elbow, his hand wrapped around her ankle. She folded her well muscled, massively tattooed arms, gazing down at him.
“But did you listen,” she said softly.
Renji’s hand dropped from her leg. He fell back. “…no.”
She followed him, settling her knees along either side of him. Her arm slid past his head. Her breathe fanned the underside of his jaw. “And that, that would be—was, you moron--your downfall. Your fucking problem..”
And then, as though distracted, she touched her tongue to his throat and said again in a thick voice: “…we were not ready.”
“…yeah.”
“We can be,” she breathed, and then laughed—a nasty, scraping noise, like metal over stone. “We can be. Given time, given some damn time. I shall bite that bitch yet. And I shall verily enjooooy it--” She took a mock nip at the side of his neck and laid herself down over him.
“--will you give us that time?”
“Ngrr,” growled Renji, shifting under her. She weighed nothing of course, but her presence was like hot coal. Every smoky inch of skin and sinew pressed up to him burned. “…the hell do you think.”
He spread his hand over her hip.
“Bastard. Presumptuous brat. Fucker.” She made a pleased noise, rolling under the touch. Then, mercilessly: “Dog.”
He had nothing to say to that.
“He was right,” she continued. “He was right--”
“That it?”
She hummed deeply. “You want it to be, don’tcha,” she chuckled, teasing her mouth over his neck again, from the corner of his jaw down to where it met his shoulder. “You want it to be—no, bastard. It’s not at all.”
She sat up, eyes gone half lidded.
Fangs bared.
“S’true,” she hissed sharply, touching her fingers to the side of her own neck, sinking them into her flesh with slow, hot relish. “You’ve hardly earned it.”
She exhaled. Her hand came away dark and wet, with a sticky sound. She lowered herself again, fingers dripping with searing black ink.
“Bitch--” Renji began.
“Friggin’ deal,” said the sword, and swiped her mark right down his jugular.
There was a woman at the edge of Renji’s bed when he woke from the fight. It wasn’t Rukia, and it wasn’t Hinamori—but he knew who it was. If waking the moment she’d arrived hadn’t been enough, the fact that she was crouched in the misty air a meter or two above the edge would have given it away. She was leaned over him, hands dangling between her knees, head tipped, and she didn’t look happy.
“Dumbass,” hissed his sword, her blank eyes narrowing. “Idiot. Mooooron.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Fool,” she punctuated, significantly, and shoved her foot out of its hover to land it on his abdomen, one knee still bent over air. He grunted. Her lip curled. “I told you, did I not? Ya heard me, didn’tcha! We were not ready.”
Renji turned his head to the side. “I heard.”
All of the sudden her second foot was planted in the bed sheet next to his bandaged ribs. She stood over him imperiously, the white baboon pelt draped over her offering no modesties, her equally white hair flared in the deepest irritation.
“Not one bite of her,” she snarled. “Not one bite of that stuffy bitch, that Senbonzakura. Would that I could have torn her apart, t’was my right to! —if you weren’t so fucking stupid--”
“I said,” Renji snarled back. “I said I HEARD YOU THE FIRST THOUSAND GODDAMN TIMES.”
This gave the sword some pause. Renji had lifted himself up onto one elbow, his hand wrapped around her ankle. She folded her well muscled, massively tattooed arms, gazing down at him.
“But did you listen,” she said softly.
Renji’s hand dropped from her leg. He fell back. “…no.”
She followed him, settling her knees along either side of him. Her arm slid past his head. Her breathe fanned the underside of his jaw. “And that, that would be—was, you moron--your downfall. Your fucking problem..”
And then, as though distracted, she touched her tongue to his throat and said again in a thick voice: “…we were not ready.”
“…yeah.”
“We can be,” she breathed, and then laughed—a nasty, scraping noise, like metal over stone. “We can be. Given time, given some damn time. I shall bite that bitch yet. And I shall verily enjooooy it--” She took a mock nip at the side of his neck and laid herself down over him.
“--will you give us that time?”
“Ngrr,” growled Renji, shifting under her. She weighed nothing of course, but her presence was like hot coal. Every smoky inch of skin and sinew pressed up to him burned. “…the hell do you think.”
He spread his hand over her hip.
“Bastard. Presumptuous brat. Fucker.” She made a pleased noise, rolling under the touch. Then, mercilessly: “Dog.”
He had nothing to say to that.
“He was right,” she continued. “He was right--”
“That it?”
She hummed deeply. “You want it to be, don’tcha,” she chuckled, teasing her mouth over his neck again, from the corner of his jaw down to where it met his shoulder. “You want it to be—no, bastard. It’s not at all.”
She sat up, eyes gone half lidded.
Fangs bared.
“S’true,” she hissed sharply, touching her fingers to the side of her own neck, sinking them into her flesh with slow, hot relish. “You’ve hardly earned it.”
She exhaled. Her hand came away dark and wet, with a sticky sound. She lowered herself again, fingers dripping with searing black ink.
“Bitch--” Renji began.
“Friggin’ deal,” said the sword, and swiped her mark right down his jugular.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-31 12:53 am (UTC)renji your fur fetish is showing.