He hit the trunk roughly, back scraping from the bark, even through the fabric of his shihakushou. A strangled sound caught itself in Shuuhei’s throat, but it was quickly swallowed by the mouth that roughly covered his, tongue pushing past his lips, tasting of hazelnut and bitter fruit. Not unpleasant, but definitely different.
Shuuhei moaned, one hand shooting out to bury itself in brown hair, the other gripping to the white of his lover’s clothing. So white, so opposite to the black of the Shinigami. But Shuuhei wanted it that way. Completely different and opposite and everything that wasn’t familiar and tested and betrayed.
It was cold here. Tall trees with menacing limbs and rustling leaves that blotted out the moon and stars until it was almost black, but Shuuhei didn’t mind. With Stark pressed against him, Shuuhei didn’t even feel the cold, not with the heat the Espada radiated.
Strange thing that, a Hollow emitting so much heat. Stark felt so alive under Shuuhei’s fingers, skin warm and supple, muscles lithe and toned.
And the hand that untucked Shuuhei’s shitagi and splayed across his abdomen was warm, even more so when it inched upward to brush teasingly over a nipple. Only to grab and wrench it sharply, producing a twist of pain that shot straight to Shuuhei’s groin. He cried out against the mouth covering his, arching against Stark, trapped between the Espada and the unyielding pine.
Stark chuckled, deep and masculine, his eyes like obsidian when there was little light to reflect their true shade. “I knew it,” he said, a tease rather, as he nipped at Shuuhei’s chin. “You like it a little rough, don’t you, Shinigami.”
Shuuhei’s fingers tightened in Stark’s hair, tight enough to pull sharply at the scalp and draw Stark’s head back an inch or so. “Just as much as you, Hollow,” Shuuhei retorted, baring his teeth in a challenging smile.
Anyone from the outside, watching, would think they were strangers. Enemies who had turned the passion of battle into passion of another kind. They would never suspect that this encounter was only one of several, each anticipated more than the last. Necessary and wanted.
Stark’s eyes flashed, dark with promise and seduction. His free hand slid down, palm cupping Shuuhei’s cock through the thickness of his hakama. “It’s very true, how alike we are,” he all but purred, and leaned in, teeth scraping along Shuuhei’s jaw before he spoke right into Shuuhei’s ear. “So you’ll indulge me, yes?”
Shuuhei shivered, bucking into those skilled fingers, a motion that answered just as good as any words. Yes.