Title: Lost in the search for a kiss...
Author: Sky (luminamon)
Theme(s): #14 - Kiss
Pairing/Characters: Aizen Sousuke / Hinamori Momo
Rating: R+ for sexual (suggestive) content
Disclaimer/claimer: Spoilers for ALL manga and anime episodes; especially Soul Society manga arc
Cross-posted to 110_fangirl, 30_angsts, and kurosaki_clinic.
There are nights that the captain returns to her, nights that the denizens of Sereitei fall into unnatural slumber, never once noticing the return of the man that the city had come to call traitor. Hinamori knows when these nights are coming. They are the only nights that she cannot sleep, not even with the medication that Unohana provides to help quell the nightmares and give her rest.
How Aizen finds her in the dark of night might have surprised her, if she would but hide when that first hour of insomnia comes to pass. She never does hide and never does run. All that Hinamori does when she realises that the sleep will remain out of reach is to stand near the door, waiting for it to open.
When it finally does, she always feels the rush of emotion, conflicts and thoughts that cancel out, leaving her with the hollow look that has haunted her childish face since the day he left her to die. Happiness spars with bitterness, longing with betrayal. How is she supposed to know what to think when he has lead her to both extremes of these emotions?
Hinamori never moves as he steps inside, shadowed in the darkness without the white over jacket that marked his title. She never calls for help, because only he will hear her, and that would displease him. Displeasure is the only reaction she knows to avoid; admiration of the past and fear of the present both tell her to do anything but make him frown.
Why she never resists is the question that can never be answered, a question that Hinamori never seeks answers to. Perhaps she is as trained and deluded as the rumours whisper when she walks by. Left behind, a puppet that longs for her strings to be lifted again.
She stands still as he smiles at her, crossing the space between them and raising a hand to let down her hair, then caress her cheek even as some small tear slides down it. Without his glasses, she can hardly recognize the man so long admired. Those square lenses had projected warmth and comfort; all that she sees now is the cold calculations in his eyes and the cruel enjoyment -- or that flicker of pride -- in seeing his devoted and broken vice captain once again.
Hinamori lets her eyes close when he moves around behind her, his hand following the curve of her body, hidden under the white fabric of her robe. Another tear slides down her face, shameful at the passive way in which she allows him to loosen her robe and expose her shoulders.
Aizen never kisses her, never gives her the soft touch of his lips upon her skin that would show any love behind his actions. All that touches her are his hands, large against a form grown frail in the months of broken illness following his departure. She tries not to let out a sound as he pulls away the robe, not to gasp as he cups a breast in his palm, fingers cold on the tender skin.
Hinamori likes to think that she resists even some small measure to his caress, but that is a lie. After a few moments of his hands upon her, teasing her nipples, tracing the scar his zanpakuto had left when he pierced her body in the confines of the Chuu-ou 46 Shitsu, she knows that she cannot resist. She knows that she loves this attention from her beloved captain, even after all that has transpired between them.
That is why she bends to his will, moaning softly as he draws her to the floor with him, his own robes discarded in this carnal moment. Lowered onto him, she cannot stop the tears, nor the need that pulls her hips forward, begging for more. He never opens his mouth, not to beg for more. Not to praise her beauty, not to give her the one kiss she longs for, the first kiss.
The only time that his mouth opens longer than needed for a breath of air is when he lets slip the soft gasp of climax. Hinamori stares at that mouth longingly, her body growing tense and still to allow him to enjoy the moment of ecstasy. She wants more, but she waits on him, craves for his approval before she seeks her own pleasure.
Aizen never grants that approval. Instead, he gently pushes her off of him and rises, gathering and donning his robes in the silence. She slides to the floor, eyes downcast as she descends into the familiar sense of failure. The sense that she has again disappointed him, that she has not earned the release her body craves.
Then he is gone, never again to speak a fond goodbye to his shattered vice captain. Hinamori is left again to pick up her robes with trembling hands and pull them on, until next he visits.
She curls up on the floor, drawing the sheet over herself, craving protection from the exposure that can never be repaired.
This will continue until the end of her days, she knows it and will pine for it. Hinamori knows that she is lost without him, and lost with him.