Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Minutes to Midnight ❯ The Art of Losing ( Chapter 5 )

Title: The Art of Losing

Characters: Gin, Matsumoto, Ichigo, and others

Rating: M

Warning: Het (OMFG???)

Words: 3,883

Description: `Not like her at all,'Gin told himself. `And it's that difference that I like.'

Recommended Listening: “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers

 

 

“Congratulations, Ichimaru-taichou.”

 

“Welcome to the Gotei-13.”

 

“Congratulations.”

 

Their words were absolutely hollow, empty of any true meaning. They spoke them because polite society dictated they should. But Gin could tell, even without opening his eyes entirely, that they did not mean it. Perhaps Ukitake-taichou was sincere; the man seemed unable to be otherwise. But those still remaining, Gin knew better than to trust their empty words.

 

It was all part and parcel to the political game. The celebration for his ascension to captain was in full effect, but Gin didn't really feel like celebrating. Not when he was forced to listen to their insincere blather. Only Aizen-taichou was genuine, smiling as he congratulated his former subordinate.

 

Some didn't even bother to obey what was proper. Soifon shot him repeated dirty looks as she hovered on the edge of the crowd, on the lookout for trouble, even in the midst of a roomful of captains. Gin was certain that Komamura was glaring at him from beneath the helmet, and Tousen acted ignorant of his presence. Both Kurotsuchi and the eleventh division captain were noticeable in their absence.

 

Gin was there, but he might as well have been invisible.

 

It would have been unfair for him to blame it on Kuchiki Byakuya, he supposed. Even if the man hadn't been promoted at the same time as him, the others would have ignored him. It was no secret that Gin was disliked. He never let it bother him, however, assuming he would have to earn their respect.

 

But nothing had changed. Despite the fact that he, too, was now a captain.

 

It was unfair, though it pained him to put it in such a juvenile manner. He had worked far harder than Kuchiki-hime, had studied and pushed himself through the ranks. He'd had to test for his position. Kuchiki-hime had merely been given it, achieving the required recommendations with little difficulty.

 

The other new captain hadn't given him so much as a glance since the celebration began, his nose firmly thrust into the air as though considering Gin beneath his notice. Not unusual behavior for a noble and especially not a Kuchiki. Gin had the urge to take that damn scarf and wrap it around the man's neck. It was a passing impulse though, one borne entirely from frustration.

 

He easily pushed it aside.

 

Sensing that the rest of the evening was going to proceed in much the same manner, he standing off to the side as the others hovered around Kuchiki-hime, Gin was more than ready to leave early. And only Aizen-taichou seemed to sense his intentions, catching him just as he reached the door.

 

“Leaving already?” he asked, though his tone suggested that he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

 

Gin inclined his head slightly. “Yes, Aizen-taichou.”

 

“Have a good time then,” his former captain responded, knowing full well where Gin was heading next.

 

He had plans to meet with Rangiku. She wanted to celebrate with him after the informal gathering, promising both sake and his favorite snacks.

 

Nodding, Gin slipped from the room. No one even noticed his departure save Aizen-taichou. He hadn't honestly expected anyone to.

 

Folding his arms into the sleeves of his robes, Gin made quickly for his home. Luckily, it wasn't too far away, and he wasn't long under the starless night sky before he was stepping through his front door. He slipped off his waraji, his ears catching the familiar sounds of sake sloshing in a bottle and his dear friend's contented hum. Rangiku had started without him apparently.

 

Padding silently down the hall, Gin paused in the doorway of his living room and glanced in. Rangiku was sprawled out on his couch without a care in the world, sake jug tucked under one arm.

 

She looked up at his entrance and grinned. “So how was it?”

 

If it were anyone else, he would have considered lying. “Don't think they like me all that much,” he replied without hesitation.

 

“Aww.” Her lips pulled into a pout as her eyes shimmered with sympathy. “I still like you, Gin-chan.”

 

He felt something warm inside of him at that. At least, someone did; she was about the only one.

 

Rangiku forced herself to sit up and patted the cushion beside her invitingly. “Come have a drink with me. Tell me about the captain's test.”

 

He obeyed her suggestion, taking the empty seat and biting back the heavy sigh that threatened to follow. “What d'ya want ta know?”

 

She pulled sake cups from out of nowhere, handing one to him with a flourish. “Well, what did they do?” Rangiku asked, deftly filling his bowl with the clear alcohol. “What did they ask you?”

 

“Procedure and paperwork. I had ta show some kidoh spells. 'nd my shikai.” He paused, taking a drink, which she immediately topped off. “'nd Yamamoto-soutaichou had ta see my bankai.”

 

“Is that all?” She scoffed and then drank straight from the bottle, gulping it down better than a number of men he had seen. Wiping it from her mouth with a satisfied smack of her lips, she continued, “What about that Kuchiki guy? Did you get to see his test?”

 

Gin shook his head. “He didn't have ta do anythin'. He was recommended. I haven't even seen his shikai. Don' even know what it is.”

 

“Well, that doesn't seem fair,” Rangiku moped, stating his very same thoughts.

 

At least, they were on the same wavelength.

 

“Nope.”

 

“You are just a rat from Rukongai,” she added with a faint sigh, shaking her head and readjusting her hair with her fingers. “He's the head of the Kuchiki clan.”

 

That certainly made him feel better. He took a long drink of the sake, emptying the cup. It was full again before he finished lowering it from his lips.

 

“Thanks for pointin' that out ta me. I hadn't noticed.”

 

Rangiku rolled her eyes. “You're still a taichou, Gin-chan,” she insisted, sliding closer to him. “That's what matters.”

 

“One whose fukutaichou doesn't like 'im either,” Gin replied, thinking of the sharp-eyed man he had met earlier, who had never stopped staring the entire time he was introduced to his new division.

 

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, humming under her breath. “He's a Shihouin, isn't he? Just another useless noble who didn't earn his post.” Rangiku chugged more sake, the liquid sloshing in the gradually emptying jug. “Don't mind him.”

 

“The rest of my subordinates act like they're scared o' me,” Gin went on aloud, though he wasn't certain if he was venting or if he felt he needed to dredge up all the reasons his day had been absolutely shitty. “Like I creep 'em out or somethin'.”

 

“It's that freaky-ass grin you always wear,” Rangiku countered, nudging him with a shoulder. “I've told you over and over. Stop smiling so much. You know it scares the kiddies.” Her words were chastising, but her voice remained soft and teasing.

 

He gave her a look, barely peeking from beneath his narrow eyes.

 

“And quit squinting! You'll make your face freeze that way.” She inched closer, her body exuding a seemingly unnatural warmth that he could feel through the layers of his clothing.

 

Gin fell silent, his ranting finished. He was supposed to be proud of this day, something he had worked so hard to obtain. Instead, he felt as if he had been swindled out of the proper respect he was due. He lifted his sake cup again, the mid-quality drink interesting enough but not quite the taste he had been hoping for.

 

Next to him, Rangiku tried for cheer. “Don't be so glum,” she insisted and then her voice dropped several levels, growing husky. “I know what will make you feel better.”

 

“Are ya gonna to suffocate me with yer assets again?” Gin suggested with heavy sarcasm. “That be a hell of a way ta go. I can just see the headlines. `Shortest captaincy ever. Death by breast.'” He paused, sucking in a breath with every intention to continue.

 

“No,” Rangiku chided, shaking her head. “Something even better.” She was practically pressed against him now, her pale blue eyes several shades brighter this close.

 

“Higher quality sake?”

 

Instead of responding, she kissed him. Right then and there. Her lips were soft against his, warm and full. He froze in surprise. Confusion even. It must have been an accident. She had drunkenly fallen onto his lips.

 

When he didn't immediately return her kiss, Rangiku pulled back, face unreadable. Gin blinked, turning towards her.

 

Her hand rose up, cupping his chin and turning his head towards her. “Silly. You're doing it wrong.”

 

“Um.”

 

Gin was speechless. It certainly wasn't the first time she had ever kissed him, though she had been thoroughly sloshed in all those other cases. He didn't think she was that far gone yet. It normally took at least three more jugs. And he was never depraved enough to take advantage of her. Besides, she never remembered in the morning anyway.

 

Rangiku didn't give him a chance. She kissed him again, harder this time, moving her lips against his as if demanding he respond. Her free hand began to wander, settling on his thigh as she leaned in towards him.

 

Honestly, his resolve was crumbling in the face of her aggressiveness. Was it that hard to believe she was his dear friend and he didn't want to lose her? It wasn't as if he had many to choose from when the occasion suited him.

 

She frowned, pulling back when his lack of response became annoyingly apparent. “Kiss back,” Rangiku urged, a touch of hurt filtering into her usual light and flirtatious tone.

 

“Why?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. Gin hoped she didn't take it the wrong way. He supposed he should have been more coherent, but he was already faltering.

 

Her fingers slid up his thigh, her palm landing against his groin. He jumped in surprise, a muffled groan of want slipping free. Her fingers, deft and smooth, wrapped around a rapidly growing arousal.

 

“You don't want me?” Rangiku asked, blinking up at him with those damn eyes that were always his undoing.

 

Gin shook his head. “`S not it.”

 

His resolve was faltering, though he clung to it. For some reason, he had this funny idea of wanting it to mean something between the two of them. Some kind of something that would last beyond just one night. Silly him for wanting to think like that.

 

Seeming to sense he was crumbling, Rangiku kissed him again. And well, Gin was only human. His mind completely blanked out, and of his own will, he stopped protesting. His lips suddenly remembered how to work, and he kissed her back, inviting her tongue to tangle with his.

 

Stressed, taut muscles melted as her hands wandered, stroking him and inviting it. He turned into this warm, floating mass of pleasure. It made him wonder if it was all a dream. Had he fallen and struck his head on the way home?

 

It was so surreal. Even when Rangiku pulled away, rising to her feet and taking his hand in hers. With a saucy wink, she led him to his bedroom. It was his home, but he wasn't certain he would have been able to find it on his own in his current state.

 

Normally, he kept his futon rolled up and shoved into the closet to give everything the appearance of being neat and tidy. But now, it was already laid out and waiting, blankets fully situated on top. In the far back of his muddled mind, he realized that she must have been planning this. The thought made him feel better, daring to believe that maybe she wanted it as much as he did. The smile on his face suddenly turned genuine.

 

Rangiku pushed him towards the bed, where he faintly stumbled. “Strip,” she commanded. “If you don't, then I'll do it for you.”

 

He blinked stupidly. His fogged brain couldn't comprehend the simple command. But she was already pulling off her own clothing, the pink scarf fluttering to the floor. Her pale obi quickly followed as her top gaped.

 

She gazed at him, voice turning coy. “Or maybe, that's what you want, hmm?”

 

Every synapse in his brain misfired, her clothing falling off as he stared. Until she stopped and crossed the distance between them. Deft hands removed his captain's haori in a manner of seconds, depositing it on the floor behind him with little regard to the hard work he'd put in to obtain it. Rangiku's lips pressed to his neck, her breath warm against his skin as she reached for his obi and tugged it off. It slithered to the floor, her hands gliding across his clothing, circling around his waist. A small noise of encouragement escaped him as her skilled fingers plucked fabric from where it had been carefully tucked.

 

It wasn't until she started pulling at his shihakushou that he finally emerged from his stupor, pale cheeks coloring brightly. He began to help remove his own clothing.

 

“Oh,” Rangiku crooned, noticing immediately the stain to his complexion. “That's so cute.” She rose on her toes, brushing her lips across his cheeks.

 

His blush deepened, though he would have preferred she didn't call him cute. Instead, Gin lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. She was startled by his participation but just as quickly responded, sliding her tongue into his mouth and encouraging him to taste her.

 

Rangiku beamed up at him. “Now, that's the spirit,” she murmured, eagerly returning to his mouth.

 

His blush deepened at her words as her hands quickly and efficiently started to remove the rest of his garments. Her hands kept wandering, touching him everywhere, ghosting over his revealed skin. It was so much paler than hers, their bodies a direct contrast.

 

“Got somewhere ta be afterwards?” he asked as she jerked off his kimono and tossed it to the floor.

 

Rangiku didn't answer, her lips immediately capturing his and tangling their tongues. His mind goes white again. She tasted of sake and... cookies? A strange flavor, but it wasn't as if he actually minded.

 

Cool air washed over his skin as the last of his clothes fell to the floor, and he reached for hers, helping her step out of the last of it. Her breasts jiggled slightly as they escaped from the confines of her kosode, neatly entrancing him. His fingers longed to run over them, but his hands encircled her narrow waist instead, sliding up to the smooth skin of her back.

 

And then, she suddenly pushed him down to the futon. He landed hard enough to grunt, not expecting the abrupt movement. He looked up to see her smiling at him as she lowered herself into a straddle, like some prowling cat.

 

“Ran-chan...”

 

“Touch me, Gin,” she purred, curling over him and kissing him again. Her mouth fell open beneath his, inviting him inside.

 

He couldn't help but obey. His hands roamed of their own accord, finding their own path. Gin's fingers traced the line of her back, the smoothness of her sides, though tentatively. He carefully cupped the weight of her breasts, thumbs sliding over her nipples, every move cautious and exploratory.

 

A part of him still thought it was a dream, that he was going to wake up with sticky sheets and an empty wish if he made so much as a wrong move. She was moving against him, warm and soft, her lips in constant motion. Pressing kisses on his throat and his collarbone, on his ear. Her breath hot and moist against his skin. Her hands never stopped moving, leaving him swimming in want and pleasure.

 

“Don't worry, Gin-chan,” she breathed against his ear, voice easily seducing him. “I know what to do.” Her lips moved to his mouth, taking his bottom lip and sucking.

 

Her slim hand slipped between their bodies and guided him into her with ease. He groaned at the first touch, and then, it was suddenly clenching and heat and slickness surrounding him. Gin's entire world blanked into hot-white, his hands settling on her hips with a grip he hoped wasn't too tight.

 

She moaned under her breath, and it was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. Gin had a vague idea of what to do, knowing it involved thrusting and touching. Certainly, his body seemed to know the mechanics all on its own. And he had the touching part down, having always wondered what her breasts felt like. Thanks to the porn he kept finding in his office, he had more than a good idea.

 

He moved, though it was awkward and clumsy. And he was pretty sure she was laughing behind her eyes. But it didn't matter. It really didn't matter.

 

Together, they established a rhythm, and every noise she made only increased his arousal. She felt so good around him. Gin wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sliding to cup her head. He directed her lips back to his, wanting to kiss her again.

 

She seemed all too happy to oblige, one hand remaining pressed against the futon for balance as her knees dug into the blankets. She moved with skill, every roll of her hips fluid, taking him deeper.

 

He opened his eyes once, looked into hers, and wondered if he might have just been falling a bit in love with her. If he already was. But then, Rangiku was his only friend; maybe that was it. Or there was there deeper meaning he sought. Gin didn't really know.

 

It felt too good, too slick and warm. His body had a mind of its own, no sense for restraint, only desperately seeking his release.

 

He didn't last nearly as long as he had in his dreams, exploding inside of her with a muffled cry. His breath came in short pants, starbursts bursting behind his eyes as pleasure shuddered through him. His hips twitched and jerked. And he heard her make some muffled moan, but it was lost to his own floating.

 

Gin's long fingers relaxed in her hair, having tangled around the strawberry-blond locks. She felt warm and sweaty against him, her chest heaving and pressing on his. His body was lax, muscles eased.

 

He just wanted to bask in the moment.

 

In the same second that he reached for her, however, she pulled away from his hold, leaving his hand grasping for empty air. There was a faint grimace as he slipped from her, which was quickly replaced by a bright smile. Her fingers combed her long hair into some semblance of order.

 

“Gin-chan's a man now,” she chirped, her eyes shining brightly.

 

Something inside of him abruptly iced over as if a winter frost had swept through, turning him brittle and cold. Words clenched in his throat as he watched her rise to her feet, assets bobbing energetically on her chest. Rangiku began a search for her clothes, pulling them on with no care to her nudity.

 

He squeezed out the question. “Where're ya goin'?”

 

Gin feared he already knew the answer.

 

“I'm meeting Shun-kun and the boys for drinks,” she responded dismissively, flipping the long locks over her shoulder and grabbing for her hakama. “He's been waiting for me.”

 

Gin sat up. Blinked. Words absolutely failed him. He had never been the most eloquent, but he couldn't even find the most simple of things to say.

 

“But--”

 

She padded across the floor, kneeling briefly and kissing him on the cheek as her hands deftly retied her obi. “Congratulations on your promotion,” Rangiku murmured against his skin. “Have a nice night.”

 

He could only watch with lips that refused to work as she hustled around his room, gathering up the last of her clothes. She left the room with a parting, albeit flirtatious wave. Rangiku never even seemed to notice the expression on his face.

 

Perhaps he had unconsciously guarded himself. Maybe his usual smile, frozen and plastered to his lips, was there. He didn't dare look in the mirror to check.

 

His ears picked up the sound of his front door closing. Left behind, his bedroom was absolutely empty, his clothes scattered in all directions.

 

Gin wondered if the feeling left inside of him was normal. The feeling of being used and more than just a bit empty. He was suddenly aware of his nudity and groped for the nearest article of clothing, his fingers encountering the freshly-pressed white of his haori.

 

That silly little idea of monogamy chose to laugh at him. It was foolish anyway. It hadn't meant anything to her.

 

Nothing at all.

 

Gin jerked awake from the dream that had been nothing but pure memory, finding himself gazing into concerned brown eyes. Mind muddled from the recollection, he vaguely remembered falling asleep in Ichigo-kun's room.

 

The younger man was leaning over him. “Gin?”

 

Ah, so it had been Ichigo-kun who had woken him. That explained the abrupt leap into alertness.

 

Gin blinked away the lingering emotions. “Ichigo-kun?”

 

The boy tilted his head to the side. “Are you alright? You seem upset?”

 

Gin shook his head. “Just rememberin'.”

 

There was silence for a minute as Ichigo watched him, forehead drawing into pinched lines of worry. “You're not smiling.”

 

“It's not somethin' ta smile about.”

 

Frowning, Ichigo-kun drew back and gave him space. Gin took it as it was offered and sat up, leaving enough room on the couch for the boy to sit next to him.

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

Gin sighed. There was only one person he had ever told, and that was Aizen-taichou. He debated whether or not Ichigo-kun could be trusted with this memory. It was still something raw and painful, a lingering recollection that reminded him his reason for leaving her so easily. This particular event had been the last thing that had tied him down in his guilt. After all, she had left him long before he ever had the chance to return the favor.

 

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” Ichigo-kun continued, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “We'll still be friends even if you don't. The offer's there, if you ever want to take me up on it.”

 

He was warmed by that, and it chased away the lingering chill inside his belly. “Thanks, Ichigo-kun. I'll keep tha' in mind.”

 

Those brown eyes studied him searchingly. “I know something that will make you feel better.”

 

The words, so similar to hers, made him unconsciously edge away. He didn't need a repeat of the past. Once was enough.

 

“Higher quality sake?”

 

“How the hell would I get a hold of that?” Ichigo demanded, face melting into that familiar scowl as he shook his head. “No. I was going to suggest that you help me with kidoh again and then laugh as I fail.”

 

“Especially when ya set yerself on fire,” Gin thought fit to point out, relief instantly washing through him.

 

Ichigo-kun rolled his eyes. “That was the one time.”

 

Despite himself, Gin's smile returned.

 

`Not like her at all,' he told himself. `And it's that difference that I like.'

 

*****