Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Obsidian and Alabaster ❯ Suite Surprise ( Chapter 6 )

Tite Kubo owns Bleach and the characters depicted therein. The characters in this story are not mine.

 

Suite Surprise

 

Maybe it was my own fault, but how was I meant to know? We'd never packed to go anywhere together. When she'd followed me to Hueco Mundo she'd only carried a bag with essentials like food and I thought she was sensible about her needs. I'd never lived with a female, except Yachiru, and she never carried more than an assortment of sweets.

 

It was only now that I found out that my wife had so many bags and she wanted to take each one of them on our honeymoon. I'd mentioned once or twice in the hours she kept me hanging around, that we were only going for a week. I'd then try to indulge in some pre-human world sex, but she whirled out of my arms, twittering on about shoes, or makeup or matching handbags. I indulged her, after recent problems I thought it was necessary, but I was becoming increasingly annoyed.

 

Eventually I sat down, out of the way of the activity, and sipped grimly at some tea she'd made when I told her I wanted sake. It was no substitute. I was fed up. “Matsumoto! You have five fucking minutes before we leave. If you're not ready…”

 

My words were cut off when I felt a pair of warm arms embrace me as her chin rested on top of my head. “There's no need to roar at me, beloved. I'm ready.”

 

Feeling her breasts against my back made me turn around and before I could tug gently at her shirt she grabbed one of my hands. “I said I'm ready. I meant ready to leave.”

 

Her lips gleamed an enticing pink and her eyes sparkled. She looked different. “What did you do to your face?” I demanded with a great amount of toleration.

 

A wry smile passed over her face. “I applied a little bit of make-up, darling. To make me look more attractive.”

 

I frowned. Make-up? Now? “Why the hell are you putting stuff on your face?”

 

She didn't meet my gaze and instead concentrated on getting the bags together. “No reason. Don't I look better with it on?”

 

I was suspicious. There had to be a reason she was wearing make-up. And how did I answer the question? Yes, she looked better with the make-up, or no, she looked better without the make-up, or she looked fine either way? Or did I ignore the question? What did she want me to say? This was one of those questions that could mean the difference between lots of sex and no sex whatsoever.

 

“You haven't worn make-up before,” I accused. That might distract her from expecting an answer.

 

“Yes, I did. I wore it when we went out for your birthday and the next night for your party,” she said calmly, but I could see she wasn't calm.

 

Had she? I couldn't recall, but the restaurant had been dimly lit and the street lighting wasn't very bright. I'd only noticed she looked hot. As for the party, I'd hardly managed to get close to her all evening.

 

“Well?” she asked.

 

“Well, what?” Should I lie and say I noticed she was wearing it when we went out? If I kissed her, maybe I could stop this now. I pulled her close, tilted her face to meet mine and moved my lips to hers, but she turned her face away at the last moment and my mouth ended up on her ear. I liked her ears, but I wanted to kiss her mouth, not whisper pleasantries.

 

To say I was stunned was an understatement. What the fuck had gone wrong in the last five minutes that I hadn't noticed? I opened my mouth but she was looking at me, very closely.

 

“Zaraki, you didn't notice, did you?” She had become slightly stiff in my arms and it seemed wrong unless she was in pain because I was treading on her foot or something. I checked and neither of my feet was resting on hers and I was purposely not holding her too tight.

 

“Why would I notice? I was staring at my wife who was looking very good. But you always look good,” I said hoping that was a loophole. A counter-accusation might distract her. “Why did you turn your face away when I tried to kiss you?”

 

“I've just done my lips, applied lipstick” she answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 

“So?”

 

I felt her sigh. Feeling her sigh when I was holding her close made certain parts of my body suddenly surge to life. She felt it too and quickly said, “No.”

 

I released Matsumoto and stepped back. She'd refused to kiss me and was now denying me sex. Worst of all, this was just the beginning of the honeymoon. I began to feel the slow, simmering boil of anger. Having a fight before the honeymoon! It seemed we were fated to fight whenever I finally got a chance to get her alone for a few days and I was aware that if I said anything it would reveal my feelings. Then she'd want to know why I was angry and I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to leave and hopefully she'd get over whatever was making her act like this by the time we got to the hotel. Being a man, with more control over my emotions, I'd easily have my anger resolved, especially if a fuck was in the offing. “Let's go,” I said shortly and opened the door. Ikkaku and Yumichika were there, along with a few other well wishers.

 

“Grab some bags,” I said. “My wife has no understanding of how long a week is,” were my fair and justified comments.

 

“And my husband has no understanding of how long a week can be if you don't have the right shoes,” my wife rejoined, unfairly, as Ikkaku heaved a bag onto his back, without any complaint.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I muttered under my breath.

 

“I see you took my advice,” I heard Momo say chattily to my wife and I shot her a hard look. I still didn't trust the woman. She had bad taste and worse judgment. I'd tried to insist that Matsumoto end her friendship with her, but she'd shrugged and told me that she wouldn't interfere with my pals. Scowling at the memory I didn't want to consider how she could do that, anyway.

 

“Yes,” Matsumoto said and shot me a quick glance.

 

“You look much better. Don't neglect your skin. I mean even Toshiro, who can be very unobservant, told me I had panda eyes when I woke up after being in the coma,” Momo gabbled on. “Men notice these things.”

 

“Yes, Momo,” my wife interrupted, a warning in her voice. “You've told me that already.”

 

“Ken-chan,” Yachiru said from my back, where she'd jumped. “Don't forget your promise to buy me a surprise.”

 

“I remember. You wrote me a list of surprises, and made three copies,” she was getting a little greedy and I blamed my wife for indulging her.

 

“I gave one to Mummykins. She promised not to lose it and buy me everything on the list,” she said sweetly.

 

“Why do you call her that?” I asked yet again. It didn't suit Matsumoto and I often wondered if it was an insult. When talking to Matsumoto she called her Matsomummy or Mother Rangiku and I wasn't sure which was worse.

 

“Because it annoys the heck out of you,” she chortled. She bounced on my back and then recited a list of other names she'd thought of giving Matsumoto, some mentioning the size of her breasts, the others relating to other physical attributes. I hadn't liked any of them and when she'd finally suggested `Mummykins' I'd only grunted without the previous distaste.

 

“All the women in my life are giving me hell,” I thought. I'd missed out on some of the conversation between my wife and her friend, but I noticed the colour rising in Matsumoto's cheeks. Her face had a set look and her lips were firmly pressed together as she kept her eyes firmly ahead.

 

I knew that look. I recognised it slightly from the first time after we'd fucked and I was telling her what to do. The expression was the one she wore as she became increasingly stubborn. In the time we'd been married I'd learnt to shut up for a little while once her lips were pressed together, if it suited my purposes. The fact that Momo kept talking and had managed to summon up the rest of the expression meant she either didn't care, or hadn't noticed.

 

We were approaching the gateway and I was keeping my distance from Matsumoto. This was going to be a fucking nightmare if she was in this mood. Momo was chattering on and I saw the steely glint enter my wife's eyes. I was unsure whether I should grin or frown. The chances were good that she'd say something scathing, or shocking. I hoped she'd say it loud enough so I could hear, but as if reading my thoughts, she stood still, bent down and whispered in Momo's ear. I saw Aizen's former lieutenant blink, her mouth still half opened. Her eyes became slightly unfocused and glassy and she remained behind as we walked the last few steps.

 

“Make sure her husband comes to retrieve her, if she doesn't snap out of it in a few minutes, won't you Ikkaku. She might be a little quiet for an hour or so,” my wife said to my third seat.

 

“With any luck it will be longer than that,” he said, grinning broadly. “I've taken to hiding when I see her. She doesn't know when to shut up.”

 

Matsumoto giggled and seeing her amused, I laughed, my good humour restored. “Yachiru, you'll be acting captain, but you have to get agreement from Ikkaku and Yumichika for any changes.”

 

She pouted. “Spoiling my fun, Ken-sama? Why can't I make up a few new instructions, huh? Please?”

 

“Like the others? No. We need order. If there's going to be anarchy, I want to be in the thick of it.” I instructed.

 

After a farewell that went on hours too long in my opinion, even though Matsumoto assured me it was only five minutes, we were on our way and I was carrying most of the damned bags. Fortunately the journey was short and we spent little time at the pervert's shop, retrieving our Giga's. We then took a taxi to the hotel I'd booked.

 

My wife gasped as she looked around, her eyes wide with appreciation. I saw she'd noted the fountain, the large windows, flowers, gift shops, chandeliers, paintings, the marble floors and obsequies staff, all chosen to impress her. Within minutes of our cab door shutting, her luggage had been placed on a trolley and we were being ushered to the reception desk.

 

“We have a reservation,” I said as I pulled a card made of plastic from a leather pouch I had in my pocket. The card was a funny dull silvery colour with strange symbols all over it and again I saw Matsumoto's eyes go wide.

 

“You can go and look at the shops,” I told her knowing that this could take a few minutes. Why these things were so difficult was a mystery, but she was obviously itching to look at the stuff for sale. Nodding she wandered over to a place labelled `Tour Desk', and picked up a few coloured pieces of paper. She began to talk animatedly to the young man sitting behind the desk who immediately perked up when she moved close to him. I caught his eye and gave him a certain glare and he stiffened immediately, his relaxed pose becoming very formal as he spoke to my wife.

 

“Ah Mr and Mrs….” The concierge's words finished in a cough as I stared meaningfully at him. I'd instructed the hotel that no names were to be uttered aloud. “Sir, Madam, we are so pleased to welcome you to our establishment. You have requested the Orchid Suite which we gladly have made available to you. The booking indicates a week, with the possibility of extension, if you find you are enjoying the amenities of our hotel. As you have already been booked in, all I need to do is provide you with the entry card keys and assurance that if you require anything, please ask you're but…. I'm sorry. I just noticed an omission. You have no butler assigned to your Suite. If you are prepared to allow a staff member to escort you to your room, I will assign one immediately so you can meet him.”

 

I smiled, pleasantly, and the man quailed. “No.'

 

“No? Sir? I don't understand?” he was quivering and I wondered if the tailored suit hid muscle or flab. From the look of him, it was probably flab. “Our suites all come with a butler. It is part of the service we offer.”

 

“We don't want a butler. I don't want someone in the room unless I ask for them. It was a condition of the booking. Check it,” I commanded.

 

“But, sir. A butler adds that touch…”

 

“If I need someone I'll ring. I don't want some bloody wanker anticipating my needs. Especially if he can't supply them,” I grinned and winked at Matsumoto who was walking back with a happy smile on her face.

 

“Can we go to our room now? I'm hungry and need a bath and I want to be rested for the shopping tour I booked tomorrow.”

 

My wife was hungry. That was good news because when she was finished with the food she was usually hungry for me. I was prepared to feed both appetites as often as required.

 

“Oh, yeah, make sure that special meal is there, waiting for when we get there. No waiters,” I said as I saw the man open his mouth again. “We can service each other.”

 

Whatever the shopping tour was, I could find out, but it sounded weird. Was she inexperienced at shopping and needed assistance? Somehow I found that difficult to believe given the evidence of the mountain of crap that had been moved to my quarters after we got married, and the number of bags I'd been forced to carry for our honeymoon. I began to feel slightly uneasy about my earlier promise. Not that I begrudged her spending money; it just concerned me how much. With any luck I was excluded from the tour.

 

Reminding myself that it wasn't until tomorrow I recalled something my wife had said, something that interested me. Matsumoto had mentioned a bath. A bath was always welcome. Every bath I took with her was memorable, especially the first one, even though she'd never got in the water.

 

Following the mountain of luggage we were quickly ushered into a lift and led to our suite. As the double doors swung open, my wife let out a small squeal of pleasure. “A suite! Beloved, darling, sweet and lovely husband! A suite for our honeymoon!” She turned and flung her arms around my neck, kissing my face and lips and cheeks, seeming to have forgotten about the lipstick, but I didn't care.

 

A small cough reminded me we weren't alone, which was another reason I hadn't wanted a butler. “Here,” I said passing over a handful of money, not caring what it was, just wanting to be alone with my wife.

 

“Do you need any help?” he began to offer.

 

“Does it look like I need help?” I growled, then realised he meant with the luggage and unpacking. “No. I see the food's here. Now, pis…, I mean leave now.”

 

The man left swiftly so I didn't need to kick him up the arse to speed his departure.

 

My wife was moving fast, checking through the rooms. “Two bedrooms? We only need one, don't we? You're not planning on sleeping apart from me?” The slightly nervous tone of the question appealed to me and I captured her as she flitted past and held her close, groaning at the feel of my straining cock against her stomach.

 

“No. But if we destroy one bed, we have a back up,” I leered at her suggestively.

 

“How could we break a…oh,” she said and a small amount of colour tinged her cheekbones. “Were you planning to?” her breath fanned my cheek and I took advantage of her proximity and kissed her properly.

 

“Don't know. Now where's this bath you've been talking about?” I demanded in a low growl. I was envisaging her in water, her eyes half closed due to the warmth of the bath and desire for me. I swallowed as my mouth flooded with saliva. I wanted to find that bathroom, fast.

 

“Maybe I should unpack,” she said hesitantly.

 

After hanging around while she packed there was not a chance I was going to be patient and wait for her to unpack. Instead I picked her up and walked through the rooms until I found what appeared to be the bathroom. Being a modern, top of the line hotel it had a spa bath. I looked at it with consideration and then turned to the other, Japanese style bath. It was the work of seconds to decide to use both.

 

“Beloved, either strip or I'll strip you fast,” I told her as I began to tug off my clothes. She was still half dressed as I carried her to the block and began rinsing her using the flexible shower. After getting into trouble for the mess we'd made in the bathhouse in the Seireitei I didn't want to pay extra expenses in this hotel.

 

“Zaraki, I can wash myself,” she sputtered as I directed water over her head, watching her hair straighten and partially cover her breasts. Mmmm. Nice. “And I'm still partly dressed.”

 

“You're too slow and why bother washing yourself when I can do it for you?” Sometimes she just didn't get it. My fingers rubbed gently over her skin and she shivered slightly.

 

“You've made my make-up run,” she said softly and began scrubbing at her face with her hands. Grabbing them, I pulled them away from her face. The colours she had applied had smeared and I nearly had to choke back a chuckle. Her eyes were surrounded by black and other colour shades. I soaped a flannel and handed it to her as I turned my attention to the clothes that still covered part of her body. While she was occupied I gently undid the waistband of her skirt and jerked the skirt off hearing a tear as the material gave under the force. Then I stopped, my eyes fixed on her legs. The gigai had been fully dressed when I arrived and I didn't know she was wearing stocking with a suspender belt. I could see the firm white flesh of her thighs bracketed by the stockings and the belt. It would have been even more erotic if both had been black, but even the difference between the flesh coloured leg coverings and her legs was startling.

 

My wife noticed my lack of movement and dropping the flannel asked, “Is there a problem, Zaraki?”

 

“Why aren't you wearing any underpants?” I demanded. “You did when we in the human world, here, eating.” I'd enjoyed the silk and lace of those pants, but not as much as seeing her nude flesh, the gently curling hair and pouting mound of her sex bracketed as it was now. My cock jerked again and I longed to pick her up and plunge deep within her as I held her against me.

 

“I don't want you to become bored,” she said playfully, “knowing what to expect.”

 

Reluctantly I dragged my gaze to her face which was alive with mischief and desire. She looked much better without the makeup, more like the Matsumoto who begged me to make her come, over and over.

 

“Why, Zaraki. I believe you're indicating an interest in me,” she said as I stood in front of her.

 

“Huh?” the enquiry was barely out of my mouth before her mouth encircled my cock. I hadn't expected it and without meaning to I found I was holding my breath as her tongue swirled around my cock and she increased the suction she was applying, not much, but enough. The bath was too far, and I wanted to taste her and feel her skin against mine without any restrictions that the water provided. We could always bathe afterward. I didn't want to move and leave the confines of her mouth, but I wanted more than sucking. It restricted the movements I could make and I wanted to plunge into her hard, while her wet cunt took my entire dick.

 

My brain stilled as the pleasure of what she was doing increased. With an effort I opened my eyes and looked at her legs again. Those stockings. Reluctantly but impatiently I pulled back and watched as her eyes opened and she gazed at me, a questioning look on her face.

 

Without bothering to say anything, I grabbed her, hauling her into my arms and ran to the bedroom my cock bobbing almost painfully as I moved. The bedroom was too far, but I could improvise. Within seconds I was sitting in a chair in the large lounge area with my wife facing me and on my lap and she was slowly impaling herself on my cock. I could see her stockings and suspender belt clearly and her unfettered breasts as she agonisingly unhurriedly slid down, centimetre by centimetre.

 

“Too slow,” I told her. My teeth were gritted and my voice harsh.

 

“Just right,” she insisted. Her eyes were closed and I could see the flush in her cheeks travel down her throat to her chest. As if anticipating my next move she reached out and took my hands, placing the palms on her breasts. I had been going to place my hands on her hips and push her down on me faster, but instead I began to caress her, hungering for the taste of them in her mouth as she took me in ever deeper. It seemed to take hours before I was fully within her, even though I knew it was only minutes and once there she remained still, until she deliberately clenched her muscles around me.

 

The times that she did that drew an immediate response from me, “Matsumoto, wife, again.”

 

“Why, Zaraki?” her sultry voice questioned as her mouth hovered above mine. “Do you want me to do this?” she said and again tightened around me intentionally.

 

The chair was now a very bad idea. I didn't want her on top, I wanted her underneath me with her legs wrapped around me as I took her hard, making her writhe and moan under my continuous thrusts. Cracking open an eye, I noticed the bed was too far, or was it? Another room away was too far. Unless I could get up and fall onto it and her it was too far. It would mean I had to withdraw, carry her there and then re-enter her once more. None of that seemed a problem except the withdrawing part of the equation. Even though it meant less than a minute my cock was very happy where it was and I didn't want to withdraw, not for a second. And Matsumoto was moving, very, very slowly, sliding up and down, sighing with delight. If I'd managed to have her again before we'd left it wouldn't be a problem, but she looked so damned hot in the stockings, with her hair wet and wild and sticking alluringly to her body.

 

“Not hard and fast,” she said as if reading my mind. “Slow and lingering. You're mine to play with this time,” her tongue darted into my ear and she again moved very slowly. “You've teased me one too many times recently. Now you need to find out how it feels.”

 

A growl travelled up my throat.

 

“And how else can I show my gratitude,” the laugh in her voice didn't escape my notice.

 

“Gratitude for what?” I rumbled my thumbs pressing lightly on her nipples.

 

“Ohhh. I like that, Zaraki. The boys like it when you pay them attention, but you could kiss them. They like that more and so do I,” she purred as she slowly slid up and down on my cock.

 

Instead of doing what she asked I pinched them impatiently and she wriggled on me and I lost my sense for a moment as I experienced the delight of her tight sheathe working on me from side to side. “Gratitude for what?” I asked again once my tongue would work.

 

My wife became still and slowly opened her eyes. Why had I asked? I'd distracted her and while I could feel her clutching grip around me I wanted the fuck, the movement. Instead I got a hot gaze from her clear eyes as she considered my question.

 

“For loving me enough,” she finally answered and kissed me, her tongue slipping hotly into my mouth, stopping me from asking the inevitable question. She began to ride me again but faster this time, building up the friction. When she finally released my mouth, I searched for her nipples with my mouth as my hands slid down to caress the soft skin bared above her stockings, occasionally feeling the contrast of the material under my fingers. She moaned and her head tossed as my teeth glancingly touched the sweet nub in my mouth. The touch made her jump suddenly so I did it again, enjoying the contrast to the smooth even movements she was trying to use.

 

“Touch me,” she said insistently as one of her hands slipped beneath her arse to caress my balls.

 

“Fuck woman,” I said almost coming as her nails grazed me. My balls tightened but I took pity on her and rubbed my index finger over her clit. If the woman was that desperate, I should help her.

 

The reaction was almost immediate. She stopped moving, at least her legs did, but her cunt clutched me hard and the strong muscles worked on me, milking me as she climaxed, shuddering and quivering. She didn't scream, or I didn't hear her as I was concentrating on my own orgasm. I could feel my come spurting into her over and over as I felt the satisfaction reach through my loins.

 

When I opened my eyes my wife was smiling at me, her eyes half closed with satisfaction. “I think I need that nap now, or should we have a bath? Or can we eat? I'm very hungry.”

 

Reluctantly I eased out of her. “Then we'll eat and then have a bath. Definitely a bath. Leave the stockings on.”

 

“In the bath? They'll be ruined,” she pouted.

 

“I thought you were going on a shopping tour tomorrow. I'll come too and help you choose some more,” I said slyly, imagining helping her try on stocking, knickers, thongs and bras. There'd better be some privacy in these places she wanted to visit.

 

She gave me a brief surprised look before she smiled at me lazily. “Anything you ask, my husband. I'll make sure you find it an unforgettable experience.”

 

Somehow, I didn't find that reassuring but she made me forget my doubts while we were eating, once we got to the bath and for the rest of the evening. She was greedy and not only for food.

 

Tomorrow could take care of itself.

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A.N.

 

Finally got time to finish this.

 

Soundtrack

`Everybody Here Wants You' Jeff Buckley

`Pornostars' Mr Natural

`Come With Me' Hyper

 

A shopping tour? Why the hell not? All the spending will help the global economy.

 

Review. I like reviews.