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Transgression
by afrai

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"Brother," she whispered, and he realised he could smell her hair. She helped him get at her breasts, parting her kimono for him. Madness, this running of a hand up beneath her kimono to the soft secret place between her legs, this tasting of the salt skin on her small perfect breasts. The texture of her nipples under his tongue and the slickness under his fingers.

But it was too late to retreat, and she was so open, so sweet. She undid his obi and pushed his hands aside and slid down onto him, whispering brother, brother, a sweet wayward child. He had not realised how beautiful she had grown. He could remember the toothmarks the child she had been had left on his arms, but when he bit at the delicate arch of her clavicle now, the girl only trembled.

"Rukia." He had held her like this when she was a child: her head tucked against the hollow of his throat, legs tight around him. Safe.

"Brother," she said, "I have wanted ... "

Byakuya let his harsh breaths against her skin speak for him. This was poison. This was not the protection he had promised, but he could no longer be safe.

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