Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

A Song That No One Sings

Rukia's wearing one of his shirts, and it slips down off her shoulder when she sleepily sits up in bed to greet him. Renji gathers her up, presses his nose to the tender spot where her neck meets her collar bone and breathes her in. She smells like history and home and that flowery soap she keeps in the shower. She laughs, and he can feel her throat vibrate against his lips.

"Welcome home," she says. "I was waiting for you."

His mouth finds hers and they kiss. Time will pass slowly tonight, he knows, so they can do all the things that they want to do. And they do. He savors her, kissing all of her fingers -- from knuckles to joints to tips. His tongue tastes the salt of her palms and the ridges on the inside of her wrists. He traces the ball of her ankle and the crease behind her knees, memorizes the width of her hips and the vulnerable stretch of skin beneath her belly button. He can't think of a thing in the world he'd rather be doing right now than this.

She looks up at him and her eyes glitter in the dark. "I love you," she says, and in that moment, he can do anything. With her looking at him like that, he can reach up and pluck the stars from the sky. Because he's her man, he can make it thunder.

Renji makes love to her then. Alone in his pallet at Urahara's store, he makes love to her. Then he rolls over, finds a cool spot on the pillow, and puts his arm around the space where she should be. Above him, the stars hang safely in the sky.

END