Pairing: Hitsugaya Toshiro x Matsumoto Rangiku

Rating: T, for very described kissing/snogging X3

Warnings: English isn't my first language, thus bad grammar and spelling. I'm always bad at keeping people in-character so watch out. Err, that's about it.

A/N: YAYZ! I did another one-shot! Like so much else, it really was for my collection of drabbles Seize the Moment but I wanted to do something else so I posted is as a one-shot. Hope you don't mind, coz it turned out a bit short but one can only drag a situation like that out for so long.

Also, I appologize for the repeated words. My vocabulary is limited XD

All that aside, I hope you'll have a nice read :)

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Accidental

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It was an accident.

It didn't happen on purpose, nor was it planned in any way. Not even in the subconscious part of either of their brains. He was willing to bet that not even the primitive part of them picked up any signs of what was going to happen. Some might want to call it a coincident that it happened to them both, at the same time, and caused the same reaction to break through both their systems and leave them with shared consequences. But the problem was…that it was an accident.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

Coincidental events happen all the time; you're expecting it. You can't prevent them. But accidents aren't supposed to happen. You prepare yourself; you subconsciously gather experience and build up knowledge that should keep it from happening. Accidents are occurrences that shouldn't have happened.

Yes, that was it. It was an accident. They couldn't have stopped it, it shouldn't have happened. It wasn't their fault; neither possessed the ability to prevent accidents. Because there isn't an accident before it has happened, and once it has happened, you can't stop it.

All this went through Hitsugaya Toshiro's head as he stared into pretty, blue eyes inches away from his own teal orbs. He was sure he was as crossed-eyed as the woman before him, but right now, that wasn't the thing occupying his mind. Having come to the conclusion that this was an accident, that it had already happened and nothing could be done but live it through, his mind had stopped spinning to focus on the thing it had tried to avoid until it thought it was remotely safe to think about.

His beautiful, stubborn and lazy lieutenant's lips were currently pressed against his and he couldn't be closer to heaven.

Adrenaline pumped through his body as his heart beat hard and fast, colour rose to his pale cheeks in the speed of light and he was beginning to wonder if Hyorinmaru could freeze time as well. He was standing absolutely still, rigid, and she was lying sprawled over the desk he was using as support. To think, moments ago, they'd had two whole feet between them instead of a mere half of an inch.

It shouldn't have happened. How did it happen? Why? It was so silly.

He'd been sitting by his desk, working, and she'd come over to deliver his tea. IT was late in the afternoon, and she knew he craved it around this time. Putting the cup down, they'd somehow (he never failed to forget how it always started) gotten involved in one of their usual banters. Leaning over the desk, she'd eagerly shot down his remarks with clever retorts that always amused – if not making him a bit annoyed.

Then, out of nowhere, the door was slammed open and someone (he was in no state to figure out who) had screamed loud and clear, almost hair-rising, that something was burning. And then he, or she, was gone.

This was all it took.

She jumped out of her skin, slipped, and fell. All the while he had managed to shoot up from his chair; hands firmly placed on the desk's surface to further help him on his way up to his feet. They'd met somewhere mid-way. And it'd happened in a second.

He could still remember how his stomach had flipped, how a surge of excitement had shaken his body, as he'd realized. He could remember it still, because it was tugging fresh at his senses.

Seconds had passed, maybe even minutes. He couldn't tell. It was warm; it was so pleasant to stare into her eyes. He was relaxing, satisfied now that his frantic mind had gotten its answer. His teal eyes weren't wide in surprise anymore; he could feel his gaze softening for each blink. He almost smiled, but the small movement was enough to cause another wave of awe to go through him. What an amazing feeling, how extraordinary it was. She followed suit, smiling. It was wonderful, he mused. How did she do it? Her lips moved, but not into a smile this time. It was like she was taking bites, tasting.

Something wet – not just damp as her lips were – flicked out to caress. A shiver went down his spine and he breathed in deeply. She did it again, biting without teeth, and he realized it was her tongue against his mouth. His lips parted in wonder, his jaw was slack as his eyes glazed over. He was lost, floating around in a sea of…weird…scents and feelings. What was she doing? It felt so great. He started to respond, tried to mimic the movements of her lips in order to get more…friction. Yes, friction. It felt so nice, so warm and right, when they were connected like this.

His own tongue slipped out, tip timidly touching her playful one. Electric jolts of excitement seared through his body and urged him on with whatever it was.

Kissing?

His mind pulled the word out just as he was about to forget about it. Was this kissing? Wasn't kissing harmless? Wasn't it less wild, less arousing to the senses? He had never imagined it to be this…intense. Barely touching – not enough lips and tongues entwining – yet so powerful. He could hardly notice the world around them. Time wasn't noticeable, time didn't exist. A second? How long was that? He'd lost the ability to judge.

Her beautiful, pale eyes were as enchanting as her kiss. He stared. Her tongue poked at his lips, and on impulse, he parted them even wider. Acting on impulse had sometimes been good, saving his life, and sometimes bad. Never had it proven to be this earth-shattering and unbelievingly right.

A sound, akin to a moan or groan, rumbled deep in his throat. Her tongue was inside, caressing and exploring, and he was once again struck with a strange awe. The concept of stroking your tongue against another's, while moving your lips in that bite-like fashion, had never occurred to him. Not like this, anyway.

But it was mind-blowing. He held a rhythm, a certain pattern that he vaguely picked up. Something close to sync, something controlled. How this – the light-headedness, the excitement, the curiosity and craving – could be controlled was beyond him. But somehow, she was pulling it off. The pleasure, he realized, was being handed to him in bits and pieces. There was more, there had to be. He had to have it. It was his; he could sense how close he was to grabbing it.

His hands had been forgotten, unnecessary up until this point it seemed. He reached his left up to bury in her thick, smooth locks; cradling the back of her head and bringing her closer. She didn't seem to mind, lifting herself up with the help of her arms to ease into the new angle. It was wonderful how it seemed to get even warmer, and it urged him on yet again. His tongue moved with force, fought some kind of battle, but lost to the experience the woman before him seemed to have. He groaned and his right hand moved up to cup her cheek. It was hot against his palm, smooth and perfect. She kissed him deeper still; grabbing the fabric of his uniform in her hand. His head had been titled ever so slightly to the side, unchanging, but it felt wrong. In all this rightness, this unmoving stance was out of place. He frowned and moved; titling his head to the other side. He felt satisfied as she followed, as if led in a dance she knew by heart, and sighed contently. Lips moved, tongues caressed, and his head moved again. She wasn't far behind; it went so smooth, so right.

Then, all of a sudden, she broke away; gasping. He stood blinking, confused and strangely devastated at the loss of stimulation.

"Captain! The fire!"

He blinked, mind and senses slowly letting the world around her in. He could here shouts in the distance, could almost make out the scent of something close to burnt paper. No reiatsu was unstable; he could feel no panic or stress and the shouts sounded like ones of demanding – organizing – rather than terrified.

"I think someone took care of it."

He felt surprisingly calm. He had finally worked out what he'd done, and with whom, but it didn't bother him the way it should. It had been an accident, after all. They had merely chosen a way to handle it. It had already happened; they'd just handled the situation. Nothing to be embarrassed about – yet his cheeks wouldn't stop burning. His lieutenant smiled down at him, now in a standing position as himself.

"Really Captain, you'd think I'd just rid you of your clothes."

He really wished she hadn't said that. He really, really wished she hadn't given him those mental images.

"No, Matsumoto, you just rid me of any coherent thought."

Sweet revenge. He couldn't remember ever getting back at her using her own suggestive ways, but her surprised wide eyes fit perfectly in her face; cheeks the lightest pink and full lips bruised. It was worth the slight slip and mild embarrassment.

To think, he mused as she started to laugh, it was an accident. He was beyond revealed that Matsumoto was Matsumoto, and what should've been a thick layer of ice was broken with ease. He'd like to say their next kiss was an accident too, but perhaps the way he slipped was a bit too obvious.

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