I could feel the room shift around us, the air thick with the unsaid, the tension between claim and restraint, between desire and control. Renji didn't rush. He never did. Every second he waited, every brush of skin against mine, was a test—and I was both terrified and infuriatingly drawn to it.
The velvet air seemed to thicken, almost heavy enough to press against our skin. It clung to my damp hair, to the areas of my body exposed beneath the robe. Tiny droplets traced delicate paths down my collarbone and shoulders, and I could feel Renji's eyes following every line, every tremor, as if he could read the secrets written in my sweat and goosebumps.
A quiet, dangerous laugh escaped him. He leaned close, lips grazing my ear, hot breath sliding over my skin. "You're already trembling," he murmured.
"I'm not," I shot back, too fast.
But my body betrayed me. My pulse leapt under his touch, breath hitching as his fingers traced the damp edge of my robe. He noticed. Always.
Renji's hand tugged at the fabric, letting it slip just enough to reveal my collarbone, glistening with residual moisture. His gaze darkened, sharp and hungry. "Every time I touch you, you react like it's your first night," he said, voice low, almost reverent.
I swallowed, heat coiling down my spine. He wasn't wrong. Tonight was different—because I wasn't really reacting to him. Every nerve felt rewired, as if Hiroshima's ghost overlaid his touch, painting every stroke with someone else's memory.
Slowly, deliberately, he kissed me. Lips firm, coaxing rather than taking, testing my resolve. I let him. My lips parted, a shiver escaping my throat. His tongue traced mine, patient and deliberate, savoring the way I gasped into him.
The velvet beneath us pressed against my knees as he urged me down, guiding rather than forcing. His hands roamed over my chest, sparks igniting with every brush, circling scars he remembered too well. My body arched, helpless under the combination of memory, heat, and desire.
"Sensitive tonight," he murmured, breaking the kiss to nip my jaw lightly, voice thick, low, intoxicating. "Almost… too tight already."
His hand drifted lower, teasing, brushing over places that made my hips jerk without permission. I bit back a sound, trying to claim some control, though every nerve felt like it belonged to him.
I bit down on a groan, fists curling into the couch. "Shut up."
Renji chuckled darkly, biting lightly at my throat. "There it is… my favorite sound." He shifted, weight pressing me into the couch, caging me with his frame. "Who are you thinking about, Kaoru? Who makes you this alive?"
The question stabbed straight to bone. My breath faltered. Hiroshima. But I swallowed it back, forcing a scoff.
"You flatter yourself too much," I hissed, body writhing against him.
He smirked, kissing me harder, swallowing the lie. "Then prove it. Let me see how much of this fire belongs to me."
And restraint shattered. His hand slid lower, deliberate, pushing me past the line. My body jolted, arching, betraying me completely. A sound escaped—half curse, half plea.
Renji's eyes gleamed, victorious. "Ahh. There it is. So tight, so eager. You do feel like a virgin tonight." His voice husky, teasing cruel. "Who are you fantasizing, Kaoru? Tell me. Or should I drag it out of you?"
I turned my face away, teeth digging into my lip to silence the answer. Every nerve screamed Hiroshima's name. Every thrust blurred Renji's shadow into his. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop imagining him.
My body reacted violently—tighter, needier, shuddering at every movement as if it were the first. Nails raked his back, gasps breaking from me. I hated it. I needed it.
Renji groaned, lips crashing against mine again. Rhythm sharpened, relentless, dragging ragged sounds from my throat. Each movement stole control further, until my body convulsed with pure, burning want.
By the time it broke—heat spilling, muscles trembling, voice a shattered mess—I was wrecked. Chest heaved, hair stuck damp to skin, robe half-torn.
Renji held me close, smirk unsoftened. Fingers brushed my cheek, tender, dangerous still. "Tonight… you …were different," he murmured, eyes sharp on mine. "Almost pure. Almost… untouched. Like someone else's ghost was inside you."
I flinched, tearing my gaze away, smirk cracking. "Don't be so proud ; You were just lucky tonight.."
"Was I?" His voice purred, hand brushing hair back with unexpected care. "Or are you lying to yourself, Kaoru?"
I said nothing, chest still burning, throat raw. Eyes shut, sinking into velvet, unwilling to admit the truth: that every sound tonight belonged not to Renji… but to Hiroshima.
No matter how much I tried to bury it, the wound only dug deeper. Every pulse, every nerve, every ache reminded me of him—the way he had carved himself into my memory without even touching me fully.
The room smelled of smoke and sweat, of whiskey and heat, a haze that made the walls blur into one soft, suffocating embrace. Renji's hand lingered at my jaw, steady, heavy, insisting I look at him. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to push him away. But my body refused. My body had its own memory, one that wasn't mine to command.
He pressed his forehead to mine, slow, deliberate. "Kaoru… tell me who it is. Or I'll see it anyway."
I clenched my fists in the velvet, nails biting into the fabric. My pulse hammered, heat screaming through every vein. I could feel his curiosity, his need to know, pressing against me like a living thing. And I couldn't speak it. I couldn't name Hiroshima, even though my chest ached for him.
Renji's lips hovered over mine again, soft, testing, teasing. "Shh… you don't have to speak. I can feel it."
The words cut sharper than any blade. He could feel it? He could sense Hiroshima buried under every shiver, every gasp, every twitch of my muscles. And still he stayed, relentless, patient, claiming his place even when my heart screamed someone else's name.
I shuddered into him, body trembling from want and memory alike. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper was a storm—Renji's strength and Hiroshima's shadow colliding inside me, leaving me raw, exposed, utterly unprotected.
Finally, after what felt like endless minutes, Renji pulled back slightly, his breath ghosting my cheek. "You're mine, Kaoru," he murmured, soft, dangerous. "Even when your heart lies somewhere else… even when you think it's untouchable. I own these reactions."
I swallowed hard, eyes shut, heart in pieces. "Don't… make it about ownership," I whispered, voice hoarse. "Not tonight."
He smirked, brushing his thumb against my cheek, tracing lines I'd thought only Hiroshima had known. "Tonight… it's about fire," he said, low. "Velvet fire, burning between us. And ghosts or no ghosts, the fire's real, Kaoru."
I let out a shuddering breath, surrendering to the heat, to the ache, to the impossible tangle of what I felt and what I wanted. The cigarette between us had long burned down to ash, the smoke curling like the ghost I refused to name. And yet, despite the shadows, despite Hiroshima, despite every impossible ache in my chest, I felt myself burning again, alive and shattered and trembling.
Renji reached for my hand in the dim light—but this time, I didn't resist completely. I let it hover, a flicker of trust, a spark between desire and danger. Trembling, yes. Broken? Not yet. But tonight… tonight the velvet fire consumed me, and I was powerless to put it out.