From Bleach, featuring our hero Abarai Renji and a number of his cronies from the 13 squads. Also featuring various sex acts and pairings, but all done off-stage to protect the reader's delicate sensibilities.
"Ah, yes. Would you mind?" Matsumoto Rangiku leaned in slightly, close enough that her sumptuous chest spilled over the desk, brushing against Abarai Renji's arm. He flushed at the contact, but Matsumoto batted her eyelashes and leaned even closer. "It's not much, really. I just need someone to feed my cat while I'm house-sitting for Soifon-taichou. Will you do it?"
The Sixth Division Vice Captain sighed the greatest put-upon sigh ever heard in the Seireitei and put up a hand. "Matsumoto, you know I don't like cats, and they don't like me. And your cat in particular – well, she hates me…"
"Hisame? That sweet little pussy cat? She does not hate you."
"Have you forgotten what she did to me at your last party?"
Matsumoto batted her eyelashes again. "That's because she got jealous. You were trying to kiss me."
"Just joking." Whether with embarrassment or suppressed fury, Renji's face was nearly as scarlet as his hair, which made an exceptionally comical background for his tattoos. "Hisame loves you, Renji. Biting is just her way of showing affection."
"Huh. Just like her owner."
"Would you forget that already?" Matsumoto glared. "I told you: that was an accident, it was a training mission, I got carried away, I saw an arm – these things happen, okay? Can we move on?” She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. “Besides, it was Shuuhei's arm, anyway, not yours."
"Yeah, and he's still got the teeth marks to prove it."
"Pleeeeeeease, Ren-kun." She flicked a lacquered nail against the tip of his nose and turned up the wattage on her smile. “Won't you do it? For me? You only have to feed her once a day."
Renji rubbed his nose. "I'm allergic. Cats make me sneeze." He scratched at his neck. "And my eyes swell up.”
"We’re spirit beings, Renji. We don’t get allergies. We don't get sick."
"Tell that to Ukitake-taichou."
Matsumoto sighed hugely, her magnificent breasts heaving dramatically. Renji’s eyes followed. "Pretty please? Pretty please with sake on it?"
"Can't you find anyone else?"
"I suppose…" She tapped a finger on her cheek. "I could ask Hitsugaya-taichou. I'm sure my captain would love to take time from his important duties to feed my cat. I'll be sure to tell him you said no. And I’m sure he'll be happy to tell your captain he's covering for the person who kept both of them awake all night singing dirty fight songs under their windows." She started toward the door. "That was you, wasn’t it, Renji?"
"Hold on–" Renji beat her to the exit. "All right," he capitulated, utterly defeated. "All right. I'll do it."
"Oh, Renji," she cooed, leaning in to kiss him on one rapidly flushing cheek. "You're so kind to volunteer."
"'Volunteer,' right," Renji muttered darkly. "Just remember – you owe me."
"But of course," Matsumoto purred. "Whatever you'd like."
"He wants what?"
"He said he wants me to do his laundry for a month," Matsumoto sighed, resting her forehead on her arms as she sprawled on the table. The massive quantities of alcohol she’d drunk dulled the pain somewhat, but not her sense of woe. "I just thought he wanted sex – that'd be easy. But this!" She released an epic sigh. "Me! Laundry! I ask you! Was I made to wash underwear?"
"No, of course not," soothed Yumichika, patting her on the head.
"You shouldn’t even be wearing underwear," leered Ikkaku, receiving a swift kick in the shins in response. "Well, you shouldn't! You bust out of it anyway." He nudged Yumichika with his elbow. "Heh, 'bust,' get it?" Matsumoto and Yumichika kicked him together, aiming a little higher. Ikkaku yelped shrilly and rolled away to moan into a puddle of sake.
"You know, Ran-chan…" Yumichika dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I wouldn't mind doing Renji–"
"–doing Renji's laundry," he corrected, batting his feathered eyelashes at her. "I'd be more than happy to oblige."
Matsumoto frowned; there was something familiar about the eyelash batting, but she couldn't quite place it. "Really? You'd do that? You'd actually wash his dirty underwear for me?"
"Oh yes. Renji's laundry. Clothing worn next to his skin, smelling of Renji…" For a moment Yumichika's gaze went quite distant. Matsumoto narrowed her eyes. Yumichika cleared his throat and collected himself. "Of course," he said, all business, "I would expect a favor in return. "
Matsumoto shrugged. At least with Yumichika she could be sure no sexual payback would be required. Not from her, anyway. "Name it. Just – no laundry, 'kay?" She smiled brightly at him.
He beamed back an equally bright smile. "Certainly not. I just need you to deliver a message…"
"So the thing is, Renji," Matsumoto said, affecting an air of sadness, "Yumi-kun's case is very, very dire."
Renji frowned and scratched his temple. "It is? But…I just saw him yesterday at the tavern. You were there, too – you saw him! He was fine."
"I know, I know. It came on quite suddenly, I'm told. They're not sure if he'll make it. " She leaned in to peer into Renji's baffled eyes. Baffled, reddened, swollen eyes. "Oh. Sorry about the allergies."
"I told you. But what's this about Yumichika?"
"It's tragic," Matsumoto replied, shaking her head. "He wants to see you. Perhaps for the very…last…time."
"Me? What for?" A suspicious look flitted across his face. "We're not even in the same division any more. Why me?"
Matsumoto drew herself up to her full statuesque height, which put her chest directly under Renji's chin. "He believes you may be the only one with the ability to save him."
"He needs–wait. Let me get the prescription." Fishing between the mounds of her ample breasts, she extricated a small piece of paper filled with Yumichika's beautifully-rendered script. "He needs 'a directed influx of essential, extremely intense masculine reiatsu, delivered internally in a forceful manner at regular intervals–'"
"–which will be the only thing that can stop his decline." She fought to keep from rolling her eyes. "Or so I've been told."
Matsumoto shoved the note back into her cleavage, noting how Renji's eyes followed. "Listen to me, Renji. The fact is, you, of all of Yumichika's peers possess the strongest reiatsu."
"Well, apparently that's what he needs."
"Needs…how? How do I give him my reiatsu?" The tattoos on Renji's forehead scrunched into misshapen squares. "I don't get it."
"Oh, he'll get it, Renji dear, trust me." Matsumoto smiled a secret smile. "Just go to him, Renji. Save Yumichika. He needs you. Desperately."
"Well, all right." Renji squared his shoulders, still baffled but obviously flattered. "I guess if a buddy needs my help under such desperate circumstances…if I'm the only one who can help him…if it'll keep the guy from dying…"
"That's the spirit, Renji!"
"I'll go right on over to Fourth Division and–"
Matsumoto grabbed him by the wrist. "Oh, nonono – he's not there. He's in his own quarters."
"How come? If he's that sick–"
"Well, you see," she improvised madly, "there's nothing they can do for him there. He'll either recover or he won't."
"Wait a second." Renji pulled away from her grasp. "Not so sure I want to see him if what he's got is contagious. What if I catch it?"
"Don't worry, Renji," Matsumoto said, smiling an encouragement. "You won't catch anything. It'll be Yumichika who does the catching, unless I'm greatly mistaken."
"Okay." Renji nodded, and put a hand on her shoulder. He squared himself, puffing slightly with pride. "So I'm the only one who can save him, huh? Well. Thanks, Matsumoto. It means a lot that you came to tell me. Yumichika's a little odd, but he's basically a good guy. I'd hate myself if I could help and didn't do it. Thanks for telling me. I guess he and I owe ya one."
"Ah." Matsumoto brightened. "Well, in that case, there's another little favor you could do for me…"
"And why, may I ask, do you wish to see her?"
"Do you think it's appropriate for someone to call here in such a state of dishevelment? Look at yourself – your eyes are red, you're covered in scratches–"
"Watching Matsumoto's cat, sir," Renji began. "Oh, wait. The ones on my chest are from Yumichi–" He flushed to the roots of his crimson hair. "Er. Never mind."
"Abarai-fukutaichou, this is disgraceful! You're untied, covered in sweat and your zanpakutou is half out of its scabbard!"
"Forgive me, Taichou." Renji tugged at his uniform, trying to straighten it out, only to discover he'd tied his fundoshi to it. "I've had a very, er, exhausting day." For a moment he flashed to an image of Yumichika's sneak-attack leap onto his thighs, shouting "do me, Renji, harder, harder!" and fought to repress the twitching in his otherwise exhausted body. "Er, lots of exercise. Lots and lots. Really lots."
"Excuses, excuses. And here I thought you were one of the more capable Vice Captains. Well. My mistake. Perhaps I should subject you to a battery of tests to find out why a little exercise leaves you breathless." Kurotsochi Mayuri leaned closer, the stark mask of his face far too close for Renji's comfort. "Mmmm? Would you like to be my test subject?"
"Er, not particularly, Taichou. I just wanted to speak with Nemu-san–"
"Exactly!" Kurotsuchi's breath, smelling of circuitry and chemicals, wafted across Renji's face. "And what do you want with my daughter, eh? Something nefarious? Something perverted?" A gloved hand grabbed Renji by the collar. "Something you'd let me watch?"
"No! No, Taichou-sama, not at all! I'm just delivering invitations for a sleepover."
"No! No! It's not what you think! It's at Matsumoto's – well, it's at Soifon-taichou's but Matsumoto's house-sitting there. She's having a lingerie party for the women and wanted to invite Nemu-san along with the others, but she can't get away from her duties, so she asked me to deliver the invitations."
The white-ringed eyes narrowed. "A lingerie party? What's that?"
Renji stepped back out of Kurotsuchi's immediate grasp. "To be honest, Kurotsuchi-taichou, I don't really know. I would imagine it's…some sort of party with a bunch of women trying on underwear?"
"Wellllllllllllll!" The head of the Research Division clapped his hands together and let out a disturbingly high-pitched giggle. "How very intriguing! Tell me, Abarai-kun…who else will be there?"
Renji pulled out a scrap of paper. "Well, Matsumoto-fukutaichou asked me to invite Rukia – I mean, Kuchiki-san, Kotetsu – that's both of them, Isane and Kiyone; Nanao – looks like it's all the girls except Kusajishi, who she said she rather go fishing with Zareki-taichou, so–"
A claw-like hand whipped the paper out of his grasp. "Unohana?" hissed Kurotsuchi, spraying little flecks of spittle into Renji's face. "Will Unohana-taichou be there?"
Renji slid back a step, surreptitiously wiping his face. "I…guess so. She's invited."
"Mmmmm. Unohana…lingerie…" Kurotsuchi closed the distance between them. "Do you think you could find me a place to watch…without them knowing?"
"Abarai-kuuuuun…Renji, my boy…I'm sure you could find me a good vantage point, eh?"
"I'd be most grateful." Kurotsuchi's arm wrapped around Renji's shoulders. Renji tried not to flinch. "Well? You do want to help me, don't you?"
"Er…" The arm tightened. "Um, sure."
"Excellent, excellent. Ah, so kind, so kind. I owe you a favor."
"That's okay," Renji demurred quickly. "I don't need one. Really."
"But I insist. I always repay my obligations. Are you certain there's nothing I can do for you? A little enhancement to make your lovers happy, perhaps? A tattoo-removal formula?"
"No thanks, Taichou-sama. I paid a lot for these tattoos. I'll keep them." He cracked his neck and rubbed his lower back. "And as far as lovers go, I'm enhanced enough." Besides, if Yumichika got any more happy, I'd be dead.
"I'm sure you'll think of something." Kurotsuchi grinned, looking even more like a death's head than usual. "As I said, I insist."
"So let me get this straight." The captain of the 6th Squad lifted his eyes from the incident report and raised one perfect eyebrow. "The vice-captain of this division – my division – my vice-captain – was found by the Fourth Division captain lurking in the bushes, apparently spying on a room containing herself and several female colleagues." Kuchiki Byakuya frowned. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Renji shivered. "The women then proceeded to beat my vice-captain senseless before calling the guards." He turned the paper over. "Is this report correct, Vice-Captain Abarai?"
"Er…well, sir." Renji swallowed hard and rubbed his neck. "Let me tell you, sir, Captain Unohana is stronger than she looks."
"Abarai!" Kuchiki bellowed and banged his hand on the table.
Renji flinched, putting up his hands defensively. "Kuchiki-taichou, this is all a mistake –"
"That would appear to be an understatement."
"You see, Captain sir, Captain Kurotsuchi made me –"
"Captain Kurotsuchi's peccadilloes are irrelevant to this discussion. Were you, or were you not lurking in the bushes outside that room?" The captain's severe countenance became even more forbidding. "That room where my sister was undressing?"
"Well…" The specter of death loomed very close indeed. Renji rubbed at the tattoo on his chest, which itched and throbbed horribly from Kurotsuchi-taichou's forcible attempts to experiment on it despite
Renji's protests. The scratches on his back twinged. His still-swollen
eyes twitched annoyingly. "Well, sir, technically, I suppose I
may have been there. But I had a very good reason."
"Yes, sir. I mean no, sir." If he was lucky, death would be swift. Captain Kuchiki knew all sorts of unpleasant, lingering deaths, like that one with the thousands of razor-sharp cherry blossoms –
"Never in my life have I heard such drivel!"
"No sir. That is, yes sir. Drivel, sir."
"So…" Kuchiki-taichou cleared his throat and straightened his scarf. "I shall have to assume that you were temporarily insane, because no sane person could concoct such a story."
"Yes, sir," Renji agreed, nodding vigorously. "I plead insanity. Yes indeedy. Insane, that's me."
"Therefore, I am merely going to give you a hundred demerits for this ridiculous affair."
"Thank you, sir."
"And dock your pay for a month."
"Thank you, sir."
"And starting immediately, you will stand guard during your off-duty hours, until such time as I feel you've learned your lesson. Perhaps with no free time you'll be unable to get into trouble."
"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir." Well, there goes my leisure time, and all my money, Renji thought morosely. Of course, on the other hand, it also meant Yumichika wouldn't be able to accost him, at least for a month, which was a relief. Not that Yumichika's attentions had been entirely unpleasant.
"That will be all." His captain rose and started to stride from the room, pausing in the doorway. "I hope you realize the magnitude of the favor I'm doing you."
"Yes, sir." Renji bowed deeply, gritting his teeth. "I appreciate it, sir."
"Good," said Kuchiki-taichou, pausing before sweeping from the room. "Because you owe me."
"Yes, sir," Renji moaned weakly.
"Therefore, there's one little thing I need you to do for me..."
The noise of Renji banging his head on Kuchiki's antique desk brought several shinigami running.
"Kill me, Kira. Just kill me now."
"What was that? I can't understand what you're saying."
Renji lifted his head, turning a gaze filled with misery on his friend. "I said you don't know him like I do. Kuchiki-sama's a sadist. He's worse than Kurotsuchi."
"Come now." Kira patted Renji's shoulder. "He's an honorable man. He'd never force you to do anything really horrible."
"Oh no? Well how about this: he wants me to take his place playing mahjong with Captain Ichimaru."
Kira gasped. "Ye gods. You're right! He is a sadist."
"I know!" Renji groaned in despair. "And Ichimaru? – he's…he's…"
"You don't have to tell me." Kira shuddered. "I've played mahjong with him. Once. My advice is, don't bet too much. Better yet, just let him win."
"Will that help?"
"Not that much, actually."
Renji groaned as his head thudded once more against the table. "Just kill me now.'
"Are you sure you want that tile, Renji-kun?"
"No. No, taichou-san. Nuh-uh. It's yours."
"How kind!" Ichimaru sang, moving the tile and clapping his hands in delight. "Hurray! I win again!" His bony fingers greedily slithered the pile of coins into his lap. "One, two…forty-five…ninety-six…one hundred eighty–oh dear. Renji-kun, as I recall you didn't have the money for this round and I had to ante for you. That makes…four hundred and twenty-seven you owe me. Right?"
"Urg." Renji choked as if one of Hisame's furballs was lodged in his throat. "Ack."
"So, are you prepared to pay?"
"Ah. Ain't got it, eh?" Ichimaru leered at him. "In that case, Renji-kun, I'm afraid you'll have to work out your debt, won't you?" Renji dropped his head to the table, scattering tiles, and mumbled into his sleeve. "What was that, my dear Renji?"
"I said, Kuchiki-taichou is a sadist."
"Is he, now?" Ichimaru's eyes slitted open ever so slightly, revealing a hungry glint. "How very, very intriguing."
"Renji! Hey, Renji! Oh – " Hisagi Shuuhei paused mid-wave, his hand still raised in salute. "Renji… what's with the funny walk?"
"Do not even ask," Renji muttered, limping by his senpai. "You really don't want to know."
"And this mark?"
"Look," Renji grunted, trying to shift to a less-painful position, "do we have to go over this right now?"
"Why on earth do you do these things to yourself, Renji?" Matsumoto tsked, poking at one particularly spectacular bruise. She dipped the washcloth into the bowl beside the bed. "You should be careful what you agree to do with Gin. He's a bit unpredictable." She wrung out the cloth and slapped it onto a purplish welt.
"Unpredictable?" Renji flinched as the astringent hit raw skin. "Owww! Shit! Be a little more careful, willya?" He buried his face in the pillow. muttering some extremely unprintable sentiments. "It's not like I wanted to agree to anything with Captain 'No-safe-word' Ichimaru! He forced me! It was out of my control! He said I owed it to him! Besides, Captain Kuchiki ordered me to–"
"Okay, okay." Matsumoto sighed and sat down by the head of the bed. "If you were this banged up, I don't know why you didn't just go over to the Fourth and have them treat you. Captain Unohana–"
"Could we not mention her name right now?" Renji groaned. "I could be dying in the street and she'd step on me. And then she'd grind her little heel–"
"Honestly, Renji. I don't understand a thing you say any more." Matsumoto shrugged her shoulders, frowning a little as Renji failed to watch her breasts roll along with them. "You're really not yourself these days."
"Tell me about it."
"Anyway, I’m glad I could help. When you staggered into the tavern looking such a mess, I just knew I had to do
Matsumoto beamed brightly, batting her lashes at Renji's slowly-paling face. "I guess, Renji, you could say this means you owe me a favor."