It's been forever on this story, but I got an itch to write for it again. I won't lie, I've lost a lot of love for the Bleach fics, I'm just not feeling them like I used to, but I've got some stuff coming on updates for other stories too. I'm really trying to wrap them up and not keep them hanging for three years, but it's hard when my mind is on so many other fandoms. Some characters will always be close to my heart, and I haven't given up on them, promise, but the real world has been kicking major ass. Much love. -TPP

Thistle & Weeds

Chapter Four

"A bad man can do a million times more harm than a beast." –Aristotle

I wake up to Chaplin crawling over my face.

I swat him away, trying to figure out what time it is, but I'm so warm and comfortable I don't do much other than stare at the ceiling and try not to vomit over how fucking whipped I am over this kid.

Kisuke is asleep next to me with his mouth wide open, a cute mouth breather. I pull him more into my side, try not to think about my actions too much.

A voice in my head is telling me we're cuddling, and I'm telling that voice to fuck off before I kill it.

Kisuke makes a small whining noise, fingers pushing into my side before his nose brushes my neck, mouth still open as he does some kind of snuffling snore.

Chaplin mows from the other side, claws in a pillow, watching me watch him and it's all so disgustingly domesticated I want to crawl out of my skin.

If there's anything that the world has taught me in my time in it, I don't get to have nice things. I don't get to be Joe Schmoe with a nine to five office job. I don't get to have conventional friends and I sure as fuck am not allowed to have a genius boyfriend who isn't afraid of me or the life I lead.

I don't get to cuddle on weeknights and eat fucking vegetarian lasagna and feed a stupid cat that's protective of his master, and I don't get to feel happy.

He got in my skin too easy, and that's bad.

It'll take one fuck-up, one person finding out what he means to me, and it's over. He'll be dead, or too scared to stay with me.

I don't get to keep things I want, so I've never wanted anything.

It takes me a second to realize Kisuke is running his fingers over my side gently, his eyes inquisitive, his mouth set in a frown.

"You're thinking too much. That's my job," he says quietly, his voice husky from sleep.

I pull him into a kiss and relax as he sighs into it, whole body going loose. I explore his mouth with my tongue. I like the way he whines as my fingers pet across his ribs, exploring soft skin.

"Feels good," he breathes, crawling on top of me and kissing me some more. I'm surprised, but I'm not about to push him away. I'm hungry for him: I haven't been hungry for someone in a long, long time.

His fingers pull at my face, my hair, my collarbones, down my chest like he's trying to memorize me through touch. Maybe he is: if he can sculpt a goddamn Buddha out of wood, maybe he could sculpt me too. Wouldn't mind modeling for him if he keeps touching me like this. It's so innocent and warm but has my guts burning from the slow seduction.

"You have no idea how hot you are," I say, breathing into his mouth before my hands can't sit idle anymore. They pet down his back, feeling the ridges in his spine, settle on the globes of his ass. He hisses out a cry, the sound so soft and hot I realize how hard I am. He grinds down against me, instinct more than anything, but it feels so good the blanket might as well not even be between us. It slips further down his body, revealing more of his naked skin to me, and I remember he never put on any clothes after the shower. The blanket is pooled around him now, not much of a barrier between him and my chafing jeans.

"I want to suck you," he says against my mouth, and it's so quiet and anxious I know he's never done it before and it makes my hips jolt.

Fuck. He hasn't even done anything and I'm already on edge.

"I'll probably cum the second you try 'ta touch me," I said honestly, nipping at his neck, "Not that I wouldn't enjoy it, but I doubt you want cum in your eye on your first go, kiddo."

Kisuke hid his face in my neck, embarrassed but soon he was laughing, which made me laugh. He looks at me for a minute, biting his lip and it's so distracting I'm thinking maybe I will cum in my pants like he had on the couch earlier after all.

"Does it bother you?" he says, biting harder at his lip. His fingers are running in patterns across my chest, down my abs. I don't know why it feels so good since I'm still wearing a t-shirt, but maybe it's his naïve sexiness that's getting to me, "That I, you know, um, don't have any experience? Do you still want me? Like…like I want you?"

I thunk my head forward into his chest, forgetting about my dick for a second because FUCK, this kid is so clueless and precious and just…

"I wanna sin all over you, kid," I finally say, pulling him into another kiss. And another, and another, "but I'm a possessive, jealous son of a bitch, so…I want you 'ta be sure about…whatever this is."

Holy Jesus fuck, had those words really come out of my mouth? I had been with Gin for years, and even then we'd never discussed anything even close to something like this. A few kisses and no bullshit conversations and I was already trying to label this thing?

Kisuke smiled, and damn, this was probably his best one yet. He put his arms around my shoulders, hugging me close, fingers raking across my back as he chuckled, "Please tell me you're saying what I think you're saying, because if you are, my answer is an uncompromisingly pleasant yes."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, brat," I retort, nipping the end of his nose. He flails for a second but then lets out a startled laugh and I really like that. I'm so warm inside I wanna throw up.

"I should probably go though," I finally say, pushing his wild hair out of his eyes so I can see the shiny green. Fuck this kid is gorgeous, "I have…stuff to do."

Kisuke nods understandingly, his long lashes falling across his cheeks as he considers, "Mmkay, but you'll come by later? I don't have school tomorrow. We could…I mean, if you want, we could go somewhere?"

"What? Like a date?" I said, grinning at him as a blush shot across his cheeks, "You wanna take me out on the town and show me off?"

"I-if you're mine, and I'm yours, than yes, of course. Of course I want to do that," Kisuke admitted, voice rising slightly before he looked away from me.

Oh my fuck. Who was this kid?

"Should be illegal to be that cute," I mutter, grabbing his chin and kissing him on the mouth. I linger, unable to help myself, fanning the kiss and my hunger for him.

Shit. Fuck it all. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep him, I fucking knew it deep down, but I didn't care. I had him right now, I had what I wanted, and I was going to enjoy it for as long as it would last, before he wised up and got out. I couldn't think about the future, and I sure as hell wasn't going to think about the past, so I had to take what was in the moment, and Kisuke was here, in my lap, practically shaking from simple kisses and attention. He seemed unable to get enough of me touching him, just simple holding or fingers sliding across his arms and back, like he was starved for it. Maybe he was: maybe his childhood had been as messed up as mine, who knew?

But I really did have to leave. There were things that needed to be done, calls that needed to be made. The family was going to meet up, plan shit out. Wasn't sure how much time I could give Kisuke tomorrow, but I'd do my best.

"I'll call you," I promised a little while later, him standing by the front door of his loft still wrapped up in that blanket, me zipping up my hoodie and checking my pockets for all my shit. He beamed at me, so simple sexy without even trying.

"Okay. Have a good day, Kenpachi," he said, getting on his tip toes to kiss my scarred cheek.

I turned and left before I cracked and made out with him some more.

I see Kisuke the next day. He takes me to a history museum. I've never set foot in one of these things, but he talks and talks and his eyes light up when we get to the section about the Industrial Revolution. Then he takes me to the wing with the dinosaur bones and I kiss him in the section about raptors.

I buy him ice cream afterward and he is so shy when he asks if it's okay to hold my hand that I let him. I grip his fingers tight and don't let go for the rest of the day.

I spend the night with him.

No. Get your mind out of the gutter, it's not like that.

It could be, though. Easily.

I want him, and he wants me.

But I can't take him yet. I just can't make myself do it.

I'm not a good person. I'm not touchy feely and I don't know how to communicate with much other than my fists, so when he laughs with me and talks to me all night, the TV a low hum and his head pillowed in my lap, I forget about the people I might be ordered to kill over the weekend or the prostitute I have to chauffer.

Kisuke never asks, and I never tell, and somehow it fucking works.

A week becomes a month, then two.

I never should have let myself become content.

The streets get restless. The Soul Reapers get called to battle.

Nothing with the gang ever really works out how it should: there are too many variables, too many people with their own mindsets.

Shit got messy much faster than I'd anticipated, and blood was spilled faster than could be cleaned up.

One of my own was gunned down outside his mom's house, right there in the front yard. Blood right across his front door. We retaliated, of course, but the damage had been done. Kaiien arranged for a funeral, money for the grieving mother. The one thing I respected about how the Old Man kept his shit together was how he never forgot the mothers or the widows: he never let blood get spilled without having someone pay for it.

The next couple days were a nightmare, but still business as usual. Things were more tense, people not making moves without backup. I wouldn't let Gin or Grimmjow go anywhere alone, and they wouldn't allow the same for me. For the time being, Hollows and Soul Reapers were working together against a common enemy and the streets became so tense and quiet nobody was sure when the next string would snap.

It did, though. It just didn't snap in the way I expected.

I got shot.

Grazed me, so I was fine. The man who shot me? Not so much.

When we caught him, I bashed his brains in with my bare knuckles. I fucked up my knuckles more than the bullet graze had done to my arm, but there was no way I wasn't going to make an example of the piece of shit. His body was dumped on his turf, and the war was going to escalate. I hadn't wanted to dump it there, but Kaiien said it was too late: shit had already hit the fan, and the smell was only going to spread. There was no stopping the turf wars now, and all that could really be done was to see who was still standing by the time the smoke cleared.

This meant I couldn't have any contact with Kisuke. I texted him days ago saying I had to lie low, that I would contact him as soon as I could.

Then a week became a month.

We lost two more, but we avenged them by taking seven of theirs.

We hit one of their dope houses, set it on fire. Only a day later Kaiien's favorite whore was found dead in a ditch by police.

Retaliation after retaliation.

Two months. Then three.

But sooner or later, a truce is always made.

Old Man worked something out, a new drug deal. Cut their balls off, really, but both sides were getting sick of blood under their nails and funerals.

They could sell on certain streets, but they were forbidden from main avenues. Neutral zones were established. Some were pissed as fuck that any kind of truce was made, but majority were ready to move on.

We're all tired. Kaiien forced me to go to another funeral, a puppet show for the Old Man, and I'd never felt so ancient.

I'm not even thirty, but I feel so tired. I've never felt so tired in this life, but I got sloppy. I started wanting something, and the ironic part was that I'd known I'd fucked up way back when and I still didn't regret it.

Another month passes before I knock on the loft door.

Kisuke answers, face unreadable before he steps back and lets me walk in.

We sit on the couch. I'm so used to him filling up the air with words, but neither of us say anything.

Finally, he takes a deep breath.

"Granny doesn't work at the diner anymore," he says, staring at the bookshelf, "She quit. Do you know why she quit, Kenpachi? Should I tell you?"

I didn't know where he was going with this, but my gut sank anyway.

"Her grandson died," Kisuke continued, his hands in fists on his lap, "he got shot in his car, Kenpachi. He died. He died in his car, Kenpachi, because someone shot him over a street war. He wasn't…he was innocent. Do you call that collateral?"

"Wha'd'ya want me 'ta say?" I answered, hands in my hoodie pockets, "You know who I am, you know what I do. And yeah, shit happens. Sometimes civilians get hurt. I can't control everything."

"I'm not asking you to," Kisuke said quietly, wiping tears from his face, "but Granny…you didn't see her face. This changes her, forever, for everything. And I can't help her. And I know I don't mean anything to you, but what if that's me? What if you get shot and die, and it changes me?"

I go cold. I can't move, "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

He stiffens up like he got shot, but almost immediately starts crying, and I break.

What the fuck did he say to me?

I pull him into my lap, don't let him go. I don't care that he's snotting all over my chest and into my neck as he clutches at me, sobbing his eyes out. I pet his hair and hold him, pissed as fuck.

When he quiets down, I finally figure out what I want to say.

"Of course you matter to me, you stupid fuck," I growl, pushing my face into his hair, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. You think I want you in this life? You think I want someone to find out about you? Take you away from me?"

Kisuke didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around my neck like a monkey and buried his face in my neck.

Then he bit me.

Then he kissed me, and he's never been aggressive like this. He's practically vibrating and I don't know if it's rage or fear or what, but I don't let him stop and I don't let him go.

Clothes go flying. I pull at his pants, and he's pulling at mine. By the time I'm lying on top of him he sounds like he's going to hyperventilate, so I kiss him deep, pet his sides, grind our cocks together. He whines so loud and perfect I'm not going to bet on my stamina.

I grip us together, kissing him sloppy and biting at his lips, his neck, his collarbones. He's huffing and whining, the best sounds I've ever heard out of him and I can't stop my hips or my hand.


I bite his neck, soothe it over with my tongue, tell him how gorgeous he is, how I can't wait to stuff him full of my cock, how pretty he'll look full of cum.

He explodes, cums all over himself, orbits the planets while I jack myself furiously and cum over his stomach, some of it managing to catch on his nipples.

He wipes his hands through it, staring at it as he tries to regain his breath. Then he looks at me and puts his fingers in his mouth, sucks them clean as I moan.

I take him into the shower, clean him up, and collapse into bed.

He burrows into my side, nails dragging over my abs.

"I want this to work," he says.

I nod and kiss him until we fall asleep.