They called him uncouth and wild, bloodthirsty and cruel. They called him vicious and dangerous.

He was a monster, they said. He was a creature that lived only for the blood and the kill, for the next battle and his next gruesome victory. His name was whispered in darkened corners, his one-eyed stare enough to send weaker men scurrying like insects out of his way, even if he hadn’t noticed their presence in the first place.

He wasn’t to be trusted, and few would dare show him their unguarded backs. They said that there wasn’t a gentle bone in his large body, that surely the child was crazy for wanting to believe her “Ken-chan” was a good man. Or perhaps even good was too strong of a word.

They said he was a man who could not be tamed, could not be taught. Most of all, he was a man who could not be saved, if anyone was even brave enough to dare try.

And while Kuchiki Byakuya was not afraid, he was by no means attempting to rescue said person or even endeavoring to domesticate such a feral man. If there was one thing he refused to change about his lover, it was the raw danger that the man exuded from every pore. It was challenging; it was potent. Most of all, it was tantalizing, especially to one used to receiving bows and having others scramble to fulfill his every whim.

If there was one thing that Zaraki Kenpachi did not do, it was bow. He had never scraped to anyone, whether they were his superior or not.

Byakuya liked Kenpachi for this reason. The man was a challenge, a mystery. Men followed him devotedly. Perceptive children clung to his shoulder, chirping with glee as they raced off into combat. On the battlefield, he was a simple but terrifying presence, and yet, his hands had the capacity to be gentle. It was a startling contrast that simply boggled the Kuchiki heir’s mind.

Despite his strange and rather unorthodox way of thinking, Zaraki was obviously doing something right. Near as he could tell, there were very few other reasons that Byakuya would end up in the eleventh division captain’s chambers, trading witty banter over a bottle of fine sake. It was their usual dance before the real battle began.

Wild, they said. Hmm, Byakuya supposed that was true.

He drank his sake elegantly, watching the other man’s movements over the rim. Kenpachi dumped the entire bowl into his mouth before quickly pouring another, belching loudly. Rude, uncouth… yes, Byakuya supposed that was true as well.

“Tell me, hime. Has anyone e’er pick on ya for havin’ that damn flowery bankai?”

Silver eyes blinked, perfectly composed as Byakuya arched a finely sculpted brow. Interpreting drunk-speech was becoming an art form for him, especially after having Renji for a vice-captain.

“I do not believe anyone has that much courage.”

Kenpachi threw back his head and laughed, deep and mirthful, before centering his one-eyed gaze on his companion again. “Bet they were thinkin’ it though.”

Despite himself, Byakuya felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps.”

The sake bottle clattered to the table as Kenpachi slumped forward in his position on the floor, balancing his chin on his fist, his elbow resting on his knee. “You don’t talk a lot, do ya, hime?”

The other man laid down his bowl, returning Zaraki’s stare with his own. “And you talk far too much.”

“More a man o’ action, hmm?” The eleventh division captain grinned, his sharp teeth glittering in the dim light.

Byakuya tilted his head to the side, a smirk wanting to grace his mouth. He held back, of course; this was the part where it really started to get interesting.

“Something like that,” he answered, eyes glinting with the prospect of a challenge.

Kenpachi laughed again, just as hearty, before his hand snaked out, grasping the front of Byakuya’s shinigami robes. He dragged the other man closer to bring their lips together. No apologies, no permission, just thrusting his sake-drenched tongue into the Kuchiki heir’s mouth. Still, it wasn’t that Byakuya minded, and he just placed his hands on the taller man’s face and deepened the kiss.

Danger was such a heady aphrodisiac, after all.

A cruel monster, they said. Byakuya wasn’t too sure about that. Fierce, aggressive even, he corrected as there was a nip to his bottom lip, drawing a trickle of blood. Well, he could even give them bloodthirsty to an extent. Hands began tugging at his robes in carefully directed movements, ones that could have been brutal if he truly lacked control.

Honestly, Zaraki might have been all those things, and it wouldn’t have bothered the Kuchiki heir in the slightest.

To him, Kenpachi was the thrill of the forbidden.