（ her irreverence actually makes him laugh, the levity easing the strain of the situation. because it's easy, because it's something that's familiar — a friend threatening him with physical violence has never really failed to land with him. ）

Okay. Deal. Actually, you're probably better off kicking me in the — well.

（ an embarrassed little upwards jerk of his shoulders. she's a girl, she probably knows what he's implying. not that he really wants to take a kick to the balls, but he's been punched in the face a lot more than he's taken a blow to the junk, and he's pretty sure he'd just ignore the former if sufficiently motivated, so. you know. safety measures.

but he does obey her, taking first one halting step and then another until they're almost breathing the same air. ）

I — you should. Can you be on top? If we're gonna — if that's what you want to do.

（ look he cannot even bring himself to be direct about it. he's too ripped apart by lust and a pain so alike what he felt after the dangai, after aizen. his focus is slipping, and the only thing he knows is that he wants to touch her bare skin. unbidden and without permission, his good hand goes to her hip, fingers bunching in the fabric there. something in his mind that feels so much like shiro is a bleak whisper, telling him how easily he could just rip it apart, off of her, reveal the skin he almost feels like he wants to devour beneath the haze of wild desire. he has to make himself let go of it, and it's an effort.

he swallows, audibly and painfully, and then he steps around her. is it. should he — get undressed? he hooks his hand along the bottom of his shirt and peels it off in an easy gesture, and then he drops a hand against his belt. breathes out hard. ）

Are you — are you sure. Please. If you're not I need you to leave right now.