Bleach 1. Contents

Welcome to my collection of Bleach fics. This page will contain a list of the fics I archive in this collection, with the individual ratings, summaries and warnings for each of them. More detail can be found on the actual chapter notes, if necessary.

Over the next few weeks I will be moving my individual Bleach stories to this collection, and adding the ones that have never been posted to this site to them. After that I will be posting new stories here as well, as well as posting them to livejournal.

Constructive criticism is appreciated. Flames are not. If you don't pay attention to warnings and ratings, please don't complain about finding something you don't like in my stories.

If you would like to request a fic, then leave me a review or send me a PM with a character/pairing and a prompt. I won't do **bestiality** (any pairing where one character is not human/humanoid), **necrophilia**, **paedophilia**, **incest**, **scat**, **watersports** or **extreme (physical) age differences** though, so please no requests for any of those kinks.

oO0

1) **Treachery** - Yumichika's shelter from a blizzard isn't as safe as he expected it to be; NC-17, yaoi, non-con, violence, language, bondage(?) (27/5/2009)

2) **Reaction** - A trip into Rukongai goes wrong for young Kuchiki Byakuya; PG-13, hints of non-con (4/6/2009)*

3) **Research Interruption** - Shunsui interrupts Jyuushirou's research time in the library; NC-17, yaoi (7/12/2008)

4) **Saturday Night** - Yumichika teaches a couple of thugs a lesson; PG-13, language, violence (24/6/2009)*

5) **Pain** - Kira gets more than he expected when he encounters Ichigo's Hollow on a rooftop; NC-17, yaoi, bondage, rough sex, violence, language (7/5/2009)

6) **Disturbance** - Byakuya is disturbed while doing his paperwork; PG-13, shounen-ai (16/6/2009)

7) **Distraction** - Grimmjow's distraction of Ichigo takes a turn that he wasn't expecting; NC-17, yaoi (16/12/2008)

8) **Encounter** - Ryuuken encounters something in the park that he didn't expect; NC-17, yaoi, non-con, light bondage (18/2/2009)

9) **First Meeting** - Ikkaku meets someone in a rough bar who looks a little out of place; PG-13, language, violence (7/7/2009)*

10) **Victory** - Grimmjow's longed for victory over Ichigo finally arrives; NC-17, yaoi, non-con, bondage, language, violence, torture (7/7/2009)

11) **Defence Mechanisms** - Komamura accepts Ichigo's offer of a place to stay for the night. Neither of them expect what happens next; R, yaoi, extremely dubious consent, bordering on non-con (15/7/2009)

12) **Promotions** - New Captain Zaraki Kenpachi deals with a pair of trouble-makers; G (31/7/2009)*

13) **A Pleasant Surprise** - Ikkaku's been hearing a voice in his head. Why?; G (3/8/2009)*

14) **Captured** - Byakuya wakes up in the aftermath of the events of ep 231; G, **spoilers for episode 231**, very mild torture (5/8/2009)

15) **Beauty Multiplied** - This meeting could be the most beautiful disaster ever to happen; G, possible Yumichika-related spoilers (5/8/2009)*

16) **Beauty Shared** - Byakuya is in Yumichika's usual training spot, and curious about a childhood memory involving the other man; R, mild violence, yaoi (9/8/2009)*

17) **Absence** - Ikkaku looks for Yumichika; PG, implied character death (18/09/2009)

18) **Promise** - Hisagi finds out what Yumichika's zanpakutou can really do; PG, spoilers for Yumichika's zanpakutou's abilities. (18/09/2009)

19) **Jealousy** - Ikkaku comes across a rather private scene; G (26/09/2009)*

20) **Guilty** - Urahara is guilty; R, mentions of non-explicit sex with a minor (18/11/2009)

21) **Lost** - I wanted to tell you you're beautiful, but now it's too late; NC-17, yaoi, non-con, angst (15/12/2009)

22) **Together** - They're best friends, but maybe that's not all they can be; U, shonen-ai, fluff (2/3/2010)

23) **To Cleanse a Guilty Conscience** - Renji's straying eyes and wandering hands get him in trouble; 15, yaoi, bondage, whipping (4/3/2010)

24) **Bitter Choice** - He was too slow and now he's a prisoner, but why did Aizen spare his life?; 15, yaoi, aphrodisiac, non-con (5/3/2010)

25) **Secrets** - Hichigo will keep Ichigo's dirty little secret, and hopefully one day that will pay off; 18, yaoi, voyeurism, unsafe BDSM practices (5/3/2010)

26) **To Repay A Debt Owed** - Renji always pleasures Byakuya without demanding anything in return. Now it's time for Byakuya to repay him, if Renji will let him; 15, dub-con, strong hints of past prostitution and abuse, bondage, language (24/03/2010)

27) **Trap** - Shuuhei fought as hard as he could, but this Hollow was just too strong; 15, non-con, tentacles, bondage (28/03/2010)

28) **Helping The King** - Hichigo wishes it didn't have to be like this, but he'll help his King for as long as he needs to; 18, rough sex, language (31/03/2010)

29) **Behind Closed Doors** - Behind closed doors Ichigo is not the man he is in public; 18, bondage, dom/sub (23/05/2010)

30) **Bleach Muses birthday sentences** - twelve sentences from the May birthday challenge on Bleach_Muses; 18, non-con, character death (23/05/2010)

31) **Overtime** - Hitsugaya is working overtime and Ichigo is trying to hide; U (01/06/2010)

32) **Catharsis** - Ichigo and Tatsuki work something out; U (20/07/2010)

33) **Pursuit** - If Kensei wants Shuuhei, first he has to catch him; 15, hand job, AU, language (21/07/2010)

34) **Want** - Renji and Ichigo are prisoners of war; 15, AU (25/07/2010)

35) **Cancer** - Shuuhei is angry, bitter, drunk and not happy about being followed; 15, almost non-con (20/09/2010)

36) **Fear** - Zaraki doesn't know fear; 18 (05/11/2010)

37) **Celebration** - Kira and Renji have a private celebration. PWP; 18, bondage (08/11/2010)

38) **Stubborn Little Bastard** - Every winter Seireitei is plagued with illness, and this year it's Yumichika's turn; PG (10/11/2010)

39) **Bound In Silk** - Byakuya comes home to a surprise; 15, bondage (17/11/2010)

40) **Sprain** - A minor injury for Ichigo leads to an understanding with Isshin; U (30/11/2010)

41) **BrEaK** - After Aizen's defeat, Grimmjow goes looking for Ichigo; 18, **torture, rape, DARK!FIC **(17/02/2011)

42) **SIX Feelings** - After breaking Ichigo, Grimmjow decides to keep him; 18, character death, past torture, DARK!FIC (16/03/2011)

43) **Proposal** - Yumichika has a surprise for Rangiku; U (2/4/2011)

44) **Home Invasion** - Byakuya is surprised at home; 18, (spoilery warning at the bottom of the chapter) (14/04/2011)

Fics labelled with a * are part of what has come to be known as The Series, a group of interconnected Ikkaku and Yumichika fics, with occasional input from other characters. They go, in chronological order; 9, 13, 15, 2, 12, 4, 16, 19


	2. Treachery

**Title:** Treachery  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** non-con, violence, blood, language, yaoi, bondage(?)  
**Summary:** Yumichika's shelter from a blizzard isn't as safe as he expected it to be.  
**Word Count:** 2998  
**Notes:** thanks to **tea_fiend** and **agenttrojie** for betaing.

--

Snow crunched underfoot as Yumichika trudged along the barely visible path through the trees, arm raised to shield his face from the wind-driven snow that was still falling. His hakama clung wetly to his legs and his other hand held his kosode tightly closed. It was a miserable day to be out, the weather bad enough to kill an unprepared or weak man, and Yumichika cursed internally for not reading the signs and choosing more appropriate clothing before setting out. His sheathed zanpakutou whipped against his legs, and he wished he'd had the foresight to at least tie it to the backpack he carried, instead of in its usual place on his sash.

Cliffs loomed ahead, and Yumichika smiled weakly, spluttering as he got a mouthful of snow for his action. His destination wasn't far now, and he renewed his efforts to push through the blizzard that swirled around him. The path led right up to the cliff face, which was clear of snow and sheltered from the wind that blew from the north. Small gusts of stray wind still occasionally whipped at him, but they didn't concern him as he slipped into an almost invisible opening in the rocks.

Inside the cave was warm, by virtue of being out of the wind and snow, and signs of occupation littered the floor. A small shrine lay undisturbed at the far end, and it was here that Yumichika went first.

"I'm back, Yahiko-sensei. I kept my promise, as I always do." Yumichika crouched in silence by the shrine, which contained a crudely drawn picture of a smiling old man, for a few moments before standing again. "I can stay a few days this time. Eleventh Division is on stand-down right now, due to Zaraki-taichou and Ikkaku getting themselves injured fighting a whole nest of Hollows by themselves. Really, you'd think they'd have learned by now, how to judge when they actually do need some backup in a fight. It wasn't like it was one on one, at least until they'd killed all of them while barely standing. That's why I stay with them though, I guess. I love them. They're like family to me."

As he talked, Yumichika rearranged the cave for his own purposes. A fire was soon crackling in the fire-pit, its smoke rising to a hidden natural vent in the ceiling, the rough bedding was laid near to the fire and a battered kettle hung over the flames, having been filled with snow from outside. The pack lay against the wall, zanpakutou next to it and wet clothes beside it as Yumichika changed into dry clothes that had been protected in the waterproof bag.

"The weather out there is pretty awful, sensei. It's possible that no one will show up this year. They'd be risking their lives to come here in that blizzard." Yumichika smiled and sat by the fire, a bowl full of vegetables in front of him and a knife in his hand. "I'll just have to have patience, won't I?"

"So this is where ya come to, Ayasegawa-goseki? I always wondered why ya slipped away at the same time ev'ry year," someone drawled from the entrance. Yumichika looked up, narrowing his eyes as he saw his visitor.

"Ichimaru-fukutaichou, sorry, taichou? What are you doing here?" Yumichika resisted the urge to grab Ruri'iro Kujaku from the wall to defend himself. There was no need, despite the subtle menace given off by Ichimaru. They were both Shinigami, both on the same side.

"Sat'sfyin' my curiosity. What's the signif'cance of this place to you?" Ichimaru peered around the cave, seeming to take in every detail despite his perpetually closed eyes.

"Before I met Ikkaku, on a night like this, I collapsed in the forest outside, alone, with no food, and wearing thin clothing that was barely enough to cover my upper body and legs. I would have died, if Yahiko-sensei hadn't been returning from a trading trip with the nearest village and found me lying in the snow. He took me in, told me I could stay until the storm was over. He broke his leg the second day I was here though, and I remained to help him. It was over three years before I left in the end. He died shortly after I became a Shinigami, on this day."

"So ya come all the out here ta honour his mem'ry and... what?" Ichimaru was by the fire now, his hidden gaze making Yumichika feel like a trapped rabbit cornered by a hungry snake. He mentally shook away the feeling and concentrated on peeling the carrot he still held in his hand. He wasn't some powerless child to be terrified by the mere presence of a Captain.

"The villagers come up here sometimes. Yahiko-sensei was always capable of sensing reiryoku in a person. He taught me how to control mine, way back then. I promised to perform the same service for any villager who came to me at this time every year."

"Imagine tha', an Eleventh Divis'ner teachin' control. Then again, ya do seem to be the sens'ble one of the current command structure." Ichimaru was still standing by the fire, and Yumichika's instincts were screaming at him to flee, to grab Ruri'iro Kujaku and run back into the storm, away from the predator that stood over him. Ruthlessly he squashed the feeling, but he did shift his grip on the knife slightly, to hold it more securely in his hand.

"Did you come out here to mock me, Ichimaru-taichou?"

"Mock ya? No, I wouldn't do that." Ichimaru was fast, even by Shinigami standards, and the blade clattered to the rocky ground as Yumichika was sent sprawling backwards, defenceless. He scrambled to his feet, wincing as his wrist twinged where Ichimaru's hand had smacked away the knife.

"Ain't you goin' ta defend yerself, Ayasegawa-goseki?" Ichimaru was just standing there, where Yumichika had been sitting, seemingly unconcerned by the venomous look he was being given. "I didn't think it would be this easy fer me ta beat an Eleventh Divis'n officer."

Yumichika shunpo'd to Ruri'iro Kujaku, drawing the temperamental zanpakutou smoothly and discarding the sheath. "I never thought that a Captain of the Gotei Thirteen would sink so low as to attack another officer without reason, Ichimaru-taichou."

"I have a reason, though. Ya jus' don't know it yet," Ichimaru said, vanishing from Yumichika's sight.

Yumichika whirled, blocking Ichimaru's zanpakutou inches away from his back. "Coward," he hissed, pushing Ichimaru back and counter-attacking. The longer reach of Ruri'iro Kujaku gave him the advantage over Ichimaru's wakizashi-like blade, and Ichimaru was soon retreating from Yumichika's attacks. It was easy, in Yumichika's opinion, maybe a bit too easy to defeat a Captain.

"Ya haven't beat me yet, Ayasegawa-goseki." Ichimaru vanished again, and Yumichika looked around cautiously for any sign of his location. There were many nooks and crannies in the cave, passages leading off to what used to be storerooms and a now-blocked back entrance. "Ikorose, Shinsou."

Yumichika saw the glittering lance too late to do more than move the bulk of his body out of the way, and the point hit him in his left shoulder. The force of the blow knocked him back, and the retreating blade pulling out of his flesh yanked him forwards again.

"Is that your shikai, Ichimaru-taichou?" Yumichika shunpo'd to where the attack had come from, but the dark corner was empty. "How fitting that your zanpakutou allows you to strike from the shadows like a coward." He brought his own zanpakutou up to chest height, holding it horizontally across his body and smiling. "Let me show you mine. Sake, Fuji Kujaku."

The sword in Yumichika's hand changed shape, twisting to a sickle-shaped blade with the cutting edge on the inside. With a flick of Yumichika's wrist the single blade unfolded into four identical ones, and he spun and blocked another strike with them, trapping the spear-like blade in his own.

"Yer better than I thought ya would be, Ayasegawa-goseki. No' many people can block an attack from Shinsou." The blade retracted as Ichimaru spoke, and Yumichika heard the rustle of fabric as he changed his hiding place again. "Still, how long can ya keep it up, I wonder?"

"Long enough," Yumichika said, casting his eyes around for any sign of Ichimaru. _'I hope.'_

_-Use me properly. We can defeat him beautifully then, instead of being defeated in an ugly way.-_

_'No. There is no guarantee he'll keep our secret.'_

_-He will if you kill him.-_

_'He's a _Captain_, Kujaku. I'd never get away with that.'_

_-Then you have no right to complain when he defeats you.-_

_'I doubt that I will be able to complain, Kujaku.'_ Yumichika blocked another strike aimed at his back as his zanpakutou's presence retreated to the back of his mind. The conversation had taken only a few seconds, which was more than enough time for Ichimaru to reposition himself for another attack. Yumichika growled and pushed Shinsou's blade away.

"You are a coward, Ichimaru-taichou. How did someone so afraid of attacking a lowly Fifth Seat head on become a Captain?" Yumichika lowered Kujaku as he spoke, leaving himself open, hoping that this would work. Ichimaru seemed to be a distance fighter, using his zanpakutou's extension ability to strike from out of reach of his opponent. If he could be taunted into a close range fight, maybe Yumichika would have an advantage. "Why don't you show yourself and fight blade-to-blade?"

Yumichika gasped as Ichimaru's reiatsu filled the cave, pressing down on him like a heavy weight, trying to force him to his knees. Gulping convulsively, he forced his trembling body to stay standing under the immense pressure. Eleventh Division did not bow to cowards who couldn't even fight fairly. Yumichika was one of Zaraki's chosen men, one of the few who were strong enough to stay at his side no matter what the situation. This was nothing.

"Yer strong, Ayasegawa-goseki. I never knew a Fifth Seat who could stay standin' under even this much of a Captain's reiatsu before. I s'pose bein' 'round tha' brute ya call a Captain does have its uses." Ichimaru stepped out from the shadows, Shinsou held loosely in his hand, at its sealed size once again. "I could fight ya man-ta-man, I guess."

He struck again, fast as a snake, and Yumichika barely blocked it. Again and again the rogue Captain attacked, and every time Yumichika blocked with a superhuman effort. His limbs felt like lead, and his feet refused to move from where he stood. _'He's toying with me,'_ Yumichika realised, _'he could kill me any time he wished.'_

"I'm gettin' bored now," Ichimaru said, taking a few steps back and raising his zanpakutou to shoulder height. "Yer better than most of yer rank would be. Ikorose, Shinsou."

Yumichika was unable to evade, and Kujaku dropped from his hand as Shinsou punched through his right shoulder, knocking him back into the wall. This time the blade didn't retreat, but it did shorten as Ichimaru walked towards him, a smug grin on his face. "Yer not good enough though."

"Fucking cowardly bastard," Yumichika spat, lashing out with his injured left arm. Ichimaru casually grabbed the limb and twisted, making Yumichika scream in pain as his elbow dislocated.

"Tha' wasn't very nice, Ayasegawa-goseki. I thought yer was the polite one of the band of thugs tha' runs the Eleventh Divis'n." Ichimaru let Yumichika's arm drop limply, letting go of Shinsou's hilt at the same time. "Look at ya, pinned ta the wall like a little butterfly on a board."

Yumichika tensed as Ichimaru's long fingers pressed into the wound in his left shoulder, whimpers escaping from his lips as he suppressed the scream that threatened to tear from his throat. Ichimaru trailed his bloody fingers up Yumichika's neck and face, pressing them to his lips as if encouraging him to suck them clean of his own blood. When Yumichika refused with bared teeth, daring Ichimaru to force him and risk his fingers, Ichimaru simply grinned and took the bloody digits in his own mouth, licking them with unholy glee.

"You're sick, Ichimaru-taichou," Yumichika growled, glaring at his captor. "You kill me and the only thing you'll have to worry about is if Zaraki-taichou or Ikkaku will tear you apart first." Yumichika kicked out, trying to force Ichimaru back so he could remove the blade still stuck through flesh and muscle. "That is, if I don't kill you first."

"Who said I was goin' ta kill ya, Ayasegawa-goseki?" Ichimaru said, looking at Yumichika like he was an interesting insect specimen. "Yer even prettier when yer covered in sweat and yer own blood. Did ya know tha', Ay-as-e-ga-wa-kun?" A wave of reiatsu slammed into Yumichika, pressing him against the rock wall, constricting his chest so he couldn't breathe and paralysing his muscles so he couldn't even blink. Ichimaru ran his hand down Yumichika's face, as if he were a trusted lover, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Poor little thing. Can't do anythin' but slowly choke under this pressure. Ya've never felt anythin' like this before, I'll bet. So helpless, so weak, yer life drainin' away at the whim of someone else."

Yumichika's head sagged, too heavy for his tired neck to hold up under the pressure, and he could do nothing but watch, his vision beginning to blur, as Ichimaru's other hand roughly tore at his hakama and fundoshi. He desperately tried to force his muscles to bend to his will, but Ichimaru's reiatsu was much too strong.

"Tha' look of terror is jus' too cute, Ayasegawa-kun. If I'd known how much fun ya could be, I'd have done this a long time ago," Ichimaru crooned softly. The oppressive reiatsu lessened slightly as he roughly forced Yumichika's legs apart, allowing the Fifth Seat to breathe again but nothing more. Shinsou scraped against bone and nerve as Ichimaru pulled Yumichika's body up and forwards, allowing him to position himself at Yumichika's entrance before he roughly forced his way inside. Ichimaru's hands dug into Yumichika's shoulders, the bruising grip the only thing stopping the rough thrusts from causing even more damage from the blade still pinning Yumichika to the wall. "Tha's good. Cry fer me, little insect." Ichimaru licked at the traitorous tears trailing down Yumichika's face, his tongue briefly flicking against Yumichika's parted lips as he did so. "No' this time, Ayasegawa-kun," he whispered, in response to an unbidden whimper.

The reiatsu returned again as Ichimaru came with a harsh cry, the force of it enough to knock Yumichika into blessed oblivion. He didn't notice as Ichimaru pulled out of him and retrieved Shinsou from his shoulder, nor did he notice the small wave that his attacker gave to someone in a shadowed alcove on the other side of the cave.

--

Yumichika tried to sit up, his muscles screaming in agony, and flopped back onto the rough bed with a sigh. Movement nearby made him turn his head, and he frowned with confusion as he saw the Fifth Division Captain tending to the fire nearby. "Aizen-taichou? Wha' happened?"

"You're a very lucky man, Ayasegawa-kun. Most Shinigami of your rank wouldn't have been able to take on the Hollow that were hiding in this cave by themselves," Aizen said, smiling kindly at Yumichika. "You would have died from the wounds you sustained if I hadn't been following you out of my own curiosity. Despite your skill they managed to injure you in several places, including both your shoulders and your left arm. I considered taking you back to Seireitei, to Fourth Division, for treatment, but the blizzard was too strong."

"I..." Yumichika sat up to face Aizen, forcing his muscles to obey him and wincing as he felt something open in his shoulder. He scowled as he tried to call up memories of the fight Aizen claimed he'd been in but failed. "I don't remember fighting any Hollow. I can remember releasing Fuji Kujaku, but nothing more."

"One of them threw you into the wall," Aizen gestured at a patch of rock, which Yumichika saw was stained with blood, "and you hit your head. I healed a wound there that may account for your loss of memory."

"I see." It was as likely an explanation as any, Yumichika thought. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen the same happen to Ikkaku on occasion, during their time in Rukongai. "Thank you, Aizen-taichou, for saving my life." He bowed his head to the Captain.

Aizen stood up, retrieving his sword from where it lay next to Ruri'iro Kujaku. He bowed to Yumichika and shook his head. "There is no need to thank me. It is my duty to do everything in my power to assist another officer of the Gotei Thirteen. Do you feel capable of moving?"

"I can't leave yet, Aizen-taichou." Yumichika wouldn't break his promise to his old sensei, wouldn't leave without giving the villagers a chance to speak with him if they needed his help.

"If it is about the people of the village near here, several of them have already been to visit. You've been asleep nearly three days, Ayasegawa-kun. Don't worry," Aizen said softly, "only one of them needed to be taught how to control their growing reiryoku. The others were all there out of a feeling of safety in numbers, due to the Hollow that had been attacking the village recently. The Hollow that you have already taken care of."

Yumichika stood up, stumbling as sleep-weakened muscles tried to give way under his weight. He bowed to Aizen, unable to think of the words needed to express his gratitude. "I think I can follow you, Aizen-taichou. Maybe not at speed though, so please don't worry if I fall behind."

"I'll wait for you, Ayasegawa-kun." Yumichika missed the sinister smile that crossed Aizen's face briefly as he retrieved his pack and zanpakutou. "It wouldn't do for you to have an accident before we reach Seireitei, would it?"


	3. Reaction

**Title:** Reaction  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** hints of non-con  
**Summary:** A trip into Rukongai goes wrong for young Kuchiki Byakuya.  
**Word Count:** 1430  
**Notes:** Set before the Turn Back The Pendulum arc. Minor spoilers for then. Beta'd, as usual, by the indispensable **tea_fiend**.

--

Byakuya jerked awake, reaching instinctively for his reiatsu as he strained to get at the rough-looking man sitting opposite him. The ropes holding him to what felt like a massive rock didn't give way, and his reiatsu lay dormant, not responding to his attempts to command it.

"Give up, Kuchiki-hime," the man said, leering at Byakuya. "Those ropes have suppression seals on them. Maybe a Captain or Lieutenant could break them, but you're a long way from that, aren't you?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" Byakuya pulled himself as straight as he could, ignoring the throbbing ache in his skull and the uneven bits of rock digging into his back, and glared at his captor.

"I'm the one you have to listen to, brat. And shouldn't it be obvious what I want?" The man sneered and rubbed the thumb and first two fingers of his left hand together. "Money, as much as I can get out of the Kuchiki clan for your safe return."

"You are insane. They'll kill you first," Byakuya stated calmly.

"They'd have to first know you were missing, and second, know how to find you. I can guarantee that not one of your guards escaped from my men alive. Your tutor and a couple of the prettier guards are entertaining my men in some of the other rooms. Maybe, if you behave, I'll let you decide which one of them gets mercy." The man crossed the room quickly and grasped Byakuya's jaw, forcing him to look up. "If you don't behave, you'll be begging for death before I've finished with you."

The man let go of Byakuya's jaw and walked away without another word, picking up the single lantern as he exited the windowless room, leaving Byakuya completely in the dark. The young noble's head dropped onto his chest as he thought back to his capture.

_"You see, not all of Rukongai is a complete slum, Byakuya-sama," Ayame said, pointing out some of the buildings that lined the clean, paved street they walked down. "This street is mostly food vendors, for those that like the taste and smell of food even if they don't require it to survive. Of course, to provide the food there are farms in the middle districts, which we won't be visiting today."_

Byakuya looked around at the people that moved aside as the small group made their way along the street. Some of these people were well clothed, for commoners, but others were dressed in rags. The few children that he could see ran around in bare feet, dodging and darting between adult legs to wherever they were going. One of these children bumped into him, having somehow got past the guards, and he stumbled slightly.

"Sorry, mister, didn't mean ta hit ya," the kid yelled as he vanished into the crowd, evading the grasping hands that tried to restrain him.

It was only a few seconds later that the crowd itself scattered, vanishing into shops whose owners locked their doors and barred their windows. Byakuya looked ahead to see a group of rough-dressed men armed with swords, clubs and spears blocking their path, outnumbering them at least three to one. The clatter of shingles made him look up to the rooftops, where a handful of archers stood with arrows nocked to bows. Byakuya's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, determined to help his guards drive off these thugs, even though his sword was only an asauchi still.

"Protect Ayame-sama please, Byakuya-sama," one of the guards said, deflecting an arrow aimed for Byakuya, "and please, return to Seireitei as fast as you can. We'll hold them here."

That, as it turned out, had been impossible. Whoever the thugs were, they'd anticipated the retreat and Byakuya, Ayame and the two guards that accompanied them were soon overwhelmed. Byakuya had killed two of the thugs himself, and wounded a few more, before he'd been clubbed over the head from behind by a dishonourable attacker.

Byakuya's head had stopped aching by the time the man returned with the lantern. His plain yukata was open now, and stained all down the front. Byakuya pressed back into the rock as the smell of cheap alcohol assaulted his nostrils when the man reached down to ruffle his hair. No, Byakuya realised, this wasn't the same man that had been in the room when he'd woken up.

"Yer a quiet little brat, ain't ya? Why ain't ya screaming? Scared we'll think yer one of them whores we brought back wit' ya?" Byakuya glared and shifted away from the man's touch as much as he could, breathing shallowly to avoid taking in too much of the stench. "Don' worry. I'll treat ya better than I did that whore who killed my friends."

The man's grip tightened on Byakuya's hair, and he roughly pulled his yukata aside to reveal his half-hard cock, which he pressed insistently against Byakuya's lips. When Byakuya refused to open his mouth the man pinched his nose, shoving his cock into Byakuya's mouth as soon as he opened it to take a breath.

Byakuya growled around the intrusion. Who was stupid enough to do this with an obviously unwilling person? The grip on his hair loosened slightly, the man obviously thinking he had Byakuya subdued, and Byakuya flexed his jaw before biting down as hard as he could.

The man pulled back with a screech, stumbling and falling as he tripped over Byakuya's outstretched legs. A knife fell from his sash, and Byakuya carefully used his feet to manoeuvre it so he could grab the handle. He could hear more screams from the other rooms as he awkwardly sawed through the ropes and pulled himself to his feet. He couldn't see his sword in the room - at least the leader of this group was intelligent anyway - so he gripped the blade firmly, glad that he'd been taught to fight with a knife as well as a sword, and slowly entered the hall, after kicking the would-be rapist in the head to make sure he stayed put.

"Dem... Yoruichi?" Byakuya asked, seeing a flicker of purple hair as three thugs collapsed in pools of their own blood.

"Y'know, Byakuya-bo, if you wanted to spend more time with me you could have just asked," Yoruichi replied, from right behind Byakuya. He jumped and spun, slashing out with the knife in his surprise. Yoruichi caught the blade in her hand, waving someone off with her other one, and grinned at him. "What sort of greeting is that? Oi, Soifon, Kisuke, you two done yet?"

"I am finished, Yoruichi-sama." Soifon appeared behind Yoruichi, kneeling with her head down, causing Yoruichi to sigh and let go of Byakuya's wrist in order to ruffle the girl's hair.

"Of course. I even found this," Urahara said, stepping out from a side room and holding up a sheathed sword, which he threw to Byakuya. He ran his hand through his hair and grinned at Byakuya. "All bandits confirmed dead, one hostage retrieved. Sorry, Kuchiki, but they killed the other three some time ago."

"I will make sure that their families are informed of their bravery," Byakuya said, looking around the bloodstained hallway. "Where's the rest of the squad?"

"What rest of the squad?" Yoruichi said, laying her arm over Byakuya's shoulder. "The three of us are all that's needed for a bunch of bandits." She gently steered Byakuya out of the house and into the fresh air. "Officially we're on a training exercise, but those guys weren't even good for a warm up."

"They killed my guards." Byakuya stopped and bit his lip, looking down at the floor, fighting back unmanly tears. "They died protecting me."

Yoruichi knelt down next to him, gently lifting his chin so she could look him in the eye. "Listen, Byakuya-bo, this is the way it is. You're going to be Sixth Division Captain one day, just as Ginrei is now. Even before that day you're going to be a commander of men. People will always be dying, be it while following your orders or while protecting you from threats that you can't defend against. The best thing you can do is make sure those deaths are never in vain. Understood, Byakuya?"

He nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, hugged her. His slightly annoying big sister-slash-quirky aunt wouldn't steer him wrong -

"Now, d'you want an ice cream on the way back to Seireitei? I know this place that'll put anything on it, even wasabi sauce or cat nip."

- Except when it came to food.


	4. Research Interruption

**Title:** Research Interruption  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** None  
**Summary:** Shunsui interrupts Jyuushirou's research time in the library  
**Word Count:** 645  
**Notes:** Written under my **ansela_jonla** account for the library sex prompt over at **pornandkittens**. Unbeta'd.

--

It was Shunsui's fault, Jyuushirou would always say later. Shunsui and his perpetual state of horniness and his inability to judge what was an appropriate place for certain activities. Not that Jyuushirou tried very hard to escape when strong arms wrapped around his chest and a hot mouth latched onto his throat and began to suck, distracting him from his research into what was quickly becoming a boring subject.

"Jyuu, need you now," Shunsui moaned, in that way that always sent a spike of lust straight to Jyuushirou's groin. "Want you bent over that table, the one Nanao always insists on working at, panting and begging for me to pound into you harder and faster."

"Don't you think," Jyuushirou paused to get his breath back, grinding his ass against Shunsui's hard length, "that it might be hard to explain if Nanao decides she wants to do some work in here?"

"She still has that invitation to join us," Shunsui's hands slipped under Jyuushirou's kimono, skilled fingers seeking out Jyuushirou's nipples and tweaking the dusky pink bumps.

Pulling away from Shunsui's embrace, Jyuushirou spun round and pushed his old friend against the shelves on the other side of the narrow aisle, a wicked smirk on his normally kind face. "I have a better idea, Shun. _I_ take _you_ now, against these books, with you moaning like a cheap Rukongai whore for me to continue."

Jyuushirou pressed two fingers against Shunsui's lips, moaning in delight as the other Captain took them into his mouth and began licking and sucking them as enthusiastically as if they were a hard cock. One-handed he untied both their hakama, letting them slip down to the floor, and began to stroke Shunsui's arousal.

Shunsui released Jyuushirou's fingers from his mouth and pulled his head down for a searing kiss. His tongue swept into Jyuushirou's hot mouth and plundered it relentlessly, his arms wrapping around Jyuushirou's neck as he distracted himself from the burn of saliva-coated fingers stretching his entrance.

"Suck!" Jyuushirou commanded, pushing Shunsui's head down to his engorged cock, with little resistance from the physically stronger man. He tangled his hands in dark brown hair, toying with Shunsui's hair tie and pinwheel hairpin, before using the long strands to pull his lover away from his cock.

Jyuushirou shoved Shunsui into the shelves face first, his hands held high above his head away from his weeping cock, and pressed into him slowly, revelling in the sensation of Shunsui's tight passage around his own aching penis. Just as slowly he pulled out again, setting a tortuously slow pace as he kissed and nipped the back of Shunsui's neck and shoulders.

"Jyuu... faster..." Shunsui gasped after a few minutes, bucking under Jyuushirou's skilled ministrations. "Please, Jyuu, I need you to go faster."

"What was that, Shun?" Jyuushirou smiled, his lips resting against Shunsui's throbbing pulsepoint on his strong neck, "I didn't quite hear you."

"Please... Jyuu... just fucking move faster already..." Shunsui gasped and arched as Jyuushirou bit down on the junction between neck and shoulder, blood beginning to trickle down his back. "Don't tease... just fuck me. Pound me into the shelves... I'm begging here."

"As you wish." Jyuushirou pulled Shunsui round, shoving his back against the shelves and letting Shunsui's legs wrap around his waist as he pounded into him. Gasps and moans filled the air as both men raced to climax, Shunsui stroking himself while Jyuushirou's strong hands gripped his waist hard enough to leave bruises.

With a shuddering cry they climaxed together, reiatsu swirling in the air around them as Shunsui splattered their chests with cum and Jyuushirou filled Shunsui's ass. They collapsed to the floor together, Jyuushirou still buried in Shunsui, ignoring the trail of semen that leaked from Shunsui to stain the spines of the books, such a detail unimportant in the afterglow of such a powerful orgasm.


	5. Saturday Night

**Title:** Saturday Night  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** language, violence  
**Summary:** Yumichika teaches a couple of thugs a lesson.  
**Word Count:** 522  
**Notes:** Found this on my GDocs and I don't think I've posted it anywhere. Beta'd by the wonderful **tea_fiend**, as usual.

--

"Six beers, please, same as before," Yumichika called, leaning over the sticky bar in order to attract the attention of the bartender, who was flirting with one of the whores. The place was a dump, but it was one of the few places that didn't mind the Eleventh Division's tendency to bar fights.

"Be with ya in a second."

Yumichika grabbed a stool, dislodging its drunken occupant, and perched gingerly on it. The seat was covered in unidentified filth, but he wasn't going to stand while the bartender finished fucking the whore he'd managed to snag.

"Hey there, beautiful. What's such a pretty thing as you doing in a shithole like this?" Yumichika shuddered as a filthy arm slipped around his shoulders and a blast of foetid, alcohol-laden breath hit his nostrils. Really, there was a reason he so rarely bought a round when they came drinking here.

"Remove your arm," Yumichika said, his voice deathly quiet, "or I will remove it for you, along with whatever other parts of your anatomy I wish to take with it."

"I don't think so, sweets," the drunken idiot crowed. A second arm wrapped itself around his waist from the other side, and a even fouler-smelling breath worked its way into Yumichika's protesting nose. "You see, me and my friend haven't had a good set of holes to fill for a while. We're particular, see, don't want just any old whore with who knows what diseases. Then you walk in, all dressed up nice in a clean, fancy yukata and reeking of money. Where's your bodyguard, princess? Think you can handle Rukongai toughs on your own, do you?"

"Last warning, gentlemen. You have five seconds to back off." Those regulars who had good survival instincts or were sober enough to recognise Yumichika scattered from the nearby stools, seeking an area of the bar that was about to be less violent.

"I have a sword, princess. Don't make me use it," the second man warned, his hand slipping under Yumichika's yukata to squeeze his balls. Yumichika smiled and looked at the man, though his expression changed to disgusted when he saw the man's ugliness.

"Oh, that's good. I hate to kill an unarmed man." Yumichika spun and slammed his fist into the side of the first man's head, sending him flying backwards and into several other drinkers with the force of the blow. Turning back to the second man, he saw that the would-be rapist had drawn his sword, a pathetic and battered weapon of the sort normally found in these seedy bars. The man was too drunk to wield it properly, and the application of a bar stool to the head soon rendered him too unconscious to wield it at all.

"Really, gentlemen, you should pick your targets with more care. Fifth Seats are not that easily overcome, you know." Retrieving the money pouches of both men, Yumichika stuffed them in his yukata and, with a grin, threw himself into the barfight that had started after he punched the first man. Booze, barfights and loot, what better way was there to spend a Saturday night?


	6. Pain

**Title:** Pain  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** language, rough sex, bondage, hints of rape, violence, dub-con, dark  
**Summary:** Kira gets more than he expected when he encounters Ichigo's Hollow on a rooftop.  
**Word Count:** 2974  
**Notes:** this is quite probably _the_ most fucked-up thing I've ever written. thanks to the wonderful **tea_fiend** for betaing.

--

Kira skidded to a halt mid-air, his hand dropping to Wabisuke's hilt as he scanned all around him for the source of the disturbance in his patrol. The nearby burst of reiatsu was familiar, in a twisted way, but Kira couldn't think of anyone he knew with such a dark, tainted feel to their soul. Even Ichimaru never felt like this. Pinpointing the source to a rooftop below him, he dropped down to that level and cautiously surveyed the area.

"Yo."

Kira drew Wabisuke as he spun round to face the speaker. He blushed as he saw the unmistakeable orange hair and massive sword of the figure leaning against the chain link fence that surrounded the rooftop. "Kurosaki-san, you startled me," Kira admonished, sheathing Wabisuke. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you only patrolled at weekends now."

"Who said I was patrolling, blondie?" No, Kira realised, this wasn't Kurosaki, despite its appearance. Kurosaki never spoke in such a cold, mocking manner, as if he were only amusing himself to pass the time before he tore your throat out. He reached for Wabisuke again, only for a pale hand to seize his wrist before he could touch the hilt. A second hand closed around his throat, hard enough for him to understand the implicit threat but not enough to shut off his breathing just yet. "I never said that. Nor, Shinigami, did I say I was Kurosaki."

"If you're not Kurosaki-san, then who exactly are you?" Kira knew better than to struggle when caught like this, knew how easily this imposter could do anything from stopping his breathing to ripping his throat out with a single tear. He'd seen and felt it done in the past, and not just by or to enemies on the battlefield.

"I'm everything he's not. His anger, his hate, even his fear. All the things he locks away and refuses to acknowledge for fear they'll make him weak or unworthy. As if he needs the approval of those high and mighty Shinigami," the creature spat, sneering at Kira. "If he worked _with_ me, instead of locking me away all the time, we could beat any of those bastards who tried to fuck with us."

Black spots danced in front of Kira's eyes as the imposter's fingers tightened on his throat. Desperately he scratched at the arm with his free hand, trying to gain purchase so he could pry the choking hand away. The creature sneered as it loosened its grip. "Pathetic fucker. Can't even take a bit of pressure. I should kill you right now, rid the world of your weakness before it can infect anyone else."

"You wouldn't dare," Kira gasped, "they'd hunt you down and kill you. Like you said, Kurosaki won't work with you so you can't beat everyone who might oppose you." It would be tricky, but if he got it just right, he'd be able to draw Wabisuke with his left hand.

"They'd never know it was me. My presence here would be taken as the King coming to help you once he sensed you were in trouble, but arriving too late to save you," it gloated, its grip tightening again. Its eyes narrowed as it saw Kira's left hand moving towards Wabisuke, and it released his throat and grabbed the zanpakuto by its sheath, pulling it from his sash and throwing it across the rooftop. "That was a stupid thing to do, Shinigami. Here I was thinking you'd actually behave."

"I don't surrender to monsters," Kira snapped, twisting his wrist from the creature's grip. "From what you said, I'm guessing that you're some sort of inner Hollow."

"You're smarter than you look, blondie. I might not kill you after all," the Hollow said as it lunged at Kira. It was fast, far faster than Kira remembered Kurosaki being outside of bankai, and he was knocked back by the blow.

He tried to shunpo away, to get to where Wabisuke was stuck in the fence, but the Hollow was faster still. Kira noticed for the first time that its eyes were black with golden irises, and the amused boredom in them shocked him into reacting too slowly to block the blow that knocked him back and into the stairwell wall. This Hollow wasn't motivated by hunger or emptiness or loyalty like the ones Kira had fought and killed in the past. It was bored, and he was its new plaything until it got bored or he overcame it.

"Now you get it. I was starting to wonder if there was any intelligence amongst the Lieutenants of the Gotei Thirteen," it said, pinning him to the wall with a strong arm across his throat. Kira shivered as the monster slipped a pale hand under his kimono, trailing it down his chest, stopping just above his waistline. "Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you," it scolded, shifting its leg to pin the knee that Kira had been about to drive into its groin.

"Get your filthy hands off me," Kira ordered. He wasn't going to let this creature do what it wanted. If it was a part of Kurosaki Ichigo or a separate being from the young substitute, he didn't know or care. Kira wasn't _anyone's_ plaything, not any more.

"And if I don't?"

"Hadou no sanjyuuichi: Shakkahou," Kira said quietly. The red blast burst against the Hollow's chest, splashing back onto Kira as well due to the close range, but all the creature did was laugh and sneer.

"That was bold, Shinigami." The Hollow's free hand slipped inside Kira's hakama as it spoke, tracing a path to his balls. "S'good to see these aren't just for show." Kira gasped as the Hollow squeezed roughly, the pain quickly turning into pleasure, to his disgust.

"I said, get off!" Kira smiled coldly, bringing his hands up to press against the Hollow's chest. "Hadou no gojyuuyon: Haien," he whispered. The purple energy blast flew from his palm, forcing the Hollow to move away from him in order to dodge the high level kidou. "Bakudo no rokujyuuni: Hyapporankan." A golden rod formed in his hand, and he threw it into the air where it split into numerous others that rained down on the Hollow, following it as it spun and ducked in an attempt to escape, eventually pinning it to the roof. "Bakudo no sanjyuu: Shitotsu Sansen." Three beams of light shot out of Kira's palm and formed a perfect triangle that pinned the Hollow even more securely to the concrete.

"Che, wasn't expecting that," the Hollow hissed, arching up to test the strength of its bonds. "Should've known that not all Lieutenants would be as fucking useless at kidou as Red is."

"I meant what I said, Hollow. Don't attempt to break those spells and I won't kill you before Urahara-san arrives to take you to where you can be contained until your fate is decided." Kira reached for the communicator inside his kimono, intending on calling Urahara, only to find nothing there. "I see."

"You want it, you have to find it," the Hollow cackled, thrusting its hips into the air. "You might even enjoy yourself looking for it."

"You're disgusting." Kira wouldn't take the bait. There were other ways to contact a Shinigami. Pulling a marker pen from his sleeve, Kira began the preparations for a tracking kidou. "_Heart of the south, eye of the north, finger of the west, foot of the east, arrive with the wind and depart with the rain._ Hadou no gojyuuhachi: Kakushitsuijaku." Numbers flashed in the circle as Kira thought solely of Urahara's reiatsu. When the numbers stopped, Kira smiled and used the same pen to inscribe several lines on his arm. "I was in Fourth Division once, Hollow. You learn to improvise there, especially when Eleventh makes it difficult for you to do your job properly. No Fourth Divisioner ever goes anywhere without at least two ways to contact someone that may be able to assist them." Kira smiled and placed the pen back in his sleeve, which was now rolled up to reveal black marks all over his lower arms. "_Black and white net. Twenty-two bridges, sixty-six crowns and belts. Footprints, dist_-"

The Hollow's hand covered Kira's mouth as it settled over his back, wrapping its other arm around Kira's waist. "Did you really think that would hold me, Shinigami? King couldn't be held with kidou when he was an ordinary human. He's only gotten stronger since then, and therefore so have I. It would take a Shinigami far stronger than you to hold me with kidou, especially if you're going to skip the incantations like that. It was a good try though. Most Shinigami wouldn't even have gotten that far in restraining me."

The Hollow's weight pressed onto Kira, preventing him from standing up, forcing him to stay kneeling and vulnerable. Its hand played with the knot of his obi, and the hand over his mouth forced him to look up and meet its eyes. "I should kill you for that. Last time I was subdued by anyone other than King it took seven of them to do it. For you to bind me on your own, even for a few seconds, makes you a threat. I don't like threats. Maybe if you give me a good enough reason, I'll let you live."

Kira shivered, remembering another time, a slimmer body leaning its greater weight on his kneeling form, another hand cruelly gripping his chin and longer, thinner fingers digging harshly into his cheeks as red eyes slowly opened to give him a rare glimpse of the monster within the man. A slap to the cheek brought him blinking back to the present, and he realised that the Hollow was no longer holding onto his chin and sneering.

"I have an idea of what made you space out like that, and I ain't him. I ain't nothing like him." Kira tried to protest but the Hollow's glare silenced him. "I ain't gonna kill you, 'cause King has this thing about protecting his friends, and since you two are fucking I think you're more than just in that category. You're fucked up though, and even I can tell that you ain't getting everything you want out of King. He's too fucking gentle, too kind compared to what you're used to, isn't he? He won't throw you down and fuck you into the mattress, can't beat you and choke you and leave you bloody and bruised and limping and completely satisfied. He'd never dream of insulting you, degrading you, calling you every filthy, humiliating name you can think of as he forces you to lick your own cum from the floor."

Its hand cupped Kira's arousal through his hakama, tracing the head roughly with its thumb. "You've been hard since I fucking choked you earlier. I could have killed you before you knew what was happening and a part of you still wanted me to fuck you, conditioned by that bastard to associate pain with pleasure. Say the word and I'll stop, at any time."

Kira nodded slowly, his mind slowly processing the Hollow's words. How this creature knew the details of what he'd been doing with Kurosaki Ichigo, a relationship started by a chance encounter in the hot springs in Urahara's training area, he didn't know or even care at this point. If he wasn't going to be killed or mutilated, and if this creature wouldn't go so far as to risk Ichigo's anger, then he could trust it for now.

"You're going to stop going to those whores though. You continue going there and risking catching something you could pass onto King and I _will_ kill you. Understood, fucker?" The Hollow was sneering again, and its fingers dug into his sac when he didn't answer. "Understood?"

"Y...yes," Kira gasped, back arching as those same fingers roughly stroked his erection in reward. "No more whores."

"Good slut," the Hollow crooned, pulling Kira's head back by his hair. "It's a pity I don't have much time to play with you tonight. I wanted to make you scream my name so hard you forgot your own. Hands behind your back, and no yapping."

Kira bit his lip as the Hollow used his own obi to tie his arms behind his back, each hand touching the opposite elbow, with no give in the tough fabric. He grasped the end that the Hollow shoved into his right hand, taking it as reassurance that he could free himself whenever he wished to.

"Are you stupid, whore?" Kira blinked, realising that the Hollow was now standing directly in front of him. "Do I have to fucking spell everything out for you, retard, or do you _want_ me to just take your worthless ass completely dry?"

Kira whimpered at the image, remembering past times when he'd displeased his former lover enough to earn that punishment, and raised himself up to take the knot of the Hollow's obi in his teeth. Undoing it was a simple matter, his tongue and teeth working swiftly to release the erection trapped beneath the Hollow's hakama.

"Good slut," the Hollow purred, how Kira didn't know, given that humans didn't generally make that sort of noise, as he ran his tongue down the length of its cock. The hand in his hair tightened as he took its entire length into his mouth. "Bite and I'll tear your worthless head off and fuck your neck," was the only warning he got before the Hollow held his head still and began to fuck his mouth. "Damn, your mouth's tight. King's not fucked you like this yet, has he? Hasn't got the guts to use you the way you want to be used, like the pain slut you are. Maybe I'll teach him how to manage you, how to make you scream. I might even convince him to let me out to play at the same time as him. How'd you like that, whore? Having both of us fucking you at the same time, pounding into you from both ends, using you and discarding you afterwards like the trash you are. Look at you. You're choking on my cock and still you get harder with every word that comes out of my mouth. You're pathetic."

Kira whined around the cock in his mouth, wanting the Hollow to get to what they both wanted. It sneered and pushed him off its cock, pulling him to his feet by his hair. He stumbled slightly, his feet numb from kneeling for so long, and so was off balance when the Hollow backhanded him across the face, sending him flying into the chainlink fence.

"Stupid fucking whore. Did I say you could make a noise? Did I?" The Hollow punched him below the ribs, driving his breath out of him, and then pressed him into the fence with its arm across Kira's neck. "I'm sure I didn't. Don't forget, trash, that I could kill you without even thinking about it. One little twist of my arm and your neck will snap like the brittle twig it resembles. That would _really_ fuck your day up, Shinigami."

Kira nodded fervently, his chin butting against the constricting arm. Just as he was on the verge of blacking out, the arm retreated and he could breath again. "You black out and I'll fuck your unconscious body, slut."

Kira twisted his hands as much as he could to grip onto the fence for support as the Hollow tore down his hakama and kicked his legs apart viciously. Strong fingers dug into his hips as he was penetrated with torturous slowness.

"You're tighter than I thought you'd be, slut. Guess you're not as big a cheating whore as I thought. Does it hurt?" Kira nodded, his eyes fluttering as he bit his lip to suppress the scream that was fighting to escape. He hadn't been taken without lube since before the ryoka incident, nearly two years ago now. "Good. Trash like you deserves it. You agree, don't you filth? Speak up."

"Y...yes..." Kira gasped, nearly biting his tongue as the Hollow thrust inside him. "P...please... let me come."

"Hold it, you filthy whore. If I'd realised you were this useless I'd have brought some toys with me as well. Maybe you'd be more fun then." The Hollow leaned in to whisper in Kira's ear. "You don't get to come until I do, slut. And only if I say you can. You don't want to disobey me on this." This time Kira did scream, as inhumanly sharp teeth bit into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Bloody lips connected with his, and a trickle of copper-tasting blood flowed into his mouth from the connection. "That's just a taste of what I can do to you, slut."

The Hollow growled against Kira's neck, and its fingers dug further into his hips. "Fuck. King's waking up. I can't fucking stay here if he's awake. Bastard's always had the worst fucking timing." The Hollow kissed Kira roughly with bloody lips. "I'll be back for you, slut. Maybe not tonight, but I will be fucking back. Don't fuck me about next time."

With that he vanished, leaving Kira to collapse to the floor, his shaking legs unable to support his weight. He was bloody and aching, would be covered in bruises come the morning, and he couldn't care less. He felt alive, free, and no one could take this away from him. He'd be able to move soon enough as well, hopefully before Shuuhei got concerned and came looking for him. He didn't think he could explain this to his friend, didn't want to either. Shuuhei wouldn't understand. Kira smiled as his eyes closed. He looked forward to his next encounter with Ichigo's Hollow side.


	7. Disturbance

**Title:** Disturbance  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG-13, I think  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Byakuya is disturbed while doing his paperwork.  
**Word Count:** 1222  
**Notes:** Written because I was reminded that yesterday was 15/6. With a date like that how could I pass up writing some IchiBya goodness? I'm pretty certain it's still 15/6 in some time zones though, so this isn't _really_ late. Beta'd by the wonderful **agenttrojie**.

--

The metallic sound of swords clashing together startled Byakuya, causing his brush hand to slip and ruin not only the kanji he was in the middle of writing but also the three above it. Again and again the sound was repeated, along with cheers of what sounded like encouragement for whoever was fighting and indistinct yells that he presumed were insults from their general tone.

"Abarai, find out who is making such a ruckus and order them to quiet down immediately," Byakuya stated, reaching for a fresh report form to replace the ruined one. Unlike certain barbarians, Byakuya wasn't in the habit of handing in paperwork covered in mistakes, corrected or not. When there was no sound of movement he looked up, to see Renji's seat empty and his desk an abandoned mess. It seemed Renji hadn't yet returned from taking a message to Tenth Division, an errand Byakuya had sent him on over an hour before.

Byakuya placed his brush in the holder and stood up gracefully, wiping almost invisible specks of dust from his hakama and haori as he did so. It was up to him to investigate this disturbance then. Despite it coming from the Sixth Division drill ground, there was no excuse for such noise. Byakuya, being the one to approve Division schedules, knew that there was no training session set for the time when he'd intended on completing the week's paperwork.

Byakuya shunpo'd to the roof of one of the buildings that overlooked the drill square, to get an overall view of the situation. What looked to Byakuya like the majority of Sixth Division and a good portion of Eleventh Division was gathered around the square, yelling encouragement and insults to whomever was in the centre of the ring they created. From his vantage point Byakuya could see the flash of orange that made Ayasegawa easy to spot in a crowd, next to the distinctive bald head of his constant companion Madarame. Shinigami kept sidling up to the pair, and Byakuya noted with disgust that Ayasegawa was making notes in a large book while Madarame had a rather large bag of money.

It was the cause of the ruckus that caught Byakuya's attention though. Ichigo and Renji were duelling, sparks flying from their zanpakutou as they clashed together. Ichigo seemed to have the upper hand, a confident smile on his face as he dodged Zabimaru's extending blade once, twice, three times, getting closer to Renji each time before he charged in as Renji was forced to bring Zabimaru back to his regular length. Renji made a last attempt to strike Ichigo, but the move seemed to be one that Ichigo was familiar with as he jumped over the whipping blade and twisted in mid air, landing behind Renji with the backwards-pointing jut of Zangetsu's blade pressed against Renji's throat.

Groans and cheers rose from the crowd in equal measure and Shinigami flocked to Ayasegawa and Madarame like starving dogs around a piece of meat. Renji and Ichigo seemed oblivious to the gambling though, or they were accepting it as something that was meant to happen. Byakuya would question Renji later as to which was correct for him, in order to determine the best course of action to deal with the slacking Lieutenant.

There was a fresh wave of groans as Renji and Ichigo reclaimed the top halves of their shihakushou from Ayasegawa. Byakuya was certain that he had no desire to find out why the pair had been sparring topless, knowing them it was probably an inane reason anyway, but it would be a question he would have to ask Renji later anyway, in order to make a complete report of the incident.

Taking a deep breath to settle himself, Byakuya shunpo'd down to the drill square, directly behind Ichigo and Renji. "I do believe that your instructions were to take the completed paperwork to Tenth Division and return immediately, Abarai-fukutaichou. Nowhere in that is permission to cause a disturbance by squabbling with Kurosaki Ichigo."

Abarai yelped, jumping in the air before he turned and bowed to Byakuya. "I'm sorry, Kuchiki-taichou. I got distracted on my way back and..."

"Enough, Abarai. Return to the office and continue with the work that you know you are supposed to be doing." Byakuya injected as much coldness into his voice as he could muster, pleased to see that what few Shinigami were still in the area started to scurry away faster so as not to risk drawing his attention to them. Renji bowed and ran off, his shitagi and kosode flapping in the wind as he went. Byakuya turned his attention back to Ichigo, who smirked and slung Zangetsu casually over his shoulder.

"Was it really necessary to be so intimidating, Byakuya?" he asked. "Renji was just letting off a little steam."

"He should have been doing paperwork, which is something that he knew." Byakuya stepped closer to Ichigo, absently noting that both of the high-ranked Eleventh Divisioners had already left. "Abarai is usually capable of restraining his urge for battle though, which leads me to believe that you were the one at fault."

"Would you rather I'd gone looking for Kenpachi to spar with?" Ichigo's hand dropped, Zangetsu secured on his back in his customary place, and Byakuya caught it, running his thumb over the calloused fingers.

"Why were you topless?" Byakuya brought Ichigo's captured fingers up to his mouth and sucked lightly on them, running his tongue teasingly over the tips as he looked into Ichigo's comically wide eyes.

"R-Renji's idea. S-Something about it being o-obvious what we were d-doing if he came back t-to the office all t-torn up," Ichigo stuttered, seemingly petrified as Byakuya released his hand and stepped even closer, until their bodies were almost touching and Ichigo could feel Byakuya's warm breath on his ear.

"And whose idea was it to interrupt my paperwork with a sparring session in an inappropriate place in front of a large audience?" Byakuya whispered.

"M-Mine. W-Wanted a way t-to get you o-out of the office," Ichigo replied, trying to press against Byakuya. He whined when Byakuya stepped away with a disapproving look on his face.

"I see. Perhaps we should discuss this later," Byakuya said coldly, turning and starting to walk away from Ichigo.

"You're right. It wouldn't do for you to punish me right here in the drill square," Ichigo whispered, the sound easily reaching Byakuya in the silence of the deserted and open ground. "Your place or mine I wonder. And how long would I have to prepare given that I've interrupted you in the middle of your important work?"

Byakuya paused, his eyes closing as he pictured Ichigo kneeling on a futon, facing away from the door, his legs spread for support and his arms held behind his back as he looked over his shoulder at Byakuya with arousal-filled eyes. When the image didn't leave Byakuya's mind the noble shuddered and shunpo'd to capture Ichigo's lips in a bruising kiss.

"I think, Ichigo, that the paperwork can wait for a short time," he whispered on breaking the kiss. "My rooms in the barracks, I think. We won't be disturbed so readily there." Wrapping his arms around Ichigo, he shunpo'd both of them away, trusting in instinct and familiarity to keep them safe as he once more acquainted himself with Ichigo's lips.


	8. Distraction

**Title:** Distraction  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** dub-con, yaoi, language  
**Summary:** Grimmjow's distraction of Ichigo takes a turn that he wasn't expecting  
**Word Count:** 1,254  
**Notes:** Written for **pornandkittens** enemy sex prompt. ETA: beta'd version now up, thanks to **agenttrojie**

--

Ichigo raised Zangetsu warily, bankai command ready to drop from his lips, as he watched Grimmjow's sweaty, panting, _hot_ form approach him. Wait, what was that thought? Did he really just think Grimmjow fucking Jaegerjaques was hot? Apparently he did, and his teenaged fucking libido needed a reminder that the blue-haired man was an Arrancar working for Aizen before being drop-kicked off a building and out of Ichigo's subconscious mind.

Grimmjow paused several feet away from Ichigo, nostrils flaring as a smirk crept across his face. Ichigo blinked and the Arrancar vanished, disappearing in a burst of static sound and reappearing behind Ichigo, his zanpakutou held loosely against the orange-haired teenager's throat.

"It seems to me like you have a bit of a problem there," Grimmjow whispered, hot breath ghosting across Ichigo's ear and making him shudder. "Do you want a hand with that?"

Ichigo slammed his head backwards, feeling the crack of Grimmjow's nose under the back of his skull and ignoring the bite of Pantera as it cut into the skin of his throat before he was out of range of the sharp blade. Grimmjow's body had felt wonderful pressed against his back, but he wasn't going to admit that to one of his worst enemies, no fucking way.

"Fuck off, bastard, I don't know what you're talking about." Ichigo charged, swinging Zangetsu towards Grimmjow's unprotected left side while the Arrancar attempted to stem the bloodflow from his nose. To his frustration Grimjow caught the black blade in his hand, ignoring the reiatsu laden edge digging into his hand as he leered at Ichigo.

"Are you sure about that, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow pulled, tearing Zangetsu out of Ichigo's grip and throwing it to the rooftop below them, letting Pantera go to fall on top of it. "Cause I can definitely smell arousal on you right now."

"Sm...smell? You sick freak, stop sniffing me!" Ichigo glared at Grimmjow for just a second before he Shunpo'd towards Zangetsu, only to find that Grimmjow's Sonido was faster and a muscular arm wrapped itself around his waist when he was inches away from grabbing the cloth-wrapped hilt. "Get off me, bastard."

"Don't wanna," Grimmjow pulled Ichigo closer, resting his head on the teenager's shoulder to avoid a repetition of the earlier headbutt. "I'm comfortable where I am."

"I'm telling you to...aah," Ichigo gasped, pressing backwards into Grimmjow as the Arrancar dug sharp teeth into his shoulder. Grimmjow chuckled against Ichigo's skin as he lapped up the flowing blood with his rough tongue, enjoying the soft moans that Ichigo was trying to stifle. "Stop that."

"Why? It seems like you're enjoying it," Grimmjow spun Ichigo round, hooking his right leg around Ichigo's so that the teenager fell to the hard surface of the roof with Grimmjow straddling him. The shocked look in those brown eyes made Grimmjow's cock twitch.

"I said 'stop it' you Hollow bastard."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, wondering when Ichigo would use a different insult. He cut off the teen's next complaint, no doubt to do with the eye roll, with a brutal kiss, his lips slamming into Ichigo's so hard that the back of Ichigo's skull collided with the roof. "Make me," Grimmjow challenged, grinding his hips against Ichigo as if daring him to think coherently about doing anything not directly connected to the parties in their pants. Ichigo gave a drawn out moan and tangled calloused fingers in Grimmjow's hair, pulling the Arrancar back down for another searing kiss.

"You asked for this," Grimmjow barely resisted the urge to yelp as Ichigo flipped him over, leaving him on his back on the cold concrete with a horny, willing teenager straddling his waist, a definite leer in brown eyes tinted with just a hint of gold and black. Grimmjow gasped and moaned as Ichigo went to work on his chest with a surprising amount of skill, absently wondering who had taught Ichigo just _how_ to do _that_ and how he could repay them in an only-nearly-fatal way. He should probably be fighting to regain his position on top now, but Ichigo's mouth was on his cock (_so fucking tight and wet and fuck there was the tongue and how the hell did Ichigo get his hakama off without him noticing anyway?_) and he decided to let the teenager take this the way he wanted. Maybe if he played nice this time Ichigo would be willing to repeat this encounter in the future.

Ichigo's question of why he had lube in his hakama was answered with a growled 'shut up and put your mouth back on my cock'. Grimmjow thought that maybe telling Ichigo that he had been in the middle of hunting down (and he meant that literally) one of his regular sex toys with the intention of fucking him into the nearest hard surface when Aizen had summoned him and ordered him to distract Ichigo probably wasn't the smartest idea, especially when they both knew that this wasn't the form of distraction that the wannabe-god meant.

"Oi, who said you was on top, fucker?" Grimmjow attempted to get up when two slick fingers pressed into his ass, not having expected Ichigo to go quite that far with this dominant streak that he seemed to have uncovered. A soft growl (_oh fuck was that the dual tone that came with Ichigo's freaky mask_) answered him and he was slammed back into the roof (_it was the mask, had to be the mask 'cause Ichigo wasn't that strong and oh god touch that spot again please_) as Ichigo chuckled.

"You had your chance to dominate me earlier, Arrancar," Grimmjow saw that the gold and black tint to Ichigo's eyes was even more prominent than before, "and you should have taken it then if you wanted it."

Grimmjow glared up at Ichigo but didn't protest as Ichigo slammed into him, accepting that the teenager had a point _this time_. He clawed at Ichigo's back, tearing through the teenager's kimono and ripping bloody lines in muscled flesh that caused Ichigo to cry out in pain and excitement. The bite he'd given Ichigo earlier was returned, only with more force, and he moaned when Ichigo kissed him with lips covered in his own blood and sweat. This was definitely worth submitting to someone else for.

It was over too soon in Grimmjow's opinion, and he lay there panting with Ichigo's cum dribbling down his thighs and his own splattered across their chests and staining Ichigo's black kimono and hakama with evidence of their actions. The strange tint was receding from Ichigo's eyes now, leaving only confused brown behind along with a delicious blush spreading across tanned cheeks.

"We don't mention this, bastard," Ichigo hastily refastened his uniform, scowling when he realised that Zangetsu's strap had somehow ended up all the way down on the street. "Understand?"

"No problems, Berry," Grimmjow reclaimed Pantera, smug that all his belongings were still on the rooftop, even if he was having slight trouble moving, "I'm not exactly in a rush to tell anyone that a fucking brat topped me." He cocked his head to the side, listening to a message only he could hear. "Seems like whatever I was meant to be distracting you from is done. See ya around."

Grimmjow opened a Garganta hastily, not wanting to still be there when Ichigo's brain caught up with that last statement. Maybe they could repeat this, when the human brat inevitably tried to get back what had just been stolen from him.


	9. Encounter

**Title:** Encounter  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** non-con, light bondage  
**Summary:** Ryuuken encounters something in the park that he didn't expect.  
**Word Count:** 2,411  
**Notes:** Um, I have no excuse for this pairing. None whatsoever. Beta'd by the wonderful **tea_fiend**

--

Ryuuken raised his bow once more, taking aim at the Hollow that towered over him. The slavering creature had attacked him on his way home from the hospital, wrecking his car and chasing him into Karakura Community Park, which was thankfully deserted at this time of night. Firing off a flurry of arrows, he jumped over a massive paw that would have crushed him had he not moved. Infuriatingly the attack had as much effect as the last few did: absolutely none.

"Your soul smells delicious, human. Stand still so I can eat you." The creature still drooled even as it spoke, sending thick ropes of spiritual saliva across the park. Ryuuken dodged these on principle, not wanting canine Hollow fluids all over one of his work suits.

"I do not think so." Ryuuken vanished from view, using Hirenkyaku to get out of range of the Hollow. "I will not become a meal for some overgrown canine."

"I can still smell you." The creature's head swung in Ryuuken's direction, its grotesque mask fixed in a permanent parody of a grin. "You can't hide."

"I wasn't trying to." Ryuuken fired another volley, this time at the Hollow's side. Once more they were absorbed into its thick hide. The Hollow retaliated with a swipe of its massive paw, almost hitting Ryuuken as he Hirenkyaku'd away again.

'It seems to be absorbing the reiryoku in my arrows as they hit it. No matter what angle I attack from, it will probably be the same,' he thought, crouched under a play set, watching the Hollow lumber towards him, its head swinging from side to side as it tried to catch his scent. 'I do not have my Seele Schneider or any gintou on me. How foolish, to assume that I would not be attacked before I reached home. I am getting to be almost as careless as Uryuu.'

"Come out, little human. I promise it won't be painful. Much." The Hollow lashed out, destroying the play set with one hit, and forcing Ryuuken into the open once more. Before he could move, Ryuuken found himself trapped beneath that same paw, his left arm pinned to his side, unable to breathe as it pressed down onto him. "I found you."

The slavering jaws loomed closer and closer as Ryuuken struggled to free his arm so he could rematerialise and draw his bow, to make one last attempt at defeating the creature before he was consumed and turned into one himself. Suddenly the tip of a sword appeared, directly between the eyes of the canine mask, and the Hollow screamed as it dissolved away into a million tiny points of light.

"Took you long enough, Shinigami," Ryuuken spat, as soon as he was able to breathe again. "Were you sleeping, or are you just that incompetent at locating reiryoku?"

"That isn't very nice of you, insulting the person who saved you from becoming Hollow food." Ryuuken froze at the sound of the answering voice, one that was similar to one he knew, but at the same time very different. It was cold, taunting, and it sent shivers down Ryuuken's spine.

"Who are you and what have you done with Kurosaki?" Ryuuken drew his bow again, this time pointing it at the pale creature that wore the form of his friend's only son.

"King is here, and yet he is not here." The creature looked amused, and it began to prowl slowly around Ryuuken. "As for who I am - I am King's Hollow. His rage and his bloodlust and the other half of his strength."

Ryuuken remembered Isshin mentioning something like this, about the younger Kurosaki somehow gaining a Hollow side during a training session gone slightly wrong with that exile Urahara. He hadn't thought it would be able to manifest like this though.

"What are you doing here, Hollow?" Ryuuken kept his bow trained on the apparition as it circled him, not letting the monster get behind him at any time. He couldn't trust a Hollow, not for a second, even if it did wear his friend's son's face.

"Maa, calling me that hurts my feelings." Ryuuken didn't think the Hollow sounded hurt, just amused and sadistic. "Why don't you call me Ichigo instead?"

"I will not call you by that name, Hollow. I don't know what your game is, but you will return that body to its rightful owner." Ryuuken fired a single arrow, a warning shot that grazed the Hollow's cheek and opened a small cut that bled black.

"No?" The Hollow was unfazed by the shot, its black and gold eyes shining with amusement. "Then call me Shirosaki. King hasn't seen fit to name me, but that sounds like the kind of unimaginative name he would come up with."

"Shirosaki?" Ryuuken had to admit that the name suited it, with his white hair, skin and clothes, but he would not bow to this Hollow's whims. "Do not play with me, Hollow. What do you want?"

"So boring." Ryuuken jerked as the Hollow used shunpo to vanish and reappear directly behind him. A cold hand wrapped around his right wrist, forcing it away from his bow, the notched arrow disappearing as his hand lost contact with the string, and a muscular arm wrapped around his waist and held him flush against the Hollow's stolen body. "What if I _want_ to play with you?"

"Release me, Hollow." Ryuuken elbowed his captor in the ribs with his free arm, earning a grunt and a chuckle of amusement before his hand was trapped against its waist. "I mean it."

"Say my name and I'll let you go," the Hollow whispered, warm breath ghosting across Ryuuken's cheek. "All it is is four little syllables."

"I refuse. You are a Hollow, a filthy parasite, and as such you are unworthy of a name." Ryuuken ignored the sharp teeth nibbling delicately upon his ear, and the long-fingered hand playing with his belt. He wouldn't give such pathetic tactics the attention that they were aiming for.

"If you wish to play like that..." The Hollow's weight vanished, an instant before Ryuuken found himself flying through the air, pain exploding in his stomach from the punch. He hit the ground hard, and before he could scramble back to his feet the Hollow was on him again, straddling his waist and pinning his arms above his head with one strong hand. "I can play rough as well."

The Hollow tore Ryuuken's jacket and shirt open, scattering buttons everywhere, and splaying its hand across Ryuuken's chest. Pausing for a second, it regarded Ryuuken with half-lidded eyes and licked its lips. "If I let go of your arms, will you behave?"

"Listen, you..."

"What am I saying? Of course you won't." The Hollow grinned and removed its hand from Ryuuken's chest, moving it to its own waist instead. "And it's annoying to have to keep your hands pinned, so you'll have to put up with this." Ryuuken tried and failed to break free as the Hollow removed his sash and tied his hands with it, wrapping it securely around not only his wrists but most of his forearms as well. This imposter was just too strong to fight at such close range.

"Much better." The Hollow sat back to admire its handiwork, grinding its hips slowly against Ryuuken's the entire time. "Now you can't run away, my beautiful little Quincy."

"I am not your anything, _Hollow_!" Ryuuken hissed, glaring up at the Hollow. "Let me go this instant and I won't kill you as soon I can draw my bow."

"Are you so certain that you could kill me, knowing that you might also be killing King? Could you be the one to explain that to his friends? To his family? To his allies in Soul Society who would hunt you down like a dog for killing a Shinigami?" The Hollow laughed as Ryuuken looked away, its sadistic grin growing even larger. "Of course you couldn't, which is why I can do anything I want to you."

The Hollow slipped its hands into Ryuuken's trouser pockets, turning them inside out while looking for whatever had just crossed its mind. Smirking, it held up his prize, a tube of lubricant that he'd used that morning at work, when someone had come into the emergency department with an unsuitable object lodged in his rectum. Not that he would explain that to this Hollow.

"Someone's a kinky little bastard. Were you hoping to get some tonight? Is there someone at home, waiting for you to come and fuck them? Or would you be the one getting fucked?" The Hollow leaned down and licked a line from Ryuuken's sternum to his neck, its cool saliva raising goosebumps on already cold skin. "I guess they'll have to wait a while, since you're so busy having fun with me."

"I do not know what your definition of _fun_ is, Hollow, but I assure you that I do not in any way find this pleasurable." Ryuuken hoped that the moan that was fighting to leave his throat didn't show in his words as the Hollow carefully, almost gently, caressed his balls.

"Certain parts of you seem to disagree." The Hollow laughed, a cold, cruel sound that tore at Ryuuken's senses. "Funny, I always thought that Quincy would have small dicks, since they act so girly and shit. Or maybe that's just your son, huh?"

"Leave my son out of this!" Ryuuken's voice trailed off into a scream as the Hollow's mouth engulfed his now throbbing cock. The still-grinning creature wasn't fighting fair at all in Ryuuken's opinion, and he intended to tell it as much once he was capable of speaking coherently again. Ryuuken writhed under the Hollow's grip, thrusting up and into its mouth in an attempt to gag it and force it to release his cock.

"Pushy bastard," the Hollow muttered as it pulled back, a string of saliva trailing from the corner of its mouth. Ryuuken panted underneath it, torn between telling the Hollow where to go and asking, _not begging, never begging_, it to finish the job that it had started. "You like my mouth that much, do you?"

"Untie me this instant, Hollow, and we will forget all about this... insanity." Ryuuken glared at the Hollow, willing the damned creature to move and let him up.

"I don't think so, Quincy. I haven't finished having my fun yet." The Hollow raised itself to its knees and slowly, teasingly, undid the ties of its hakama and pulled them down, revealing pure white skin inch by torturous inch. Ryuuken wasn't surprised that the Hollow didn't seem to think that underwear was a necessity, and he gulped as he saw the generously sized erection that the Hollow was proudly displaying. It wasn't as large as his own, but it was decently sized for a teenager such as the one whose body this Hollow had stolen.

"You wouldn't dare..." Ryuuken wasn't so sure now. What had seemed like a twisted joke on the Hollow's part was now starting to feel so much more real, more threatening.

A slick hand wrapped around his cock, and the Hollow chuckled, leaning down to whisper softly in Ryuuken's ear. "Don't worry, Quincy-chan, I have no intention of filling that ass of yours, as wonderful as it looks."

"What do you..." Ryuuken gasped as the Hollow impaled itself on his cock, engulfing the straining organ in tight, dry coolness. Strong hands pressed his shoulders down, stopping his attempt to sit up and wrap his still-bound arms around the Hollow's neck, preventing him from flipping them both over and pounding into the cool body in an attempt to warm it up. The Hollow rode him hard, moans and gasps slipping from its throat as they both raced towards climax. The last shreds of Ryuuken's reluctance slipped away as orgasm approached, his body's needs forcing his conscious mind away.

Suddenly the Hollow stopped, one hand moving to hold Ryuuken's hips still as it looked down with a wicked smirk. "Say my name and I'll let you come, Quincy. Otherwise..." it left the threat trail off, and Ryuuken gulped. Uryuu was staying at his apartment tonight, having demanded more training for his powers. If he saw this then there would be questions asked, and Ryuuken wasn't positive that he could think of an appropriate excuse.

"Just move already... Shirosaki," Ryuuken muttered the name barely loud enough for the Hollow to hear. It seemed to be satisfied though, since it began to move again, faster this time, its head dipping to suck and nip at Ryuuken's neck. The hand that had been restraining Ryuuken's hip moved to its cock, and the sight of the beautiful, pale teenager jerking himself off whilst riding Ryuuken's cock was too much, and he screamed as he came.

"Knew you could do it," the Hollow drawled, looking down at Ryuuken with amusement. "Unfortunately, King is waking up. See you some other time." The body atop of Ryuuken arched, drawing in a deep breath as pale skin, hair and clothes flushed with colour and the black sclera and gold irises faded to normal-looking brown eyes.

"What... what's going on? Ishida-san?" Great, just perfect. Now Ryuuken had a confused, probably angry and powerful Shinigami to deal with. White-hot reiatsu flared around them, pressing Ryuuken into the ground and driving the breath from his lungs until he gathered his own reiatsu as a defence. Kurosaki looked down at him in confusion and horror, his strong hands gripping Ryuuken's shoulders so hard he could feel his collarbones starting to give way.

"Carefully move from on top of me, Kurosaki-kun, and untie me," Ryuuken ordered calmly and quietly. Kurosaki blushed brightly and refused to look at Ryuuken as he did as he was told, wincing as he pulled free of Ryuuken's now flaccid penis. While retying his sash he limped over to where the Hollow had dropped his zanpakutou and slung the massive black blade over his back. Only then did he turn back to Ryuuken, head held high and a defiant look on his face.

"We never, ever speak of this again." Ryuuken nodded, not seeing any reason to argue with the angry Shinigami. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Hollow to deal with." Kurosaki flickered away in a burst of shunpo, leaving Ryuuken alone in the park, feeling dirty and extremely used.

"Good luck, Shinigami. You'll need it."


	10. First Meeting

**Title:** First Meeting  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** violence, language  
**Summary:** Ikkaku meets someone in a rough bar who looks a little out of place.  
**Word Count:** 2379  
**Notes:** My first attempt at first person present tense in a long while. Beta'd by **agenttrojie**

--

The inn's a shithole, the sort of place that's filled with rough bastards that make their living fighting on the streets and in the fields of Rukongai. The potential for a fight always simmers in the bar area, fuelled by cheap drink, short tempers and clashing personalities, but upstairs in the rooms is a clearly defined truce zone. No matter what district I go to, I've never once encountered a fight in the lodgings I've sought out, even when the bastard sharing your room snores like a herd of stampeding boars.

The bar in tonight's shithole is charged with a different sort of tension though. I can sense it as soon as I step across the threshold. Quite a few of the thugs in here are focused on something that isn't the usual menu of hard drink and even harder blows. Glancing around, taking stock of who's already here for when the inevitable fight breaks out, I notice what they're all pretending not to be looking at.

Most of the people in here, myself included, are dressed in simple clothes that only cover what they need to and are dull enough to be forgettable. It doesn't help to draw unwanted attention to yourself, after all. Rukongai is lawless, after all, and the more memorable your clothing the easier it is for someone to identify you to a gang boss for whatever reason. I'm tough, but some of those bastards are rumoured to keep Hollows as attack dogs.

This person, I can't tell the gender from this distance, their face is so fucking ambiguous but I'll go with male for now, though, they seem to want to stand out. He's wearing a pristine, ankle-length white yukata, with red and green flowers printed on, tied by a dark green sash. The way he's sat, perched on a grimy barstool with one leg hitched over the other, shows that he's wearing a decent pair of tabi and zori, rather than going barefoot like most of the poor bastards in here. Black hair, tied back with a plain ribbon bow, reaches almost to his waist. All considered, he looks like a rich brat who's accidentally wondered into this rundown area and doesn't realise the danger he's in.

Most of the bastards in here are looking at him hungrily, which is quite understandable. If I hadn't had a good score today, escorting some high-class whore to and from a nobleman's fucking country estate for cash and a meal, as well as a quick go with one of the stableboys on the side, while I waited for her to finish her business, I'd be the same. Not all of the thugs look like they're after the guy's money, not exclusively anyway. I glare at the ones nearest me who are guilty of the second kind of hunger, feeling some satisfaction when they duck their heads and stop looking at their would-be victim. I'm a thug, but I have somewhat of an honour code, and that means I don't rape anyone, or let someone get raped if I can help it.

On that thought I cross the room to where the oblivious bastard is sitting. There are two seats either side of him free, probably vacated due to fear that stupidity is catching. Close up the mug is definitely more beautiful than I'd thought from across the room, far above the level of the whores you get around here. I can see how those that are into that kind of fun might be tempted by such a face. The sword leaning against the bar is a nice hint though. Maybe prettyboy, although I'm even less sure about the boy part now, might not be in so much trouble after all.

I sit down next to him, grinning at his shocked and annoyed glance. "Oi, can I have whatever's strongest and whatever this bastard's having," I call, before turning to face him. "What's a rich, pretty thing like you doing in such a dump?"

"Having a drink, alone," he, oh, so definitely a he with a voice like that, said snarkily. I grin even wider and accept the two drinks that are slammed down in front of me. I raise my glass to him and gulp most of it down in one go, noticing that he's actually drinking the same thing. "That means that I don't want any company, especially not that of a stranger whose name I don't even know."

"Madarame Ikkaku, toughest bastard in this district." I glare at everyone nearby, daring someone to argue with me. No one does, making this crowd smarter than the one from last night. Course they could all be waiting to see what I do with this prettyboy. Wonder what he'd do if I tried to smash that perfectly straight nose of his. I resist the urge to find out, for now at least.

"Ayasegawa Yumichika," he replies, after he downs most of the drink I'd bought for him. I stare at him in surprise, caught off guard for a second. He originally came from a district only five away from mine, if he'd named himself the way I did, one which was about three districts behind us now. And here I was thinking he was some rich boy from the safer inner districts. "I'm just a wanderer."

"Where you wandering to?" I watch the creeping bastards get closer, some of them having got enough drink in them now to be bold enough to try something even with me sitting right here. My sword is resting against the bar by my left leg, where I can easily snatch it up if I need to.

"Nowhere in particular. I'm just going wherever there's money to be found." He seems to have noticed the creeps as well, and his metaphorical nose goes up in the air as he turns to face one of them.

I mostly ignore the conversation, knowing that it won't come to much, and look for trouble from the other side. Itachi isn't going to start a fight by walking up to Yumichika and insulting him. He got his name because he's a sneak, a cowardly runt who uses lies and misdirections to leech off of others and get himself a bit of the loot in return for spying and other crappy things like that. If prettyboy does find himself overpowered and dragged into an alley, Itachi won't be the first one to get a piece of him, but he won't be the last either.

"I mean it. I'm not interested in your friends' protection," Yumichika says as I focus on the conversation again, all potential threats from behind him scared off. It's amazing what a few glares and meaningful looks at my sword can do.

"You have more friends, Itachi? Last I saw you, you were running away and leaving your buddies to die on my sword," I remind him. I'd been working for a brothel owner at the time, a fairly wealthy woman who owned brothels in several districts. He'd been spying for a gang boss whose attacks on her couriers were the reason why I'd been hired. The little sneak pales as he remembers the same incident, and he scowls and scurries off towards a dark corner of the bar. I gave him a cut that day, and I can see the scar it left running down his arm as he turns his back on me. Maybe tonight I'll get to finish the job.

"I didn't need your help, Madarame-san." Yumichika stands up and places several worn coins on the bar, which the barkeep snatches up almost as soon as they touch the wood. Collecting his sword, Yumichika starts to stride across the bar, but his path is soon blocked by a group of thugs that close in around him and block my view. They're all bigger than him, and I realise that they came from the same corner that Itachi had fled to. So these were his new friends then, low level thugs that only had two swords between the ten of them.

I put my own money down, less than his since I only bought the two drinks, and slide off the stool. As soon as my feet are on the floor I'm dodging a flying body, sent my way by Yumichika. I prowl around them, keeping the rest of the bastards away, as the prettyboy deals with the other nine the same way. The two big guys with swords don't even get chance to draw, not with their heads knocked together in a move that I miss completely while fending off a pair of lumbermen with axes.

The fight is over too soon, and I'm staggering up to the sleeping rooms with blood dripping from where a whore stabbed me in the leg with his knife, Yumichika's arm slung around my waist and mine over his shoulder to keep me from falling down, or up, the stairs. We'd ended up back to back in the fight, protecting each other as what seemed like the entire bar ganged up on us. I wonder how I can convince this deceptively fragile looking fighter to stick with me. On my own I can earn enough money to keep myself in food, booze and whores. Together with a partner like this, oh the things I could do with a bit more money.

"Ikkaku, which is your room?" Yumichika's voice brings me back through the fog surrounding my senses. One of the bastards had had a club, at least until my sword removed the arm holding it. I sway as I try to remember the number I'd been given.

"Fifteen, right at the end of the hall," I eventually reply. Yumichika nods and half drags me there. My left foot doesn't want to work for some reason, probably because that stab wound is deeper than I thought it was. I hope the bastard doesn't wake up for that. The last person whose neck looked like that after I slammed them into a solid object didn't.

"Oh, that's my room as well. That makes it a bit easier then." Yumichika's strong. He gives up on dragging me when my leg buckles, and instead picks me up, and I'm not lightweight here, and literally carries me to our room. The change in perspective is interesting, and not just because I get to stare at his very nice ass at close range. Suddenly ending up doubled over and upside down when drunk and with a fresh head injury isn't a good idea, I think.

"Er, Yumi," I can't say his name fully, not if I want to avoid painting his yukata with my vomit. "I think this is-" I don't get to finish my sentence as he drops me on the floor just inside the room, managing to make it so I land on my uninjured leg, which I'm thankful for. He leaves me there while he sets the futons out and finds the basin and medical supplies normally in these places.

I look anywhere but my leg as he cleans and dresses the wound. It's weird, but I don't like looking when I'm being patched up after a fight. I can handle it when bits of body, preferably someone else's, are being scattered around in a fight, but I can't stand the sight of my own inside stuff laid bare to the world. Yumichika's hands are steady on my leg though, and he's soon finished, dragging me over to the futon and covering me over, the basin by my head in case the desire to empty my stomach resurfaces. Sleep comes slowly as my leg and head throb in unison, but eventually I slip off into blessed sleep.

I wake up in the morning feeling like I've been in the middle of a boar stampede. My whole body aches and I roll to face away from the light streaming in the open window. Yumichika is nowhere to be seen, his sword gone from the stand by the door, and I sigh. Figures that a guy like that would want to move on as soon as possible. I pull myself out of bed and grab my sword, glad that he didn't take that with him as well. I don't know why, but I feel some sort of attachment to this weapon.

It hurts to go downstairs, but I manage somehow. Festering in bed like some sort of invalid cripple isn't going to help me. I can only afford to stay here one night, maybe two. The dark look the owner gives me as I make my way out the front door tells me not to expect an offer of breakfast or a drink for the road. I wonder how many people I managed to kill last night in that brawl.

It's when I get outside that I see him, sitting on a barrel over the road with a bag of fruit in his hand. He waves at me as I step into the light, and I walk over to him. Wordlessly he offers me a crisp red apple, and I accept just as silently. Food like this is hard to come by down here, and he must have been up early to be able to raid the gardens of the nearby manor and get back here in time. I throw the apple core on the ground and walk off once I finish it, letting the scraggly kids that come from nowhere fight over the last few remaining bits of flesh on it. Yumichika falls in step beside me, a bright smile on his face.

"Why you following me?" I grunt eventually, once the town is far behind us. "Thought you didn't want company."

"That was last night, when I thought you were another one of those thugs, after only one thing. You look interesting, Ikkaku, and I like interesting things," he replies, looking at something further along the road than I can see. "Besides, you were quite beautiful in that fight last night, so I wondered what you would be like in a real battle. If you're not beautiful I might still leave you."

He dashes off towards a dust cloud on the horizon and I grin. I'll just have to show him how beautiful I can be then, won't I.


	11. Victory

**Title:** Victory  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** non-con, bondage, language, violence, torture  
**Summary:** Grimmjow's longed for victory over Ichigo finally arrives.  
**Word Count:** 2702  
**Notes:** Originally posted on the latest Bleach Kinkmeme (hint, hint, please join in). Beta'd by **tea_fiend** and **lady_rilwen**. Probably AU, in that Grimmjow isn't dead and neither side has won yet.

--

Grimmjow growled and kicked Kurosaki in the stomach, his sharp claws drawing blood as he effectively blocked the Shinigami from reclaiming Tensa Zangetsu and turning the tide of the battle in his favour. The fucking brat was annoying enough without the blade, and with it he had the potential to become more than just a nuisance.

Grimmjow smirked at Kurosaki as he readied a Gran Rey Cero, enjoying the look of horror in the Shinigami's eyes (_and what a delicious look it was_) as the blue energy built up in his hands. This'd fucking settle Kurosaki, once and for fucking all. Letting the energy fly free towards Kurosaki, he waited for the scream of agony that would mark the Shinigami's last seconds on this plane of existence.

The scream didn't come though, and Grimmjow's eyes darted from side to side as he watched the cloud of debris for any sign of his black-clad opponent. He'd dodged, avoided the Cero somehow, and he could be anywhere by now. At least Zangetsu was still underneath Grimmjow's paw, and would be staying there as long as Grimmjow had a say in the matter.

He barely saw the attack in time to block it with his forearm, the spike there tearing into Kurosaki's calf and leaving a spray of bright red blood as the Shinigami jumped back. He was limping as he circled Grimmjow warily, looking for a way to drive the Arrancar away from Tensa Zangetsu so he could retrieve the sword and get the fight back onto an even footing.

"Give it up, Kurosaki. A human brat like you stands no chance've defeatin' me in hand ta hand combat," Grimmjow taunted. "Just fuckin' surrender and I might just kill ya quickly."

"Fuck you," Kurosaki retorted, the words oddly distorted as he used shunpo to flicker in and out of sight around Grimmjow, as if attempting to disorientate him. It wouldn't work, Grimmjow's senses were too sharp for him to fail to detect Kurosaki's precise location, but Grimmjow gave the boy points for trying. Kurosaki was as much of a predator as he himself was, when the fucking brat let go of his stupid human inhibitions anyway. To Grimmjow, this was not to be tolerated; two predators such as them could not coexist, even if one was in Hueco Mundo and the other in the Real World.

The next attack was harder to block, Kurosaki coming out of shunpo practically in his face, fist aimed right for Grimmjow's jaw. The panther-like Arrancar hissed angrily, bringing his right arm up, his inside forearm deflecting the blow millimetres away from contact with his face. As he spun away, Kurosaki's fingers brushed along the length of Grimmjow's ears, sending a shudder of arousal through the Arrancar, which he hid with an even angrier growl than before.

"Nice fuckin' try, Kurosaki. Next time ya won't get so fuckin' close, I promise." If Kurosaki touched his ear like that again, intentional or not, then he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. Only a few people had ever played with the sensitive appendages, and almost all of those had been as close to a trusted lover as you could get in Hueco Mundo.

"Awful cocky for a guy whose ass I've kicked once already, aren't you Grimmjow?" Kurosaki was on a rock several feet away, his eyes tinged with gold and black and his voice starting to become dual-toned as he regarded Grimmjow curiously. "Do you really think you stand a chance of beating me, just because I'm unarmed?"

"C'mon, Kurosaki. Yer hand to hand skills ain't worth shit, ya can't use fuckin' kidou and yer nowhere near as strong as me. The only thing ya got going fer ya is yer speed, and that won't help ya if ya want to get yer zanpakutou back."

"We'll see." Kurosaki vanished again, a massive geyser of sand flaring up around the now destroyed rock that he'd been sitting on.

"Fuckin' give it up already, Kurosaki," Grimmjow snarled, as he blocked a flurry of kicks and punches from the stubborn Shinigami, who kept pulling back before Grimmjow could bring his forearm spikes round to slice into soft flesh. Several more of the deflected punches brushed against Grimmjow's ears, making the Arrancar more and more frustrated with each contact.

"Kurosaki, ya touch my ears one more fuckin' time and yer'll fuckin' regret it!" Grimmjow yelled, when Kurosaki paused in his attacks to regain his breath and, if he was even half as intelligent as Aizen claimed he was, come up with a better strategy than blindly attacking someone whose weapons were a part of their body. When Kurosaki flickered out of view with shunpo yet again, Grimmjow groaned and braced for the attack. Kurosaki was as stubborn and unmoving as a rock.

Kurosaki came out of shunpo directly behind Grimmjow, within the feline Arrancar's guard and perfectly placed to grab Grimmjow's ears. Whirling, Grimmjow whirled round and whipped Kurosaki in the stomach with his tail, pulling his ears out of Kurosaki's rough grip just before it became painfully tight. The sensation of tight heat enclosing his ears, trying to keep a grip on them as he pulled away, made Grimmjow yowl with pleasure (_those hands felt sinfully good and he wanted more of that touch, as long as he didn't have to admit it_). Kurosaki had been warned.

He used his tail to grab Kurosaki around the waist, slamming him into the sand several times before throwing him at one of the few boulders nearby that hadn't already been shattered by a powerful attack. It disintegrated as Kurosaki struck it head first, and the Shinigami lay there unmoving, stunned by the force of the throw and the landing.

Focusing his reiatsu, Grimmjow resealed Pantera, his armour, tail and mane flowing off his body and returning to the shape of a sheathed katana, which he quickly drew. With a quick burst of Sonido, he pounced on Kurosaki, flipping him over to his back and pinning him to the ground with Pantera at his throat.

"I fuckin' warned ya, Kurosaki. Thought ya'd be smart 'nough not ta touch my ears if I said not ta." Kurosaki was squirming under him, but the razor sharp sword at his throat dissuaded him from making any attempts to get free.

Kurosaki's struggles increased as Grimmjow untied his sash one handed (_but not his hakama, not yet, not until Kurosaki wanted this as much as he did_), but he didn't seem willing to press too hard against the blade still at his throat.

"This is yer own fault, Kurosaki. If yer'd left my ears alone I would'a just kicked yer ass when I got bored of yer pathetic flailin' around." Grimmjow wrestled Kurosaki's arms above his head, tying them securely with his own sash. "Ya fuckin' deserve this fer gettin' me worked up." Kurosaki still tried to escape, clubbing his bound hands into the back of Grimmjow's head with a hammer blow that made the Arrancar see stars. "Will ya fuckin' give up already, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow forced Kurosaki's hands back above his head with one hand and withdrew Pantera from the Shinigami's neck with the other. Before he could renew his struggles, Grimmjow twirled Pantera and slammed it through Kurosaki's hands and into the ground, pinning him tight as he screamed from the fresh pain.

"You sick bastard," Kurosaki spat defiantly. He met Grimmjow's eyes for a few seconds, glaring angrily, before looking away. Grimmjow grabbed his chin and forced him to look up again, savouring the fear creeping into those brown eyes before they closed. Kurosaki's emotions were clear to read, and he knew it and was trying to hide them.

"Look at me, Kurosaki. I won't fuckin' stand fer bein' ignored, ya hear me?" Grimmjow tore at Kurosaki's clothes, easily shredding his long, ragged coat, baring the Shinigami's scarred and tanned torso to Grimmjow's view. "If ya won't look at me on yer own..."

Grimmjow smirked as he twisted Kurosaki's nipple beyond the point of pleasurable play and into the territory where the Shinigami was likely to feel like it was being torn off, no matter what his pain threshhold. For a second he debated whether or not to actually do it, to see if he could make him scream so loud that Grimmjow could force the scrap of bloody flesh down his throat (_the only flesh he would dare put there, at least before Kurosaki was well and truly broken, he wasn't so stupid as to think Kurosaki wouldn't bite after all_) and make him swallow it or choke, but he held back. There would be time for that later, once the pure arousal created by Kurosaki's touch had been sated. He'd gotten what he wanted though: Kurosaki's eyes were wide open, fear and pain and confusion all swirling in those brown depths. He wasn't screaming though, as Grimmjow thought he would, his jaw locked tight and his nostrils flaring rapidly.

"Ya don't know when ta give in, do ya? If ya'd screamed then, I wouldn't have ta do this..." Grimmjow attacked Kurosaki's other nipple the same way, drawing blood with sharp fingernails for extra pain. Kurosaki did scream this time, a howl of pain and fear that made Grimmjow shudder with lust. Destroying Kurosaki mentally and physically would be fun, for him at least.

Grimmjow released Kurosaki's nipples as the scream trailed off into stifled whimpers, Kurosaki's attempt to regain some of his tattered pride. "Yer pathetic, Kurosaki. Yer a weak, sorry excuse fer a human. I guess yer lucky ya can't take a warning. Ya get ta live a little longer than if ya had." He punctuated his words with nips and licks to Kurosaki's neck and shoulders, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to confuse the Shinigami. He lapped up the blood sluggishly flowing from the gouges on Kurosaki's chest as well, before kissing him with bloodstained lips.

"Yer blood tastes good, Kurosaki. Fear and pain is such a wonderful flavour." Grimmjow leaned down to lap at the blood still flowing from the shallow, far more so than he'd thought, claw marks on Kurosaki's stomach.

"Stop it! Freak! Bastard! _Pervert!_" Kurosaki hissed, his body trembling under Grimmjow's ministrations. Grimmjow looked up and grinned at Kurosaki, flashing bloody fangs as he did so.

"Yer in no fuckin' position ta make demands," Grimmjow growled. When Kurosaki snarled wordlessly at him in response, he smirked and gently ran the back of his hand down the side of Kurosaki's face. "Ya asked fer this, 'member."

Grimmjow ground down on Kurosaki's hips, angling so that their cloth-covered erections brushed against each other (_so hard, so needy, want more, _need_ more_). The litany of insults from the Shinigami trailed off as he arched his back, trying to get more contact with Grimmjow, who pulled back with a wicked grin.

Kurosaki glared at the Arrancar heatedly. "You're a bastard, Grimmjow. Let me go and I won't kick your ass as soon as you free my hands. You know you won't get away with this."

"That's where yer wrong, Kurosaki. Yer in no state ta fight a regular Hollow, let 'lone an Espada. And as long as I don't cause trouble fer Aizen, I can do whatever I want ta ya." Grimmjow leaned low and whispered gloatingly in Kurosaki's ear, "As fer yer friends, ya came here alone, didn't ya? They don't know where ya are, and so they won't be comin' ta help ya."

"Bastard!" Kurosaki spat, twisting under Grimmjow in an attempt to unseat the Arrancar.

"Yer that desperate ta get down ta business, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow purred, enjoying the dark flush that spread across Kurosaki's face and neck. He hadn't thought that there was enough blood left in the Shinigami's upper body for him to turn that shade of red. "I'm starting ta hurt here, so I guess I'll oblige ya this time... _slut_."

Tearing away Kurosaki's hakama and shorts (_who the fuck wore shorts under their clothes?_) with even more ease than he had the rest of Kurosaki's clothes, ignoring the scratches he accidentally tore in Kurosaki's thighs in the process, Grimmjow took a moment to savour the sight in front of him. Covered in streaks of his own blood, dark bruises forming under tanned skin, wrists bound and hands pinned by a sword through them and completely naked apart from his footwear, Kurosaki was a beautiful sight. The terror written plain on his face, despite his attempts to cover it with anger and disgust, only made him more wonderful to Grimmjow's eyes.

A scrap of cloth fluttering in the wind made Grimmjow grin ferally, an idea forming in his head. Snatching at the black fabric, Grimmjow shredded it further until only a thin strip was left in his hand. "Since ya won't behave, slut, ya don't deserve ta come. And 'cause I can't trust ya not ta do as yer told, I'm gonna have to make sure ya don't." Kurosaki seemed to have lost control over his own body (_and what a beautiful look it was, that ever-changing mix of betrayal and fear and lust displayed so openly on that usually confident face_), his hips thrusting up into Grimmjow's hand as the Arrancar tied the strip of cloth around the base of his erection.

Despite his obvious arousal, Kurosaki actually attempted to back away as Grimmjow undid his own hakama, seemingly forgetting about his restraints in his terror. A hand placed firmly on his hip, nails digging painfully into hard flesh, stopped the attempt. Kurosaki was shaking his head, muttering something under his breath, his eyes pleading with Grimmjow to stop. Taking a firmer grip of Kurosaki's hips, with both hands this time, Grimmjow pulled his ass up and placed Kurosaki's thrashing legs on either side of his waist.

"Hold still, slut, or this'll hurt ya even more. Not that I care, but I'm bein' nice by givin' ya the warnin'." Grimmjow pushed into Kurosaki's ass with a single thrust, smirking as he screamed and shook and kicked in protest. Grimmjow's fingers dug further into Kurosaki's hips as he tried to control himself (_so hot, so tight, deliciously so, better than anyone he'd ever had and there was no way Kurosaki had ever done this before_), determined not to finish so quickly.

The feel of blood trickling over his cock as he thrust nearly pushed Grimmjow over the edge, and he pulled out roughly before it could do so. "Ya don't deserve me coming in ya, slut. Ya ain't done nothing ta deserve that, 'cept fer bein' a tight ass." Raising himself to his knees, Grimmjow took his erection in hand, need making his grip rough as he stroked himself to completion, spilling his seed over Kurosaki's naked chest and stomach.

Standing up on shaky legs, Grimmjow pulled his hakama back up and retied them, smirking as he looked down at Kurosaki (_a gorgeous work of art, covered in his own blood and his enemy's seed, naked and used, the evidence of how much he wanted to be taken again clear for anyone to see_). Grimmjow pulled Pantera from Kurosaki's hands and used the sash binding the Shinigami's wrists to drag him to his feet. A burst of sonido later and they were outside of Las Noches' main gate.

Kurosaki dug his heels into the shifting sand, resisting Grimmjow's pull towards the gargantuan fortress. Grimmjow growled, spinning round and slamming Pantera's hilt into his captive's (_his toy, whether Aizen approved or not_) face. "I'm gonna take ya in there, and I'm gonna drag ya through the halls of Las Noches to Aizen's throne room, and every time I see another Arrancar I'm gonna push ya against the nearest wall and make sure that they know who ya fuckin' belong ta, that they can see how much ya really like to be fucked, and there's nothin' ya can do about it."

With that he yanked at Kurosaki's wrists, dragging him through the gates and into the sterile whiteness that lay beyond them. He'd take the long way there, so as many Arrancar as possible could see his bruised, blood and semen-stained captive, and know that Grimmjow was still not to be messed with.


	12. Defence Mechanisms

**Title:** Defence Mechanisms  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** R  
**Warnings:** extremely dubious consent, bordering on non-con  
**Summary:** Komamura accepts Ichigo's offer of a place to stay for the night. Neither of them expect what happens next.  
**Word Count:** 3896  
**Notes:** There is no excuse. This pairing was put into my head by someone on **fanficrants**, who mentioned that there was no Komamura/Ichigo out there. I promptly wrote this to cover that lack. Beta'd by **signed_up**

--

"Ah, Komamura-taichou, how wonderfully unexpected to see you here," Urahara chirped, hiding his face behind his fan as he looked up at the gargantuan Captain. "Not this early, anyway. You weren't supposed to arrive for another half a day."

"There was a change in schedule," Komamura said, not bothering to try and enter the shop that Urahara stood in the doorway of. He wouldn't fit, which was one reason he was there. "I guess my gigai is not yet ready then."

"It will be completed in eight hours, Komamura-taichou. Until then, why don't you patrol the town. I'm sure Kurosaki-san wouldn't mind not having to make up an excuse to leave class every time a Hollow appears." With that Urahara snapped the fan shut and turned back into the shop, quickly vanishing into the back rooms. Komamura frowned. There was something that Urahara wasn't telling him.

A few hours later Komamura was seated on the edge of a bridge, idly scrolling through messages on his communicator as he waited for something to happen, ignoring the trains that passed at high speeds every few minutes. A few Hollows had popped up around the town, but they were all weak and easily dispatched with a single blow. He would meditate to pass the time, but the noise level in the living world was unbelievable compared to even the loudest parts of Seireitei, even Eleventh Division during their 'training sessions'.

A sound from below caught his attention, and he returned his communicator to the inside of his kosode as he looked down to investigate. Seven humans had an eighth surrounded underneath him, various crude weapons in their hands as they circled their prey almost cautiously as they drove him towards the shelter of the bridge. Komamura wondered why they were being so careful, staying out of range of fists and feet and only striking from behind, when the victim was limping and had blood dripping down from his face. A lashing of reiatsu and a flash of distinctive orange hair as one of them abandoned caution and was thrown back with a powerful kick for his troubles answered that for him. Even in his human body Kurosaki Ichigo was a powerful fighter.

He was losing though, Komamura realised. For some reason he wasn't putting as much weight on his right leg as he could do, and his left elbow was beginning to bruise and swell from an earlier blow. Kurosaki also seemed unable to see properly from his swelling left eye, and his right was filling with blood from the wound on his head. Komamura watched as one of his attackers darted forwards and scored a line across his back, that would have been a stab to Kurosaki's internal organs had he not turned and backhanded the coward into a bridge support.

"Piss off, would ya. I ain't done nothing to get in your way recently," Kurosaki yelled, ducking under a metal pole and hammering his fist into the gut of the guy wielding it. There were only five of his attackers still standing now, but they were all keeping their distance.

"We don't like fags," one of the thugs snarled. Komamura labelled him as the leader, due to the simple fact that all the others nodded and murmured agreement with his statement. "Never know when they're going feel us up in the locker room, do we?"

Kurosaki's mumbled response seemed to anger them, because two of them rushed forwards at once with weapons raised. He ducked under the nailed plank of wood aimed for his head and grabbed at the chain, letting it wrap around his arm with a feral grin. Before the guy on the other end could let go he yanked it forwards, moving at the same time so he was behind him. It took only a few seconds for the guy to stop struggling against his own chain wrapped around his neck, and Kurosaki casually dropped him as soon as he did. Now he faced only four of the thugs, who were looking more uncertain about their chances.

"You're a monster, Kurosaki! Fight fair!" Komamura snorted from his vantage point. Someone who led a seven on one attack didn't really have any room to talk about being fair. Kurosaki didn't seem to look amused though, and he seemed bored with dodging and retaliating only when attacked.

Komamura was certain that the two thugs Kurosaki took down next wouldn't have known what hit them. Even without shunpo Kurosaki was fast, and one went to join his friend against the bridge support, with an imprint of Kurosaki's fist in his face, and the other collapsed where he stood, crumpling over the foot embedded in his abdomen. The one with the plank of wood tried to attack from behind at that moment, but he was soon thrown backwards with what had to at least be a broken nose. Only the leader was left standing, and he looked more confident than he should have done as he fiddled with the bag he carried over one shoulder.

"Give up," Kurosaki said. Komamura frowned as he heard a disturbing gurgle in his voice, indicative of a punctured lung. "Just walk away and leave me alone. Better yet, let me walk away while you call an ambulance for your friends."

"Not a chance, Kurosaki. This time I'll be the one walking away from the fight."

Komamura didn't have time to wonder how many times Kurosaki had fought this gang in the past, as the leader pulled a wakizashi from inside his bag. From the look on Kurosaki's face, confusion and annoyance quickly giving way to smug confidence, this was a new thing for him to face in his human form, but not something that would faze him for long.

The human was an amateur, waving the blade around with less grace and skill than even a first year Academy student. Kurosaki wasted no time in ducking under the blade and planting his fist firmly in the idiot's jaw, sending him flying back with a crunch. Dropping to his knees next to the moaning thug, kicking the sword out of his hand almost as an afterthought, Kurosaki rifled through his pockets until he found a phone.

Komamura waited until Kurosaki staggered back up to the road, having finished talking to whoever it was he'd had a desire to call so urgently, before he used shunpo to place himself next to the substitute. Sensing the reiatsu flare, Kurosaki turned to face Komamura, almost unbalancing on his injured leg. Komamura carefully caught him by his right arm and held him steady until he found his footing again.

"I didn't expect there to be any other Shinigami around. How long you been watching?" He coughed as he finished speaking, a splash of bright red blood staining the hand that he used to cover his mouth. "Damn."

"I was there when you arrived," Komamura stated worriedly. "What was that about?"

"That bastard Renji." Kurosaki rolled his eyes at Komamura's look of frustrated confusion. "He kissed me. Right in the middle of the hallway. So everyone in school thinks I'm gay. Which I might be, but it's not really any of their business. I'm not interesting in a relationship with anyone right now. Too much hassle."

"And some people object to that?" Komamura wasn't any less confused. Relationships between male Shinigami were normal, sometimes even encouraged in the higher ranks. It was also common knowledge that Abarai was currently in a relationship with Hisagi, making it illogical that he would just kiss Kurosaki for no reason.

"Yeah. Stupid bastard shouldn't have showed up at school drunk and in a gigai." Kurosaki kicked a stone out of his path, smiling slightly as it shattered against a street lamp ahead of him. "I'm gonna kick his ass next time I see him in Soul Society."

People were giving Ichigo a wide berth as he staggered along covered in blood and seemingly talking to himself, but he didn't seem to care. Komamura supposed that it was easier for him that way, since there was no chance of someone knocking into his injuries. One of the girls he passed seem to recognise him, but he waved off her offer of help. Komamura followed as he stumbled in seemingly random directions.

"Where are you going, Kurosaki?"

"Inoue's. She'll heal me better than if I go home or to the hospital." He stopped and looked around. "Shouldn't have let them hit me round the head so many times. I'm lost."

Komamura wondered again how often Kurosaki got into fights with the humans from his school. He certainly didn't seem to be too concerned about his injuries or the fact that he probably had a concussion. "I'll take you there with shunpo," he growled, grabbing Kurosaki's arm and vanishing while there were no humans around to see their departure.

Kurosaki was unconscious before they got there, his injured human body unsuited for the speed of shunpo. Komamura was impressed by Inoue's reaction to the situation, and her unflinching acceptance of the fact that her best friend had been brought to her unconscious, battered and covered in his own blood. He left Kurosaki in her capable hands, intending on returning to Urahara's to check on the progress of his gigai.

Urahara was waiting for him in front of the shop, an empty gigai lying on the swept ground beside him like a life-sized doll. Landing lightly on the ground, Komamura nodded politely to Urahara.

"You look troubled, Komamura-taichou," Urahara said gravely. "Did something happen?"

"I encountered Kurosaki Ichigo a short while ago." Komamura frowned at the hard glint that appeared in Urahara's shadowed eyes. "He was in the middle of a fight."

"How many this time?" Urahara didn't seem surprised by the news, only resigned.

"Seven. He took a beating but he won." Komamura slipped into the gigai, grimacing as he was forced into a smaller, human form. Urahara held up a mirror for him to inspect himself in. His hair was the same colour as his fur usually was, and his skin was tanned. His eyes were still golden, but set in a human face instead of above a canine muzzle. It was disconcerting for Komamura, and he resolved not to look in a mirror whilst in the gigai unless he couldn't avoid it.

"Sounds about right. It take it he's with Inoue then?" Urahara wasn't quite so disadvantaged in talking to Komamura now, no longer having to crane his neck quite so much to look the much taller Captain in the eye. Komamura nodded absently, stretching to try and accustom himself to the new body he was in. "Good, good. I will be seeing you again then?"

"When I return the gigai." Komamura turned and left, leaving Urahara standing alone in front of the shop.

--

"Seriously, Komamura-san, if you'd said something earlier you wouldn't have gotten so wet," Kurosaki grumbled, frowning as he poked at the buttons on the dryer. "I'm sorry about the clothes, but nothing I have will fit you, and my dad's taste in clothing is rather pathetic."

"It would be rude of me to complain when you are offering me hospitality, Kurosaki," Komamura replied, sipping at the tea that Kurosaki had given him. He'd been watching Kurosaki's house, debating whether to find a hotel or just look for somewhere halfway dry and sheltered from the rising wind and rain, when Kurosaki had come out and dragged him inside. Apparently his family weren't home and so there was no reason why Komamura couldn't stay there for the night.

"Huh? Rukia never stopped complaining. It's not like I forced her to live in my closet or anything." Kurosaki stabbed at a final button, smirking as the machine rumbled into life. "Why can't Yuzu just leave instructions on how to work these things?"

"Maybe your mother doesn't want you to feel like you have to do the housework?" Komamura offered. Kurosaki stilled in the kitchen, his reiatsu flaring up wildly before he brought it back under control.

"Yuzu's my sister. My mum died years ago, when I was just a kid," Kurosaki said quietly. Before Komamura could apologise for his mistake a loud screech and a beeping sound filled the house. "Hollow?"

Komamura flipped his Soul Pager open, looking at the screen which was showing a single flashing dot. "A weak one, according to this reading. It should be no problem." He dug into his pocket for his gikongan dispenser, only to come up empty-handed. It was still in his other clothes, the ones now in the rumbling machine.

"I'll deal with it. You've been taking care of them all afternoon." Kurosaki pressed his shrieking badge to his chest, separating his physical and spiritual bodies and leaving the physical one to slump on the kitchen floor. "Which direction?"

"North, about two of your steps." Komamura remembered seeing Kurosaki in pursuit of a Hollow once, and how far he'd gone in a single step that time. Kurosaki's skill with shunpo exceeded his own, that much was plainly obvious. "It's moving fast though, to the east." Another two signals appeared on the screen, causing Komamura to frown. "There are two more now."

"I'll deal with them as well then. Where?" Kurosaki was half out the window, having somehow managed to contort himself so that he fitted himself and Zangetsu through the space without damaging anything.

"Take the Soul Pager. Me giving you directions now is no use when your targets are moving." Komamura threw the device to Kurosaki, who glanced at it briefly before shoving it inside his kosode. He vanished as soon as his body was clear of the window, disappearing into the storm in a burst of shunpo. Komamura closed the window once he was gone, shutting out the cold wind and rain. Turning back to the table, Komamura tripped over the still form of Kurosaki's body, sprawled uncomfortably on the hard floor. Taking pity on the younger Shinigami, Komamura picked it up and carried it through to the other room, laying it carefully on the couch, out of the way and in a far more comfortable position.

Kurosaki returned quickly, sliding the window open with practiced ease and shaking himself violently as soon as he was inside the house, his zanpakutou dropping from his white-knuckled grip and clattering on the floor. His shihakushou was dripping wet, and not just with water, Komamura noticed. Some sort of thick, glutinous slime dripped from Kurosaki's chest and kosode and onto the floor, forming little islands in the middle of the rapidly growing puddle under Kurosaki's shivering body. The wind whipped through the kitchen, tugging at hair and clothes until Kurosaki slammed the window closed once more and securely fastened it on its latch.

He really was quite beautiful though. Even now, trembling with cold and clad in baggy, sodden clothes, Kurosaki was a wonderful sight to behold. The way he gave up trying to unpick the rain-tight knot of his sash with cold-numbed fingers and slumped against the kitchen worktops, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his back against the cupboards was pure poetry. Wriggling and twisting, his skin shining wetly where the artifical lights of the kitchen caught the rain still clinging to tanned flesh, Kurosaki tugged his kosode and shitagi free of his hakama and pulled them off, revealing a body fit to be carved in marble.

"You look cold, Kurosaki," Komamura said, kicking the water-logged pieces of cloth to one side as he sat next to the younger Shinigami, wrapping one arm around shivering shoulders.

"It's cold out there. Is warm in here though," Kurosaki mumbled, leaning into Komamura's touch as if seeking the warmth of his body. His neck pressed up against Komamura's nose briefly as Kurosaki repositioned himself so Komamura's arms enveloped him, letting the Captain take in his clean, intoxicating scent. A scent that, even to his currently muted senses, was overwhelmingly powerful and addictive.

Kurosaki mewled, arching his back and grinding against Komamura as the Captain rubbed warm hands over his icy chest and stomach. Komamura growled deep in his throat, a sound more suited to his normal form than the human gigai he wore, as Kurosaki's ass pressed against the growing hardness in his borrowed trousers. He wanted more of that scent, more of Kurosaki. A small part of his mind screamed that this was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, that something was affecting his mind, but he ruthlessly silenced it.

"No," Kurosaki whispered as Komamura's hand found the slit of his hakama. He repeated himself more forcefully, trembling fingers digging into Komamura's wrist. "NO! Not here. Not in the kitchen."

Kurosaki shakily pushed himself to his feet, before staggering towards the stairs on shaking legs. He glanced back when he reached the foot of the stairs, his eyes filled with fire and lust that made Komamura growl and give chase to the retreating figure.

Even with Kurosaki's headstart, Komamura caught up to him before he was halfway up the stairs, spinning him round and pulling his head down for a rough, victorious kiss. The urge to pin the younger Shinigami to the stairs and take him there and then rushed through him, but Kurosaki was already wriggling away, continuing up the stairs towards whatever destination he had in mind. Komamura followed, stalking after the younger Shinigami like a wolf hunting its prey. He'd be patient and let Kurosaki get to whatever place he thought was appropriate for what was to come. They had plenty of time.

--

The bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom made Komamura wince and close his eyes before he even managed to fully open them. His head was pounding almost as much as if he'd gotten into a drinking contest with Zaraki, Matsumoto and Kyouraku again. The slight sound of someone trying to be stealthy while wearing geta and failing miserably forced him to open his eyes again and face the small scraps of memory that were fighting for attention in his mind.

Urahara stood the door to the room, hard eyes staring out at Komamura from under the brim of his ridiculous hat. Komamura nodded to him, carefully disentangling himself from his partner and grabbing the pants that had been discarded to the side at some point.

Urahara was gone by the time Komamura was finished dressing himself, the steady clack of his geta retreating down the stairs. Komamura followed, surprised to see that the exiled Captain had made some tea. Komamura sat down at the empty place, avoiding Urahara's attempts to catch his eye. He noticed that Kurosaki's zanpakutou was no longer lying discarded on the floor, but was instead wrapped and carefully placed against the wall in a dignified manner. He wondered how long Urahara had been in the house, and what his relationship was with Kurosaki if he was so quick to handle the other Shinigami's zanpakutou in such a manner.

"I am his mentor, Komamura-taichou. More than once he's driven himself to train so hard that he collapses with zanpakutou in hand," Urahara said, as if reading Komamura's mind. "I know what happened last night."

Komamura looked down at the table, unwilling to meet Urahara's eyes and see the disgust that was surely there. "What happened last night... there are no excuses. I raped him."

"I assure you, Komamura-taichou, that if I thought that was the case we would not be having this conversation right now." Urahara said quietly. A thin layer of red reiatsu swirled around him briefly, and the cane in his hand pulsed with restrained power.

Komamura's blood seemed to freeze in his body. He played the fool so well that it was easy to forget that this man was not only the former Captain of Twelth Division, but also the former Third Seat of Second Division. He could take Komamura apart without breaking a sweat, with no way to trace it back to him, if he thought Komamura had done anything to harm Kurosaki.

"I'm not saying it wasn't rape, Komamura-taichou. I'm just saying that neither of you was at all capable of preventing what happened last night. I'm just surprised that you had enough self-control between you to get to Kurosaki-san's bedroom, even if you managed to miss the actual bed."

"He opened his home to me and I took advantage of that."

"Kurosaki-san fought several Hollows last night, correct?" Komamura nodded. "One of them hit him with something, an attack that he probably didn't think was worth dodging, or didn't see coming. It's not unusual, I'm used to seeing Kurosaki-san stumbling in with acid burns from an attack that he didn't think was dangerous because it didn't harm the non-organic objects it struck."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Komamura asked sharply. He didn't need Kurosaki's combat history, especially since he didn't seem to have any kind of injury, acid burn or not.

"If that Hollow had been engaged by a group of Shinigami then it would have escaped. Its saliva contained an extremely strong, very fast-acting pheromone that would have caused chaos in any standard attack squad. Unfortunately for that Hollow, Kurosaki-san was alone and so there was no way it could take advantage of lust-driven distractions to escape. Once Kurosaki-san returned here though, well you know what happened better than I do."

"What is your basis for this theory, Urahara-san?"

Urahara smiled and took a sip from his cup before answering. "I'm afraid that everyone in Karakura with the ability to sense reiatsu would have felt what was happening between the two of you last night, Komamura-taichou. I was curious as to what was going on, especially knowing how careful you usually are with your control, and so came to investigate. The substance clinging to Kurosaki-san's kosode intrigued me, and so I took it back to my lab to investigate it. That's how I can guess at what happened last night and why."

"I see. And you didn't think to stop what was happening?"

"I touched the substance. If I'd gone to try and separate the two of you then I would have ended up either joining you or fighting one of you. I'm pretty certain that such a situation wouldn't have ended well." Urahara placed his cup back down on the table gently and smiled at Komamura. "If you don't want to wait for Kurosaki-san to wake up, then I will do so. Someone needs to explain what happened last night."

"It would be better if you did that, Urahara-san. Right now I don't think I could face him." Komamura stood up and collected the pile of dry, neatly-folded clothes from the end of the table. "Tell Kurosaki-san that I'm sorry for any injury I might have caused him last night."

"I'll do that, Komamara-taichou. He'll probably look for you himself later." Urahara smiled msteriously before flicking his fan out to cover what little of his face wasn't shadowed by the brim of his hat. "You'd be surprised about how mature he can be when he wishes."

Komamura nodded, carefully placing the clothes that Kurosaki had lent him the night before on the table, and made his way out of the house. If Kurosaki did find him before he returned to Soul Society, or even afterwards, he wouldn't complain if the young Shinigami felt it within his rights to attack him for what he'd done.


	13. Promotions

**Title:** Promotions  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** New Captain Zaraki Kenpachi deals with a pair of trouble-makers.  
**Word Count:** 494  
**Notes:** This was prompted by a comment on **fanficrants** made by **delwynmarch** and was originally posted there.

--

Zaraki looked up as a pile of paper was dumped on his desk _'his, a lowly wanderer from Rukongai who'd never owned more than the clothes on his back and the sword in his hands before now'_. He glared at the person who placed them there, one of his subordinates _'and what a new feeling that was as well'_, whose name he could never remember until the man stuttered out an explanation.

"D-damage and injury r-reports, Zaraki-taichou," he eventually gasped out. Zaraki frowned, wondering why none of these weaklings could produce a full and coherent sentence around him _'it couldn't be that hard, not when Yachiru and those other two thugs that followed him in from Rukongai managed it all the time'_.

"So? What's the summary?" He'd be damned if he was going to read all of that. There had to be at least fifty pages there, and he'd been in his position for long enough _'two weeks now since he'd killed the previous Captain, the Kenpachi who was too weak to hold that name any longer, and he was still waiting for someone to try and drive him away as they always did when his monstrous strength scared them'_ to understand that most of the paperwork was meaningless waffle.

"T-Those new recruits, M-Madarame and Ay-Ayasegawa. They were in-involved in another f-fight. Madarame defeated Se-Seventeenth Seat Koheki in one-on-one c-combat, injuring him s-severely enough that he will b-be in Fourth Division's c-care for at least a-another week. Ayasegawa k-killed Eighteenth S-Seat Asano, although he in-insists that the final b-blow wasn't meant to be f-fatal and that A-Asano wouldn't have died i-if he hadn't pressed the i-issue. Witness accounts a-agree with Ayasegawa's s-statement. The r-rest of the paperwork details m-minor injuries inflicted on those S-Shinigami who attempted to in-interfere and the damage d-done to the barracks and the m-mess hall in the course o-of the fights. P-Punishment of the offenders i-is to your discretion, Z-Zaraki-taichou."

Zaraki scowled as he made sense of the stuttered report. Fifty pages for minor incidents. No doubt there was more paperwork about Madarame's injured opponent than Ayasegawa's dead one. And they expected to punish the pair for doing what came naturally to them? He looked at Yachiru, who was perched on top of a filing cabinet with some sort of sweet thing _'a novelty for her, since he'd refused to stoop to the level of a petty thief just to get ridiculously expensive luxuries, even if it was for his closest person'_ and she nodded. She understood what he was about to do, and approved.

"Send Madarame and Ayasegawa here. I've got the perfect idea of what to do with them," Zaraki ordered. The messenger bowed and backed away, and Zaraki noticed that the man was trembling. Weakling. Maybe one day he'd be killed by one of the pair of thugs he was about to promote. It'd serve him right for being so obviously unfit for his position.


	14. A Pleasant Surprise

**Title:** A Pleasant Surprise  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Ikkaku's been hearing a voice in his head. Why?  
**Word Count:** 2234  
**Notes:** This is in the same storyline as First Meeting, which is threatening to become a series. The Yumichika part of this piece will be posted once it is finished. The vain bastard is currently hiding and refusing to cooperate with me, no matter what I attempt to bribe him with. Beta'd by **cassie5squared**

--

I swing my sword in glittering arcs as I make my way through the forest, sparring against an invisible opponent as I re-enact parts of the fight that netted me the full money bag hidden inside my clothes. A bunch of bastards jumped me, thinking they could take me down, and I'd claimed all the loot from their other victims once their corpses were cooling around me. It hadn't even been much of a fight really, but there was one pretty cool move I pulled when two of them came at me together, and I want to get it firmly stuck in my head for next time I'm in that situation. It never hurts to be prepared.

_-Stop thinking. You're keeping me awake, moron.-_

I stop and close my eyes, taking a deep breath so as not to scream like a madman. This voice in my head is getting annoying now. At first I could only hear it when I was sleeping, but now it's popping up whenever it feels like it, and it's getting louder and more obnoxious. I'd throw myself head first into a tree to shut it up, but I know from experience that all I'd get is a headache and Yumichika laughing himself silly when he finds out.

"Will you shut up already," I eventually say, starting to walk again. I want to be back in the town by nightfall, so I can get well and truly drunk before Yumichika shows up, if he reappears tonight. We split up a week ago to take care of our own business, but the prettyboy always finds me again when he wants to. The voice never completely goes away, but it's a lot easier to ignore once I've got drink and whores handy.

Once again I give thought to discarding the source of the problem, the sword I'm carrying across the back of my neck, but it passes quickly. As annoying as the voice is, you don't get swords like this every day in Rukongai, especially not in this district. I can't remember where I picked this blade up, but it's a good one, it doesn't chip or break no matter what I pit it against. I even killed several Hollows with this baby. Besides, I only have its word that it's a manifestation of my sword's will or whatever. For all I know as soon as I put it down and leave it behind, a Hollow'll come out of nowhere and eat me for falling into its trap.

_-I'd say that I'm insulted, but I can't say I'm surprised. I _am_ a part of you, after all.-_

"Not listening. Can't hear you," I mutter, rapping the sheathed blade against a tree trunk as I speak.

I can see the road that runs through the forest now, and I grin as I realise that I must be close to what passes for civilisation. This area's as poor as anything, but the fancypants nobles like the wood that comes from here so there's a logging road here, that's worn smooth from the passage of carts over the years. And where there's a road, there are businesses serving those passing along it. The sound from up ahead though isn't that of a cart, laden or unladen, or that of axes chopping into wood, or even of people going about their lives. I know the sound, and it sends a thrill right through me, whether from fear or excitement I can't decide.

I break out of the trees with a yell, and several massive heads turn to look at me. There are at least a dozen Hollows, easily more than I've ever fought at once, but only a couple break away from the group to attack me. As I dodge their claws and tentacles I see what the rest are focused on. A group of black-clad men and women are trying to fend off the monsters with swords and magic, with little success. Every time the Shinigami, for it could only be them dressed in such a manner, cut one down, another one pops up in its place. As I cut through the mask of the one with the tentacles I realise that the same applies to my opponents.

I lose sight of the Shinigami as the fight progresses, too busy hacking and slashing my way through the masked horrors to keep track of their location. It therefore comes as a surprise when I find myself next to one of them, a woman with her sword held awkwardly in her left hand and her right arm hanging from her shoulder by only a small strip of flesh. I can see now that there are only a handful of Shinigami, keeping a guard around a white-coated, kneeling woman with the most impractical hairstyle I've ever seen. This is the first time I've seen someone with their hair braided down the front of their body, and the sight throws me off enough that I almost don't block the claw headed for my chest. I wonder why she's not fighting, given that she's armed just as her companions are, until I realise that her glowing hands are resting over a chest injury of a man at her feet, an injury which is closing right before my eyes. She's some sort of healer then, keeping these bastards alive so they can continue to fight.

I dodge a massive claw, one easily as big as my body, and jump up to slice off the leg it belongs to. The Hollow starts to stagger, but only for a second as the leg stump bubbles and extends to form a new leg. The cheating bastard is a fast healer, and I grin as I realise how tough he's going to be. All the other Hollows I've fought have gone down easily once I've cut their limbs off so I can get to their heads easily. This'll be a challenge for sure.

A few minutes later I'm not so confident. I've driven this one away from the Shinigami now, so I can fight it uninterrupted without them stealing my kill like they did a couple of the others. This one's mine, and I won't let them say otherwise.

It's obvious that the Hollow has other ideas about being my prey though. I duck one claw and hiss as another one cuts into my thigh, while I try to get some space between me and it. For the first time since I fought that Zaraki bastard, I think I'm actually losing a fight. The Hollow is strong, and I'm losing ground and blood fast.

_-Use me, idiot.-_

"I am!" I yell, not caring who hears me. I don't have time for stupid voices in my head, or indistinct images of weird shit floating across my vision as I try to keep one step ahead of this Hollow.

_-I mean properly, Ikkaku. Can you hear me now? Can you hear my name?"-_ More images flash across my vision, and I skid to a halt as a roar that I've never been able to understand before resolves itself into a word in my mind.

With a grin I slam the hilt of my sword into the sheath doubling the length of my weapon as I yell the words that have just been revealed to me. "NOBIRO, HOUZUKIMARU!"

Wind whips up around me and the Hollow's descending claw stops as I impale it on the blade of my new spear. I pull the blade free and jump up, clumsily swinging Houzukimaru at the Hollow's mask, splitting it in two with ease. That taken care of I charge back into the main fray, lashing out left and right at the slowly dwindling numbers of Hollows. It doesn't take long for them to stop coming, either scared off by my skills or just all dead.

"Thank you, stranger, for your assistance," the healer says once she's finished dealing with a Shinigami's gut wound. "Your intervention saved my men from wasting their lives needlessly on a fight that shouldn't have happened."

I shrug and shoulder my spear, squinting at the woman through blood-soaked vision. One of the Hollows caught me on the forehead, causing blood to run down over my face. No big deal really. It'll scab over soon and I'll have another scar to add to my collection of things to tell prettyboy about. He's gonna kick himself over missing this fight, I just know it.

"You're rather strong, er..."

"Madarame Ikkaku." I preen slightly under the praise. She's pretty, even if she is a Shinigami and therefore out of my league by about a million miles, and I like praise from pretty women. It usually leads to getting them in my bed, especially if I just saved them. Hm, wonder if I can convince her to stay for a bit, or to let me travel with them until they reach somewhere just a little bit safer. This lot are obviously too pathetic to look after themselves, and she looks like she'd appreciate having a man like me around.

"Well, Madarame-san, I would say that you have the potential to become a Shinigami." She says this as her glowing hand comes up to cover my forehead and the still-bleeding wound inflicted by the Hollow. I feel the torn skin there coming back together as the bleeding stops. I touch the area as soon as her hand is gone and it's as if there was never an injury there to begin with. "You would have access to fast and reliable healing, for one."

I think it over briefly. Not having to worry about where to find a doctor would be nice, but going with them right now would mean leaving Yumichika behind. I know the prettyboy can look after himself, but it would feel like a betrayal, just taking off permanently without a word to him. Besides, I'm not ready to take orders from any asshole, no matter who they are, and becoming a Shinigami means doing just that.

"Sorry, lady, but I have other plans. I'd love to follow such a pretty creature as you back to Seireitei, maybe get to know you better on the way, but there's things I still need to do out here. Maybe some other time, 'kay?" I reply. From the giggles of a couple of the other Shinigami I guess that some of them wouldn't mind getting to know me in the way I mean, but this lady was solid. She didn't even smile as I gently kissed her hand.

"If you ever change your mind, Madarame-san, then tell the guardian you encounter that you have come on the recommendation of Unohana Retsu, Captain of the Fourth Division."

I'm stunned. Even a wanderer like me has heard of the power and skill of the thirteen Captains of the Shinigami. It's impossible not to, especially when you get drunken idiots claiming to be stronger than a Captain before getting their asses kicked by off-duty Shinigami. If she'd gotten involved in that fight then it would have been over in seconds, possibly even before I got there. Why did she let her men get so injured defending her? Was it an exercise showing how much trust she had in them, or were all her skills just completely tied into her healing and therefore useless in combat? She must have noticed my confusion, as she takes my hand in hers.

"Captains such as myself are far more powerful than a regular Shinigami. I could have defeated those Hollows with ease, but in doing so my power would have caused harm to my own men," she says. I notice that her smile is even more beautiful when it's aimed directly me. Damn I hope where I'm headed has some good whores, because my chances with this woman are non-existent right now. "And if I had taken a direct role in the battle, it would have been over long before you arrived and unlocked your shikai?"

"Shikai?" I frown, tapping Houzukimaru against the back of my neck. "Is that some sort of Shinigami term for the voice in my head?"

"That sword you carry is a zanpakutou, a sentient weapon used by Shinigami to purify Hollows. What you did back then, when you changed its shape with a command and a name, is what is called shikai. I meant it when I said you had potential as a Shinigami."

I grimace. I really don't want to be a Shinigami right now. I still have to find that Zaraki bastard and pay him back for that beating he gave me. Maybe this shikai or whatever will give me that edge I need.

"I'll think about it, maybe. There's someone I want to find and beat, so it might be a while before I take you up on that offer." I spin Houzukimaru effortlessly and rest him across my shoulder. This is my first time using a spear, and it's amazing how easy it is. With a backwards wave at the Shinigami I wander off along the road, towards the town where Yumichika is hopefully waiting with beer and whores at the ready. He's going to kick himself so badly when he finds out what happened today.

Just as soon as I figure out how to turn this spear back into a sword, or think of an explanation for suddenly having a weapon I've never used before.


	15. Captured

**Title:** Captured  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** spoilers for episode 231, very mild torture  
**Summary:** Byakuya wakes up in the aftermath of the events of ep 231.  
**Word Count:** 824  
**Notes:** This will be Jossed. I know it will. Still, allow me my speculation, and my vision of Byakuya in chains, for another week at least.

--

Byakuya groaned as consciousness hit him, spots dancing behind his eyes as an amateur drum group practised enthusiastically in his head. He struggled to sit up, fighting against the pain that wracked his body. What had happened? Had he allowed Kyouraku-senpai to coax him into another drinking session? No, not after last time, when he ended up streaking through Seireitei after losing embarassingly at strip poker, too drunk to even contemplate using shunpo to reach his home without being seen.

The solid feel of metal around his wrists brought the memories flooding back. The zanpakutou had rebelled. For some reason they'd turned on their masters, their partners, and viciously attacked the Gotei 13. Byakuya didn't understand, couldn't understand. He'd always treated Senbonzakura with the utmost respect. Even in defeat he'd never laid the blame on his blade, only on his own lack of skill, strength and, in that one specific case, determination.

He was surprised though, to still be alive. Senbonzakura's power was formidable, far too great to be defeated with what was now nothing more than an asauchi, and he'd taken the full brunt of that overwhelming force. By all rights he should have been little more than a stain on the ruins of the building he'd been flung into. Instead he could only feel minor injuries, broken bones and closed over cuts that posed no threat to his life. Such a thing wasn't possible after such a hit.

"I know you're awake, Byakuya-kun. Why won't you open your eyes and look at me? Are you ashamed? Of me? Of yourself?" Senbonzakura's voice was as calm and controlled as Byakuya's own, and the noble opened his eyes to look at the spirit.

"Senbonzakura? Why are y-" A blow slammed into Byakuya's face, knocking him back into the wall of his prison. Fresh spots danced against his vision as he was picked up and pinned by his throat by an armoured hand.

"That is Senbonzakura-sama to you, Byakuya-kun, as you were Byakuya-sama to me all these years."

"I never asked that of you. Your form of address was always your choice and yours alone," Byakuya gasped, barely able to speak around the constricting fingers. A memory struck him as he fought the blackness that threatened to take him again, an image of a face twisted with fear and anger as he was engulfed by Senbonzakura's attack. "Where is Rukia?"

"Kuchiki Rukia escaped," someone said, before Senbonzakura could reply. Byakuya bristled at the sound, recognising the voice. The sword was his best skill, but not his only one. His hakuda skills were high, as expected of the head of the Kuchiki clan. He could break free, tear the speaker limb from limb with his bare hands. It was this man's fault. He was the one who led the zanpakutou into rebellion. He tensed, preparing to strike.

"Do not, Byakuya-kun."

Byakuya bit back the scream that threatened to tear from his throat as Senbonzakura's free hand grabbed his wrist, shoving the manacle far enough up his arm for it to dig in and draw blood, and squeezed.

"That is enough, Senbonzakura. We need him in one piece." The pressure on Byakuya's wrist eased, but the pain didn't lessen. Taking a shaky breath, the noble forced the sensation to the back of his mind. He wouldn't show any weakness in front of this enemy... these enemies, he amended, no matter how much it hurt to think of Senbonzakura that way.

"Rukia escaped? Good." His efforts had bought her the time she needed to flee then. No, had bought the time Renji needed to drag her away. He knew his sister well enough to know that she wouldn't have left him alone unless she had no other choice.

"She fled to the living world, running from Shirayuki like a rabbit from a fox. She found a protector there, one strong enough to drive Shirayuki back through the senkaimon."

Kurosaki. It could be no one else. That was good. He still didn't fully approve of the brat and his headstrong, impulsive methods, but he was devoted to Rukia, possibly even in love with her. He would die before allowing harm to come to her. Rukia was safe.

"This refuge that Kuchiki Rukia has found in the living world is a setback, albeit a temporary one. It may, in the end, prove to be a blessing for us."

Byakuya frowned. What did this madman mean? Rukia was beyond their reach, protected by a Captain-class Shinigami, two if Urahara became involved, and his circle of powerful and loyal friends.

"Your sister saw you fall, Byakuya-kun. She knows you did not succeed in your attempt to defeat Senbonzakura. And with Yoruichi Shihouin's visit to Soul Society, she also knows that you haven't been found. She will return to look for you, if she is even half as devoted to you as you are to her. And with her will come Kurosaki Ichigo... and Zangetsu."


	16. Beauty Multiplied

**Title:** Beauty Multiplied  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** possible Yumichika-related spoilers  
**Summary:** This meeting could be the most beautiful disaster ever to happen.  
**Word Count:** 2375  
**Notes:** Companion to A Pleasant Surprise.

--

_'Are you there,'_ I ask impatiently. This place I've found to meditate, a flower-covered meadow by the bottom of a cliff, watered by the spray of the waterfall next to it, is a popular spot for nobles to bring their would-be lovers. For this reason it is not-unknown for bandits and rogues to lurk here, hoping to catch those love-blinded fools unawares. If I wasn't so curious about this voice in my head I wouldn't linger here at all.

_-Of course. I am a part of you, just as you are a part of me. Our beauty is shared, Yumichika-kun, and this place you have chosen is suitably beautiful for both of us.-_ I don't exactly hear the voice, but I know what it's saying still. Male, self-assured and oh-so-arrogant, if Ikkaku knew about it he would probably say that it was probably just my own vices come to life.

_-In a way, he would be right. As a reflection of your personality, your dreams and desires, I am _naturally _just as beautiful as you are.-_ He's preening now, and I smile softly. With every word he says I sink deeper into the landscape of my mind, until I can see the garden that's dominated my dreams for some time now.

As beautiful as my real surroundings are, this place in my head is even more so. Perfectly clear streams flow alongside and underneath the verdant walls of a towering maze of trees and bushes. I'm surrounded by cool, impossibly green walls, studded with beautiful flowers that shine like precious stones. A cool breeze plays with my air and blows the scent of jasmine and rose to me. Towering cherry trees in perpetual bloom scatter delicate pink petals in front of me as I walk, petals which remain pristine even as I step on them with waraji that somehow make no sound on the gravel. The path underneath my feet is all the colours of the rainbow and several more as well, and many paths of different colours split off into the rest of the maze.

"Will I see you this time? Will I be able to see your beauty as you've seen mine?" I ask, knowing that the being can hear me despite the distance between us. It's a fair question, as every time I've sought the refuge of this place in my dreams, all I've ever seen of my mental companion is a dark shadow flitting away from me, sometimes that of a man, occasionally a large bird and, very rarely, sometimes a cross between the two forms.

The answer doesn't come immediately, and I fear for a few seconds that I have insulted this beautiful-voiced creature of my mind. As I pass a familiar landmark, a towering hydrangea that somehow has flowers that shine the colours of all the precious stones I've ever seen, it replies, "Yes, you will see me. It is an ugly action to hide myself for so long, and I apologise for doing so."

I step out into the centre of the maze, an expanse of grass and wildflowers that shines like jewels in the light. In the centre of this space is a pavilion set next to a fountain, and I cross over to it, my feet leaving no mark on the perfection that I step on. The sky is perfectly clear, unmarred by even a single cloud, but I still can't see the sun. I've never been able to see the sun in this garden, despite the brightness that always fills it.

There's someone in the pavilion, reclining on a raised seat as they watch my approach. The shade hides them, preventing me from seeing them properly as I walk across the grass. I can see that whoever it is is mostly human, but even at this distance there are hints that there is something else to them.

As I step into the cool shade of the pavilion I see him clearly. At first glance he looks like me, if I was ever inclined to braid my hair, cover my head with bandages and walk around with my chest bared. A closer look reveals the differences between us. Green and orange wings cover his forearms and hands, and there are more feathers covering his legs and side, dark blue in colour this time, but leaving his chest and stomach uncovered. I also notice the crest of stiff orange feathers protruding from the bandages on his head. He watches me with shocking blue eyes as I walk past the seat meant for me to kneel next to him.

"You are even more beautiful than I thought you would be," I whisper, taking his hand in mine and kissing it. "For so many nights I've listened to your voice in my mind, thinking of how beautiful its owner must be, and now that you're before me I cannot believe how far short my imagination fell."

"You are not without beauty yourself, Yumichika-kun," he says, running a finger down my face. His wings don't completely cover his hands, instead being capable of folding back to allow him to use his hands. "There is no need for you to kneel before me. Our beauty is equal, and as equals we should both sit at the same height."

"We aren't equal yet, are we?" I challenge, capturing his gaze with my own. "You have me at a disadvantage here, beautiful one. You know my name, yet I know nothing of yours. In all the things you have whispered to me in the dark nights, the one thing you have never revealed is the thing I most want to know: what should I call you?"

"My name is-" His words are cut off as I pull out of my trance, throwing myself to one side to avoid a sword strike that would otherwise have decapitated me.

Rolling to my feet and drawing my sword in one smooth move I glare at my attacker. A well-groomed man wearing a short, white coat, almost shawl-like in its brevity, over black clothes, he looks annoyed that I dodged his strike. Three other men move to surround me, two with strange pole-weapons, and one with another sword. Two more men are holding a beautifully dressed child back, preventing him from charging at me with a katana that's almost too big for his undeveloped body to wield properly.

"I suppose that telling you that I'm not a bandit who fell asleep while waiting for you to arrive won't work?" I ask, only half-sincerely. These men are guards for a noble brat, and I've never rated their intelligence as very high.

"Not now that you've admitted it," the leader snarls. I sigh in annoyance, and hear an echo it in my head. The ignorance of these men is truly ugly, even more so when I was so close to learning the name of my beautiful companion.

Ignorant or not, these glorified thugs are good at fighting. I disable the second sword user with ease, sinking my sword into his chest as he brought his sword up in an attempt to cleave my skull. The others are not so easily defeated though, especially after I leave their comrade lying on the ground, gasping for breath as the air in his lung is rapidly replaced with blood.

I reel back from a barely blocked blow, my arms numb from the force with which the staff clashed against my sword, and slip on the spray and blood-soaked grass. The staff-wielder that knocked me down moves in to strike again, a triumphant grin on his face, and I hear the voice again.

_-Use me. Call my name and take my power,-_ it says. My fingers tightening around the hilt of my sword, I shakily lift my arm, which I think may be broken, to a guard position.

"Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku," I call, echoing the words spoken by my companion. The man about to smash my head in looks shocked as the blade of my sword glows and writhes, splitting into a multitude of peacock feathers, which turn into vines that snake out and capture each of my attackers. Pushing myself to my feet, I run my hand along one of the vines, which are still attached to the hilt of my sword. It's soft under my fingers, but I can feel the strength and durability contained within. The captured men struggle and curse, seemingly unable to escape their bonds. I can feel their strength leaving them, draining into the rapidly growing buds that stud the length of the vines. I quickly realise that their energy is flowing into me as well, strengthening me and replenishing what I'd used to fight them with before.

_-These ugly people should never have attacked us, Yumichika-kun. For threatening our beauty their punishment shall be death,-_ Ruri'iro Kujaku croons in my mind.

_'Don't kill them, Kujaku,'_ I order, forcing as much of my mental strength as possible over our bond. _'I don't want to be hunted by a noble clan for the deaths of their men, even if they _did_ start it. Besides, that boy won't survive here in Rukongai if he hasn't any guards.'_

_-Very well. They're not beautiful enough to earn death from me anyway.-_ Kujaku seems to be annoyed, despite his bowing to my wishes. I can hear the snapping and rustling of feathers in my mind, and Kujaku's presence withdraws from me slightly.

_'Sulking is not beautiful, my love,'_ I send, _'and these men are far too ugly for even their last expressions to be beautiful. Do not waste your powers on these unworthy specimens, please.'_

The vines pulse one last time and retreat from the three men, shrivelling until I am once more holding a normal katana, and they fall unconscious to the ground. The two remaining guards watch me warily as I turn to them, their charge scowling at me from between their protecting bodies.

"You shan't touch Kuchiki-bocchama, bandit," the larger of the two yells, half-drawing his sword as if daring me to approach. The other cups his hands in front of his chest and barks out a few short words, throwing a burst of blue flames at me, which I dodge easily. They're Shinigami then, or at least trained by their kind.

They're not very strong though, and I barely have to move to dodge the first lunging attack. It isn't long before they're both on the ground, the swordsman with his arm shattered and blade lying broken in the grass, and the flame thrower unconscious on his back, with an imprint of my waraji in his face. The noble boy looks rather more uncertain now, his oversized blade wavering as he stares at me with defiant terror.

_-Such a beautiful expression, don't you think? What are you going to do, Yumichika-kun?-_

_'You should already know that, Kujaku. I won't kill a defenceless child.'_ I smile reassuringly at the boy, who glares back angrily. His storm-grey eyes are beautiful, even when wide with terror at the thought of being alone with the person who single-handedly demolished his contingent of body guards. A strand of black hair is blown across his face by the wind and he brushes it away with one hand, betraying his inexperience in real combat.

"You'll n-never get away with this. R-reinforcements will be here soon, Shinigami th-that'll kill you for this," he stutters. I shake my head and step back from him to where Ruri'iro Kujaku's sheath lies on the trampled grass. Bowing lightly to the young noble, I sheathe my sword and continue backing off into the trees by the base of the cliff. As long as the brat still thinks I'm a bandit out to capture or kill him it wouldn't really be wise for me to turn my back on him. Hopefully he'll have the sense not to follow me, and then I'll never see him again for the rest of my life.

_-Noble reiatsu would be exquisite, but killing a child as weak as that would be just too ugly to even think about.-_ Kujaku smirks in my mind, and I feel his hand brushing against my arm as clearly as if he was walking alongside me. _-I hope we do see him again, when he's old enough and experienced enough to fight us, Yumichika-kun.-_

I think about the possibilities of that happening and shake my head. The chances of meeting that child again as an adult are so low as to be non-existent. Slowing as I reach a small path through the trees, I reach into my mind again, deep enough to see Kujaku but not so deeply that I fall into that inner world. _'That move with the vines? Is that the only technique you're capable of, Kujaku?'_

_-What are you asking, Yumichika-kun?-_

_'It's a powerful attack, and beautiful, but it doesn't exactly give my enemies a chance to show their full beauty, does it? All they can do once they're caught is struggle futilely as their life is drained away, their expressions getting more ugly as they curse me for tricking them.'_

_-It preserves _our_ beauty, Yumichika-kun. Once caught their energy flows into us and strengthens us. They can no longer attack us and try to mar our perfection with their unworthy blades.-_

I sigh. Kujaku seems to be the contrary, self-preserving side of my soul. I enjoy the thrill of battle, the knowledge that one slip, one mistimed parry or block, could end my life. Kujaku already knows this, just as he knows everything else about me, but his smiling face is resolute.

_'We will just have to disagree on this, Kujaku. And your power will just have to be my last resort, something to fall back on when my only other option is an ugly death.'_ I ignore Kujaku's angry spluttering as I glimpse the edge of the forest and the town that lies beyond. Ikkaku should be waiting there for me, and were this any other discovery I would probably tell him all about it over drinks. This time though... this time I'll keep my new knowledge to myself. There are some things that shouldn't be shared, even between the closest of friends.


	17. Beauty Shared

**Title:** Beauty Shared  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** R  
**Warnings:** minor violence  
**Summary:** Byakuya is in Yumichika's usual training spot, and curious about a childhood memory involving the other man.  
**Word Count:** 4666  
**Notes:** This one is partially the fault of **delwynmarch**, who shamelessly fed the plotbunnies that her comments generated, and also partly due to this lovely drawing by **candesceres**. Sequel to Beauty Multiplied.

--

Kuchiki-taichou's eyes snap open as I approach, his body flowing through the end of the kata and into another one even as he watches me walk to the other end of the training field. I don't let my shock at finding him here show: a Captain surely has access to more of the training field locations, even the ones that have been abandoned for general use, than a 'lowly' Fifth Seat such as myself.

His presence is something I could do without though, even if he is more pleasing to the eye than most of the people I spend my time with. I _had_ wanted to spend some time alone though, in this place that even Ikkaku doesn't know about, to repair my fractured relationship with Ruri'iro Kujaku. Kuchiki-taichou doesn't look like he's ready to leave yet though, and I glare at him resentfully as I start my own warm up drills.

_-Stop that, Yumichika-kun. You don't want your face to be stuck with such an ugly expression if the wind changes, do you?-_

_'I have every right to be annoyed with him, Kujaku. This is _our_ training ground, and he has no right to be here.'_ I swing Kujaku in a vicious arc, the sun shining beautifully off the blade as my reiatsu twines around me. I'm not angry, not really, just disappointed that the one time I get away by myself happens to be the time that Kuchiki-taichou wants to practice in private as well. _'Doesn't he have training areas in that fancy house of his?'_

_-You're being unreasonable, my love,-_ Kujaku whispers, his voice sliding over my mind like feathers over silk. I falter at the endearment, correcting myself just in time to prevent an ugly and embarrassing stumble. Kujaku so rarely calls me that now, since I stubbornly rejected his full abilities in favour of the compromise he offered me, and even knowing that his flattery is a distraction doesn't lessen its impact. _-He loaned his training grounds to those others, the ones who wield Zabimaru, Zangetsu and the beautiful Shirayuki. No doubt their idea of a restrained spar has left the area unuseable.-_

I chuckle, knowing that Kujaku is right. Renji and Ichigo are about as restrained as an angry and wounded mother bear, and adding Rukia to one of their sparring sessions would just have added a layer of ice to their usual level of destruction.

_-Besides, this man already knows about our power, or did you already forget? He was there that day, the first time you called on my assistance.-_

I glance at Kuchiki-taichou as I turn, striking up at an imaginary opponent with Kujaku. It couldn't be, yet it was. Despite the intervening years, I can still see that gawky, inexperienced child still within the powerful, graceful, _beautiful_ Captain at the other end of the training field. This man handles his sword as if he was born with it in his hand, his footwork swift and certain as he battles against an invisible opponent almost as if he's dancing.

_-I wonder if he remembers us, Yumichika-kun,-_ purrs Kujaku, a sound he's perfected despite being a bird half the time, and I shake my head, sliding seamlessly into my next sequence of moves as I do so. Nothing good ever comes of that tone of voice. It was Kujaku's seductive, honey-coated purring that led to me waking up in bed with Kira and a massive hangover that one time, an experience that neither of us have ever felt a desire to repeat.

"Ayasegawa-kun, are you finished with your warm-ups yet?" Kuchiki-taichou says, suddenly appearing behind me. He seems to be well-used to the conditioned response of a startled Eleventh Division officer, no doubt due to long association with Renji, as he dodges my reactionary attack with practised ease.

I recover quickly, pulling myself to my full height to look him in the eye. He's even more beautiful up close, with those storm-grey eyes focused solely on me. "I'm finished, Kuchiki-taichou."

"Good. I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a simple sparring session?" He says it as if there's a chance that I'll refuse, and I find myself smirking despite myself. A member of Eleventh Division never backs down from a fight, even if it is likely to be nothing more than a friendly spar.

Raising Kujaku to a guard position, I nod respectfully at Kuchiki-taichou. "I'm ready when you are."

He nods back, raising Senbonzakura to guard as well. For several heartbeats we stay like that, just watching each other silently, before Kuchiki-taichou vanishes from my sight. I spin to block, recognising the move from Renji's descriptions and my own observations on the battlefield. While I trust Kuchiki-taichou to stop his blade before he pierces my Hakusui and Saketsu, a successful Senka would be an instant win for him, something that my pride, and Kujaku's, will not allow.

My arms tingle from the clash as I deflect Senbonzakura's thrust. Kuchiki-taichou seems to be impressed with my speed as he pulls back, already sliding into another attack even as he does so. I match him thrust for thrust, slash for slash as we dance across the training field, flickering in and out of shunpo in an attempt to force even just a small opening in each other's defences. Despite how well I'm defending against him, I know it's not enough. He's a Captain; he could demolish me without breaking a sweat if he truly tried. Even that first Senka wasn't something that I should have been able to block. Blood trickles from minor cuts on both of us, wounds that are hardly big enough to even be noticed, that wouldn't be noticed were this a real fight.

"You're stronger than I expected, Ayasegawa-kun. I would not guess that you were a Fifth Seat if it was something I did not already know." I block the overhead strike that accompanies Kuchiki-taichou's compliment, placing my left hand against the flat of my blade to stop his from reaching my skull in such a way that it would signal my defeat. Kuchiki-taichou's greater weight presses down on the two swords, slowly forcing me to my knees to avoid being having to concede the match.

As my right knee touches the ground I throw myself to the side, pivoting on my left hand as I skid and roll out of reach of Kuchiki-taichou's blade. He jumps over the leg sweep that I attempt as I roll, smoothly turning the dodge into a strike that forces me back on the defensive. Parrying another strike I jump away, using shunpo to put distance between us as I bring Kujaku up, holding him at chest height and parallel to the ground.

_-Don't ruin the fun yet, love. Senbonzakura wants to play as well, but his master isn't ready to go that far... yet,-_ Kujaku sends pride and adoration and trust and, most importantly, love at me in a wave, and I know I'm grinning like a fool as the feelings crash over me. Hopefully Kuchiki-taichou will attribute the expression to my being an Eleventh Divisioner, and won't think too much of it. I don't exactly advertise how close I really am with Kujaku, even if recent events have damaged that relationship somewhat.

_'I won't. I want to see Senbonzakura's full beauty for myself, close at hand, instead of at a distance on the battlefield, when I'm distracted by my own enemies,'_ I reply. I've never been lucky enough to be close enough to get a good view of the moment when Kuchiki-taichou finally looses the millions of blades that make up his bankai, and even though I know it's a futile hope, I wonder if today will be the day that I get to see that sight.

"Sake, Fuji Kujaku." The blade in my hand glows and twists, eventually smoothing out into the shape of a falx. Kuchiki-taichou nods in approval, bringing his own sword up so it's vertical, with the edge towards his chest.

"If you wish to take this spar in that direction, Ayasegawa-kun, then I will oblige you. Chire, Senbonzakura." He turns the blade as he speaks, so the flat catches the light before it dissolves into a swirling cloud of petal-like blades. Pink where they catch the light, they swirl around us in a stunning display of beauty and elegance. Even up close they hardly look deadly at all, and I don't think I'd believe in their power had I not seen the devastation this flood of blades could wreak on the field of battle.

In my rapture I barely notice the blades flowing together to form a single body, before a sharp swing of the hilt still in Kuchiki-taichou's hand sends them streaking towards me. Slashing with Fuji Kujaku I manage to split the stream in two, only for the halves to change direction and flow towards me from either side. Unable to go forwards or sideways, I instead jump back and _up_, glad that this training ground lies outside of Seireitei and the barrier that prevents Shinigami from taking to the air.

"You cannot defeat Senbonzakura with a single blade, Ayasegawa-kun, nor can you hope to dodge forever." He swings the hilt again, this time slashing up to send the wave crashing into me in a manner that would make human scientists cry at the blatant disregard for gravity. I dodge, shunpoing away, always just barely one step ahead of the deadly cloud. If I can just get close enough to Kuchiki-taichou, to where I can strike at him with Fuji Kujaku, then this fight will be over in my favour. His shikai seems ill-suited for defence, especially when it's commited to pursuit the way it currently is.

Flicking my wrist to separate Fuji Kujaku's four blades, I vanish from the sky and reappear behind Kuchiki-taichou, already mid-slash as he turns to face me. There's not enough time for him to face me though, and a strike to his back would be a winning blow for me.

_-Watch out,-_ Kujaku calls urgently, at the same time as I spot Kuchiki-taichou's arm wrapped around his stomach, with the backwards-pointing hand curled into a fist with a single finger pointed at me.

"Hadou no yon, Byakurai," he mutters softly. The lightning sears into my side, scorching flesh as I awkwardly change my lunge into a sideways jump. The pain shoots through my body, and I ruthlessly push it back as I shunpo away from Senbonzakura's rapidly approaching attack.

The length of the field between us, I pause to catch my breath. Kuchiki-taichou is stronger than me, faster than me and has the advantage of being able to use kidou and a nigh-unblockable shikai. If I'm hit by that attack full on then the best I can hope for is a lengthy stay in Fourth Division's care, if Kuchiki-taichou is unable to blunt it in time. Forcing myself to breathe deep, thankful that the kidou missed my ribs, diaphragm and lungs, I prepare to make another attack. I'm not out of this fight yet.

_-Don't you think it might be time, love? Surely you can trust at least this man to keep our secret. Not that it _should_ be a secret, but we don't have time for that argument now, do we?-_ I roll my eyes at the petty reminder of our old quarrel, and shake my head.

_'Why would he remember that day? He was young and scared. He might have blanked that incident from his memory a long time ago,'_ I reason. It's the habit of almost a lifetime to be stubborn about this matter, and the argument with Kujaku, even as I charge headlong at Kuchiki-taichou, is familiar and warming.

I don't even get within attack range before I'm forced to retreat again, or be swallowed up by the thousand blades. Kuchiki-taichou frowns as I skid backwards on the grassy sand, lowering the controlling hilt and letting the blades swirl aimlessly in patterns that are mesmerisingly beautiful to watch.

"Stop playing around, Ayasegawa-kun. I know that this isn't all you're capable of." He stalks forwards, either confident that his shikai will defend him from any attack I might make while he's open, or certain that I won't attack him like this. "I remember, Ayasegawa-kun. It's hard to forget something like that, your first brush with death in human form. I never forgot that the most beautiful thing we found that day was also the most deadly, and that only by your mercy was I left alive."

"So this is your revenge, Kuchiki-taichou, for an insult over a century old, sparked by the rude behaviour of your own men?" I raise Fuji Kujaku, calculating my chances of getting within striking range before Kuchiki-taichou brings Senbonzakura's blades crashing down on me from all directions. They're not very high, but I've gone into fights with less certain odds and come out on top before.

"No. As you said, my men were the ones at fault. You were obviously not a bandit, as was obvious from the manner of your dress, and they should have allowed you to leave in peace." Kuchiki-taichou stops, just out of striking range, and regards me coolly. "I want to see that power again, the one you used to defeat four of my men in one go."

_-What do we have to lose, mi amor? He already knows; there's no point in lying to him. Let him see our true beauty, so he may know what exactly it is he's asking.-_ Kujaku purrs, his smooth hand brushing against my cheek and down my arm.

_'Kujaku, what part of _secret_ don't you understand?'_ I hiss back, mentally distancing myself from the spirit's teasing touches.

_-You let that thug find out about me, the tattooed one who wields that barbarian Kazeshini, so what's wrong with letting this beautiful, wonderful, _powerful_ man see me?-_

I sigh. Kujaku has a point about my letting Hisagi-fukutaichou know our powers, though I hadn't had any other choice but an unacceptably ugly defeat at that time. Kuchiki-taichou has known for over a century, not all of it but enough to ruin my career in Eleventh Division if it ever slipped out, and yet he seems not to have told anyone. I suppose I could trust him with the knowledge of what exactly he saw that day, all those long years ago.

"Kuchiki-taichou, this is a secret that I've kept ever since that time. You were lucky enough to be a witness to the first time I called Ruri'iro Kujaku's name, and since then only one other person has discovered that knowledge and lived to tell the tale."

"You honour me, Ayasegawa-kun." He's watching me with interest now, Senbonzakura's hilt still held loosely by his side. He's completely open, as if he wants to be caught in Ruri'iro Kujaku's vines.

_-If that's what he desires, Yumichika-kun, then who are we to deny him?-_ croons Kujaku. I nod in agreement, raising Fuji Kujaku to chest height and smiling beautifully at Kuchiki-taichou.

"Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku," I call, feeling the power rush through me even before the first syllable is complete. Kujaku is eager to fight properly, to display his beauty for all to see, and the four-bladed falx in my hand glows and writhes, forming feathery vines that shoot out and capture Kuchiki-taichou before he can react to the attack. Wrapping around his arms and legs, pulling him spread-eagle and immobile in the air, Ruri'iro Kujaku renders him defenceless almost instantly, the vines pulsing as they begin to draw out his strength to feed their own.

_-Hah! We have him! Did Kuchiki-bocchama not consider that he was far too close to our beauty to escape unscathed?-_ crows Kujaku, pride and fury and exultation flowing across our bond in a victorious and heady mix. Kuchiki-taichou struggles ineffectively in Kujaku's grip, twisting and writhing as he attempts to free himself. His right hand twitches, drawing my attention to Senbonzakura's hilt still held there, and I frown slightly.

_'Love, could you please bind Kuchiki-taichou's right arm more securely. If he gets even the slightest freedom of movement in that, then I will have to extinguish your beauty once more. I am not capable of dodging Senbonzakura with you in this form,'_ I warn Kujaku. The vines tighten in response, wrapping around Kuchiki-taichou's arm with almost enough force to crush it. He nods to me, understanding that Kujaku's grip could easily get tighter if he continues his attempts to escape that way, and smirks.

I reach deep inside myself, joining my will with Kujaku's to better control the insatiable peacock's draining of Kuchiki-taichou's reiatsu. Left unrestrained, Kujaku would take every last drop of that sweet power, killing him as surely as a blade to the chest. That stolen strength seeps into me as well, joining with my own reserves in a rush, heightening my own beauty. I know I'm glowing with power, can see my reflection in Kuchiki-taichou's eyes, and I smile dizzily. I've never felt like this before, never captured someone with such pure, untainted _deep_ reserves of power. This must be the difference between a Captain and those of lesser status, or maybe it's Kuchiki-taichou's noble birth that makes his reiatsu so different.

My eyes slip closed as I embrace the power flowing through me, accepting Kujaki's caresses across my mind as his limbs twine of those of my mental self. I start to slip into my inner landscape, knowing that Kuchiki-tacihou won't escape, and that the limits I imposed on Kujaku will hold, leaving him alive but too weak to do anything but concede defeat as I accept the offering that my beautiful zanpakutou is making towards repairing our relationship.

"Ayasegawa-kun, I hope you haven't forgotten my rank, and what that requires of me," he states, the words penetrating the fog clouding my mind and bringing me back to full alertness.

Understanding his meaning, remembering Renji's disjointed and drunken relaying of his fight with Kuchiki-taichou, I cry out to Kujaku, _'GAG HIM! STOP HIM FROM SPEAKING!'_ Kujaku's ability alone should prevent him from gathering the reiatsu necessary for bankai, but I haven't survived as long as I have by making such assumptions in battle.

It's too late even as I say it, and Kuchiki-taichou drops his newly sealed zanpakutou to the ground blade-first. Dark ripples spread out from the sword as it sinks into the ground, surrounding us in darkness as a thousand massive blades, each the height and width of several men, form two flanking rows.

"Bankai," Kuchiki-taichou says gravely, a victorious smirk tugging at his lips. "Chire, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."

The blades burst into countless points of light, which promptly vanish from view, even as a feathery vine slides across Kuchiki-taichou's mouth. The quickly-disguised look of horror on his face tells me all I need to know: the hastily mustered reserve of strength he'd used to call on his bankai had run out, drained by Kujaku quicker than he'd anticipated, and his attack had been defeated before it could even be fully started. Now gagged and unarmed, there was no way he could repeat such a valiant attempt, especially with Kujaku's full attention turned back to him.

"You misunderstand, Kuchiki-taichou. The more reiatsu you attempt to use, the faster Ruri'iro Kujaku drains it from you. Although I must admit that you surprised me: no one has ever managed to gather up the strength to use bankai after being caught, even for as short a time as that. I can truly see why you are a Captain."

I force myself not to voice the disappointment that I feel. With Kujaku's attention given fully to keeping Kuchiki-taichou under control, I have no respite for the arousal coursing through me. Neither of us are willing to give the stubborn, prideful Captain another chance at unleashing his bankai, a move that would result in our defeat, and to continue where we left off would certainly give him that chance. He's a dangerous opponent, and were he a true enemy I would have ordered Kujaku to hasten the extraction process with no regard to the damage it would do to him in the process. Seeing that Kuchiki-taichou is attempting to speak behind the gag, I cautiously order Kujaku to pull the vine back far enough for his words to become audible.

"I... I yield," he says reluctantly, all fire and shame and wounded pride. Slowly I draw Ruri'iro Kujaku back from Kuchiki-taichou's limbs, ending the drain of his reiatsu and lowering him to the ground where he stumbles before gaining his footing. I don't worry about him calling Senbonzakura's wrath down on me while Kujaku's in this vulnerable half-state between full shikai and his sealed form; Kuchiki-taichou has too much honour to attack once a match has been decided either way, even if the outcome isn't to his liking. Even if he was the sort to contemplate acting in such an ugly manner, Kujaku has left him in no state to even call out his shikai without first resting for some time.

Kuchiki-taichou is still swaying as I sheathe Kujaku once more, and I move to support him, intending on leading him to the shelter of the cliff that forms one side of the training area. He jerks at the contact with my body, but gradually leans his weight on me as if grateful for the assistance... or punishing me for being the one to put him in such a state. He doesn't speak, seemingly putting all his concentration into walking without tripping and bringing us both down, and I see no reason to interrupt the silence.

Only when he's sitting in the shade of the cliff, water bottle half empty and several energy bar wrappers littering the ground around him, does he speak again. "That was unexpected, Ayasegawa-kun. I did not anticipate being so overpowered and disarmed. If you don't mind me asking, why are you still only ranked as a Fifth Seat?"

I look away, my hand slipping to Kujaku's hilt as I answer. " I've always enjoyed being in the middle of a fight, staking my life on my own skills and how well I apply them. As you just discovered, Ruri'iro Kujaku renders my opponent helpless almost immediately, ending the fight without me having to risk my life too much." _'And your beauty is not for just anyone to see. I couldn't bear the thought of letting every ugly person out there see your true self.'_

"So it has nothing to do with your being in Eleventh Division and their famed dislike of kidou?" he asks quietly, his hand coming to rest on my knee. "Or your long association with Madarame, which I have heard extends to before your time there?"

"No, it has nothing to do with them. I made the decision to keep Ruri'iro Kujaku as my last resort, my trump card, a long time ago, and I've stuck to that decision since. And, as I said, most people who've seen my true release have died at my hands, so they couldn't spread the secret even if they wanted to." Kuchiki-taichou's hand slips higher as I speak, his touch feather-light but impossible to ignore as it slowly creeps closer to the erection that had only just started to die down but was renewed by his touch. "As for Eleventh Division, I have no desire to leave there. I joined because Ikkaku did, but I'm happy there and serving under anyone but Zaraki-taichou would feel wrong after all this time."

"So I suppose I cannot seduce you away from Zaraki's command once Abarai takes up his position as Fifth Division Captain," he whispers huskily. I turn back to him so fast something in my neck clicks, but I ignore the discomfort as his hand completes its journey up my thigh, coming to rest just inches away from my erection. "I could force the issue, let what I know of your powers slip in his hearing, but that would forever set you against me and likely make you apply as Abarai's Lieutenant out of the stubbornness you must surely have in abundance."

"E-Eleventh Division is my h-home, one that I have no d-desire to leave," I stutter eventually, forcing my brain to work again even as certain parts of my body tell me to simply accept what Kuchiki-taichou has to offer. Then the full implications of that offer sink in, and fury courses through me. "And I am no _whore_ to change allegiances based on who I last bedded, _Kuchiki-taichou."_

He sighs, but doesn't remove his hand, instead giving my thigh a quick squeeze. "I did not intend to suggest any such thing, Ayasegawa-kun. The seduction that I had in mind was not sexual in nature, and I apologise if my actions suggested as such. I merely spoke my mind about something that I have been considering for a while, and I chose my time for it clumsily. What happens today, if anything, has no bearing on any request I may make for you to consider a transfer to my command."

_-He would be a beautiful partner for us, my sweet love,-_ Kujaku croons, once more wrapping around my mental self. _-You should consider any offer he might make in the future. I wouldn't mind working more closely with Senbonzakura one day.-_ I shudder under Kujaku's renewed assault on my mind, my body reacting to the soft touch of fingers though cloth _brush of feathers against skin_, the lust burning in Kuchiki-taichou's eyes _love and adoration in every fibre of Kujaku's being_.

My hands move as if they have a mind of their own _are pinned above my head by Kujaku's strong grip_, grabbing at Kuchiki-taichou's haori _scrabbling for grip in the grass_, dominating _submitting to_ the rough, almost aggressive _gentle, loving_ kiss that I pull him into _Kujaku gives me_.

Hands tangle in my hair _press on my chest_, pulling me closer _pinning me further_, as the kiss deepens. I grind _thrust_ desperately against the hard body holding me close _straddling my hips_, needing the sweet friction that it provides _denies_ me. I arch my back _buck wildly under Kujaku_ as my completion crashes over me, a high-pitched moan escaping into the air _stifled by soft lips over mine_.

I regain consciousness in my own futon, dressed in my favourite nemaki, the one decorated with a peacock standing under a wisteria-covered archway, with Kujaku lying in reach to my left. For a few horrible seconds I think that everything was just a dream, until I see the letter lying by Kujaku's hilt. I open it carefully, listening for the sound of footsteps over the raucous laughter of probably drunken Division members, lest someone catch me off-guard and discover the contents of the note, whatever they may be.

_Ayasegawa-kun,  
I sincerely apologise for my rudeness in leaving you alone after such a liaison as ours, but several important matters in my Division required my immediate attention. No one has any idea as to exactly what occured: I informed your Captain that I goaded you into a sparring match that got out of hand, and that you would require several hours rest to recuperate from the injuries you received, an explanation that he appeared to accept without question._

If it suits you to accept, I would invite you to dine with me this coming Wednesday. There are several topics I wish to discuss with you, and an informal situation would be far preferable to me than the formality of my office, which I remind you is shared with Abarai. If you accept, you know where I can be found.

Byakuya.

I smile as I read the letter over again. Maybe I will take Kuchi- Byakuya up on this offer of his. Dinner and conversation with someone as beautiful as him could never be anything less than a pleasure.


	18. Absence

**Title:** Absence  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** implied character death  
**Summary:** Ikkaku looks for Yumichika.  
**Word Count:** 340  
**Notes:** Beta'd by **tea_fiend**

**o0o**

"Yumichika! Oi, Yumichika!" Ikkaku scanned the trees for any signs of his friend's presence, hoping that his calls would bring Yumichika running to him. "Hey, Yumichika, this ain't funny any more."

Muramasa had been defeated, struck down by Ichigo while everyone else faced their own zanpakutou, their sworn partners that should have been with them instead of against them. Everything was slowly returning to normal, even Kuchiki seemed to have regained Renji's trust - a bit too quickly, Ikkaku thought, given that he'd once again struck his own Lieutenant with the full force of his bankai and left him to die in a bloody, almost unrecognisable heap - yet Yumichika was still missing. He'd not been there for the final battle, and Houzukimaru had mentioned that Kujaku was missing as well.

A flash of orange caught Ikkaku's eye, bright against the dark green leaves. As Ikkaku approached he noticed that the trees around it bore signs of battle; branches smashed, whole trucks severed and leaves slashed into pieces. Dried blood freckled the ground, small spots here and there, leading to a large stain in a clearing, and Ikkaku fought back the bile that rose in his throat. Yumichika couldn't be... there was no way...

This was the only sign Ikkaku had seen of Yumichika in over a week, though. Four solid days of searching since Unohana had allowed him to leave the Fourth Division's care had turned up nothing. Picking up the scrap of cloth - half of Yumichika's flashy collar, he realised - Ikkaku muttered a few words of remembrance. If Yumichika had lost here, then this would be all Ikkaku _would_ find of him after all this time. If he hadn't, if he strolled into the barracks all smiles and flirtatiousness some time in the future - _please, Yumichika, do that, I won't even complain if you're sparkling and winking at everyone and you look like you've spent the entire time at a beauty salon_ - Ikkaku would just have to kick his ass for making him worry.


	19. Promise

**Title:** Promise  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** spoilers for Yumichika's zanpakutou's abilities  
**Summary:** Hisagi finds out what Yumichika's zanpakutou can really do.  
**Word Count:** 872  
**Notes:** The dialogue in the first two paragraphs is taken from chapter 147 of the manga. Beta'd by **tea_fiend**

**o0o**

"There is another thing... in the Eleventh Division, everyone believes that zanpakutou are for direct attacks. Everyone in my Division always says that kidou-class zanpakutou are the worst, and that only idiots would want them. Therefore, what I show you now is completely confidential. Take a peek-" Yumichika's zanpakutou began to glow with a pale blue light, its four blades splitting into many peacock feathers. Reiatsu whipped at Yumichika's clothes, pushing his sleeves back to bare his forearms and blowing his sweat-soaked hair away from his bloody face "-at the true power of my zanpakutou. Please keep it a secret from Ikkaku and my Captain, since I don't want to be hated by them."

"You..." Shuuhei started, alarmed by the change to his opponent's reiatsu and the transformation of what he'd thought was Yumichika's fully released sword.

"Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku," Yumichika stated. The feathers were moving even before he finished speaking, lengthening into tentacles that snaked out and wrapped around Shuuhei's limbs, binding him tight and spread-eagling him in the air.

"Hey, stop this, Ayasegawa!" Shuuhei yelled, thrashing against his bonds as several of the tentacles wound around his upper thighs. He knew his opponent's reputation, that he was supposedly as good a whore as he was a fighter. Such an attack, like something out of those 'anime' things from the living world, only reinforced this idea. It was wrong. "Let go of me, pervert!"

"Pervert?" Yumichika snarled. The vines tightened around Shuuhei, as if in response to their master's anger, drawing a whimper of pain from the Lieutenant. "How _dare_ you? I would have thought that such a prim and proper Lieutenant as yourself would know better than to listen to unfounded gossip!"

"What am I meant to think?" Shuuhei hissed, feeling the tentacles begin to move against his thigh again. "You've got me tied up, against my will might I add, and with those... things _there_..."

To Shuuhei's surprise, Yumichika began to laugh, his eyes twinkling with malicious amusement as he stalked towards his captive. "Oh, trust me, Hisagi-fukutaichou. If I wanted you in my bed, this is _not_ the way I would go about it." Yumichika placed his hand gently against Shuuhei's cheek, letting it linger almost lovingly for a second before roughly grabbing the Lieutenant's chin and forcing him to look up into glowing light blue eyes." "Kujaku has only bound you to keep you in place, so he can take your reiatsu for himself. Can you feel it, your energy slowly draining away?"

"What?" Shuuhei could feel it, now that Yumichika had mentioned it. Wherever the tentacles touched him, even through his shihakushou, Shuuhei could feel his reiatsu leaving him. "You cheating bastard."

"It's no more cheating than you using kidou on me earlier. Especially the bit where you tripped me with Hainawa." Yumichika looked bitter at the memory, and Shuuhei grinned as he remembered the look on the haughty Fifth Seat's face when his feet had literally been pulled from under him.

"And what are you going to do if I tell your Captain, in the very unlikely event that he survives Tousen-taichou's bankai? Or if I tell Madarame?"

"You're going to promise me that you won't tell them," Yumichika said quietly.

"I'll do no such thing," Shuuhei stated. Who did Ayasegawa think he was, demanding such a thing from a superior officer? Zaraki might let his men get away with such disrespect, but other Divisions weren't so lax in their discipline.

"You will, or Ruri'iro Kujaku won't stop draining your reiatsu. He'll take every last drop. You know what that means, don't you?" Yumichika, always the most polite of Eleventh Division's top officers, spoke quietly and formally, his wide smile not quite reaching his eyes. Shuuhei's mouth dried up as he realised that the Fifth Seat was deadly serious in his threat.

"You'd kill me. I wouldn't be able to tell anyone."

"Exactly. I meant it when I said I don't want my Captain or Ikkaku to know about my powers." Yumichika flicked his hair from his face, and looked directly at Shuuhei. "Do I have your word as a Lieutenant, Hisagi-fukutaichou?"

Shuuhei closed his eyes, shaking as more and more of his reiatsu was forcibly pulled from his body. He didn't want to bow down to the wishes of this madman, but if he didn't then he'd be dead. Still, there was nothing stopping him from making the promise then breaking it later. Except that would be dishonourable, a coward's act, and the one thing he was not was a coward.

"I give my word as the Lieutenant of Ninth Division that I will not reveal your secret to anyone, and especially not to Zaraki-taichou and Madarame-sanseki of the Eleventh Division," Shuuhei said eventually. Yumichika beamed and nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response.

Shuuhei noticed that there were flowers growing all along the length of the vines, ones that were now opening their petals in a display of beauty that he probably would have appreciated if he wasn't half dead. His eyes slipped closed as the vines retracted from around his limbs, too exhausted to keep them open any longer. Damn cheating bastard. Who'd have guessed that he'd have a zanpakutou like that?


	20. Jealousy

**Title:** Jealousy  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Ikkaku comes across a rather private scene.  
**Word Count:** 553  
**Notes:** Another part of The Series, the master list for which can be found here. Beta'd by **tea_fiend**

**o0o**

"Oi, Yu-" The greeting dies in my throat as I come into view of the training ground. Yumichika's there all right, just as I knew he'd be. Kuchiki-taichou's there as well, which is only fair considering he's Yumichika's Captain now. I'd thought that they'd be sparring though, with swords or fists. Not this. I mean, I know that Yumichika's talented and that Sixth is nothing like Eleventh, but still...

I feel like a voyeur as I settle down in the shade of the trees, unnoticed by either man. They're too engrossed in what they're doing to pay attention to their surroundings. What they'll do if a Hollow shows up I have no idea.

Yumichika's glowing, the ends of his hair fluttering in a reiatsu-generated breeze, his hands held out in front of him. Kuchiki-taichou is draped over his back, long hair tied in a high ponytail and his haori nowhere in sight as he speaks quietly into Yumichika's ear.

I've never seen this side of Yumichika before. I knew he had to be capable of this, hell, I could probably do what he's doing if I wanted, but he's never shown any sign of wanting to. If I'd known how good, how happy he'd look when doing it then I'd... I don't know. I'd like to think I'd have told him to screw the stupid rules and fight however he wanted, but I know he'd never have listened if I had. He's always had his stubborn pride, and once he accepted the Eleventh Division rules there was no way he'd have ever broken them.

I was pissed when he left. Of course I was. We'd been partners for so long I can't remember a time when we weren't. I'd never thought, not even for a second, that he would voluntarily leave me behind. Renji and Iba knew exactly what I'd thought of the situation, having borne the brunt of my temper in the first few days after Yumichika's transfer.

The target at the other end of the field shatters as it's engulfed in blue flames. Yumichika's reiatsu soars in triumph before he pulls it back in, and I smile. He was this happy when he finally reached Fifth Seat, fighting his way up the ranks in pursuit of me. I'd hoped, briefly, that he would take that extra step to Fourth Seat, but he never did, even when the guy holding that rank was killed in action. He thought it was too ugly to even bother with, so no one else did either. We have one now, and our officer ranks are finally full again, but it just doesn't feel the same.

Jealousy flares up in me as I watch Kuchiki-taichou's hand slip down Yumichika's chest, but I push it down. I had my chance at that sort of relationship with Yumichika. I've had over a hundred years to make my move on him. That I didn't realise _how_ I felt until he was out of my reach is no one's fault but my own. My own stupidity is no reason to ruin a perfectly good friendship.

With that in mind I stand up and turn back to the Seireitei. There'll be other days for drinking and catching up and getting into bar brawls. Somehow I don't think Yumichika's ready for me to know about his new hobby just yet.


	21. Guilty

**Title:** Guilty  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating**: R  
**Warnings:** non-explicit mentions of sex with a minor  
**Summary:** Urahara is guilty.  
**Word Count:** 292  
**Notes:** Betaed by **tea_fiend**. Written for the **springkink** prompt: _- Bleach; Urahara/Byakuya, guilty for wanting your hands, your mouth, your skin this much._

The cold water of the shower feels like a million tiny needles piercing my skin. My skin is red raw where I've scrubbed it, but I can still feel those hands, that mouth on me. I don't want to. What happened was wrong, and it'll never happen again.

I know this isn't true though. I've said it before. I love the way you touch me, the way your mouth feels on me, how smooth your skin is under my hands. Your moans and gasps as our sweat-slicked bodies move together echo in my mind, and my body would be reacting to the memory if the water weren't so cold.

Even though I said it's over, we both know it isn't. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after, or even the week after that, but I'll come back to you. I always come back. It's wrong, and I know I should stop before we're caught, but I'm guilty. Guilty for wanting your hands, your mouth, your skin this much. You're like a drug to me, Byakuya, and I don't think I can quit.

One day I will. Or you'll quit me. I'll become a Captain in a few days, if I pass these tests, and I'll have no time to indulge myself with your body. Your grandfather will select a suitable bride for you, and you'll forget about the man who took your innocence from you. I only hope you can forgive me when you realise how wrong my actions have been.

An image of your naked body supine on the grass flashes through my mind and I bite my lip. I'm guilty, and I hope I can one day make amends before my soul is eternally condemned to hell for what I've done to you.


	22. Lost

**Title:** Lost  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** non-con, angst  
**Summary:** I wanted to tell you you're beautiful, but now it's too late.  
**Word Count:** 1015  
**Notes:** Betaed by **tea_fiend**

I shouldn't be watching this. It's wrong. You're my friend, and yet I'm watching this happen to you. Even worse, it's turning me on. If my arms were freed this instant, I'm not sure if I would grab my sword or my dick first. There's probably some special place in hell reserved for people who get off on watching their friends get raped.

The betrayal on your face every time you look at me is harder to bear than a sword through my chest. There's no hiding how aroused I am right now. We weren't left with the dignity of clothes. Why would we be? Prisoners don't need them, right? And fuck toys have even less of a need.

Yeah, fuck toys. The bastards made that pretty clear when they were gloating. We're here to be used. It's not like we have any information, that we're privy to Soul Society's plans for fighting Aizen. The Captains are plotting something, but they haven't shared those plots with anyone yet. Aizen knows this, somehow. He doesn't need information from us. He has his own spies. We're only alive as long as we're interesting to fuck.

You're trying not to cry. I want to tell you to let it out, that no one here will tell of your moment of weakness, but I can't. Even if I wasn't gagged, I don't think I could speak to you right now. Not without telling you how beautiful you are. Because that's what I want to say, what I should have said before. Even though you wouldn't have taken it well, I still should have said it.

Thin, muscular arms wrap around me, delicate fingers and rough fabric brushing against my bare skin. I can feel that despicable smirk against my neck as the bastard wraps one hand around my aching shaft. I don't want this. I don't want to get off on seeing my friend hurt like this, but my body has other ideas.

I thrust into that hand as much as my bonds allow, silently begging forgiveness the whole time. Would you do this? Would you let your baser instincts take over if our positions were reversed? If it was me getting raped over a table, would you find it as arousing as I do? I don't think you would. You're not gay, after all. You like women, even if you deny it. My body wouldn't interest you at all.

I blush so hard I think my face matches my hair as a moan forces its way up my throat. This isn't me. I'm not the one who wants to see you like this. I'd never want to see you like this. Who would? That broken look on your face, the betrayal and hurt and anger in your eyes, that's not the real you. You're fire and rage and righteous fury and loving protection. Being near you is like standing in full sunlight at the height of summer. Great, now I sound like a pathetic Academy girl with a crush.

Those hated fingers pinch the base of my cock, saving me from displaying my depravity even further. I still whine though, my body protesting at being prevented from relieving the arousal coursing through my veins. At least you don't have to see that proof of my sickness. I don't think I could bear the pain that would cause you, for you to know that I _am_ that fucked in the head.

The bastard stands again, fabric shifting as he circles around me, his hand trailing over the back of my neck and along my collarbone as he moves in front of me. That damnable grin never leaves his face as he sinks to his knees between my spread legs, bracing his hands on the arms of the solid metal chair that I'm bound to. He thinks this is amusing, that my pain - _our_ pain - is something for him to enjoy.

I arch my back as his mouth engulfs my penis. He's not my first, I haven't been a virgin since my second year at the Academy, but it's been a while. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have anything but a hand wrapped around there. Now I can pretend that it's his fault, that he's the one who put me in this state. You have nothing to do with this. You're not the reason that I'm ready to blow my load almost as soon as the bastard starts.

I'm just deluding myself though. Even as he pins my hips and sucks me off with as much skill as a Rukongai whore, I'm still looking at you. Still watching the emotions playing across your face. Still drinking in the revulsion in your eyes. I don't know who that hatred is for, but some small part of me hopes that I'm the target. I deserve it, for getting in this state to begin with. You're my friend, I'm one of the people you trust the most out of everyone in Seireitei, yet I'm getting off on your rape.

I cry out around the gag as I release, spraying the bastard all over that smiling face of his. He doesn't seem to mind, licking his lips and using his hand to get as much of my seed as possible. You look away, your face filling with something I can't identify as the Arrancar pinning you down also climaxes. He looks smug as he wipes his prick over your ass, and I want to tear his throat out. If you weren't bound even tighter than I am, you'd kick his ass like I know you can. You'd kick mine as well, and Aizen's.

Hopefully they'll throw us back in that cell now, and you can scream and swear at me as we make a thousand useless plans to escape. You're not a quitter, Ichigo, and I know this won't be enough to make you give in. Just hang on. We'll be rescued soon, then I'll pay for being a perverted fuck. Just hang on, don't let that fire of yours die. I'll die before I let Aizen kill you, I swear.


	23. Together

**Title: **Together  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** Universal (U)  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** They're best friends, but maybe that's not all they can be.  
**Word Count:** 1269  
**Notes:** I think my teeth are about to fall out from the fluff. Written for **springkink** prompt 'Ukitake/Shunsui; confession- Oh god, that was so not what he had meant to say.' It also fits the **100_situations** prompt 'Nervous'. Betaed by **agenttrojie**

**o0o**

"This is all your fault," Jyuushirou muttered grumpily. His usually pale skin was a vibrant red that was visible even through his light summer uniform, and he leaned on Shunsui for support as they walked. "Definitely your fault."

"I already said I was sorry, Jyuushirou," Shunsui replied. He slipped an arm around Jyuushirou's waist as his friend stumbled over a fallen branch. "I know I promised to wake you before you had a chance to burn, but you looked like you needed the sleep."

"Of _course_ I needed the sleep, Shunsui. What _better_ place for it than in a nice sunny clearing on midsummer's day?!" Jyuushirou snapped. "Never mind that I burn far more easily than I tan!"

"I-" Shunsui shook his head before he could say something he regretted. Jyuushirou was probably the only person in the Academy who was _his_ friend, rather than his family's and his money's. He didn't know if he could make it through another two years alone if he drove him away.

The pair walked through the woods in silence, broken only by birdsong and insect calls. Jyuushirou leaned more of his weight on his roommate as time went by, exhaustion and heat making him want to do nothing more than curl up somewhere cool and dark so he could sleep until summer ended. He knew Shunsui wouldn't let him do that though, if only so he'd still have someone to share notes and skip class with.

The tightening of his chest was all the warning that Jyuushirou had of an impending coughing fit, and he pushed himself free of Shunsui before he could stain both their uniforms red with lung-blood. Collapsing to his knees on the path, Jyuushirou shook under the onslaught of his illness. The touch of Shunsui's hand on his back, normally a comfort and a reminder of why he didn't just give in and let the disease claim him forever, only brought pain this time.

Shunsui saw the way his friend flinched from his touch and cursed quietly under his breath, using words that would have had his childhood tutors spitting nails if they heard. Jyuushirou's back was as burned as his front, and Shunsui didn't wish to cause him any more pain than he already had through his negligence. Carefully he gathered Jyuushirou's hair in his hand, pulling it clear of the other man's face and back so it would neither get blood-speckled or cause him pain. It was the least he could do for him.

"Thank you, Shunsui," Jyuushirou muttered once the fit had passed. He gratefully swilled his mouth out with water from the canteen he was handed - their _last_ canteen, he noticed, and one with not much in it at that. No matter how familiar the taste of his own blood was, he still didn't like it. He didn't think he ever would. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd manage." Shunsui sat next to Jyuushirou, matching his friend's seiza position with the ease of long practice. "You're a nice guy. Anyone'd be glad to help you out. Not like me, the notorious lech with money and influence to spare."

"No one thinks like that about you," Jyuushirou protested. He shook his head slightly as another cough threatened to take him again. Fighting it back, not willing to give in to a fresh attack so soon after the last, he smiled at Shunsui. "Actually, some of them do. I try to steer you away from that sort though."

"I noticed. You're a good friend, Jyuushirou. I honestly don't deserve you." Shunsui gently let go of Jyuushirou's hair, lowering it so it lay evenly across his back. "You'd do better without me, I'm sure."

"That's nonsense," Jyuushirou said softly. "Without you I would have given up a long time ago. I-" _'love you? Don't want you to leave? Can't live without you?'_ Jyuushirou didn't know what to say to keep Shunsui by his side. The idea of the next two years without his best friend, never mind the decades beyond that - Jyuushirou didn't dare to hope that his illness would spare him for more than another century - was unthinkable. "You saved my life in first year, when you helped me through that attack. I was prepared to die then, but you made me live. Since then I've fought my illness because you were there to remind me why I struggled on."

Jyuushirou blushed, wishing he could take back those words as soon as they left his mouth. That was _not_what he'd meant to say. He'd never revealed any of that, not even to Unohana-sensei, the reiatsu healer in charge of treating his illness. To tell it to Shunsui like that - if he was lucky Shunsui would take him all the way to the healer's building before leaving him forever. What a way to sound like some sort of crazy stalker with a crush.

For once Shunsui was speechless. Jyuushirou was the stubborn one of the pair, the one who kept going even after everyone else quit, and succeeded. That he'd nearly let himself die from the sickness that consumed him was unthinkable. He'd always vowed he'd never let himself die in such a way. They swore they'd die together, one day far in the future when they were older than Yama-jii and far more senile. The pain - the _fear_ - in Jyuushirou's eyes cut through Shunsui like a knife. He'd bared his soul to Shunsui, and now he was expecting a harsh rejection.

"That's funny, Jyuushirou." Shunsui shifted closer to Jyuushirou, until he could feel the heat radiating from the sunburnt skin. "I was close to quitting in first year, to just going back and accepting my place as the useless second son of the family. I stayed because you did, because you were willing to carry on despite being so ill. If you'd died then I would have left that very same day."

Jyuushirou blinked. Shunsui stayed because of him? Not for all the people that hung off him, or the women that only pretended to run away and resist his advances? Jyuushirou smiled softly, realising it was the truth. Shunsui never could lie to him, just as he could never lie to Shunsui. He leaned closer to his friend, brown eyes never leaving grey, until his lips met Shunsui's.

Shunsui was stunned. Jyuushirou was kissing him. _Jyuushirou_, Mr Sweet and Innocent who managed to turn down his admirers in such a way that they somehow became his friends, was kissing _him_, the class' biggest flirt, flake and lech. Their noses smacked together and teeth clashed as Jyuushirou tried to deepen the kiss, and the white haired man pulled back with a blush that turned his sunburned face a deeper red.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha-"

"There's nothing to apologise for, Jyuushirou." Shunsui stood carefully, brushing dirt and leaves from his blue hakama as he did so. "Let's get back to the Academy so Unohana-sensei can pronounce you fit for class. And after that, if you want, we can practice your technique. I don't mind passing on my great wisdom in that area, or being your practice partner in this strenuous activity."

Jyuushirou allowed Shunsui to help him up, leaning on his steadier friend for support as he realised his legs were still shaky. "You, Shunsui, are an irrepressible flirt and scoundrel. How I've put up with you these last four years I don't know." He grinned to take the sting from his words. Jyuushirou yelped as they began to walk, and glared at Shunsui. "Watch your hands! Sunburn _hurts_, damnit."**  
**


	24. To Cleanse a Guilty Conscience

**Title:** To Cleanse a Guilty Conscience  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Warnings:** bondage, whipping  
**Summary:** Renji's straying eyes and wandering hands get him in trouble.  
**Word Count:** 1294  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: Byakuya/Renji - possessiveness/ jealousy (real or imagined), "I do not share". Betaed by **tea_fiend**. Title suggested by **delwynmarch**.

**o0o**

Renji knew he was watching. That's why he did it. It was the reason for letting his hand linger on that girl's arm a little longer than necessary when he stopped her fall. It was why he let his eyes stray so low when he passed that gang of wannabe street toughs. (Okay, the fight that followed them _realising_ this was also part of the reason, but no one could really blame him for still being an Eleventh Divisioner at heart, especially when those were the same thugs that tried to shove Rukia and Inoue down the school stairs earlier in the day.) He_knew_ he was being watched, so he subtly flirted with almost everyone he met.

It was when he returned to Soul Society that this flirting paid off. His verbal report to Byakuya was professional, as it always was, and he even included details of the fight that he'd won with ease. He sat down and scribbled out a draft of his written report to back up the verbal one, making sure to detail exactly what injuries he'd given those thugs without getting more than a few bruises in return. Byakuya let him do this in silence. To anyone looking into the Sixth Division office, they were Captain and Lieutenant, a good working team but not a good match on a personal level, and never likely to have anything more than a coolly professional relationship.

A jerk of the head in the direction of Byakuya's apartment, the small set of rooms he maintained for the days when all he'd have time for was a short nap and a quick snack before returning to work, told Renji what to expect when they left the office at the end of the day. Byakuya was waiting for him when he arrived, not even out of breath despite outpacing Renji across the Division and up a flight of stairs to the apartment.

They didn't speak as Renji closed the western-style door behind him and toed his waraji off into their proper place by Byakuya's. They didn't need to. Byakuya led Renji through to the main room, his footsteps silent on the tatami that covered the floor. Renji wasn't nearly as quiet, his own clumsy steps making more than enough noise for them both.

Renji knelt in the seiza position on the floor in the centre of the room, his hands curled into loose fists on his knees and his head bowed. He didn't move as Byakuya prowled over to a cupboard, not even looking up as his Captain pulled a heavy riding crop and a set of shackles and chains from a hidden compartment within the recessed storage space.

It was only after Byakuya had affixed the large central ring of the chains to a hook in the ceiling that either of them spoke. Grabbing a fistful of Renji's hair, Byakuya pulled his Lieutenant's head back to a painful angle, forcing Renji to look up at him.

"Do you know why I am displeased with you, Abarai?" Byakuya hissed, twisting the ponytail that he held until Renji yelped.

"Because I disobeyed ya, taichou." Renji didn't resist the hold Byakuya had on him, pleasure warring with contrition in his eyes. "I disobeyed yer direct orders, the ones ya gave me in person before I left ta the living world fer my one week mission."

"And what were those orders, Abarai?" Byakuya asked, pulling Renji's head back further. "_What_ did I tell you?"

"Ta not flirt wi' anyone there. Ta keep my hands and my eyes and my cock ta myself and ta not think o' anyone but you."

Byakuya released Renji's hair, wiping his hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder as if the contact had dirtied it. He stepped around Renji to grip his chin, forcing the Lieutenant to meet his eyes. "That is correct, Abarai. I gave you those orders and you disobeyed me. Why? You know I do not share."

"I dunno. Because I could, I guess." Renji's eyes slipped away from Byakuya's. "I have no excuse for my blatant disregard of your orders," he added, his tone and words suddenly politely formal.

"No, you don't." Byakuya released Renji's face and took a step back. "Allow me access to your back, Abarai."

Renji nodded and pulled his kosode and shitagi open, slipping the fabric from his shoulders to pool around his waist. He shivered as Byakuya's gaze raked his body, tracing the scars and tattoos on his chest and stomach with his grey eyes.

Byakuya pulled Renji's left arm up above his head, locking his wrist into one of the dangling metal shackles with no resistance. He repeated this with Renji's right arm, forcing the Lieutenant to rise to his knees to avoid having his arms pulled out of their sockets. Byakuya tested the fit of the shackles, making sure that they were not too tight for Renji's muscular arms, before kneeling to look Renji in the face.

"You remember how to stop this at any time, Renji?"

"Yeah, I do." Renji twisted his hand round and touched a small knob that protruded from the upper edge of the right shackle near the lock. "I also remember how ta release myself from these things."

Byakuya nodded and stood, circling round Renji to pick up the riding crop he'd placed on the floor. He traced the tattoos on Renji's back with the tip, smiling as the Lieutenant flinched away from the cold leather. He admired the sight in front of him; the strong, muscular man on his knees, the top of his uniform hanging around his waist, with the tips of his spiky ponytail brushing the arms held high above his head, and that tattooed and scarred back open and vulnerable, with Byakuya free to do whatever he wished to it. Renji had too much pride to ever end their play, no matter what Byakuya did; it was up to Byakuya to recognise when he was going too far.

Byakuya took another step back and raised the riding crop. Renji cried out as the leather tongue struck his back, arching away from the blow automatically. After a moment he relaxed, and Byakuya struck again, on the other side of Renji's spine. Renji didn't flinch this time, twisting his hands round to grip the chains and hold himself steady.

Soon there was a pattern of red welts over Renji's upper back. Not a single one of them touched another, and there was a clear space of unmarked skin for an inch either side of Renji's spine. Byakuya paused mid-strike as Renji's hands let go of the chains, allowing his body to fall forwards as his knees gave way beneath him, his entire weight supported entirely by his shoulders.

Stepping round his Lieutenant, Byakuya placed the crop under Renji's chin and forced him to raise his head. Renji stared at him from tear-stained eyes, and his tongue darted out to lick his bitten lips. Byakuya resisted the urge to undo his hakama and force his cock into that mouth; this play was for Renji's benefit, and there would be time enough for that later, when Renji felt better about whatever his _real_ transgression had been.

"Would you care to tell me what you really did wrong, Abarai?" Byakuya asked sternly. Renji sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he nodded. "Speak then."

Byakuya couldn't hear Renji's muttered explanation, but it didn't matter. He didn't _need_ to hear it, just for Abarai to say it. When Renji stopped speaking he looked up at Byakuya, silently begging for his forgiveness and permission.

"You are forgiven, Renji," Byakuya said quietly. He knelt down in front of Renji, laying the riding crop on the floor as he leaned in to give his Lieutenant a chaste kiss. "I will always forgive you."


	25. Bitter Choice

**Title:** Bitter Choice  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Warnings:** aphrodisiac, non-con  
**Summary:** He was too slow and now he's a prisoner, but why did Aizen spare his life?  
**Word Count:** 1484  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: _Aizen/Hisagi; aphrodisiac, delayed gratification - Pleasures remain, so does the pain_. I hope this is what the prompter wanted. AU from towards the end of the Soul Society arc. Betaed by **agenttrojie**. Thanks to **delwynmarch** for the title.

**o0o  
**  
He saw the orange beam coming down from the sky, heard the warning to move, but was too slow to leap away from his traitorous Captain. Trapped in the world of the negacion, Shuuhei watched helplessly as he was pulled away from his comrades and into whatever lay beyond that gaping, impossible portal.

He was trapped with the three traitors who'd caused the Gotei 13 to be thrown into chaos and turned friend against friend. Even worse, it most likely looked from the outside like he'd followed them willingly as they fled from the might of the assembled Captains. He couldn't go back to Soul Society - he didn't know how - but joining with Aizen was unthinkable, even if there was a chance that such an offer would be made.

"It looks like you've picked up a passenger, Kaname," Aizen said smoothly. Shuuhei bared his teeth in a silent snarl, wondering how much damage he could do to the lead traitor before he was struck down. At this range there was no way Aizen could dodge, but to do any worthwhile harm it would have to be an all-or-nothing attack.

"Kare, Kazeshini!" Shuuhei yelled, drawing, releasing and throwing his zanpakutou all in a single smooth move. The spinning double-bladed scythe struck Aizen directly, cutting straight through his chest and stomach in a spray of blood. Neither Ichimaru nor Tousen moved, either to defend or avenge their leader.

"That was a good try, Hisagi-kun, but it wasn't enough I'm afraid." Before Shuuhei could turn and throw his second blade at Aizen - and how the hell did the traitor dodge the first one anyway? - his world turned black as pain exploded through his body.

**o0o**

"Ah, you're awake," Aizen said, smiling kindly at his bound prisoner. "I didn't think I'd hit you that hard, but it_is_ difficult to hold back sometimes."

Shuuhei tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry to do so. He settled for glaring at Aizen instead, wishing that the traitor would die or, preferably, that this horrible nightmare would end.

"Don't be like that, Hisagi-kun. I left you alive when I so easily could have killed you. You wouldn't have been my first victim yesterday; Hinamori-kun and Hitsugaya-kun both fell to my blade."

Shuuhei closed his eyes, not wanting to listen to the traitor's words. Even with Unohana-taichou's message, Shuuhei didn't want to believe that Hinamori-kun was dead at the hands of the man she idolised. A straw pressed against his lips and Shuuhei drank automatically. It was water, but with some sort of strong aftertaste.

"Why?" he asked, now that the throat-closing dryness had been eased. "Why have you done all this?"

"Power, Hisagi-kun. I've reached my limit as a Shinigami and that does not satisfy me. If seizing the throne and becoming king does not give me what I seek, then what is this life worth?"

"You're doing this for power? That's..." Shuuhei trailed off as heat rushed through his body, abruptly sensitising his skin. His shihakushou, normally an unnoticed barrier protecting his skin from the elements, was suddenly _there_, pressing against every inch of his skin, rubbing against his sensitive spots as he tried to wriggle free of his bonds.

"Oh, it's working already?" Aizen asked. Shuuhei whimpered as a hand trailed down his bare arm. "That's so much faster than I anticipated. How does it feel, Hisagi-kun?"

"W-what have you done to me? What was in th-that water?" Shuuhei gasped. Aizen's hand continued to trail up Shuuhei's arm, as if mapping every inch of his skin. Everywhere Aizen touched felt like a line of fire connected directly to Shuuhei's cock, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan.

"You didn't think I spared your life out of kindness, did you? Not after what I did to Hitsugaya-kun, Hinamori-kun, Abarai-kun and that ryoka boy? Aizen brushed his hand lightly over the thick cotton covering Shuuhei's collarbone. "I saw the potential for entertainment in you. _That_ is why you still live."

Shuuhei moaned as those calloused fingers moved to his neck, arching into the touch. He felt like he was going to explode, just from the feel of his shihakushou against his skin. He'd _never_ been this sensitive before. He wanted more of Aizen's touch, wanted- no! He didn't want Aizen near him. He had to fight it, had to resist this stupid, stupid drug.

Aizen slowly pushed open the neck of Shuuhei's shihakushou, revealing his chest inch by torturous inch. A long sleeve trailed in the wake of Aizen's hand, making Shuuhei try to twist away from the wonderfully exquisite sensation as soft fabric brushed against the side of his ribs.

"Get off me," Shuuhei ordered, managing to glare at Aizen even as the traitor stroked his unusually sensitive nipples. Normally he was unresponsive to such touches, but now he was arching into Aizen's hand like a Rukongai whore. "Please, I don't-"

_'Don't what?'_ a traitorous voice whispered in his mind. _'Don't want to be touched? Don't want Aizen to be the one touching you? Or don't want him to leave you hanging like this? Which is it? Or don't you know?'_

"What you want doesn't matter, Hisagi-kun. You're not here for your own pleasure." Aizen captured Shuuhei's lips with his own, slipping his tongue into his captive's mouth as he moaned at the unwelcome contact.

Aizen's hand continued to push Shuuhei's shihakushou open, running over his abs and pausing just above his still fastened hakama. The would-be king pulled back from the kiss, smiling cruelly at the panting Lieutenant. Shuuhei whined at the loss of contact, cringing inside at how he was losing control of himself so fast, and bucked up, trying to force Aizen's hand to move lower.

"Poor Hisagi-kun. I'm teasing you like this, and you must be so hard by now. I bet you've never been this sensitive before, never been this turned on by the mere feel of things touching your skin. Are you surprised by how long you're lasting, even though you must feel like you're going mad with lust?"

He glared at Aizen, willing the traitor to spontaneously combust - stranger things had happened - as he replied. "It's whatever you gave me, isn't it? It's stopping me from- from climaxing for some reason. I'm right, aren't I?"

Aizen smiled, like a teacher whose favourite student had just answered correctly. "I forgot how intelligent you are, Hisagi-kun, how good you are at making connections from the clues available. A valuable skill for the Lieutenant of the Division in charge of investigations. It must be killing you that you completely missed that your own Captain was a traitor all along. And you are mostly right this time, though you are missing a few details."

Shuuhei's angry retort died before he could voice it as Aizen's hand skimmed across the back of his knee. Instead he moaned loudly, pushing towards the maddening touch. Shuuhei writhed as Aizen's hand stroked across that same spot again, the touch maddening even through the thick cotton of his hakama.

"No. Stop. Please. Don't touch. Don't want this. Stop it. Please. Just stop." Shuuhei felt tears roll down his cheeks as he gasped out the words between moans. Aizen ignored him, his other hand moving down to play with Shuuhei's other knee.

_'You don't mean that. You don't _really_ want him to stop. Not now. Be honest with yourself, for once._ Shuuhei ignored the voice. It wasn't his, and it wasn't Kazeshini's. It couldn't be from him. He didn't want this. He_didn't_!

"You're so sensitive there. Have any of your other lovers found that spot on their own? Or do you have to tell them to where to touch you?" Aizen smiled and bent down to whisper in Shuuhei's ear, his breath maddeningly arousing wherever it hit Shuuhei's skin. "I could be the best lover you've ever had, if you just stop resisting me. If not... well, it's not like you have a choice. You'll only be causing yourself unnecessary pain."

Shuuhei whimpered, shaking his head. "I'm... I'm not going to do what you want. I'm not your... your _toy_ to play with. Just leave me alone."

"As you wish." Aizen stood and brushed non-existent dirt from his white hakama - and where had he got those clothes from anyway? Had Shuuhei been unconscious for _that_ long? -, smiling cruelly at his prisoner. "I will take my leave, for now. Perhaps you will have changed your mind in a few hours, Hisagi-kun."

Aizen started to walk away, leaving Shuuhei bound to the bed. He paused by the door, looking back at Shuuhei. "Oh, you won't be able to climax until I want you to, and the drug won't wear off for some time. It may get... painful before I return. Have fun, and remember that this was your choice, Hisagi-kun."


	26. Secrets

**Title:** Secrets  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Warnings:** voyeurism, language, mentions of unsafe BDSM practices  
**Summary:** Hichigo will keep Ichigo's dirty little secret, and hopefully one day that will pay off.  
**Word Count:** 859  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: Ichigo/Hollow!Ichigo: voyeurism – I know all of your dirty little secrets. Betaed by **agenttrojie**, who is an absolutely wonderful goddess.

**o0o**

You disgust me, King. You strut around with your friends during the day, acting so high-and-mighty, pretending you're just the same as them, only as messed up as they are. You _sicken_ me.

You're not 'just' as messed up as they are. You're more so, aren't you? You can't hide it from me, King. I'm as much of a part of your soul as Zangetsu-ossan, remember. I know everything you know, feel everything you feel, every second of every day.

Yes, I do mean everything, every dirty little secret you hide from the world, from your friends, from _yourself_. I know how excited you get during a fight, how you _like_ taking a hit. You try to justify it by saying you can't dodge every blow, but that's not exactly true, is it? You _let_ some of those blows land. You _enjoy_ the feel of a blade slicing into your flesh and tearing you open, spilling your blood on the ground around you.

I don't need to tell you that you're a masochistic little fuck though, do I? You already figured that one out for yourself, finally. You even found someone to scratch that itch without having to get into a fight just so you can finish yourself off in the privacy of your room. If you get that far; more than once you've jacked off in the nearest secluded alley after a fight, haven't you? I can't exactly say I approve of the dickshit you've chosen, but I don't disapprove either. It's just that I'm angry you thought you had to go to another person to get what you want, what you _need_.

I can hear you panting and moaning as his blade slices into you, carving patterns into your exposed flesh. Is it his name again, or has he branded you as a slut once more? No matter, it won't stay. You're not allowed to wear anyone else's brand. Only mine, one day. Still, right now you're tied up, at his mercy, bleeding and begging for more. I can feel your arousal, how much you want him to sink his cock into you without even the barest amount of lube as preparation, and it disgusts me. You're so strong, King, but you let another cocksucker dominate you so fucking easily.

I wonder what you'd do if your friends found out about this. What they would do if they knew you _enjoyed_being tied up and drenched in your own blood before being fucked with less regard for your own comfort than a common whore would be shown. Don't worry; I won't tell them.

No, I won't. I'm an asshole, but not that much of one. It's not like they'd listen to me anyway. I'm just a Hollow remember, tolerated only because I'm a part of you, and therefore offlimits as a target. If we could be separated they would strike me down in a heartbeat, just because they could. That is, of course, if you didn't do it first. You hate me as much as they do.

I'm getting distracted though. You're getting close now, your begging reduced to wordless sobbing and moaning as he fucks you raw. This probably looks like rape to anyone outside of this twisted fuck-up. Is that how you would justify it if anyone found out about this? I can't tell from here; you haven't thought that far ahead, as usual.

Your climax rips through me as well, and I howl my release as I spill all over my hand and hakama. He's reached his peak as well, hasn't he? Is he coating your torn insides with his seed or painting your bloody back? You don't care, I know. You're a fucking slut who doesn't care _where_ he comes on you as long as he cuts you up first.

He's going now, as I lick my seed from my hand, leaving you bloody and broken on a motel bed, trusting to the rapid healing granted by your Shinigami powers and my existence to keep you alive and remove the evidence of your depravity. He can't stay long; he never can. You and he both know why. That's why you picked him to fuck you. No commitment necessary, needed or wanted.

One day you'll realise that you don't even need him, King. You truly, honestly don't. I swear this from the bottom of my heart. Yes, I _do_ have one, even if it is just a shadow of yours. I like watching you get fucked like this, but there's something that I would like even better. I want to be the one fucking you, the one tying you up and cutting your beautiful flesh from your bones. Until you realise that I'll keep this dirty little secret of yours. One day you'll figure it out, and you'll wonder why the thought never came to you before. I swear, even if I have to drag you in here and fuck you into a window to get your attention, you'll realise what I've been trying to say all this time. Until then I'll just enjoy being the voyeur you don't want to admit is there.


	27. To Repay A Debt Owed

**Title:** To Repay A Debt Owed  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Warnings:** dub-con, strong hints of past prostitution and abuse, bondage, language  
**Summary:** Renji always pleasures Byakuya without demanding anything in return. Now it's time for Byakuya to repay him, if Renji will let him.  
**Word count:** 1808  
**Notes:** I don't know _how_ this turned out this way. I'm sorry, prompter, if this is not what you envisioned. Also late prompt is late. Sorry again. My head's not been in my writing place these past few weeks. Written for the **springkink** prompt: _Renji/Byakuya: Byakuya giving blow job (using his scarf in minor bondage...) - "Will this suffice?" (March 17th)_. Betaed by the wonderful **tea_fiend** and Plat.

**oOo**

"You wished to speak with me, taichou?" Renji asked, sliding the door shut behind him as he entered the office. "If it's about me not turning up yesterday, I have a good reason..."

"I do not care about that. You are due several sick days. As far as I am concerned you used one yesterday." Byakuya didn't even look up from his paperwork. "Lock the door and sit, Abarai."

"Yes, taichou." Renji did as he was told, perching nervously on the edge of the sofa. He sat in silence as Byakuya finished off the last of the paperwork, wondering what he'd done to deserve being called into the office this time. _'Why does it feel like I'm back in the Academy and being called to the principal's office again, only a thousand times worse?'_

"You should have told me the injury was serious enough to warrant you taking a day off, Abarai," Byakuya said eventually, setting aside his brush. "I would not have denied you that."

"I know, taichou. I wasn't in any condition to send you a message though, even if I'd had a Hell Butterfly to use." Renji bowed his head, not wanting to see Byakuya's disappointment at such a weak excuse.

Byakuya knelt in front of Renji - _'When the hell did he move? I didn't even notice him stand.'_ - and pushed the Lieutenant's chin up so he could meet his eyes. "I had thought it would be something like that. You were injured protecting me, Abarai. You saved my life, almost at the expense of your own. Allow me to reward you."

"Taichou?" Renji squinted, trying to make sense of his Captain's words. _'I didn't protect you for that reason. You're the one person I look up to, the person whose heights I one day hope to reach. How could I live with myself if I let you, of all people, die if I can prevent it?'_ "You don't need to-"

"I want to, Abarai." Byakuya's free hand moved to Renji's thigh. _'"Reward", my ass. He wants my body. Doesn't he know by now that he just needs to say the word and I'll do whatever he wants of me?'_ "You did not have to protect me when that Hollow knocked me off my feet, yet you did. Please, Abarai."

Renji nodded. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ deny Byakuya this. Renji knew that his place was so far below Byakuya he wasn't fit to even lick the soles of the nobleman's feet, yet Byakuya deigned to share his body with Renji. When he was frustrated it was Renji he sometimes turned to for relief, instead of going to the high-class, well-trained courtesans that catered to the noble houses. Renji felt himself lucky that Byakuya even noticed his existence in such a manner.

"How do you want me, taichou?" _'On my knees or on my back? That's how you like me. Sucking you off or letting you fuck me. I don't mind which. You know I'll always let you do either one. You're better than some of the others who've used my body in the past. You at least ask before taking what you want from me, though you should know by now I owe you too much to ever deny you what you want.'_

"Where you are is good enough," Byakuya said. His hand slipped from Renji's chin and fell to the exquisite scarf wrapped around his neck. "Will you permit me to bind your hands with this scarf of mine, Abarai?"

Renji froze, his eyes wide and muscles tense, ready to run. _'Taichou, do you realise what you want from me? You're asking me to trust you to do something that's only ever been forced on me before. I've never willingly been bound, yet you want me to take that step. I can't, yet... this is you. If I can't trust you, then who can I trust?'_

Slowly Renji forced himself to relax, slowing his breathing with the same techniques he used while meditating with Zabimaru. "I trust you, taichou. Do whatever you want to me."

"I will not abuse your trust, Abarai." Byakuya gently looped the scarf around Renji's forearms, tying them so they laid against each other behind Renji's back, each palm touching the opposite elbow. "Will this suffice?"

_'Why do you even ask? I trust you with everything I am. If you do not wish to free me once you've taken your pleasure, then you won't and I'll accept that.'_ "It's good, taichou. I'm fine."

"Good." Byakuya knelt in front of Renji again. "It occurred to me last night that you are always the one pleasuring me, and that I never reciprocate. That you never even indicate that you expect me to." _'Of course I never. You're Kuchiki-taichou. You'd never dirty your mouth or your hands with one such as myself.'_Byakuya's hands slipped to the ties of Renji's hakama. "Did you think I wouldn't return the favour if you asked?"

"I... I never thought about it, taichou. It was never necessary for you to do the same to me as I did to you, honestly." _'Of course I thought about it, but it's just a dream. Your mouth swallowing my cock to the hilt, your ass stretched around my dick... those are just fantasies that will never be fulfilled. I know my place, taichou, and that doesn't involve any part of me being in you at all.'_

"Nonsense, Abarai. You mean to say you've never dreamed of me, never imagined my face, my _body_ as you brought yourself to completion?" Byakuya's nimble fingers made swift work of Renji's hakama ties. "You never thought of what it might be like to take me the way I take you?" He slipped the black fabric down Renji's thighs, and Renji automatically lifted from the sofa to make it easier for Byakuya to do so. "You never wondered what my mouth would look like with your cock in it?" Byakuya slipped a hand under the cloth of Renji's fundoshi, as the other sought the back of the red loincloth. "How my lips would feel against your most sensitive places?"

With a flick of Byakuya's wrist the fundoshi fell away, exposing Renji's dick to the Captain's sight. "Even if you've never so much as thought about it, my words seem to have had some effect on you." Byakuya's breath ghosted over the head of Renji's cock as he leaned in close. "Relax, Abarai. Let me take care of you, as you've taken care of me so many times."

_'Fuck. He isn't. He is. Why? Taichou shouldn't degrade himself like this. This... what he's doing... only whores do that. He's no whore. He's not me. Why?'_ Renji gasped, biting his lip against the words that threatened to spill out. He knew the words that were said to someone in Byakuya's position, he'd heard them enough times, but it was not his place to say them, even if Byakuya seemed to have forgotten their roles in this relationship they had.

"You still hold back, Abarai?" A thin line of spit connected Byakuya's mouth to Renji's pulsing cock, and Renji licked his lips at the sight. _'Is this what he sees when he fucks my mouth? Do I look even a tenth as hot as he does? No, it's like comparing the dimmest star in the night sky to the brightness of the full moon, to say that. He fucks my mouth because I'm convenient to him, a whore who doesn't need paying. He's not attracted to me. He doesn't think I'm beautiful at all, just willing.'_ "Let it all out, Abarai. I will not hold anything you say against you."

"Fuck!" Renji thrust up as Byakuya's teeth scraped against the head of his cock. "Please, taichou..." _'I'm glad you bound my hands, or I'd break all the rules and bury my hands in your hair, hold your head in place while I let go of what little restraint I have. Thank you, taichou, for making sure I couldn't forget my place that much.'_ "I'm... I'm close. Please pu-aaaah"

Renji moaned as Byakuya's hands tightened around his thighs, lowering his head further onto Renji's cock until the entire length was sheathed in his mouth. Renji shook as he restrained himself from thrusting up and gagging the Captain degrading himself for Renji's benefit. Byakuya's tongue pressed against the underside of Renji's cock, and his teeth and lips pressed firmly around the girth. It wouldn't take much pressure at all for Byakuya to forever remove Renji's ability to shame them both, and somehow the thought of this possibility sent Renji over the edge he'd been trying to claw back from, giving him no chance to warn Byakuya of his impending release.

_'Forgive me, taichou. You shouldn't be forced to swallow my dirty seed.'_ Renji shuddered as he released into Byakuya's throat, forcing the Captain to swallow or choke. Byakuya seemed to be smiling around Renji's cock as he swallowed, not a single drop escaping from his lips. Renji panted as Byakuya pulled back, collapsing carelessly against the back of the sofa.

"Was that so difficult, Abarai?" Byakuya sat on the sofa next to Renji, not quite touching the sprawled-out Lieutenant. "You enjoyed it, so why deny yourself?"

_'You wouldn't understand, taichou. And if you did, then you wouldn't want anything more to do with a dirty, used, broken bastard like me. It's better this way.'_ Renji shook his head, forcing a cocky grin onto his face. "Because I like being the one to give you pleasure, taichou. I don't need you to return the favour. Let's just save it for special occasions, yeah?" _'You've proved your point, anyway. You hold the power to do whatever you wish to me, even if you wish to lower yourself to my level. I'd be stupid to expect you to do that every time you have an itch that needs scratching though.'_

"You are impossible, Abarai." Byakuya stood and brushed his hakama off, as elegant in his movements as ever, as if he'd not just taken Renji with all the skill of an experienced whore. "Sleep. You have yet to fully recover from your injury. I will be here when you awaken."

_'Is the scarf still around my arms a promise of more to come once I've rested, taichou, or are you just too annoyed with me to bother removing it. Doesn't matter. I'll accept it either way. It's not hurting me, and if I want to... if I **need** to... I can get free of this level of restraint.'_

"Yes, taichou." Renji swung his legs up onto the sofa. _'Taichou, you really don't understand, do you? That's okay. It's part of the reason why I love you; you don't know how fucked up I truly am. Thank you.'_


	28. Trap

**Title:** Trap  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Warnings:** non-con, tentacles, bondage  
**Summary:** Shuuhei fought as hard as he could, but this Hollow was just too strong.  
**Word Count:** 1640  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: '_15th - Bleach. Hollow/Hisagi. Tentacle sex. To the victor goes the spoils._' Sorry it's late.

**oOo**

A limb the size of a tree branch struck Shuuhei in the back as he blocked a pair of even larger ones from the front. He grunted as the impact drove the air from his lungs and spun away, hoping to put some distance between himself and the Hollow to catch his breath and come up with a strategy to beat this thing. The beast watched him move, the hideous mask - marked only with a small row of three pink stars over the right eye - following his every move.

He'd drawn the monster away from his men at least. None of the squad, mostly fresh recruits from the Academy that he was training up on Tousen-taichou's orders, were up to fighting what had to be an Adjuchas. Not that he had a chance either. No Third Seat stood a chance against any Menos-class Hollow. They still had half a dozen regular Hollows to deal with though, but they were strong kids and the squad runner was already on her way to fetch Tousen-taichou. Shuuhei just had to hang on against this thing until he arrived.

Two more oversized limbs lashed out at Shuuhei, seeking to catch him between them and crush him. He jumped over them easily, twisting mid air to slash at one of the limbs with his zanpakutou. A third limb smacked him out of the air, knocking him through a tree trunk with the force of the blow. Shuuhei tried to stand, but he was struck again, falling to his knees under the impact. Another blow slammed into his arm, breaking the bones there with a crack. Shuuhei's hand spasmed and fell limp by his side, his zanpakutou falling silently to the ground.

A limb wrapped around Shuuhei's neck and shoulders, dragging him towards the waiting Hollow. It hadn't moved since Shuuhei's initial attack drove it away from the squad. Well, he thought he'd driven it away. It was now looking like the damned thing had chosen to let Shuuhei pick the battlefield where he would die, so it could focus on him alone without the others interfering.

Shuuhei snarled angrily, wrapping his left hand around the grappling limb. Gathering his reiatsu, forcing it to concentrate in the opposite hand to where it normally flowed, Shuuhei yelled, "HADOU NO SANJYUUSAN! SOUKATSUI!"

The kidou burned his hand, but not as badly as it burned the Hollow, and Shuuhei flew threw the air as the limb rippled and unravelled from around him. He hit a tree with a dull thud, cracking several ribs on impact, and Shuuhei painfully pulled himself back to his feet, looking around for Kazeshini.

The zanpakutou was lying on the ground mere feet away. Shuuhei started to stagger over to it, stopping short when he felt one of the limbs wrap around his neck.

"That hurt, little Shinigami." The Hollow lifted Shuuhei into the air, turning him round and binding his wrists and ankles with more of those sinuous limbs. "I was going to eat you quickly, little mouse, but now you've made me angry."

Held in the air, Shuuhei could see the Hollow properly for the first time. Vaguely humanoid and nearly five times Shuuhei's size, the creature had eight extra limbs sprouting from its back. Five of these limbs were wrapped around Shuuhei, holding him spread-eagled in the air, but the other three were waving loosely, as if the creature was trying to decide what to do with them.

"You're a pretty little morsel, aren't you?" The three limbs rippled, changing in size, becoming smaller, narrower, as one stretched out to caress Shuuhei's face. He flinched as it slid over his skin, not liking the look that had come into the Hollow's malevolent yellow eyes. "So young, so... innocent."

Shuuhei tried to twist away as the other two limbs slid down over his chest. "Monster! If you're going to eat me, then do so!" The Third Seat attempted to move his hand, to get it where he could strike out with kidou, but the Hollow's grip was too tight and his hands stayed pointing at nothing.

"Where's the fun in that, pretty one?" The Hollow's lilting voice annoyed Shuuhei. It was so calm, as if nothing he did even affected it. Despite what it had said, Shuuhei didn't believe it was angry with him at all, just that it was toying with him for its own sadistic amusement. "Maybe if you ask me nicely. Do you want to do that? Say it if you do. 'Please, Hollow-sama, eat me. Make me a part of you for all eternity.'"

Shuuhei shook in his bonds. If only Kazeshini was in his hands. He'd teach this Hollow freak not to toy with him like this. And damn him for being a melee-type that needed to be wielded directly, rather than an infinitely more useful kidou-type that might have _helped_ in this situation. "I would _never_ beg for death from the likes of you, Hollow."

"That's a pity. It would have been so amusing to see the look on your face when I refused you. Would you have been relieved, little puppy, or just angry that I keep toying with you?" The Hollow's limb was still stroking his face, almost like a lover would. Shuuhei nearly gagged as it stroked across his lips, and he glared angrily at the beast in front of him. "That's a good look, Shinigami. Remember that one when I finally give you the mercy of death."

Shuuhei opened his mouth to retort, but the Hollow's limb plunged into the opening before he could say a single word, gagging him as it expanded to fill his entire mouth. "No, don't speak. Your voice is annoying, little man, and it would be troublesome if you screamed and one of your little soldiers came running to protect you."

Cold air blew around Shuuhei's legs as his hakama fell to his ankles, untied by the two limbs that had worked their way down to his hips. Shuuhei tried to kick free of the ones binding his ankles as he felt a tug at his fundoshi, but he was still bound too tight. He tried to bite down on the limb in his mouth, but it felt like steel under his teeth, and he couldn't even put a dent in it.

The Hollow giggled at his attempts, a truly disturbing sound from such a creature. "You're so cute, little Shinigami. So defiant, yet so powerless. You're nothing but a toy soldier, something to be played with until you break and are discarded." The thin limbs began stroking Shuuhei's cock, sliding gently over its soft length. "How far will I have to go to make you beg, pet?"

Shuuhei closed as his eyes as he felt his body start to respond to the Hollow's touch. He didn't want to see it. If he couldn't see what the Hollow was doing to him then it wasn't happening. It was some twisted dream, his zanpakutou's latest attempt to piss him off. It _wasn't_ happening. He'd very much like to Wake. Up. Now.

"So cute, Shinigami. Trying to deny the reality of your position, are you?" The Hollow giggled again, and one of the limbs left Shuuhei's cock. "You're just too sweet. I might not kill you after all. I'm sure I could get so much amusement out of you before you're broken."

The limb in Shuuhei's mouth rippled and began to move in time with the one stroking his cock. He barely noticed the third one slipping inside of him, until it started to expand and move, lubricated by what Shuuhei assumed was the same bitter tasting fluid the one in his mouth had started to excrete.

"Your ass is swallowing my limb, little one. It's hungry for it," the Hollow crooned. Shuuhei just wanted it to shut up. Its voice was wrong, made it too hard to focus on pretending that the intruding limbs were actually just a memory of a drunken night with Abarai and Kira.

His body was responding now, against his will, thrusting into the limb wrapped around his cock and back onto the one invading his ass, trying to match the rhythm set by the Hollow. The Hollow laughed louder the more Shuuhei's body rebelled against him, thrusting harder into his mouth and ass.

Shuuhei tried to block the cackling, taunting beast out, to focus on that drunken night's foolishness, on Abarai and Kira showing just how well they worked as a team. That was good, that was safe. He didn't have to think about the Hollow's leering mask, or it's malevolent yellow eyes or the fact that he was shaming his Division by allowing this to happen to him.

It was Kira's touch in his mind as he released all over the Hollow's limb, his entire body trembling with the effort not to cry. It was Abarai's scent and taste that he recalled as he swallowed what was deposited in his mouth, trying not to choke on the limb still gagging him. It was both of their faces he saw as he felt the slick limb slide of out his ass, allowing liquid to drip down his thighs.

The limb around his neck tightened as the Hollow continued to gloat, cutting off Shuuhei's breathing. "Go to sleep now, little one. I don't want you struggling as I-"

White and black flashed across Shuuhei's graying vision as he fell, the binding limbs severed by a single strike. Strong arms caught him before he landed, setting him down gently on the floor as he continued to drift into unconsciousness.

"Rest, Hisagi-sanzeki. This Hollow will face justice for what it has done."


	29. Helping The King

**Title:** Helping The King  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Warnings:** rough sex, language  
**Summary:** Hichigo wishes it didn't have to be like this, but he'll help his King for as long as he needs to.  
**Word count:** 1038  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: _15th - Bleach, Hichigo/Ichigo: Secrets - It must have been a whole new level of fucked up._. Sorry it's late.

**oOo**

When you show up here in the middle of the night, your eyes wild and your shihakushou already half-gone, I know you're not here to fight me. Sure you put up a token protest when I appear, but you know as well as I do why you're here, why you let me jerk you off while calling you names and tearing into the skin on your back with the sharp nails of my free hand, my teeth tearing at your lips until your sweet blood runs down both our faces.

You _need_ to be hurt, something in your brain demands it. I'm happy to help you out with that, glad that you feel you can come to me instead of looking for someone who wouldn't have the same interest in keeping you alive.

There are times when you want more though. That's when I shove you to your knees and force my cock down your throat, verbally abusing you as I hold onto your hair and fuck your mouth. You're so pretty with tears rolling down your cheeks as you choke on my cock, desperately gulping down air whenever _I_ decide you deserve to breathe.

It's fucked up, I know. It's not healthy, the way you can only get pleasure when you're being hurt like that. The way you only ever turn to me for help, when all I am is the darkness that resides inside of you. What will you do when I'm not enough, when I won't - _can't_ - give you what you need any more.

You're here again, that look in your eyes even more desperate than ever. You're clad only in your boxers this time, and I can see you've already tried to get yourself off tonight from the way the blood oozes out from scratches I don't remember putting on your chest.

You smack my hands away as I reach for your cock, your fist flying at my face in your usual half-arsed attempt to pretend you don't want this. I grab your wrist and twist, forcing you to your knees in front of me, your head level with my crotch. I'm not even surprised when my hakama is suddenly around my knees - this is your mind, and if you want my hakama there then that's where they'll be.

You whine as my hand pulls at your hair, your tongue swiping across my slit in retaliation. The usual insults - slut, whore, freak, dirty; all those and more, words that would have you ready to fight if anyone else said them to you, if _I_ said them outside of these times - are falling from my lips, and you respond by taking my entire length into your mouth, forcing yourself to swallow me even as you gag.

You pull off too soon though, releasing my cock with a wet pop and smirking at me. The look in your eyes is a challenge now, and there's only one prize left for me to take. You scramble to your feet, and I lash out before you can make it, my fist slamming into the side of your face hard enough to draw blood and knock you back down.

What will you do if I refuse to take this step, King? What will you do if I don't want our twisted parody of a relationship to reach a whole new level of fucked up? I'm doing this because I'm scared of the lengths you'd go to to seek release if I didn't help, but what will you do when I've had enough, when I'm tired of being used so you can get your pleasure?

I drape myself over your back, forcing you to your hands and knees. You whine as my teeth sink into your neck, grinding your bare ass against my cock as if telling me to get on with it. You don't need to be stretched - I saw where your hand was when I was fucking your face - and if you wanted lube then it would be in my hands already.

You scream as I force the tip of my cock inside of you, from pleasure or pain I can't tell. Can you tell the difference any more, King? I'd give you a moment to adjust to me being in you, but you don't want me to, do you?

You're so tight, and the mixture of saliva and pre-cum on my cock isn't the best lube in the world. I can feel your blood slicking my cock as I tear into you, and that makes the friction slightly more bearable for now.

You're crying now, tears running openly down your face as you struggle to breathe around the sobs that wrack your body. A normal person would pull out now, would pull you into his arms and dry your tears. And if you were normal you'd let me do that, you'd accept the comfort and the reprieve from pain that you've learned never to expect from anyone.

I wish it didn't have to be like this, King. If only you could get your pleasure without having to be bloodied up first. If I knew who'd scrambled your brain so that pain and pleasure were intertwined, I'd fucking go back in time and kill them before they had a chance to.

I sink my teeth in and give you a matching mark on the other side of your neck, moaning as I feel your blood slide over my lips and down my chin. I'm glad you only share yourself with me like this. I don't think I could bear to watch you let another person treat you so roughly. I'd kill them if they tried, as soon as they put the first mark on your skin.

Your walls tighten around me as you climax, forcing me over the edge as well. We collapse into a heap, my cock still inside of you as we lie in a puddle of your cum and blood, panting and sobbing and cursing together. You look so much younger as you drift off to sleep in my arms, the worry and pain and responsibility that lines your face every waking hour just fading away as you slip into dreams where nothing will hurt you for a few short hours.


	30. Behind Closed Doors

**Title:** Behind Closed Doors  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Warnings:** bondage, dominance/submission  
**Summary:** Behind closed doors Ichigo is not the man he is in public.  
**Word count:** 353  
**Notes:** Written for the prompt 'Ichigo / Starrk / behind closed doors' from **cairnsy**'s prompt generator.

**oOo**

In public Ichigo walked proudly among the Shinigami, mindful of his reputation as a warrior equal to any Captain, aware of the (not completely incorrect) rumours that he was being fast-tracked toward that rank himself. In public Ichigo was a dutiful student, dedicated to his studies despite the bullies that frequently targeted him for a trick of genetics and his steadfast refusal to change what he saw as his mother's legacy to him. In public he was the strong friend and brother who would walk into Hell itself if someone he cared for was being held there against their will, leading whoever wished to join him into the fray and protecting them all when he was the last standing.

Behind closed doors he let all those masks fall away along with the clothes that the Primera Espada gently stripped from him. He willingly submitted to Starrk's caresses, letting the Espada massage away the tension that knotted his muscles. Ichigo willingly knelt at Starrk's feet, not flinching as calloused fingers tugged at his hair and held his head still when he would have choked himself on Starrk's cock. Soft leather cuffs restrained him as by his choice alone as Starrk penetrated him slowly, until he begged the Primera to just fuck him as hard as he could. And when Starrk inevitably smiled lazily and declared himself too tired to see to Ichigo's release as well as his own pleasure, the Vizard clumsily wrapped his chained hands round his weeping cock and brought himself to completion. And after, when Starrk found the energy to push him down on the bed and lick him clean, Ichigo didn't complain as the remnants of the Arrancar's mask scraped pleasurably over sensitive skin. And when Starrk pulled Ichigo into his arms and fell asleep once this task was done, Ichigo accepted the embrace and only moved to make himself more comfortable.

Free from the pressure of the burdens and expectations laid on him by everyone around him, safe from the nightmares that plagued him and stopped him from sleeping most nights, Ichigo slowly drifted off to sleep in Starrk's arms.


	31. Bleach Muses birthday sentences

Twelve sentences for the **bleach_muses** birthday challenge. Pairings and warnings are on each sentence.

**oOo**

cherry blossom (Renji, Byakuya)

The cherry blossoms bloomed and fell again, coating the ground in white and pink as they did every year, and Renji wondered if his Captain - no, not his Captain any more, not even a Kuchiki since his clan cast their wasted 'disgrace' from their ranks - if _Byakuya_ saw them, if he recognised the petals that his powers had once resembled, from wherever his mind had fled to during the imprisonment in Hueco Mundo that shattered his body and left him in the wheelchair that Renji carefully pushed through the Fourth Division's Long Term Care Ward's gardens once every week as long as the weather was good.

**oOo**

sleep (Byakuya/Ichigo)

Byakuya smiled gently as he folded his haori into a pillow for Ichigo's head, still amazed that the substitute Shinigami trusted him enough to collapse practically in his lap, exhausted from fighting and at the end of even his enormous reserves of stamina; to anyone who didn't know of their relationship, which was practically everyone but Rukia and Abarai, Ichigo's trust and peaceful expression probably looked like a miracle come to life in front of them.

**oOo**

grip (Shuuhei/Ichigo non-con)

Kurosaki gripped his bonds tightly, as if trying to tear the metal apart with his bare hands despite the cuffs that sealed most of his strength away, his face disturbingly blank behind the gag that kept him from killing himself as Shuuhei pressed into him, tearing away the last of their dignity under the cold eyes and cruel suggestions of the monster that held their lives in the palm of his hand and moved to his will as puppets on invisible strings.

**oOo**

Zombie apocalypse (Ichigo, WWZ crossover)

He was probably writing his own death sentence, but Ichigo couldn't board the evacuation bus with his family - priority seats because of Isshin's job or not - when he saw the young pregnant woman at the front of the queue that was now being driven away by soldiers with guns, remembered holding her after a check-up when she dissolved into tears and told him that her husband of six months had been killed by the zombies in Tokyo; with a reassuring smile, he hugged Yuzu and Karin and shook hands with Isshin before walking over to the line of soldiers and pointing out the woman - Harumi, he remembered her name was - and telling them that there was a mistake and she should have boarded with the Kurosaki family already.

**oOo**

Crossover (Byakuya, Murata Ken, KKM crossover)

Byakuya stared in disbelief at the teenager in front of him; demons and demon kings and demon magic (okay, that one wasn't _too_ hard to believe) and wars with humans and interdimensional transfers through bodies of water and this _brat_ was his ancestor reincarnated, the pacifistic 24th head of the Kuchiki family... he wished he'd never tried to rescue this Murata kid from those bullies while on vacation in the human world.

**oOo**

sour (Shuuhei/Yumichika)

Shuuhei loved sour sweets - the more so the better - because of the way they made his mouth pucker and his face twist when he first put them in his mouth, for the challenge of not spitting them out and keeping them in his mouth until the sour burn faded and the underlying sweetness filtered through, and for the way they reminded him of Yumichika; defensively sour on the outside but oh-so-sweet when you finally broke into his heart.

**oOo**

Monument (everyone, character death)

After the war that claimed so many, not just those that died but also those whose minds would never recover despite the best efforts of the Fourth Division who cared for and protected them, the newly reformed Central 46 ordered the records of the incident sealed, never to be spoken of again, never to be added to the histories taught to the students in the Academy, but this didn't stop the survivors from making their own private monument to the fallen, gathering by unspoken agreement to build a small cairn, the flowers laid there eventually being replaced by seeds so the small monument could bloom on its own, a riot of tulips, lilies of the valley, camellia, buttercups, daffodils and summer snowflakes returning every year for those who never would.

**oOo**

Indulgence (Byakuya/Renji)

It was hardly right for one of his rank to indulge himself with a stray dog from Rukongai but Byakuya persists, seeing something broken under his Lieutenant's tough facade and for some reason wanting, _needing_ to fix it; he can't voice his dismay when Renji simply accepts his clumsy attempts at romance with acceptance worthy of any of the whores Byakuya had previously sated his formerly infrequent lust upon, and so simply carries on as if this is what he'd intended all along, wondering why he always failed at helping the ones he loved the most.

**oOo**

Monogamy (Ichigo/Chad)

Ichigo knew what they said about gay men, had heard all the so-called-facts about how they slept around and didn't even know what monogamy meant, but lying in Chad's arms, the small bedroom lit only by the reflected orange glare from the street lights below, Ichigo couldn't even _think_ of wanting to sleep with any other person.

**oOo**

Cuddle (Aizen/Kira, Gin/Kira, implied non-con)

If Kira had to choose - was _allowed_ to choose - between Aizen's false kindness and Ichimaru's open sadism, Kira would take Ichimaru's cruelty every time; it was far kinder to be left sobbing and bleeding on a cold floor than to be forced to spend the night wrapped in the arms of the man who'd torn everything away from him.

**oOo**

Trust (Byakuya, Renji, Ichigo, past torture and non-con)

Byakuya looked up at the yelp and crash that echoed through his office, frowning at his guilty-looking Lieutenant and the wide-eyed panic on Kurosaki's face; even a year after his death - and how Byakuya wished he knew the precise details of that event so he could punish those responsible - Kurosaki was still terrified of even the most casual contact with others, and Byakuya wished he knew how to help him trust again.

It hurt to see the terror on Ichigo's face whenever anyone so much as brushed against him, but Renji always forgot that someone - some _monster_ in human form - had broken the young Shinigami, had cruelly raped and tortured him until his human body could no longer take it and he passed to Soul Society as a permanent resident; he missed his friend and the easy familiarity they'd once had, and in forgetting he broke the fragile trust developing between them and lost Ichigo again every time.


	32. Overtime

**Title:** Overtime  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** U  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Hitsugaya is working overtime and Ichigo is trying to hide.  
**Word Count: **1142  
**Notes:** This was written sometime in 2009 and left to languish in my Gdocs. Therefore this assumes that everyone on Soul Society's side comes through the war with life and limbs intact.

**oOo**

Hitsugaya looked up as he heard the rapid pounding of footsteps along the corridor outside his office, wondering who else would be in the administrative building at such a late hour, just in time to see the office door slam open. The offender, oblivious to Hitsugaya's irritated glare, just as hastily closed the door behind him and dived behind the couch as if trying to hide.

"Kurosaki, what is the meaning of this?" he asked sharply, drawing a muffled 'eep' from the intruder.

"Sorry, Toushirou, I didn't realise you were here. I thought this would be the best place to hide. It's not like_she_ would come here outside of work hours unless there was an emergency.

_'"She",'_ Hitsugaya wondered. _'Kurosaki is usually politer to the female members of the Gotei 13 than the male ones. Who could have irritated him enough that he would drop even her name and be willing to-'_Hitsugaya's thoughts trailed off as he remembered a rather disjointed conversation with his Lieutenant earlier that week. Matsumoto would be the culprit, especially since in the last eight and a half years years Kurosaki had developed a rather justified fear of her prodigious assets.

"Kurosaki, I hate to inform you that even Matsumoto's workshy tendencies aren't enough to make her give up her hunt for you in pursuit of carrying out her plan. Therefore my office is not the best hiding place for you." Hitsugaya placed his brush down on its holder and regarded Kurosaki coldly. "In fact, it might just be the first place she looks."

"You know about her plan? And you didn't try to stop her? Couldn't you have given her a massive stack of extra paperwork to do or something?" Kurosaki asked, coming out from behind the couch and sitting on the corner of Hitsugaya's desk.

"It is difficult enough to get Matsumoto to do the paperwork she is routinely assigned, Kurosaki. Asking her to do anything extra would be akin to asking the sun to stop rising in the morning. And I tried to talk her out of this ridiculous plan of hers, but she didn't seem to be listening. I think we were actually have two conversations in one by the time I gave up." Hitsugaya sighed and stood up, slipping round his desk and crossing the office to the bank of filing cabinets that adorned one wall. Kurosaki followed him, as if he was actually interested in Hitsugaya's work.

Hitsugaya was pleased to see that not everything had remained the same between them since their first meeting. No longer could he be mistaken for a human child. A teenager maybe, since he was only slightly shorter than Kurosaki, but never a child. Kurosaki though, despite it being his twenty-fifth birthday, still looked more or less the same as when Hitsugaya first met him. And, despite Matsumoto's best efforts, according to all rumours he had never had any intimate relationships with any member of the Gotei 13, male or female. Even though his looks, strength, connections and certain chance of making Captain within the next decade made Kurosaki one of the most desired men in Seireitei, the young Substitute Shinigami resisted all attempts to capture his attention.

"Matsumoto's wrong, y'know," Kurosaki said, flicking through the files that Hitsugaya handed to him as he located them in the disorganised cabinet. "Just because I've never slept with a Shinigami, that the rumour mill knows of anyway, doesn't mean I'm a virgin. There's been girls, and guys, at university. And in other places as well. It's probably a good thing she doesn't know about the time me and Ishida ended up drunk and in bed together. She'd find it hilarious, and it would probably end up with you having to rescue your Lieutenant from death by Quincy."

"That would be troublesome," Hitsugaya muttered distractedly. "Did I give you the file on Sixth Division patrols in Abashiri for the period between September 1969 and August 1970?"

"Not yet. These are Eleventh and Ninth Division files for earlier that decade." Kurosaki flicked through the files again, smiling as some of the details in them caught his eye. "Yumichika-san got ambushed by three Gillian and had to be rescued by Zaraki? I bet he was pleased about that."

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't a Captain back then. This _mess_ is all the fault of my predecessor, who had the same approach to organisation as Matsumoto. If she would actually do some work I would have time to so-" Hitsugaya paused as he felt a whisper of approaching reiatsu. "Kurosaki, if you are determined to avoid Matsumoto I would suggest that you hide immediately."

"Where?" Kurosaki looked around the office, with its distinct lack of hiding places. The window was too small for him to escape through, or Hitsugaya suspected that he would already be several miles away. Matsumoto's reiatsu drew closer as Kurosaki put the files he was holding carefully on the floor and stepped closer to Hitsugaya.

"What are you doing, Kurosaki?"

"Forgive me, Toushirou, but if I can't hide, I might as well throw her plan completely off. Kill me later, 'kay?" With that Kurosaki kissed him, surprisingly soft lips pressing against Hitsugaya's as an arm snaked around the Captain's back and pressed him against Kurosaki's body.

A small part of Hitsugaya's brain vaguely registered the sound of the door sliding open, followed by a gleeful squee as Matsumoto saw what was happening. The larger part was more concerned with what Kurosaki's tongue was doing in his mouth, and the sword calloused hand casually groping his ass in a not-unpleasant way. Only after Matsumoto's reiatsu was gone completely, the flighty Lieutenant no doubt off to tell her drinking buddies exactly what she'd just seen, did Kurosaki break the kiss.

"Kurosaki, that was the most outrageous thing you've ever done. You do realise what Matsumoto's going to tell everyone, don't you?" Hitsugaya snapped, with more anger than he actually felt. Kurosaki grinned and shrugged.

"Who cares? She's the one who still hasn't gotten the message that I'm neither interested in her nor completely straight." Kurosaki glanced at the zanpakutou slung over the back of Hitsugaya's chair. "Does this mean you're going to kill me now?"

"Why would I do that? We are, however, going to have a long and involved discussion about your inappropriate handling of a Captain." Hitsugaya smirked, collecting the files Kurosaki had placed on the floor and taking them over to his desk. "My quarters, ten minutes. If you want to, that is," he added, aware of how his suggestion might be taken.

"I will take any punishment you deem necessary, _Hitsugaya-taichou_," Kurosaki said. The unusual use of his title made Hitsugaya shiver, wondering if that was how Kurosaki was going to play this. If he was, Hitsugaya wasn't going to complain. Not one bit.


	33. Catharsis

**Title:** Catharsis  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** U  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Ichigo and Tatsuki work something out.  
**Word Count:** 547  
**Notes:** Written for **springkink**, for the prompt _2nd July - Ichigo/Tatsuki: violence - "Does hitting me make you feel better?"_ Sorry this is so late, prompter, but life interfered.

"You _jerk!_" Tatsuki's yell was punctuated by the thump of flesh meeting flesh and the crack of a window smashing as Ichigo's head rebounded off it. "I don't ever want to see you again."

Tatsuki shook off Keigo's restraining arms and stormed away, students scattering out of her path as she went. Ichigo just stood there, a blank look on his face as blood trickled down his neck, until Chad laid a careful hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he muttered, turning away from where his childhood friend had gone. "It's nothing."

The nurse wasn't in her office - it was her day off, so she wouldn't be - when Occhi-sensei sent him there after lunch, alarmed at the blood staining his shirt, but Tatsuki was, her knuckles bruised and swollen from where she'd struck Ichigo's jaw. Ichigo ignored her, sitting on the bed furthest from her and waiting for her to finish bandaging her hand so she could leave and he could have the first aid box.

Leaning against the wall, his thoughts drifting among grey storm clouds and sideways buildings, Ichigo was startled when a soft hand touched his arm. Blinking away the vision of rain-soaked glass - wondering why he'd slipped into his inner world so easily - Ichigo saw Tatsuki standing over him with a worried look on her face.

"Idiot. I didn't mean it, you know," she said. The first aid box was lying by Ichigo's leg and Tatsuki's bruised hand rested on Ichigo's leg. "You just hurt me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I shouldn't have hit you." Tatsuki winced slightly as Ichigo pulled the bandage tight around her hand, wrapping it as thoroughly and neatly as the nurse would have done. "Why did you let me?"

Ichigo shrugged, leaning forward to let Tatsuki see the back of his head. Gentle fingers probed the gash hidden among spiky hair and Ichigo suppressed a wince as he felt something move under the touch. "I don't know."

"You have some glass in here, Ichigo." Tatsuki frowned and paused as she reached for the gauze pad she'd been planning on putting over the wound. "I don't know why I hit you either. I was just so mad..."

"Just leave it, Tatsuki. I'll get dad to have a look at it when I get home." Ichigo sat up again, brushing his hair flat to cover the injury. "Does hitting me make you feel better?"

Tatsuki looked away, pulling her hands away from Ichigo's and busily repacking the first aid kit. "I- It did, a bit. You made me so mad and hitting you felt like I was doing something with that anger. I shouldn't though. It's not right."

"It's okay." Ichigo rested his hand on Tatsuki's shoulder as he slid off the bed, as much to comfort her as support himself. "You can hit me. I don't mind. Just try not to put my head through any more windows, yeah. Now come on. I think I can get Occhi-sensei to let you go early as well, to get your hand seen to."

Tatsuki blinked after Ichigo's retreating back, before sliding the first aid box into its place and running after him. "Hey, does this mean you're going to be coming back to the karate club, you idiot?"


	34. Pursuit

**Title:** Pursuit  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Warnings:** language, hand job, AU  
**Summary:** If Kensei wants Shuuhei, first he has to catch him.  
**Word count:** 1217  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: _5th - Bleach, Kensei/Shuuhei: playing hard to get - "If he can catch me, he can have me"._ Sorry it's late. Thanks to **nati_a** for the title.

'Catch me if you can' had been Shuuhei's taunt, nearly half an hour before. His green eyes flecked with Hollow gold, he'd taken off into the maze of Kyōto's skyline, challenging Kensei to chase him and catch him. He wasn't sure why he did it, some deeply-buried instinct surfacing at that moment and _demanding_ proof that Mugurama Kensei was good enough to... to claim Shuuhei for his own.

Now he was running, using every last trick he knew to stay out of the older Vizard's grasp. Hiding, dodging, masking his reiatsu and blending in with the humans on the street below - the first time Shuuhei had actually been _glad_ to not be wearing the shihakushou he'd worn for most of his life - and even fighting when Kensei got too close. And despite this he could feel Kensei's presence surrounding him always, pressing down and reminding him that he was still too inexperienced to ever truly evade someone of Kensei's skill and experience.

_-You can't keep this up forever,-_ one of the voices in his head whispered. Shuuhei wasn't certain which; it had come as no surprise that the Hollow that now shared their mental landscape sounded exactly the same as Kazeshini, a fact which made it hard to tell which one was tormenting him at any given moment. _-What will you do when he catches you?-_

Shuuhei shook his head. He wasn't sure. Kensei had been flirting with him since he'd subjugated his inner Hollow, a process which had been painful and dangerous, and not just for him: Kurosaki had only just stopped limping from where an out-of-control Shuuhei had released Kazeshini just behind his patella, shattering the bone and nearly severing his right leg, an injury that even Hacchi needed time to heal fully. Unneeded touches while training together, Kensei imparting some much-needed tips on handling a wind-element zanpakutou; innuendo-laden comments that had Shuuhei blushing and the other Vizard grinning madly and teasing Shuuhei constantly; the small gifts of food and alcohol and, just once, letters from the friends that Shuuhei had been forced to abandon as he fled the so-called justice of a hundred-year-old extermination order that would have seen all the Vizard killed. Shuuhei hadn't known how to respond to such flirting so he'd ignored it, vaguely wondering if Kensei would get bored and give up.

Then he'd come out and said it plainly while they were sitting on the roof and watching the way the winds moved the different layers of clouds. His hand wrapped around Shuuhei's wrist and his eyes locked onto Shuuhei's face, he'd explained exactly what he wanted to do to the young Vizard. And Shuuhei had panicked, pulling away from Kensei and issuing that ridiculous challenge.

Only it wasn't so ridiculous. Shuuhei was _enjoying_ the hunt, liked the thrill of being the prey, especially with such a skilled hunter. Every near miss fanned the flames, and made Shuuhei's cock twitch with thoughts of what Kensei might do once he finally won.

_'If he can catch me, he can have me,'_ Shuuhei eventually replied, ducking out the back of a restaurant behind a worker taking the rubbish out to the massive steel bins that lined the back alley. Using one of the bins as a stepping stone, Shuuhei jumped from wall to wall until he reached the roof.

A muscled arm wrapped around his neck as he slid down the other side of the steel fence surrounding the rooftop garden, pulling him close to a toned body. "Caught ya," Kensei whispered, hot breath ghosting over the shell of Shuuhei's ear.

Shuuhei didn't resist as Kensei pushed him against the wire fence, pinning his hands above his head and binding them to the mesh with a whispered kidou. Kensei's fingers trailed down the muscles on Shuuhei's arms, tenderly tracing the few scars from old fights before coming to the explosive black armbands Shuuhei still wore.

"These'll explode if I remove them, right?" he asked, tapping one of the bands. "A last safety measure if you're ever captured."

Shuuhei nodded. "Which is why you've restrained me like this, so I can't release them?"

Kensei chuckled, his hands moving lower onto Shuuhei's shoulders. "You could break that spell if you tried, yet you haven't. I'd say you wanted to be caught."

"Th- that was the point of the game, was it not?" Shuuhei arched into Kensei's touch as the Vizard's thumbs dug into knots of tense muscle in his shoulders. "If you caught me, you could claim me. Fighting back once you've won would be unfair."

Kensei said nothing, but his hands drifted lower, his fingers pressing into each knot of muscle he found, kneading away the tension that filled Shuuhei's body. Shuuhei relaxed into the touch, his eyes closing in surrender. Kensei's scent surrounded him, sweat and motor oil and the vanilla shower gel that was the reason Rose was no longer allowed to do the personal shopping for the rest of the Vizard, all mixed together in a way that was, somehow, uniquely Kensei.

Shuuhei moaned as the ball of Kensei's hand pressed into his lower back, just above his waistband. He could feel Kensei's other hand resting on the buckle of his belt, one finger tracing the kanji for wind that had been engraved into the steel plate.

"You have no idea how much I want to just tear your clothes off and fuck you right now, Hisagi," Kensei growled in Shuuhei's ear. Kensei's hand continued to knead at the tense knot of muscle in Shuuhei's back as he spoke, making it hard for the younger Vizard to concentrate on his words. "But I won't."

Shuuhei stumbled as Kensei stepped away and cancelled the kidou, falling onto the concrete roof as his shaky legs refused to support him while he turned round. He looked up at Kensei in confusion, the Hollow in him forcing out a growl before he could slam down the restraints he'd fought so hard to establish.

Kensei knelt between Shuuhei's legs, nimble fingers making quick work of his belt, button and fly. "That's not my idea of a good first time, Hisagi. Just fucking someone on a roof, or against a fence or a wall? That shit ain't no good for starting a relationship. When you've been with someone for a while, or if it's just a quick fumble with some random person, then sure, but not the first time. They deserve better. _You_ deserve better than that."

Shuuhei moaned as Kensei's fingers brushed along his length, arching up into the calloused touch. "But if I let you go back to the hideout like this, I'd never hear the end of it, huh? I'd be a pretty shitty guy if I got you that worked up and left you unsatisfied."

Kensei's lips pressed gently against Shuuhei's, his free hand reaching up to trace the scars that crossed Shuuhei's eye. Shuuhei wrapped his arms around Kensei's neck, deepening the kiss and flicking his tongue out against Kensei's lips.

_-Mine!-_ someone growled in Shuuhei's head as he came, spilling his release over Kensei's hand and his own stomach. Shuuhei just rolled his eyes and smiled.

_'Go back to sleep, you two. You've got what you wanted - what _we_ wanted - so leave me in peace to enjoy this._


	35. Want

**Title:** Want  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Warnings:** AU  
**Summary:** Renji and Ichigo are prisoners of war.  
**Word count:** 343  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt: _11th - Bleach, Renji/Ichigo; Friendship sex or buddy-sex (fuck buddies)- He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't serious._ Sorry it's late.

It wasn't serious. Renji had to keep reminding himself of that. They were friends, nothing more. That they spent more nights than not in each other's beds was irrelevant. It was a comfort thing, that was all.

They were prisoners of the new regime, kept isolated from other Shinigami in this white-walled prison, surrounded by the white sand and eternal night of Hueco Mundo. Neither of them could figure out why they were in the same prison - maybe Aizen didn't want them going insane from having no one to talk to (their Arrancar jailer was silent presence who barely deigned to be in the same room as them, even for the monthly inspection by Ichimaru) or he'd thought they'd kill each other within a week or two.

Or maybe, Ichigo had suggested one night as he lay not-quite-wrapped in Renji's arms, he enjoyed watching their repeated - but ultimately futile - attempts to escape. Even with the power restricters they were forced to wear - literally, in Ichigo's case, with him writhing, hissing and _biting_ like a wildcat until Aizen fastened the smooth leather collar around his neck - they still continually plotted to escape. Sometimes, thanks to the fact that no limiter in existence could fully restrain the amount of reiatsu each of them held, they even made it out of their palatial prison before the new King of everything dispatched Ichimaru and Kira to retrieve and return them.

The sex, like the escape attempts and the sparring sessions with the zanpakutou they were so _graciously_ allowed to keep, was a distraction from the monotony of their caged existence. That's all Ichigo would allow it to be. Renji suspected that was all he _could_ allow it to be, for the sake of his already stretched sanity.

Still, when Ichigo was writhing in pleasure beneath him, Renji's name falling from his lips as he begged for more, Renji found it hard to remember that they were just friends. This wasn't serious.

He wanted it to be.


	36. Cancer

**Title:** Cancer  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla and Del March.  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Characters:** Shuuhei, Yumichika  
**Warnings:** almost non-con  
**Summary:** Shuuhei is angry, bitter, drunk and not happy about being followed.  
**Word count:** 3184  
**Notes:** This is the fault of **delwynmarch**. She was responsible for putting the idea in my head, she thought of the title and she cowrote the first part of the fic.

**oOo**

A flicker of black cloth caught Shuuhei's eye as he slammed back a glass of whiskey, not noticing the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. He motioned for the bartender to refill the glass as he turned to look at the newcomer to the bar. Sure, it wasn't illegal for non-Shinigami to wear black, but it wasn't exactly a common colour to see on random people. He scowled as he realised who it was. Ayasegawa Yumichika was one of the _last_ people he wanted to see, mostly because wherever the peacock went, his rowdy Division mates usually weren't far behind. Drinking alone was a lot harder with that bunch of illiterate, ill-mannered thugs hanging around.

Kazeshini's sly whisper trickled past the haze of alcohol that Shuuhei had been working to erect for hours. Shuuhei drained the next drink in one go to silence him, not wanting to listen to the smug bastard's tempting croon. What he was suggesting was completely wrong, totally illogical. Turning his back on Ayasegawa, Shuuhei motioned for another drink. This would be his last one, in this bar at least. He'd move on before the moron patrol arrived to join their pretty princess scout.

The cold air outside was a blow to the face, sobering him up as effectively as a pot of hot coffee. Shaking his head, Shuuhei glanced in both directions along the deserted street, before picking neither and effortlessly jumping to the roof opposite. He jumped from building to building, sometimes in a straight line, and sometimes diagonally, weaving his way out of the small town and towards the shadow of the bordering forest that led further into Rukongai.

He acted like he couldn't feel the insistent reiatsu behind him, pretended that the slapping of waraji on various roofing materials was merely the echo of his own footsteps. There was _no one_ following him but a trick of his imagination, a spectre sent by Kazeshini to torture and test him once again. The wind devil, the malevolent kamaitachi that haunted Shuuhei's soul, had got a lot nastier since Shuuhei embraced him and mastered him in the effort to reach bankai and be promoted to Captain. An effort that ultimately, to their shared horror, turned out to be in vain as Central 46 forever denied him that rank due to his previous loyalty to Tousen. Loyalty he'd discarded when Tousen had discarded him, but apparently even killing the traitor hadn't redeemed him in the eyes of the 46.

The darkness of the trees surrounded him and he was forced to slow down or run into a tree trunk or low hanging branch. There still wasn't anyone following him as he carefully wove through the undergrowth; the rustling was a mere trick of the wind that whipped at his shihakushou. He pushed forward, willing his eyes to pierce the shadows before him, refusing to listen to his body begging him to slow down, to be more careful. He was drunk, at night; he should not be rushing through some unknown forest, he knew it. But he did not care. Nothing mattered any more, not when his whole life's work had come undone through no fault of his own, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to repair the damage.

He was not surprised when he finally missed a step and ended up sprawled all over the forest floor. A sharp pain in his ankle informed him that he had probably sprained it, but once again he could not bring himself to care. One way or the other, he would find his way back to Seireitei sooner or later anyway; he would go back to the good old routine, as he always did. And for what? For a stunted career, killed before it could even properly begin? For pitying friends who would mourn with him the unfairness of the Central 46's decision, but who could never make it hurt less? He had nothing to go back to, and yet he would go back, because he did not know how else to live.

The crunch of footsteps halted next to him, and a warm body knelt beside his. He didn't need to look to see the mocking condescension on the Fifth Seat's pretty face, the unspoken smug superiority in his stance, his every move. He could almost feel the other man's arrogance in the very air he breathed - and strangely enough, he found that it did not bother him as much tonight as it did usually. Ayasegawa had no respect for him, but at least he would not smother him in pitying understanding like everyone else was going to as soon as the news would be made public.

"Come to laugh at me, Ayasegawa?" he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "I bet you find this whole thing funny, don't you?" Swaying on his feet, steadfastly ignoring the throbbing pain in his ankle. He shook off Ayasegawa's hand and started limping through the forest again. He was a high-ranked Shinigami with Captain-class skills, even if he would never actually hold that rank. If he willed his ankle to heal, then heal it would, with a short amount of time. Pity it only worked on small hurts, and not big wounds like the massive gash where his heart and pride used to lie.

"Not at all," Ayasegawa replied softly. Shuuhei glared at him angrily, certain that the effete trickster was taunting him in some way. "I would not make light of your misfortune in such a way." The impertinent Fifth Seat continued to follow Shuuhei through the woods, at a slower pace now, since Shuuhei saw no point in injuring himself further for the peacock's amusement or Eleventh's later mockery once Ayasegawa spread the news to them.

The woods soon gave way to an open space, a stony, barren patch of land fit for neither farming nor housing. There were a few scars in the ground that Shuuhei recognised, gouges where Kazeshini had torn into what little soil there was; craters where kidou had blasted splinters of bedrock into the air; furrows where Hihiou Zabimaru had missed its faster, more agile targets. Abarai-kun had had the patience to train with Shuuhei when few others would, revelling in the challenge of trying to hit someone so fast with his slow bankai. They'd both enjoyed the time spent sparring, both striving to reach the same goal in their own way, Shuuhei trying to catch up to his former underclassman, to bridge the gap that had sprung into being over five decades of separate training and, in Shuuhei's case, stagnation. And Abarai-kun had done it, was certain to make Captain when he was called to take the test, because he'd only served under Aizen for a short amount of time before being discarded into Eleventh's barbarity as a failure whose life or death no longer mattered. He wasn't tainted by long association with an eventual traitor.

Ayasegawa let out a low whistle as he saw the moon-lit training area, and his purple eyes widened as he took in the destruction wreaked upon the ground. He seemed to take in every single mark on the ground, even the slightest stain where blood and sweat were spilled, before turning to Shuuhei with a mocking smile - he didn't have any other kind, in Shuuhei's opinion -on his face. "I didn't realise how hard you've been training recently, Hisagi-fukutaichou. This is impressive."

"You don't know anything about me, Ayasegawa," Hisagi snapped, stepping into the open space. If he remembered right, there was a small cave in the hills on the other side of the training area. He and Abarai-kun had used it for shelter when the weather had forced them to cease training a few times. He could sleep there tonight, instead of going back to his cold quarters where his friends were no doubt waiting to shower him with meaningless pity and false reassurances. Ayasegawa followed him, and Shuuhei stopped to glare at him.

"Go away, Ayasegawa," he ordered. When the slender Eleventh Divisioner didn't move, Shuuhei snarled at him. "That was an order, Ayasegawa-goseki. Follow it."

"You're drunk, off duty and, most importantly, not in my Division. I don't _have_ to listen to orders from _you_," Ayasegawa replied. He flicked his hair back from his face and looked at Shuuhei with half-lidded eyes. "Of course, if you want to _force_ me to leave, you know what you have to do."

Shuuhei scoffed at the idea. Ayasegawa thought he was so smart, with that stupid, cheating kidou-type zanpakutou of his. The little princess was lucky Shuuhei had never bothered to mention it to Zaraki and Ikkaku. He'd be in serious trouble if those two barbarian kidou-haters knew exactly what he was hiding. And he thought he was _superior_ to Shuuhei just because his little surprise worked _once_, when he cheated in their fight, that time that Ayasegawa and the rest of Eleventh appeared to be the traitors. Shuuhei still couldn't believe that those five he'd intercepted that time were never punished at all for releasing known intruders from Fourth Division's medical holding cells, while he was still being penalised for the loyalty that all Lieutenants were expected to show to their Captains.

"Get lost, Ayasegawa, before you say something you'll regret later." Shuuhei turned his back on the Fifth Seat, dismissing the smaller man completely. The man wasn't worth his time.

"Are you a coward, then?" Ayasegawa's mocking tone halted Shuuhei in his tracks once again. "You didn't get your own way, so you'll hide behind a haze of alcohol and sleep rough in Rukongai when you're not working, so you don't have to face the people who care about you? You disgust me, Hisagi-fukutaichou."

Shuuhei whirled round angrily, Kazeshini roaring in his head as he restrained himself from lunging at Ayasegawa. "Like I care about your opinion, Ayasegawa. You're nothing but a Fifth Seat who is scared to reveal his full abilities for love of a man who sees him only as a convenient method of transport to the nearest healer after a fight." Shuuhei saw the anger starting to distort Ayasegawa's face and pressed on, a twisted sense of satisfaction creeping through him at the thought of wiping off Ayasegawa's usual expression of apathetic boredom. "You'd spread your legs for him the second he showed any interest, but even he won't touch such a pathetic, worthless, frigid whore as you. I bet you'd even spread your legs for your Captain if he asked."

Ayasegawa didn't respond, his face contorted into an anger that would have been terrifying to see if Shuuhei hadn't been equally enraged. His first attack was quick, an nukitsuke strike that would have cleaved Shuuhei's stomach open had he not been ready for the attack and blocked the blow with his own half-drawn zanpakutou. The pair traded blows for a few minutes, silent but for the clash of metal on metal and the involuntary grunts and quickened breathing of exertion.

Ayasegawa broke away first, leaping backwards into a half-crouch. "Sake, Fuji Kujaku," he growled. He ran his hand along the katana as it glowed white, transforming it into four hinged falx blades. A flick of his wrist separated the blades as he lunged forwards, catching the front of Shuuhei's shihakushou with the wicked points before Shuuhei could dodge completely.

Ayasegawa was more agile than Abarai-kun, Shuuhei realised. Shuuhei was soon covered by small cuts where the quadruple blade caught him as he was doubled over from a punch to the guts, or frantically trying to rub gritty dirt from his eyes. Ayasegawa was smiling now, a mockingly triumphant grin on his face as he compared his flawless state to Shuuhei's battered one.

"This is quite an interesting reversal of our previous fight, is it not, Hisagi-fukutaichou? Your training doesn't seem to have helped you much. Or are you going to blame it on the drinks you've had tonight?" Ayasegawa licked his lips, his tongue tasting a drop of Shuuhei's blood that had landed at the corner of his mouth. "What are you going to do now, _Shuuhei_?"

Shuuhei's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he gripped Kazeshini's hilt so hard his knuckles turned white. "Back down _now_, Ayasegawa. You don't want to push me further." Kazeshini roared in his head, no longer silenced by whiskey-haze, calling for Ayasegawa's blood, for more than just blood; the viciousness and persistence of the zanpakutou's desires, ones which merely reflected what Shuuhei had locked away ever since the encounter on the rooftop, battered at Shuuhei's resistance. He was no longer so good at denying Kazeshini what he wanted, not since he gained bankai. Ayasegawa simply smiled mockingly and vanished, reappearing behind and above Shuuhei for an easily blocked strike. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Ayasegawa."

Kazeshini surged forwards in Shuuhei's mind, his thoughts wrapping around his master's, meshing with them, weaving in and around Shuuhei's mind until they were one and the same. Emotions flared within them, ones supressed by Shuuhei but always, always embraced and nurtured by Kazeshini, kept at bay until they both needed them. Anger, hatred, lust, want, _need_; they all swirled within him, sharpening his senses and his reaction times.

He released Kazeshini without a word, catching Ayasegawa by surprise. One double-headed scythe spun out, the weight and momentum of the blade allowing the chain to wrap around Ayasegawa's zanpakutou, and Shuuhei easily tore Fuji Kujaku from the Fifth Seat's grasp with a simple tug of the chain in his hands. The other blade flew at Ayasegawa's body, forcing him to jump backwards and further separating him from his zanpakutou. Shuuhei carelessly kicked the blade into the shadow of the trees, where neither of them could see it any more.

Again and again the blades flew, scoring thin, stinging wounds all over Ayasegawa, shredding his shihakushou a little more with each superficial blow. Shuuhei's training with Abarai-kun had been good for his control over the blades he wielded, and melding with Kazeshini's mind only made him better. He could give the lightest kiss with the wind-blown scythes as easily as he could remove a limb. He could entangle and ensnare an opponent with as little effort as disemboweling them.

Ayasegawa was helpless now, his zanpakutou out of his sight and reach, his stubborn refusal to learn even the simplest kidou depriving him of that form of combat. All he had was the hand to hand skills that he couldn't use, kept at bay by spinning blades and tangling chains that tripped him and tore at his clothes if he tried to get close enough to land a punch. Not that there was much left of his shihakushou to tear, the fabric taking the brunt of Shuuhei's feather-light blows.

Shuuhei smirked as he threw the right blade out again, twisting the chain so the scythe swung around Ayasegawa's body and legs twice before burying itself in the rocky ground, binding Ayasegawa in place, trapping his arms against his body. The second blade secured the binding, holding the Fifth Seat firmly, the chain responding to Shuuhei's will as it always did, shortening its length and so tightening around Ayasegawa so he couldn't hope to escape with strength alone.

Ayasegawa's expression would have frozen most men in their tracks in ordinary circumstances - Shuuhei knew that the peacock somehow had the majority of Eleventh Division terrified of him - but Shuuhei found it pitiful to behold when he was so firmly restrained. Shuuhei walked up to the trapped Eleventh Divisioner, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I win."

"Yes, okay, you win. I submit. You're stronger than I am." Ayasegawa snarled back. "Now let me _go_."

Shuuhei blinked, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. "I don't think so, Ayasegawa. You don't seem to have learned _anything_yet." Shuuhei inhaled Ayasegawa's scent, a strong mixture of sweat and blood that made his heart beat faster. "You certainly haven't learned any respect for your _superiors_."

"Hisagi-fukutaichou, what do you mean?" Ayasegawa's hand twitched, as if to try and push Shuuhei away, but his arm was still bound to his side by chains. "You've proved whatever point you were trying to make. You're not weak or a coward. You're-"

Shuuhei silenced him with a kiss, his hand gripping the back of the Fifth Seat's hair to stop him from pulling away from the assault. When he did pull back, a triumphant leer on his face, blood stained his lips from where Ayasegawa had bit him.

"You don't learn very easily, do you?" Shuuhei said, licking the blood from his lips. "That wasn't very respectful."

"You're not acting much like a superior officer right now," Ayasegawa replied. Shuuhei slapped him, raising a red mark on previously untouched cheeks. The blow was hard enough to make Ayasegawa rock backwards in the restraining chains, and Shuuhei grinned contemplatively.

"As much as I like seeing you like this, I'd much prefer you on your knees." A sweep of Shuuhei's legs knocked Ayasegawa's feet from under him, the chain responding once more to Shuuhei's will and tightening to keep his prisoner in this new position, his head level with Shuuhei's crotch. "That's a much better place for you." He grabbed a fistful of Ayasegawa's hair and forced the Fifth Seat to look up at him. "I hate you, you know. Not because you waste your talents in that cesspit of a Division, or because you chase after a man who'll never notice you, but because you didn't kill me. What happened to your precious rules, huh? The winner lives, the loser dies? Just five minutes before that, you were _begging_ me to kill you. _What happened?_"

Shuuhei let go of Ayasegawa's hair, smoothing it almost unconsciously. "Why? Why didn't you just kill me that day. It would have been better that way." Shuuhei stepped around Ayasegawa and picked up the two scythes, flicking them as if to remove dirt off the blades and sealing them into their single katana form once again. He sheathed Kazeshini and frowned at Ayasegawa, who'd collapsed to hands and knees once the chain that held him upright was gone. "I may not have much of a career left, but I'm not going to throw it all away on a hypocritical little fraud like you. Good night, Ayasegawa. Bakudou no rokujyuuni: Hyapporankan!"

Ayasegawa had no chance to dodge the binding kidou, one of Shuuhei's favourite and most practiced spells, and the hundred rods slammed into him, forcing him face down into the ground and pinning him there. Shuuhei smiled sadly as he turned to leave. "Don't worry, you won't be there all night. Madarame's nearby, probably looking for you. Don't try and follow me once he finds you." Shuuhei vanished in a burst of shunpo, reappearing at the edge of the hills and vanishing into darkness once again in their shadow.


	37. Fear

**Title:** Fear  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Characters:** Byakuya/Kenpachi, Unohana  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Zaraki doesn't know fear.  
**Word count:** 1176  
**Notes:** I asked Del for a prompt, she gave me "Fear", I produced this.

This was ridiculous. He was the Eleventh Division Captain, the biggest and toughest brawler in a whole bunch of big, tough brawlers (with one small brawler thrown in for good measure, but he was even tougher than most of them, as if all the toughness of a big man had been squeezed and squashed into the shape of a small, pretty man who'd break your teeth if you dared suggest he wasn't as tough as the rest). He could walk out into the middle of his Division with pink ribbons in his hair (it had happened; someone had given them to Yachiru - the other exception to his Division's standard thuggish type - as a present, and she'd decided that they'd look _wonderful_ on him) and no one would dare say a thing, or even snigger behind his back when they thought he wasn't looking. Sure, Madarame would mention them _if he wanted a fight_, but that bald (no matter how he tried to deny it) thug was the only one who would draw attention to it. Zaraki Kenpachi Did Not Know Fear (anything to do with Unohana excepted, of course. That woman was _beyond _scary.)

Sitting at Byakuya's bedside, Zaraki felt more fear than he ever had when faced with an irritated (never angry, he knew better than to push _that_ far) Unohana. His lover lay unnaturally still on sheets that were stained red with the blood and pus that leaked from wounds that refused to close. Machines and tubes and wires assisted his weak breathing and pushed blood into his veins to replace that which Byakuya was losing, and Zaraki perched uncomfortably among them, hoping that Unohana and her medics could find a counter to the poison before it was too late. Medics bustled around like a flock of white hens, constantly checking and moving things, but Zaraki ignored them, except to growl half-heartedly when one of them forced him to move out of the way.

Zaraki half-wished that Byakuya hadn't managed to finish off the Hollow that had poisoned him. At least then he'd have something to kill. (A small part of him - a part that sounded dangerously like Yumichika, who was going to get a kick in the teeth next time Zaraki saw him - whispered that if he'd had something to go get revenge on, he would probably be lying in the next bed, increasing Fourth's workload and reducing both their chances of survival. Zaraki ignored that small voice - it made too much sense for him to want to listen to it right then.) At least then he wouldn't have to sit in a sterile room in the Fourth and watch helplessly as his lover's life soaked into the sheets. At least _then_ he wouldn't feel this cold fear gripping at his heart and squeezing his chest until it felt too small for his lungs.

_They'd been laughing and joking over a picnic dinner, sprawled on a blanket set on the grass in a tangle of limbs. It was rare they managed to get a whole day together, and they were going to make the most of it. They'd both left their uniforms in their quarters, and Byakuya had abandoned his kenseikan and scarf and Zaraki's hair lay down his back, for once not styled into bell-tipped spikes, but they both still wore their zanpakutou. Wanting to be nothing more than two lovers spending the day together was one thing, going unarmed was something completely different; to them it was like the difference between a fancy formal kimono and going stark naked._

_Right then though, their zanpakutou lay to one side, tangled with their discarded obi, their yukata lying on the grass even further away. Byakuya straddled Zaraki's thighs, one hand feeding him blackberries while the other gently stroked Zaraki's cock. Zaraki's hands roamed over Byakuya's back, tracing scars and exploring skin that he knew as well as his own after decades of association. Occasionally one of them would lean in and steal a quick kiss, soft and fleeting, a gentle demand to keep going as they were. They didn't need to hurry, they had all day, all weekend._

_They ran out of berries and Zaraki flipped Byakuya over, smiling as he loomed over the nobleman who lay spread out on the blanket. With gentle fingers, Zaraki tugged at Byakuya's fundoshi - his own had been discarded long ago - completely exposing Byakuya's half-hard cock. Zaraki carefully wrapped his hand around both their lengths and began to slowly thrust against his lover-_

_And then the Hollow screamed. And again. Multiple cries rent the air, and the two Captains rolled away from each other as the sky split overhead. There was no time to dress, only time to grab their zanpakutou as the horde descended upon them. Time lost all meaning as they fought, minor cuts and bruises ignored until at last only a handful were left facing Zaraki, as Byakuya fought against one._

_Zaraki hadn't thought about it - he'd dived straight into the middle of the ones facing him, blade swinging toward a white mask. And when he'd finished and he'd turned to face Byakuya triumphantly, and seen the Hollow's fangs sink deep into his lover just as its mask was cleaved in two and it disintegrated into a million points of light-_

Zaraki woke with a start, barely stopping his instinctive swing of the fist before it hit Unohana's face. There was a reason why Yachiru was usually the only one who dared wake him. He grumbled as he settled back down on the chair by Byakuya's bedside, berating himself for falling asleep, complaining about the medic Captain's blank expression that gave nothing away, be it good news or bad, muttering dire threats toward the person or, as was more likely, persons who'd dared move him to the small cot away from his lover's side. He noticed there were less machines and tubes this time, and the sheets were now white, as were the bandages now wrapped around his chest. He looked questioningly at Unohana.

"He will live. We managed to neutralise the venom and stop the bleeding." Unohana noted something down on the medical chart that hung on the end of Byakuya's bed. "He still needs time to recover from the blood loss, but we managed to repair the damage to his internal organs and bones." Unohana paused in the doorway as she left. "He knew you were there the whole time. He woke earlier, and the first thing he did was look for you."

With that, Unohana left. Zaraki settled down into the chair, reaching out one hand to gently sweep Byakuya's hair from his face. "You knew, huh? Bet ya found it funny, seein' me so scared. That's what ya do ta me, Byakuya. Ya can even make me feel fear. An' ya know what." Zaraki leaned down so he was whispering in Byakuya's ear. "I don't care, because I love ya."


	38. Celebration

**Title:** Celebration  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Characters:** Kira/Renji  
**Warnings:** bondage  
**Summary:** Kira and Renji have a private celebration. PWP.  
**Word count:** 493  
**Notes:** No idea where this one came from.

Renji gasped as he felt the bristles brush gently over his nipple, leaving cold, sticky wetness in their wake. He writhed in his bonds, testing and pulling, wishing he could see the man kneeling beside him, could read what was being painted on his flesh, could touch his lover, could touch _himself_.

The wood of the brush handle clacked as it was set down, and long, calloused fingers traced over Renji's tattoos, avoiding the drying trails that the brush had left. Renji arched into the touch, pleading incoherently as the fingers deliberately avoided touching his aching cock.

Fingers brushed against Renji's lips, coated in the same edible ink that had been used to write on his skin. Renji inhaled the faintly citrusy scent and tried to capture the digits with his mouth, earning a warning swat to his nose. The soft sound of his lover fastening his own mouth around those sticky digits made him moan in desperation.

Fingers continued to dance over Renji's chest and stomach, outlining the muscles, tracing the tattoos and investigating scars that Renji wasn't even aware were sensitive. Lips pressed against Renji's skin as his lover kissed all the scars that hadn't been painted over, gently nipping at the slightly-raised flesh of those long-healed wounds, and making him shiver with need and beg for more.

And then his lover moved, a rustle of fabric the only sound he made as his body heat moved away from Renji and then back again. He settled over Renji's thighs, letting Renji feel that he wore only a haori. The blindfold was tugged away as a lube-slicked hand wrapped around both their cocks, and Renji blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight.

Kira slowly thrust against him, the flickering light dancing in his blue eyes. His free hand continued to trace Renji's chest, this time following the flowing lines of the kanji he'd carefully drawn there. Renji's eyes were drawn to follow, and he mouthed the words he read, a love poem written for him and him alone.

Kira's moan of ecstasy, the only sound he'd made since he bound Renji to the bed and fastened the blindfold over his eyes, took Renji over the edge as well, and they came together, sticky semen spurting over Renji's stomach.

Kira knelt there panting for a few seconds, before leaning over and carefully pulling a tray to Renji's side. With a soft cloth he cleaned Renji's skin and his own hands, removing all traces of stickiness from them. Then, shuffling up so he straddled Renji's chest, he released Renji's wrists from the bindings, rubbing each one with skilled fingers to encourage the circulation again.

That done he rolled off of Renji and snuggled up against him, and Renji's arms wrapped around him. As the two drifted off to sleep, Renji smiled and gently kissed the back of Kira's neck.

"Congratulations, Kira-_taichou_. I knew ya could do it."


	39. Stubborn Little Bastard

**Title:** Stubborn Little Bastard  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters:** Zaraki, Yumichika  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Every winter Seireitei is plagued with illness, and this year it's Yumichika's turn.  
**Word count:** 1288  
**Notes:** This came from a random h/c bunny that bit me. Thanks to **agenttrojie** for the beta.

Zaraki watched approvingly as his Division jogged out of the west gate of Seireitei in perfect order, Ikkaku at the head of the formation with Yachiru perched on his shoulder. They'd head into Rukongai, to one of the sites scouted the previous week, and wait there until they were recalled. Until the plague that swept through Seireitei and decimated the ranks every winter had been beaten back once again.

As Captain, Zaraki had to stay in Seireitei, along with the handful of his men that had already fallen ill, or were showing the first symptoms of disease, or had been in close contact with the affected. There weren't many - Zaraki habitually kept his Division mostly isolated between the tenth and third months, to prevent the loss of too many of his men.

He spotted several runners from other Divisions scurrying off, no doubt to tell their Captains that Eleventh Division had left - fled, Soifon always called it, but no member of Onmitsukidou or the Second had been seen outside of their walled-in forest for over a week, so he thought her more of a coward, because at least he openly withdrew his men from Seireitei, and it wasn't as if they were hiding, since they'd handle any Hollows they saw, heard or were informed of. It would be a signal, he knew, for some of the other Captains to follow suit and send as many unaffected men as they could away from Seireitei.

Zaraki sighed as he turned back to the barracks. Now all he had to deal with was keeping his remaining men occupied until they succumbed. It was tempting to just let them drink and fight and whore as they wished until they got sick, but last time he'd tried that it just ended up with a bigger mess than normal and a very annoyed Unohana.

He was surprised, when he entered the training compound, to hear the sound of wooden swords clacking against each other echoing around the walls. Shedding his sandals at the door, Zaraki padded along the dark corridor to the main dojo, silently sliding the door open to look inside. He groaned at what he saw.

Yumichika, clad in a light yukata with a thick haori over the top, the latter rumpled as if it had been removed and then put back on again quite often in a short space of time, stood swaying at the edge of the mat, watching his subordinates practice. Every now and then he would croak out an order, and the men would fall over themselves to obey. Even when he was ill, no one wanted to disobey Yumichika.

When Zaraki opened the door fully, intending to step inside and dismiss the session so he could order Yumichika back to bed, Yumichika turned to face him. He barked a command for the group to bow, completely unnecessarily, in Zaraki's opinion, since they'd do that anyway, and followed suit himself, wobbly and straining not to cough.

"Idiot, what ya doin' outta bed?" Zaraki asked, returning the gesture. The other men left, practically bolting from the room in their haste to be away from their superiors. Zaraki stepped closer to the swaying Fifth Seat, ready to support him when he inevitably fell. "Ya ain't strong enough to do this sort o' shit right now."

"I was just keeping them out of trouble until you returned, taichou," Yumichika replied hoarsely. He really did look like shit. Yumichika wasn't the type of person who handled being sick very well. Zaraki doubted he'd even be able to take one step without falling over. "And I'm fine. There's barely anything wrong with me."

Yumichika pulled the haori tighter around himself - the peacock embroidered onto it spreading its tail more the tighter the fabric was stretched - and shivered, glancing at the windows as if to check that they were still closed. He smiled at Zaraki and, as if to spite Zaraki's unvoiced doubts, he managed to take three steps towards the door before collapsing. Zaraki caught him before he hit the floor.

"Stubborn little bastard," Zaraki muttered. There was no malice in his voice, he was merely stating an accepted fact of Eleventh Division. He carefully rearranged Yumichika in his arms to carry him back to the quarters they'd be sharing until Yumichika was recovered - he was naturally immune to the plague and Yumichika would, if past experiences held true, need more nursing than the rest of Zaraki's men, and Fourth would no longer take him in since the incident nearly three decades ago.

Yumichika was still unconscious when Zaraki wrapped him up in his futon and carefully placed a glass of water where it wouldn't be knocked over if Yumichika started to thrash about. Zaraki sat there in silence for a while, watching for any change in him, until a crash echoed from the barracks. Yumichika didn't stir, and Zaraki slowly pulled himself to his feet. If his bunch of idiots were fighting for no reason again, he'd knock their heads together to shut them up.

Ten minutes later he padded back to his quarters, fuming at the sheer idiocy some of his men showed. Even Yachiru knew better than to throw her zanpakutou at a rat, but then again she was fast enough to catch the little buggers before they could escape.

Glass crunched under Zaraki's feet as he entered his quarters, and the candle he'd left lit had been extinguished - hopefully before it had been thrown across the room. There was no sign of Yumichika, and Zaraki pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that was starting to form. Yumichika _always_ did this when he was delirious, and it never stopped being difficult to deal with. "C'mon, Yumichika. Stop hidin'."

Being ill in the lower parts of Rukongai was a dangerous business if you didn't have friends you could trust to protect you. There were few healers out there, and most of those who claimed that title were quacks whose herbal concoctions were as likely to poison you as help you. There was little to stop the spread of disease and thus the sick were seen as dangerous. They were often driven out of populated areas to die alone, if they weren't killed outright. It wasn't surprising that Yumichika, used to being alone and undefended, would hide himself away while ill.

Zaraki spotted the edge of Yumichika's yukata sticking out of the bottom of a cupboard door and rolled his eyes. He'd never stop going for the small, dark places either. Zaraki rapped on the cupboard door. "Come out of there."

There was no answer, and Zaraki carefully opened the door. He easily caught the wild punch that was thrown at him, and he used his grip on Yumichika's wrist to pull the Fifth Seat out of the cupboard. Yumichika kicked and writhed as Zaraki dragged him back over to the futon and dumped him on it, sitting down with him and wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

"It's okay, Yumichika. Not gonna kill ya. Not gonna hurt ya in any way. Yer safe. It's all gonna be okay. Ya ain't in Rukongai no more. Ya ain't gonna be killed fer bein' sick." Zaraki sat there holding Yumichika, muttering reassurances into his ear and stroking his hair soothingly, until Yumichika's breathing evened out and he slipped into an exhausted sleep. Carefully, Zaraki pulled Yumichika into a more comfortable position for them both to sleep in, feeling himself start to drift off as well.

"You're a stubborn little bastard, Yumichika, but you're _our_ stubborn little bastard. We ain't never gonna abandon ya, don't ya worry about that."


	40. Bound In Silk

**Title:** Bound In Silk  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 15  
**Characters:** Byakuya/Renji  
**Warnings:** bondage  
**Summary:** Byakuya comes home to a surprise.  
**Word count:** 578  
**Notes:** This all sprang from the first paragraph. Had I the skill to draw fanart, then I would have done so, but even my stick figures fail so I wrote this instead.

Byakuya smiled as he entered the kitchen and saw what was waiting for him in there. Renji lay on the table, clad in tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt. His unbound hair fanned out around him, and a dark-blue ribbon was wrapped around his forearms and wrists, binding them loosely above his head. His legs were spread and his knees bent slightly, pulling the denim even tighter around his groin and arse. Every line of his muscles showed through his clothes and Byakuya felt his cock begin to stir at the sight.

He stepped forward slowly, as if a sudden move would cause the vision before him to vanish into nothing. Running a hand up Renji's denim-clad leg, Byakuya felt something tighten in his chest. This relationship with Renji had happened without either of them realising it, but over time the lust that had drawn them together had changed into something more potent - at least for Byakuya - that he never wanted to lose.

Renji shuddered under his touch, pressing his leg against Byakuya's hand as if begging for more. He hadn't seen it from the doorway, but Byakuya now saw the gag that filled Renji's mouth and he felt his heart constrict even further. He'd mentioned this fantasy to Renji just once, when they'd both been too drunk to do more than just bask in each other's warmth, and now it had come to life in his own quarters.

"Spread out like this for me, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen," Byakuya muttered. He placed his hand on Renji's chest and leaned in to lay a kiss on his Lieutenant's cheek. "So much strength and power contained within you, willingly bound for my pleasure."

He slowly moved his hand down Renji's chest and stomach, feeling the muscles there shift in reaction to his touch. Even through the fabric, Renji was sensitive to Byakuya's touch, and he arched his back to get more. Byakuya smiled as he traced where he knew Renji's tattoos were hidden under the dark-tshirt, the skin rippling under his fingers as Renji moaned in pleasure.

With his other hand, Byakuya softly stroked the bulge at Renji's crotch. He didn't know how Renji could stand to be so hard in such constricting clothing. Taking pity on him, Byakuya popped the button of Renji's jeans and slowly, _carefully_, unzipped his fly. Renji's cock sprang free, bound in ribbon to match that around his wrists, and Byakuya's breath caught in his throat.

He wanted to say something, to thank Renji for a million different things, but the words caught in his throat. There was nothing he could say that would express how he truly felt.

Byakuya circled round the table, one hand always touching Renji's body, until he'd seen his lover from all angles. He came to a halt at Renji's feet, and smiled. Were he a more possessive and jealous man, he would bind Renji with something stronger than silk and never let him leave his quarters again, for fear that someone else would one day get to see him so beautifully displayed.

He gently pulled Renji down the table until he stood on the floor, his hands bound in front of him. Taking hold of the end of the ribbon, Byakuya tugged Renji towards the door. They had all night, and Byakuya would worship Renji on silk and satin until they both fell into a sated sleep.


	41. Sprain

**Title:** Sprain  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** U  
**Characters:** Ichigo, Isshin  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** A minor injury for Ichigo leads to an understanding with Isshin  
**Word count:** 1320  
**Notes:** Sprained ankles are ow. Make sure that any pavement/road you choose to jog/run along is smooth and free of pesky potholes. This is a fill for the **hc_bingo** square "accidents".

One second Ichigo was flying along the pavement, running through a back alley shortcut from work to home, mentally cursing his boss for making him late for dinner, as well as his dad for setting such a ridiculous curfew.

Then he was falling, his body twisting as he tried to compensate for balance lost, as his foot hit the empty air of a pothole. It wasn't enough, and he landed with a thud, skidding along the ground and hissing as he felt the skin of his left knee split and tear under the friction. The heel of his hand throbbed with pain, blood welling up where a stone had dug into the skin as he fell.

He didn't want to think about his right ankle. If he didn't think about it, then there was _nothing_ wrong with it. Absolutely nothing at all. It was perfectly fine.

He lay there for a short time, catching his breath, waiting for the initial flares of pain to subside, before trying to stand. His first attempt failed, and he blinked tears out of his eyes as he tried again. He wasn't going to let a _perfectly fine_ ankle stop him from standing. He eventually managed on the third try, his teeth gritted as he forced his _completely normal_ ankle to bear his weight.

Okay, so he was limping a bit as he resumed his path home, at a more sedate pace this time. It was nothing though. Certainly nothing to fuss about. A bit of rest and he'd be as right as rain.

Luckily his family were all at dinner when he got home, and he managed to get up to his room without them seeing him. He responded to Yuzu's offer of dinner with a mutter, knowing she'd bring something up to his room later. He didn't want to worry his sisters over something trivial, or have to endure Isshin's prodding and poking if he thought Ichigo had actually managed to get hurt.

His ankle continued to throb as he did his homework, and the shooting pain that flared every time he moved his foot, causing him to clench his fists and grit his teeth to avoid crying out, caused him to mess up more than a few kanji in his essay. He carefully erased each mistake. He wasn't going to let a minor hurt ruin his school work.

Some time later he stretched, wincing as his ankle twinged again, and closed his books, pulling them into a pile on his desk. It was nearly one in the morning; he'd been so absorbed in his work he hadn't noticed the passing of time. He didn't even remember eating the dinner Yuzu had brought in for him - didn't even remember Yuzu coming in - but the plate was clean and his stomach wasn't rumbling so he guessed he must have eaten at some point.

The pressure of the covers on his swollen ankle was painful, and Ichigo eventually resorted to piling blankets from the cupboard next to his leg, to form a tent of the covers to get some relief. He slipped into a fitful sleep, the pain radiating from his ankle dragging memories of older hurts and the fights they were gained in to the forefront of his mind as he dreamed.

He was woken the next morning by his father's insane yell of "Ichigoooooooooo!", and he rolled aside as Isshin crashed through the window feet first. Barely awake, Ichigo forgot about his ankle as he stumbled to his feet, and in dodging Isshin's follow up attack he put all his weight down on his right foot.

He came to on the floor, pain blooming in his head and warring from the lances of fire that advanced from his ankle. Isshin was kneeling next to him, one hand at Ichigo's wrist and the other pressing Ichigo back down as he tried to sit up. He was serious now, all traces of his normal morning idiotic playfulness gone as he frowned at Ichigo.

"You fainted and hit your head. Don't try to move. You hurt your ankle last night?"

Ichigo started to nod, and regretted it as the pain in his head exploded, driving back the fire from his ankle. "Yeah."

"And of course, as stubborn as you are, you thought you'd be okay if you just rested it for a night." Isshin shook his head. "Sometimes you are too independent for your own good. Do you think you could get down to the clinic with my help?"

"I am _not_ letting you carry me down the stairs," Ichigo growled. He had his pride, damnit. He let Isshin pull him to his feet though, keeping his right foot safely clear of the floor. Together they managed to get down the stairs, Ichigo sitting down at the top and shuffling from one step to the next like a toddler just learning to walk, and through the house to the connecting door to the clinic.

Yuzu was waiting for them in the clinic, her nurse gown pulled on over her school uniform. She rolled her eyes at Ichigo as he hobbled along with his arm thrown over Isshin's shoulder for balance, but didn't say anything.

"Yuzu, call an ambulance please. Your brother is going to need x-rays." Yuzu nodded and vanished to the front desk without a word.

Ichigo grimaced. He hated x-rays. The technicians insisted on whatever you'd hurt being held at the angle that would cause you the most pain. Right now just moving his little toe hurt more than taking a full force hit from Byakuya. When he was in bankai. He didn't want to think about moving any more than that.

Isshin had just finished cleaning up the cut on the back of Ichigo's head when Karin came in, one of Ichigo's t-shirts, a pair of socks and a worn pair of jeans hanging over her arm. She dumped them on the end of the exam bed and walked out without a word.

The ambulance arrived just a few minutes after Ichigo finished struggling into his jeans. It had hurt to pull the trousers on over his swollen ankle, but there was no way he was leaving the house in nothing but his boxers. The two paramedics refused to let Ichigo walk to the ambulance, insisting on strapping him into a chair, despite his protests.

Hospitals weren't Ichigo's favourite place to be. Even at such an early hour it was busy in the emergency department, the noise of the waiting room almost drowning out the bland rubbish that was supposedly all-ages entertainment on the tiny television set high on one wall. Ichigo winced as people stumbled or walked into the wheelchair he'd been given, biting his lip to hold in pained moans and clenching onto the armrests so as not to lash out at the offenders.

Ichigo jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder, and he twisted to look up at Isshin. "Huh? Why are you here? What about the clinic?"

"You're more important to me than my patients, Ichigo," Isshin replied, shooing away a couple of kids that had been about to careen into Ichigo's legs and sitting down next to him. "If I can't take a day off to care for my kids once in a while, then that's a pretty crappy life."

"Dad, you didn't ha-"

"I know. But... I know I'm not the world's best father, Ichigo. I've been a pretty crappy one, actually. Masaki would be ashamed of me." Isshin smiled reassuringly at Ichigo. "Seeing you collapse like that, realising that you'd been hiding injuries from me... it scared me." A nurse called Ichigo's name, and Isshin stood up and stretched. "Let me help you, even just a little bit."

Ichigo nodded and smiled as Isshin started to pull him towards the treatment rooms. "Sure thing, dad."


	42. BrEaK

**Title:** BrEaK  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Characters:** Grimmjow/Ichigo  
**Warnings:** rape, torture, DARK!FIC  
**Summary:** After Aizen's defeat, Grimmjow goes looking for Ichigo.  
**Word count:** 1240  
**Notes:** Written for the **springkink** prompt _12th Feb - Bleach, Grimmjow/Ichigo: Physical violence - "I'm surprised nobody's done this to you before, considering how you're just begging for more."_. The title is taken from one of Grimmjow's image songs.

"G-Grimmjow?"

The former Espada grinned as he heard the gasp from behind him. Good to see the brat hadn't lost his memory along with his powers. This all would have been for nothing if his prey didn't even know why he was being killed.

"Yeah, brat. Ya didn't think I was dead, did ya?" Grimmjow didn't turn round. He didn't need to. He could hear the brat's stance changing, could smell the fear that was starting to creep through him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." The brat was preparing to fight, and Grimmjow grinned even wider; this would be too easy.

"Why?"

"Revenge."

That did it. Grimmjow whirled round and deflected the punch aimed at his head, slamming a blow into the brat's midsection with his other fist. Even without powers Ichigo was fast and strong - for a human, anyway - and Grimmjow laughed as he realised that the brat really thought the training and reflexes he'd retained would actually make a difference to the outcome of the fight.

"I'm surprised nobody's done this to you before, considering how you're just begging for more," Grimmjow said, ducking under a blow to headbutt Ichigo in the chin. "I've been watching you, brat. I've seen the way you wander from fight to fight, brawling with anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. It's like you _want_ to get beaten up, the way you gleefully go up against whole gangs. Well, ain't it your lucky day; I'm here to grant your wish."

Grimmjow jumped back, carelessly wiping blood away from where Ichigo had landed a lucky punch to his face. "You can run, if you want to. I promise to give you a head start."

"In your dreams," Kurosaki snarled back, spitting blood from his mouth before charging in again. Grimmjow shook his head.

"Your funeral, brat."

**o0o**

"You know why I'm doing this, Kurosaki?" He didn't expect an answer; he'd be surprised if the brat was even still listening to him. "It's because you've been asking for it, ever since that first time I met you."

Grimmjow rolled Ichigo over, slapping Ichigo's barely touched face to force him to focus; as tempting as it had been to destroy the face that haunted his thoughts, Grimmjow thought it far more satisfying for the brat to see all of Grimmjow's handiwork, to be able to scream in pain and fear once he realised that hope was futile, that he was never going to escape and that there was no one to hear him scream in this deserted house in the mountains.

Dull brown eyes stared up at him, just a small spark of defiance still glimmering in their depths. It was that spark that made Grimmjow mad; he just wanted the kid to fucking break already.

"Yeah, you were asking for it." Grimmjow stroked Ichigo's ribs, feeling several of them shift under his fingers, smiling at the obvious pain that his prey was trying to hide. "You were so fucking defiant, so oblivious to how fucking outclassed you were. I was kicking your fucking ass, and yet you still wouldn't back down."

Grimmjow straddled Ichigo's thighs, slowly settling down onto them, ignoring the brat's pointless attempts to scrabble away from him. He'd messed up Ichigo's ankles early on, laughing as he felt something in the joints move and give way under his feet as he punished his prey for trying to escape.

"From what I've heard, what I've _seen_, you're quite the masochist, ain't you? You just _love_ charging into fights you can't win." Grimmjow rocked his hips against Ichigo's, enjoying the fear that started to creep into the teen's eyes. "You just beg to be destroyed, don't you?"

He leaned back for a second to admire his handiwork; livid bruises covered Ichigo's bare torso, and Grimmjow could make out the imprints of his feet and the individual knuckles of his fists in some of the marks. Ichigo's breathing was rough, strained around the ribs Grimmjow's blows had cracked, bruised and broken, and the internal damage Grimmjow was certain he'd inflicted.

He had to give the brat some credit though; he hadn't screamed at first, even when Grimmjow had damaged his ankles. He'd stayed mostly silent, forcing his screams into choked whimpers until Grimmjow had started on his fingers, breaking then dislocating them one bone at a time, even after Ichigo had screamed himself hoarse.

"Gotta say though, you're fucking beautiful like that." Grimmjow caressed Ichigo's arm almost like a lover, avoiding the worst of the bruises that painted the skin black and purple. "So fucking beautiful, lying under me like this. It's what you wanted, isn't it? For someone to finally beat you, to take you and break you into a million pieces."

Grimmjow felt the kid shudder and mouth the word 'no' as he leaned in to place a mockingly gentle kiss on Ichigo's lips. His bodyweight and the injuries he'd inflicted in the days since he'd captured Ichigo kept the teen in place as his lips roamed over Ichigo's neck and chest like a parody of a lover's teasing.

"It's only fair I get to do this; you've been teasing me with it ever since you first met me. The first time I saw you, I knew I wanted to destroy you. That I _should_ destroy you." Grimmjow raked his nails gently down Ichigo's side, feeling the kid squirm under his touch. "See, you want this too. Don't deny it."

Grimmjow carefully moved so he was kneeling between Ichigo's thighs, one hand stroking Ichigo's growing erection. "So pretty. It's all your fault, you know. You made me do this."

Ichigo shook his head, whispering an endless stream of pleas for Grimmjow to stop.

Grimmjow slipped a saliva-coated finger as far into Ichigo's hole as he could. He carefully added a second after a few moments, stretching Ichigo as if he was a treasured lover. "Hush, hush. It's okay. I'm just doing what you wanted; if you'd just run away from me, this wouldn't be happening. You invited me to do this, Ichigo. And I'm glad you did. You're so beautiful when you look like this. So pretty it hurts to take my time."

Grimmjow pulled Ichigo closer and wrapped the teen's legs around his waist as he lined his erection up with the hole that he'd just removed his fingers from. He was pleased to see tears running down Ichigo's face as he pushed inside, even as he gently wiped them away.

"My beautiful little Ichigo. Does that feel as good as you imagined? Am I good enough for you? I don't want to be a disappointment for you, Ichigo. I love you, Ichigo."

Grimmjow tightened his grip slightly around Ichigo's rock-hard cock, alternately squeezing and stroking it. "You want this as much as I do. You like lying there under me, letting me use you. You're so beautifully submissive for me that it hurts. Come with me, Ichigo. Show me how much you like this."

Ichigo didn't move as Grimmjow pulled away after they came together. Even without Grimmjow's weight holding him in place, he merely lay there with tears running down his cheeks. He didn't even flinch as semen-covered fingers traced lips that parted under the soft touch.

"Should have run, Ichigo. I would have only destroyed your body that way."


	43. SIX Feelings

**Title:** SIX Feelings  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Characters:** Grimmjow/Ichigo, Zaraki  
**Warnings:** character death, past torture, DARK!FIC  
**Summary:** After breaking Ichigo, Grimmjow decides to keep him.  
**Word count:** 2505  
**Notes:** Sequel to BrEaK. Title taken from the second Grimmjow image song.

**Pride**

Grimmjow perched on the outside windowsill of the hospital room, feet swinging carelessly as he looked inside. His new toy lay in there, swathed in bandages and surrounded by machines that beeped and flashed constantly. Tubes snaked under the brat's skin, pumping in what looked, and smelled, like blood to Grimmjow. How barbaric human medicine was.

He'd done a wonderful job on the brat's body, inflicting the maximum amount of pain he could without damaging anything truly vital. All the brat had really lost was his feet, something about infection and nerve damage that Grimmjow hadn't cared to try and understand. And from what he'd been able to follow of the healers' talk, Grimmjow got the impression that his toy would never be able to use his hands properly again. That was fine, the brat wouldn't need his hands very much anyway.

Best of all, Grimmjow could see that his pet was awake, eyes open and staring blankly at the boring white ceiling. He wouldn't do anything but that until Grimmjow gave him an order. He was a perfectly compliant little toy.

_He'd_ done that. He was the one who'd managed to finally break the annoying little shit. He'd taken Kurosaki fucking Ichigo and turned him into a broken minded little toy who lived only to please him. He was the one who'd even taken Kurosaki Ichigo's name from him, who'd made sure that the only name he would ever respond to again was Pet. No one else had managed to do that. It was _his_accomplishment, _his_ prize, _his_ Pet. And if any of the others had survived Grimmjow would have been glad to show off his new Pet and see the looks of jealousy and longing on their faces.

**Lust**

Grimmjow thought it was careless of the humans not to keep a watch on Pet. They didn't know who'd hurt him, so how could they know if that person came back. Not that they'd be able to stop him. Even if he came in wearing the gigai he'd rescued from Szayel's labs before the Shinigami ransacked the place, they wouldn't be able to stop him. Puny fucking humans.

The majority of the tubes were gone now, as were most of the machines. Bandages still crisscrossed Pet's body under the hospital gown though, stark white against tanned and scarred flesh. Grimmjow gently pulled the covers aside, revealing bare legs that stopped about two hand-widths below the knee, capped with yet more white bandages. Pet was peaceful in sleep, mouth slightly open as his eyes twitched below closed lids.

Grimmjow stroked his cock within the confines of his hakama. He'd give Pet just a few more days in this nasty, sterile place with its nosy healers, and then he'd take him away. He'd take Pet back to his mountain hideaway, where he'd be able to fuck Pet as much as he wanted.

It was killing Grimmjow to be patient. If he took Pet now, if he fucked him until he bled and screamed with pleasure, those fucking healers would probably lock him away. Not that they could keep Grimmjow from finding Pet, no matter what they did, but this lack of security suited him.

With one last squeeze of his cock, Grimmjow came all over his hand. If only Pet knew how fucking beautiful he looked right now, vulnerable and ripe for the taking. Grimmjow ran a semen-covered finger over Pet's lips, smiling ferally as Pet unconsciously licked it off. He couldn't fucking wait to get Pet out of here.

**Anger**

They'd fucking found Pet's former family. They had no fucking right. Who the fuck told those healers they were allowed to go searching like that. Kurosaki Ichigo no longer existed. Those people had no connection to Pet. Pet was Pet, and that was all there was.

Grimmjow snarled and paced in the air outside the hospital. He wanted to kill. Maybe he could slaughter the interfering bastard who thought he could resurrect Kurosaki Ichigo. No, that wouldn't help. That damage was done. Killing the ones who thought their son and brother was here, that might help. They couldn't try to claim Pet was Kurosaki Ichigo if they were dead.

No, Grimmjow had heard a rumour that the father was some sort of Shinigami, one strong enough to have attacked Aizen and lived. It was too risky to try; if he didn't kill the father in the first blow, then the ensuing fight would draw attention from Soul Society and they _would_ send Captains.

Grimmjow released a cero at a nearby tree, snarling as the offending plant simply vanished in the blast. This wasn't fucking right. Pet was _his_. He was the one to make him the way he was. No one had the right to take him and try and rebuild Kurosaki Ichigo out of Pet. _No one_. Not even Aizen, bastard though he had been, would have contested Grimmjow's right of conquest in this case. Stupid fucking humans.

He'd just have to move his plans up. He couldn't wait for Pet to recover any more. He'd remove him, and then those fucking humans could try and explain how they lost a footless man without anyone seeing him leave. Serve them right.

**Love**

Grimmjow watched silently from the window as Pet clumsily moved the pieces of the puzzle Grimmjow had given him. It had been a few months since Grimmjow had claimed Pet and no one had turned up to bother them. Yet.

Grimmjow had sensed Shinigami nearby. His reiatsu was almost completely cloaked by the gigai he wore, and Pet's was only just strong enough to see him on the few occasions he left it, but if the Shinigami got close enough they'd know. And then he'd have to move fast to stop them warning Soul Society. To stop Soul Society from taking Pet from him.

But Pet was his now. Completely obedient, perfectly subservient. If Grimmjow entered the room now, Pet would forget about that puzzle instantly and focus only on him. Pet was as dependent on Grimmjow as he could be. Grimmjow would even bet that Pet would kill himself if Grimmjow abandoned him, or told him he was no longer wanted.

Owning Pet was a thrill Grimmjow didn't want to give up, if he was honest with himself. His Fraccion had been his, but not in the same way that Pet was. They'd only followed him because he'd been stronger than them as Adjuchas and was still stronger as an Arrancar. There was no true ownership there, only strength and fear.

Even if Pet was physically capable of leaving, he wouldn't. Grimmjow was "Master", was all Pet knew or cared about. He knew he was as much of a possession as the cutlery in the kitchen and yet he still loved Grimmjow.

Love, Grimmjow thought, was for fools and idiots. So why did he feel the faintest stirrings of it himself?

**Arrogance**

Grimmjow pulled Pet from his chair and kissed him roughly, biting Pet's lips hard enough to draw blood. He almost purred at the taste, and his nails dug into Pet's arms as he carried him into their bedroom.

Pet moaned as Grimmjow tugged down his jeans down just far enough to expose his cock, his twisted hands scrabbling as the sheets as Grimmjow lapped at the hardening length. Grimmjow could see the concern in his eyes as they flickered over the dried blood that coated his clothes and bare chest and he chuckled.

"It's okay, Pet. Not mine, never mine. I just ran into another Shinigami is all. Drove the redhaired bastard off with his tail between his fucking legs." Grimmjow took Pet's full length into his mouth, humming around the length as he did so. Pet screamed and arched his back, his hands now scrabbling at Grimmjow's shoulders.

Grimmjow was pleased with himself. None of the Shinigami to sense them had been all that strong. He'd killed the first four with ease, the first hint of his attack being the blade that suddenly appeared in their chests. The last one had been stronger, his reiatsu maddeningly familiar, but not strong enough. He'd probably be dead before he managed to make a report, if he managed to reach Soul Society at all.

He slid his fingers out of Pet's arse with a wet noise, and slathered some lube over his cock with his other hand. He ignored the pain in his healing leg; he'd lied to Pet to stop him from worrying. It was just a scratch, didn't even touch the bone. Pet had done worse to him, when he was still Kurosaki Ichigo. This wasn't even worth bothering with.

Grimmjow kissed Pet again as he slowly pushed into him. The Shinigami being sent to this area were pathetically weak. If this was all the strength they had available to them, then Pet would be his until the end of time. Maybe he'd let the next one live, as a companion for Pet. Or a play toy for him. He was sure he could teach Pet to enjoy torturing someone.

Let Soul Society send their little soldiers. Maybe they'd even give him a decent fight and send a Captain after him. Then he'd have some fun.

**Fear**

Grimmjow bounced off a tree trunk, using it as a springboard to jump over a small canyon carved out by a stream. Pet whimpered in his arms, eyes white with terror as he clung onto Grimmjow.

The bastards sent Captains after him. Not just one. Grimmjow wouldn't have been bothered if they'd only sent one. He could have handled a single Captain. But not three, not all at once. He recognised them, of course; the ones who killed Nnoitra, Zommari and Yammi, and the one who had been fighting Harribel when Aizen betrayed her.

And they were working _together_. Since when did they do that? All data gathered on the Shinigami showed that higher ranks _always_ fought alone. It was practically a fucking law of theirs. One on one or, if circumstances forced it, one powerful Shinigami vs many opponents. Not three Captains working together to take down a single opponent.

Okay, he'd heard of it before, after the rare event when a Vasto Lorde fell to Shinigami. But only then.

Grimmjow bounced off another tree, a kidou barely missing him. They had to be pissed off about Pet. That was the only explanation. They wanted Pet back. No, they wanted Kurosaki Ichigo back. Too bad that wasn't going to happen.

Grimmjow dropped to the ground and carefully placed Pet into a hollow formed by tree roots. "Hush, Pet. Stay quiet. I'll draw them off, lead those bastards far away. I'll come back for you when it's safe."

Pet had felt those Captains' unrestrained reiatsu when they'd attacked just as much as Grimmjow had. Unlike Grimmjow though, Pet didn't have the reiatsu of his own to ward off their anger and bloodlust. He slowly, reluctantly, let go of Grimmjow's jacket and nodded, pressing back into the Hollow and curling up as small as he could without taking his eyes off of Grimmjow.

"I'll be back, Pet. I promise." Grimmjow vanished in a burst of shunpo, flaring his power as soon as he was away from Pet, drawing the Captains to him.

They surrounded him as he dropped into a clearing. Ten was to his left and slightly ahead of him, ice wings already spread behind his back, Six was to Grimmjow's right and slightly ahead, cloud of petals floating around him, and Eleven was behind him, surrounded by a yellow aura of power and his eyepatch nowhere in sight.

"Bring it on, you bastards." Grimmjow drew his own zanpakutou, flashing a fanged grin at the three Captains. "_Kishire, Pantera!_!" Grimmjow yelled.

Grimmjow was scared as he blocked Ten's attack, kicking the shrimp into the path of Eleven's charge. He wasn't going to be able to keep that promise to Pet, would never be able to get back to him. These three meant to kill him, even if they died in the process.

"I''m sorry, Pet."

**Epilogue - Release**

Zaraki stalked over to Ikkaku, smacking his Third Seat over the head to get his attention. "He's here?"

"Yeah, taichou. Under that tree. Ain't moved or nothing. No one's gone near him since we got here. Yumichika made sure of that. Don't think he would care if anyone did though, unless they tried to move him like I did."

Zaraki grabbed Ikkaku's binoculars and looked through them, shifting his eyepatch out of the way with a growl. Ikkaku didn't flinch at the sudden increase in reiatsu, even as he released his own to ward it off.

A lone figure sat under a stunted tree, curled up in the foetal position. No feet protruded from under the rags it wore, and its hands were a gnarled mess that looked incapable of holding onto anything properly. A dirty mop of orange hair hung around the figure, hiding its face from view.

"Poor bastard." Zaraki handed the binoculars back to Ikkaku. "You and Yumichika head back to Seireitei. I'll follow in a bit."

"Of course, taichou." Ikkaku stood up and dusted his uniform down. Zaraki could see the understanding in his subordinate's eyes. "Wish I could've helped you get the bastard who did this to 'im."

"You and Abarai both."

Zaraki slowly walked over to the slumped figure, deliberately thumping his feet onto the dusty ground as he approached. There was no response, even as Zaraki slid to the ground next to them.

"Kurosaki? You in there?" Still nothing, and Zaraki frowned. They'd found Kurosaki Ichigo in this exact same position in the Living World, and the only time he'd moved in the time since Ikkaku and Yumichika had found him was to drag himself back to the shade of the tree when Ikkaku had attempted to move him.

Zaraki carefully pulled the kid into his arms. He knew Unohana wanted to try and heal the kid's mind. Kurotsuchi had been making noises about experimenting on him for some reason or another. Most of his friends wanted to see him, to try and get through to him.

Zaraki smoothed down Ichigo's hair and smiled sadly. "Life's been a bitch to you this time round, kid. Maybe we'll meet on your next turn of the wheel.

It was over before Ichigo even realised Zaraki's intention, if he even had enough wits left to do so. Zaraki felt the body in his arms go limp as he squeezed, and he held the pressure for a few moments more to be certain. Zaraki carefully stood up with the body in his arms and headed for the nearest of the flimsy wooden shacks.

Smoke billowed up behind Zaraki as he slowly headed back to Seireitei.


	44. Proposal

**Title:** Proposal  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** U  
**Characters:** Yumichika/Rangiku  
**Warnings:** none  
**Summary:** Yumichika has a surprise for Rangiku  
**Word count:** 1010  
**Notes: **Just a random ficlet. This is a yellow gold version of the ring.

"No, Yumichika," Zaraki said as he sensed the Fifth Seat enter his office. "You've spent more of the past month out on bounty hunts than you have here in Seireitei. Every time you've returned it's been to request more targets. No more."

"But, taichou..."

"What about this girl of yours? She's getting pretty pissed at me for sending you out all the time. Don't you think she deserves to see you for more than a few hours?"

"I'm doing this because of her."

Zaraki looked up and frowned at Yumichika. "You better not be trying to dump her in the most chickenshit way there is, Yumichika. You know how I feel about cowards."

"NO! I'd never do that." Yumichika fiddled with the hilt of his zanpakutou, brushing a few flecks of dried blood from the purple wrap before looking up into Zaraki's eyes. "Quite the opposite, taichou."

Zaraki blinked, a slow grin crossing his face. "Idiot. You've been after the bounties on strong Hollows so you can get her a ring? If you'd asked I would've saved you the time, moron."

"I don't want charity, taichou," Yumichika snapped, hand fastening around his zanpakutou's sheath. Zaraki rolled his eyes and grinned even wider.

"Who said anything about charity? I'm just giving you an advance on your pay, with you being docked twenty percent off until you've paid it all back."

"Oh. Thank you, taichou." Yumichika slipped the piece of paper Zaraki handed him into his uniform. "Could you possibly give me permission to go to the living world, Karakura to be precise?"

"Yeah, yeah." Zaraki turned his attention back to his paperwork. "If you see Ichigo, tell him I look forward to fighting him again."

**o0o**

Hitsugaya leant against the wall beside the bathroom door and sighed. "So, what's the special occasion, Matsumoto?"

"Oh, Yumichika's taking me out for dinner tonight? He said we're going someplace fancy, so I want to look my best."

"Ayasegawa? Again? Didn't you date him a few months ago?"

"Huh? We never broke up, taichou."

Hitsugaya spluttered and shook his head. "You're kidding? You're _still _going out with Ayasegawa?"

"Sure. What's wrong with that?"

"We're talking about the same guy, right? Ayasegawa Yumichika, Eleventh Division thug and pretty boy, dumps a girl after a week or two and breaks their heart in the process?"

"Mhm. We've been together eight months today, taichou."

"Right. You sure he's going to want to go for nine?"

"Stop that, taichou. He's not like that."

Hitsugaya scoffed, and rolled his eyes, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Don't make that face, taichou. He's not going to dump me, not tonight."

"You sure, Matsumoto? Eleventh Division isn't exactly known for sanity."

"I'm sure."

"He breaks your heart and I'll break his legs," Hitsugaya grumbled.

The bathroom door opened to reveal Matsumoto wrapped in a towel that covered far too little skin for Hitsugaya's comfort. He blushed and looked away as she ruffled his hair. "Thanks, taichou. For everything."

**o0o**

Rangiku slowly picked at the remains of her dessert, too full to do more than hunt for the last few pieces of peach that were buried in the ice cream. She smiled lazily at Yumichika, who was picking at his own dessert in a similar manner.

He'd been fidgety all dinner, as if something was distracting him. It was almost as if he was nervous, which was ridiculous because he didn't do nervous. Well, except for that time that she'd agreed to meet him at her office and ended up running late and she found him perched on the edge of the sofa while Hitsugaya did some paperwork in a decidedly chilly room.

"What's on your mind, Ran?"

"Oh, just how long I'll need to spend in the dojo tomorrow to work this off." She dropped her spoon into the bowl, finally admitting defeat. "A private room, our own waitress, a five course meal? You spoil me, Yumi."

"Not as much as you spoil me with your presence." Yumichika slowly placed his fork down and gulped.

"Rangiku, I've been with you a lot longer than I've been with any other woman. I-"

Rangiku's heart skipped a beat. After she'd sworn to Hitsugaya that Yumichika wouldn't dump her, he was going to do just that.

"-love you, Rangiku. I know I rarely say it, but I do." Yumichika slid from his seat and moved round the table, dropping to one knee beside her. He pulled a small box from within his yukata and opened it. "Will you marry me?"

She couldn't speak. The ring glinted in the light, a band of silvery metal with a rainbow of gems embedded in it. It was beautiful. She'd admired it when she'd seen it but hadn't been able to justify buying it for herself.

"I know it's not a traditional engagement ring but I saw you looking at in the living world and I knew you liked it and I knew I had to get it for you and now I've messed it up and got it wrong and you don't want to spend the rest of your life with an Eleventh Division lowlife like me any-"

Rangiku leaned down and kissed him, silencing his babbling.

"Yes, Ayasegawa Yumichika. Yes."

**o0o**

Toushirou glanced at the clock before glaring at Matsumoto as she entered the office nearly two hours late. Her uniform was askew, as if she'd pulled it on in a hurry, even he could see the tangles in her hair and traces of the previous night's makeup were still on her face, including a faint black streak down each cheek.

"Do I need to break his legs, Matsumoto?" Hitsugaya growled menacingly.

"What? NO!" She flipped her hair back and scowled at him. "I would prefer my _fiance_ to remain in one piece, thank you."

"Oh, okay." Toushirou signed and stamped the document in front of him and pulled the next one from the top of the stack before Matsumoto's words fully registered. _"What do you mean 'fiance'?"_


	45. Home Invasion

**Title:** Home Invasion  
**Author:** Ansela Jonla  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Rating:** 18  
**Warnings:** (scroll to the bottom to read spoilery warning)  
**Summary:** Byakuya is surprised at home.  
**Word Count:** 893  
**Notes:**Inspired by an episode of NCIS. Don't ask.

He didn't expect the attack as he entered his room. One second he was preparing to shed his haori, the next he was pinned to the wall by a strong forearm, one hand fumbling at his sash.

"What the hell are you doing, Zaraki?" Byakuya snarled. Zaraki just licked his lips and leered at him, finally managing to tug Senbonzakura's sheath free of the sash. The behemoth Captain threw the zanpakutou across the room, where it clattered against the wall and landed on the floor with a dull thud. "Hey, h-"

"Yeah, princess?" Zaraki asked, as Byakuya stopped midword. "You want to say something?"

"I want you to get off me," Byakuya ordered, pushing at Zaraki's chest. "What do you think you're doing, you vile bar-"

This time it was Zaraki who cut Byakuya off midword, his lips fastening over Byakuya's. He pulled back a few seconds later, licking off a trickle of blood from where Byakuya had bit him.

"You're a feisty little bastard. I like that." Zaraki grabbed hold of a fistful of Byakuya's shihakushou and used it to throw Byakuya towards the futon already set up in the middle of the room. Before Byakuya could recover from the throw Zaraki pounced on him, pinning him on his front and wrestling his arms behind his back. "Not gonna scream, princess?"

"I won't give you the satisfaction, scum," Byakuya hissed back.

"Yeah, yeah." Zaraki tugged at Byakuya's scarf until it came free from around his neck. He knotted the silky fabric around Byakuya's wrists, fastening the noble's arms firmly behind his back. "That too tight for you, princess?"

"Would you care if it was?" Byakuya tugged at the scarf a couple of times before realising that Zaraki knew what he was doing; the knot became tighter the more he pulled.

"How would you explain it if I cut your haori up?" Zaraki mused, ignoring Byakuya's response. He ran his fingers over the cotton, tracing the Sixth's device on the back. "Would you even bother?"

"You won't damage my haori," Byakuya stated. Zaraki laughed and tugged at the hem of the coat, bunching it up over Byakuya's back.

"Keep your knickers on, princess. At least until I get to them." Zaraki leered at Byakuya and circled an arm around his waist. "My, my, aren't you a naughty boy?"

Zaraki's hand pressed against Byakuya's half-hard cock through his hakama, slowly stroking the length of it. Byakuya tried not to press into the touch, instead turning his head to glare at Zaraki as best he could.

"This is your last chance to get your hands off of me."

"Or what? You'll use kidou? Forgive me if that doesn't seem like much of a threat." They both knew that at this range, anything strong enough to harm Zaraki would do just as much damage to Byakuya.

Zaraki continued to coax Byakuya's cock to life, his own erection pushing insistently at Byakuya's arse, as his other hand worked at the knot of Byakuya's sash. Eventually he managed to untie it, and he firmly shoved Byakuya's clothes out of the way.

"No underwear?" Zaraki sounded almost disappointed at the lack, and Byakuya smirked.

"Sorry to inconvenience you."

"No inconvenience. Was just looking forward to taking it with me, that's all." Zaraki's hand gripped Byakuya's erection firmly and continued to stroke it gently. "Still, means I get faster access to this."

Byakuya felt Zaraki loosen his own hakama behind him and growled a warning that Zaraki ignored. A click and a squelch later and Byakuya could feel a slick finger intruding in his arse.

"Fucking tight little slut. You like this, don't you? Being on your knees, your hands tied behind your back and your arse in the air, just waiting for me to fuck you?"

"Fuck you."

"I prefer it this way." Zaraki pulled his fingers out of Byakuya. There was a strange crinkling sound before Byakuya felt a slick, rubbery hardness slide into him. "Damnit, princess. Feels like you're trying to squeeze my cock off."

Byakuya finally let out a moan as Zaraki started to thrust into him in time with the hand still stroking his cock. Zaraki's free hand slammed down next to his head as Zaraki leant his full body weight on Byakuya's back. He shuddered as teeth fastened gently around the back of his neck, knowing that Zaraki could possibly sever his spine if he bit down.

Byakuya came with a roar, spilling over Zaraki's hand. The behemoth Captain followed suit moments later, the tightening of his teeth around Byakuya's neck the only sign of his own climax.

After a few moments collapsed over Byakuya's back, Zaraki carefully pulled out and sat down. Byakuya turned his head in time to see Zaraki knot the condom he'd used and throw it in the direction of the waste bin near Byakuya's desk.

"You okay?" Zaraki deftly undid the knotted scarf around Byakuya's wrists. Byakuya rubbed at the limbs as he rolled over and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He mock-glared at Zaraki. "You weren't really planning to take my underwear as a trophy, were you?"

Zaraki merely grinned.

* * *

Warning: consensual rape fantasy within an existing relationship


End file.

Bleach