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Prisoner of War	By : horrorgal Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 57808 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters. I do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 39

Ichigo knew Uryu hadn't been thrilled to take Gin back to his room, but he didn't want to make the situation more complicated by refusing Aizen's request to return to their quarters immediately to talk. Since they had entered the room, there had been the opposite of conversation. Ichigo didn't bother with questions, denials, or excuses. It was in his best interest to remain mute until Aizen explained what he was angry about this time.

He watched him pour wine, drink, and pace, back stiff as a board. Ichigo wanted to ask him if he had lost the ability to speak somewhere between here and Uryu and Orihime's place. He kept the sarcasm to himself, but the silence was antagonizing. His fingers tapped impatiently. He wanted to get out of his blood stained clothes and have a shower.

"I find it interesting that you would spend time with Gin so freely. This isn't the first time either. I haven't forgotten your drunken evening with him recently."

Ichigo stayed silent a moment. The fact that he had finally spoken threw him slightly off guard. He stopped drumming his fingers and thought about how best to respond. He had to consider what Gin had discussed with him, and assumed it was why Aizen was so displeased with their little excursion. Ichigo was still having trouble understanding Gin's behavior. The fact that he basically requested death was very telling of his own situation.

"We were just sparring. I do all the time with the arrancar. How is Gin any different?" Aizen made a peculiar sound. Ichigo couldn't tell if it was a laugh or a scoff of indignation. "He's basically your second in command, so explain to me what the problem is. What exactly bothers you about it?"

"What bothers me about it?" Aizen said slowly as if really contemplating the question with a undertone of sarcasm.

"You don't need to be an ass," Ichigo said. He watched Aizen's expression darken even more. He knew more about Gin now than he had before, but he had no intention of discussing what was said with Aizen. Admitting might just make the situation worse, so he decided to keep up the act of naivety.

"Are you trying to anger me?"

"You're already angry. If you have something to say, say it, because I'm confused. You keep me from Grimmjow and Hichigo, and I haven't complained. I feel like I can't visit Uryu and Orihime. I'm restricted from seeing Urahara. Now I go spar with Gin, and you act like I went behind your back and fucked him or something."

Aizen did laugh then. "I don't think you fucked him."

"Then what?" he asked, truly curious as to what was going through his mind.

Aizen's anger wavered as he sat down on the bed, but looked reluctant to speak once more. Ichigo went over to him, sitting by his side. His shoulders relaxed as the tension lessened. Their hands touched naturally, fingers sliding and clasping together. It was a soft, sensual connection, but Ichigo was disturbed by the excited hum of the Hogyoku in his mind as soon as their skin met. He saw Aizen's brow crease with the reverberate sound.

"Gin can be very manipulative, Ichigo," Aizen said, choosing to ignore the Hogyoku. Maybe he hoped talking would quiet it's song. At least that was Ichigo's guess. "I know him more than anyone."

"What are you saying?"

"He intends to kill me." He smiled, as if the very idea amused him. "I have no concern that he will succeed, but he is not to be trusted, especially by you, Ichigo." Aizen's fingers brushed his cheek. "He'll try to use you against me." His hand moved and his fingers gripped his chin as his eyes hardened, the smile never leaving his lips. "Perhaps he already has?" he questioned.

Ichigo's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, fingers tightening on his flesh. "Or maybe you're just being paranoid." He could feel his heart beat faster in his chest, and it had nothing to do with fear. His body associated anger and violence with sexual excitement when Aizen was involved. The slight flinch of shock on his handsome face only intensified the slow build up of heat in his body.

"I'm not paranoid," Aizen answered him after his initial silence. He pulled firmly, but not violently from Ichigo's grasp. His suspicions, if he'd really had any at all, vanished. "I've known Gin's intent from the beginning."

"Why have you kept him around all this time if you suspect this of him?" Ichigo asked.

"He's had his uses. He's smart, strong, resourceful..." Aizen trailed off with a sigh.

"Something wrong?" Ichigo asked, feeling strangely smug about the Hogyoku's reach for him. The guilt hit him just as quickly and he wondered when it was exactly that he found the siren-like song of it so pleasing. He was fascinated, but ever so wary. The Hogyoku was his own personal version of a succubus, beckoning him closer with the promise of power and pleasure beyond all that he could comprehend.

"You reek of blood," Aizen said in a low mutter, again appearing to ignore the obvious vibe of the thing within his chest.

He answered him through his newfound inner struggle. "Gin's blood," he said, "but you already knew that."

"Yes." His acknowledgment was crisp in tone. Ichigo could not only hear the Hogyoku, but Aizen's quickening heartbeat as well. How was this so?

"It excites you." Maybe I'm excited too, Ichigo thought, visions of killing Gin with his blade, so clear that it was almost like it had happened. He closed his eyes tight. No, that was wrong. He had let Gin live for a reason.

"You could have killed him," Aizen said.

"Yes," he said. Ichigo could feel sweat beading on his skin. He shook his head slightly as if the buzz would cease it's alluring tone, but it stayed steadily strong.

"Why didn't you?"

Ichigo looked at him, head swimming in a confused and dangerous current. Uryu had angrily asked him the same question. "There would have been no honor in it," he answered honestly.

"There is no honor here, Ichigo. Hueco Mundo is not made for it."

"I have to keep some part of myself from slipping away." He had changed, more than he wanted to admit. It was hard to see it mirrored in his friend's eyes. Orihime and Uryu both looked at him differently now, sometimes as if they were in the presence of a monster. He could not find anything within himself to blame them for their distrust.

"You are what you need to be, Ichigo," Aizen said, getting up to retrieve his drink, his mannerism cool and collected once more. It was almost like he hadn't been yelling only minutes ago.

"Maybe." Ichigo wasn't sure what he meant by that. Maybe nothing. He was still too concerned about the Hogyoku to think about it, but at least it's rhythmic pitch was beginning to wane now. Still, the weight of the pull did not diminish and he found his eyes drawn towards Aizen's chest when he turned to ask him if he wanted a drink. Ichigo declined. He'd had enough wine to last more than one lifetime, and he was growing to dislike the bitter taste it left on his tongue.

Aizen drank in silence, and as grateful as Ichigo was that the argument was over, he couldn't help but wish for something to keep him occupied. Something that would make him think of anything else but that damn Hogyoku that was still tempting him. His eyes lingered on Aizen, watching his slight movement as he drank from the glass. He could envision the Hogyoku there, hidden beneath the pure white of his clothes, under his skin, resting deep in his flesh. He felt another rush of warmth, a slight twitch of his loins.

Time felt like it had dropped to a standstill, sound nonexistent as his eyes locked to the area just under Aizen's chest muscles. He hungered to see his skin. The Hogyoku was no longer speaking, not in the normal sense, if that could even be called normal. He could feel it, like a light wind over his heated skin. It was thriving and alive with so much power that it was unimaginable. Yet, it existed. Created, perhaps with good intentions, until Aizen had gotten hold of it and altered what was already a dangerous experiment. He wondered what would have convinced Urahara to create something so uncontrollable and deadly. Yet, why wouldn't he create something so wondrous. Ichigo shook his head. Why would he think something like that? His mind was a jumble, rationality losing to the allure.

Ichigo felt warm, almost feverish as he tried to understand what was happening. His clothes felt too confining, sweat making them cling to his body that felt energized and painfully aroused. It was like a drug, but purer. His breath hitched soft, his erection trapped and pressed tight against his pants. Why was he so aroused right now? He closed his eyes, fingers curled, gripping the legs of his pants. His fingertips rubbed against the stiff texture of Gin's dried blood in the cloth.

"Ichigo?" Aizen's voice was muffled, like sound trying to move through water. He could feel him approach, and with him came the source of his current distress. "Look at me."

Ichigo opened his eyes, his line of vision directed in the same spot that was so within reach now. His hand twitched against the bed, anticipating what it would feel like if he would just reach out and claim what he deserved. "What?" his voice wavered under the stress. Part of him still feared it. He clung to that fear, fighting the urge to pull Aizen to him.

"You said you didn't want it. I told you it was acceptance that will make the Hogyoku come to you." His voice was firm, but Ichigo could sense his growing discomfort. "Just keep saying no." He said it as if it were a simple thing. "Do you understand what I am saying to you, Ichigo?"

Ichigo let a laugh slip, but found nothing humorous about being in the jaws of this beast that wanted to devour him. Aizen did not look pleased with the reaction. His hands were clamped on his shoulder's and truthfully Ichigo didn't even remember him putting them there. His fingers dug in painfully and Ichigo felt his head rock back as Aizen tried to shake sense into him. He couldn't stand much more, his breaking point rushing at him. He grabbed Aizen's arms, gripped at the cloth of his jacket and violently pushed him away with a anguished yell. "Get it away from me!"

Aizen recovered and kept his distance, only a few steps away from the door. His calm was present, but Ichigo knew that it was nothing more than a facade. He could practically feel his heightened pulse rate, and smell the nervous aroma of his sweat. There was anger too, along with his fear. It was ironic to the point of hilarity. Aizen Sosuke was starting to fear him. That wasn't even what struck Ichigo the hardest as he sat there, fazed as he felt the Hogyoku finally start to ebb it's power back. Perhaps it was just testing him, or maybe it was playing a game. He could not fully understand the unnatural existence of the thing. For one moment he could not stand the sight of the man before him. It came and went quickly, but was undeniable.

"I think we should have some time apart until I can assess what to do about our problem," Aizen suggested.

"How are you going to do that?" Ichigo asked, not trusting himself to even look in Aizen's direction.

"I don't know yet."

"Las Noches is a big place, but it's not that big. How exactly are we going to keep our distance?"

"We'll make it work," Aizen insisted firmly. "For now, this is your room alone. As much as it pains me, I'll stay in separate quarters."

"This is.."

"No more talking. Cool off, rest, and stick to this room as much as you can. Will you do that for me, Ichigo?"

His body still ached for sex, and his mind was still a web of confusion, but he nodded, seeing no point in arguing the matter. Only when he heard the door open and close did he look up and stare where Aizen had just been, his reiatsu slowly retreating to some other part of Las Noches. He lay back on the bed, hands over his face. None of it felt real now. Did he really just consider taking the Hogyoku. Sure the thought had occurred to him once or twice before, but he had never really meant it, not until now anyway. Had he? It was all a confused mess in his head.

Ichigo lay there like someone who had just woken from a nightmare and was unsure if they were really awake or still caught in a dark dream. He tried to will his erection to go down, but the throb refused to lessen. He wanted to blame his libido, but he knew it was the after effects of the Hogyoku. He forced himself off the bed and stripped down out of his ruined clothes and walked to the bathroom to start the shower. The blood stained his skin as well and the copper smell was starting to get to him. He let the hot water run over him as he washed, the remnants of Gin's blood running down the drain.

He tried not to think about anything as he scrubbed himself clean of not just the blood and sweat, but of the feeling he had been left with. The only thing he succeeded in doing was reddening his skin with the harsh sting of the hot water. He adjusted the setting until it was cool in the hope that his arousal would soften. He could make it easier on himself and take care of the problem in a more pleasurable way, but something was putting him off. Maybe he was wrong in his assumptions, but while he resisted the Hogyoku, he couldn't help but get the feeling that his love for Aizen was purely fabrication. There was a moment, a mere few seconds of time, when he truly hated the man that stood before him. It had been a quick turn of emotion, but he had felt it.

It was enough to make him wonder if his emotions were being manipulated by the Hogyoku. Did it have that kind of power as well? He needed to talk to Urahara, but he wasn't sure he should chance it, even more so now that Aizen was on edge over the Hogyoku's erratic behavior. He shivered, the water gone so cold that goosebumps covered his skin. He looked down, disheartened that his arousal was still very much alive. It was like he was drugged. He turned the water off, gritting his teeth in annoyance as he pulled a towel around himself to dry off. The soft cotton of the towel brushing his throbbing length didn't help matters either.

Hair dripping wet, he lay back on the bed with the towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Only other option he had was to try to ignore it and fall asleep, but he didn't see that happening easily. His cock throbbed again in response to his restless sigh, the towel tented in what would be an amusing way if he was in the mood to laugh. He gave up the fight and closed his eyes, moving the towel aside, fingers gliding over the hard flesh. He gasped out with the sensitivity. It was almost painful, like he had been denied orgasm with a cock ring. He knew that feeling all too well. He curled his fingers around and stroked the firmness, even letting his other hand slide up to toy around a raised nipple.

He purposely closed his mind off, just focusing on pleasure and nothing else. He needed the distraction. As much as he ached for a release, he toyed himself slowly. He never was very lavish about masturbation, while alone anyway, but the mood struck him now to explore just how long he could hold himself back from climax. His body shifted more comfortably against the bed, hand pumping up and down. His knees raised, legs parting slightly as he gently rocked his hips. His nipple tingled under the pressure of his thumb and forefinger as he tugged softly on the nub. The chill from the shower ebbed away, water droplets drying on his warming skin.

He thought of Hichigo, careful not to break the block he had up from his hollow. He knew his twin would sense his unease underneath the pleasure, and he was in no frame of mind to discuss it. Then it was Grimmjow he saw in his mind, reminiscing of past rendezvous. Ichigo shifted on his side, hand pumping steady, other sliding downward along his hip and over his ass, finger seeking his anal opening. His fingertip brushed against the puckered ring. He gasped harshly against the pillow, probing gently, wishing for another warm body to join him. His legs opened a little wider and he thrust his finger deeper inside himself. He sought his prostate, groaning both in pleasure and aggravation. He cracked his eyes open and looked at the side table.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself and shifted on the bed to open the drawer. He eagerly grabbed one of the dildos and the bottle of lubrication oil. Aizen was still a fan of using toys on him, or vice versa, so they were always close at hand. Ichigo sat up, cock bobbing softly with his shifting movement. He oiled the dildo, thinking the thing looked ridiculous, it's bright purple color a eyesore. Regardless, he rested back against the pillows and arched his hips, legs open to guide the head of it inside his tunnel. He held his breath at the slight resistance, but the oil did it's job and the girth of it was spreading him open, going deeper than his finger could reach.

His mind drifted once more as his body relaxed and welcomed the sensations. He worked the toy slow, lips parted as he absently rubbed over his cock. He braced his feet against the bed, arching his hips more for deeper penetration. When he felt the head press against his prostate, his thumb switched the button at the base of the toy, the vibration sending a enjoyable current through his lower body. He gripped his cock, pumping the shaft faster in time with the dildo head pulsing back and forth over his sweet spot. He slowed his vigorous rubbing when he felt himself coming too close to climax, laughing breathlessly.

Ichigo rolled on his stomach, moving slow again, hand back and working the dildo in and out, hips rocking luridly against the bed. His cock rubbed against the soft sheets, the friction just enough to tease his flesh. Even as he was dragging it out, he couldn't fathom why he was torturing himself like this. His knees lifted and spread as his arm working the dildo started to ache in it's position. He couldn't stop though, it felt too damn good, and he needed something, or someone to ease his soul. He felt a warm hand move over his hip and his eyes widened as his body jerked with the surprise contact. Gasping, he turned his head and saw Hichigo behind him. Between ragged breath and shock, he couldn't speak right away, body frozen.

"Don't stop on my account." Hichigo's hand moved slow over his back, fingers caressing over his sweat slick skin.

"Hichigo, you shouldn't be here. Aizen.."

"Isn't here," Hichigo finished for him. "I heard you call to me, even if you didn't know you were doing it." He gently moved Ichigo's arm against the bed. "Just relax." Hichigo gripped the base of the toy. "Pretty kinky, King."

"Shut up." Ichigo grit his teeth, but the pleasure overcame his annoyance, and his body submitted as he felt the girth of the dildo working inside him. It felt even better when someone else was moving it.

"Drop the block."

"What?" Ichigo rasped, hips rocking.

"Just feeling tiny slivers of this is a fucking tease. Drop the damn wall."

He let it fall and laughed when he heard Hichigo's cocky tone turn like a switch. The initial yelp was followed by a staggering moan of euphoria. In his excitement, Hichigo began to thrust the dildo faster, unyielding to Ichigo's wish for him to slow down. His hollow had always been eager, no matter what the situation. Sex was just another pursuit for him to indulge until they both collapsed from exhaustion. Ichigo had no will to stop him. Hot seed spilled over the sheets much too quickly, the climax even more intense as he felt Hichigo's, their bodies in tune with every nerve they shared.

Ichigo's hands braced against the headboard, leaning upward as he panted. The dildo was still vibrating against his sensitive prostate. His legs trembled as he shifted his body, reaching back for Hichigo's arm so he would pull the damn thing out of him. The toys always felt so foreign inside him after climax, like some alien thing that didn't belong. It wasn't like feeling your lover's flesh soften within you. Hichigo stubbornly thrust it vigorously until they were both gasping heavy again. Ichigo felt his cock already stiffening for another round. The stamina of a shinigami was both a blessing and a curse.

"Hichigo, take it out.."

"Aw, come on, King. Let's find out how long the batteries last."

"Out!" Ichigo swatted at Hichigo's arm until he complied, but not without a scoff of disappointment. He fell against the bed when it left him. He could hear the steady hum of the vibration and the following thump it made when he hit the floor. "Turn it off too," he muttered into the pillow. He felt the brush of Hichigo's skin against his and the bed shift lightly as he reached for it to end it's incessant quiver.

"Better?" Hichigo asked, pressing his body against his, planting light kisses along his shoulder.

"Yes," he whispered a reply as he felt his warm lips gliding over his skin. The light tickle of his white hair made him squirm beneath his body and his firm erection pressed snug against his backside.

"King, talk to me," Hichigo said, lips brushing his neck.

"Not yet." Ichigo shifted beneath him and rolled on his back, his hollow moving with him so their eyes could lock. "I just need you right now, okay?" Hichigo seemed to understand and kissed him soft.

"Where's Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked as their lips parted.

"He said it was probably less risky if it was just me that came to you."

"Probably," Ichigo said, looking into his eyes. Yellow surrounded by black, like a sunflower in a field of darkness. He saw beauty there that no one else could see. He kissed him again, their tongues intertwining softly. When he opened his legs, Hichigo pushed forward and entered him, their bodies connected in shared passion.

~~~

Urahara opened his eyes and looked at his visitor. He had been so close to breaking the last lock of the seal, but it appeared it would have to wait. Perspiration covered his brow, a unfortunate affect from his inner world concentration. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wincing when his wrist twinged in pain. For all the man before him knew, he was feverish from the torture. Urahara tilted his head up and smiled.

"Aizen. I was wondering when you would come to see me again."

Aizen's stone expression did not change. "Get up."

"Going for a walk, are we?" Urahara moved his legs, biting back a pained hiss. The wounds in his ankles were no better, if not worse than his wrists. "Not sure how well I can keep up," he admitted.

Aizen held a plain wooden cane in his hand, lifting it to show him. "You'll manage."

"Of course," Urahara said, getting up and keeping his dignity by not falling over. It felt like hot knives were impaled in each ankle. It was hard to ignore the pain, but he did, waiting for the guard to shut down the shield and unlock the barred door to his cell. He stepped forward, only when Aizen waved him out with the cane to do so. He took it when it was offered and leaned on it for support. It didn't help much for the weight he was subjecting his ankles to, but at least he was staying upright. "Can't wait to go up those stairs," he muttered. Aizen did not respond as he moved down the hall and waved him to follow. Urahara grit his teeth and wobbled behind.

Aizen waited at the foot of the long stairway up. "We are going to the lab. If you can get your ass up this staircase, that is."

"You said so yourself, Lord Aizen. I'll manage." He moved steadily on through the waves of agony. Aizen started up the stairs ahead of him. "Why are we going to the lab?" Urahara asked, taking the first agonizing step upward.

"You and I are going to have a talk. If I'm happy with our discussion, I will have Miss Inoue heal your wounds."

"How generous of you," Urahara said with no lack of sarcasm as he struggled up each step.

"That remains to be seen," Aizen said, taking the stairs slow for him to keep up.

"And what will we be discussing?"

"The Hogyoku," he answered, continuing onward without looking back.

AN: Sorry for the lack of updates. As always, it's the usual. I still appreciate the views and comments. :) You all are awesome!

Also, Happy Halloween! It's my favorite time of the year. The season of The Walking Dead, American Horror Story and horror movies galore. Yes!
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Prisoner of War