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Winter's Tender Caress	By : Snowway32 Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2619 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters there within, it all belongs to Kubo Tite. This is purely written for my own pleasure, I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Winter's Tender Caress
- 2-Winter's Tender Caress: Part 2
- 1
- 2
Oh god, I'm so late with an update again! I'm sorry my honeys but I've been busy and this story just started writing itself so I had to do it. There are a few notes here, but I'll get to them in a bit. This is a thank you Gift Fic for Ichiru deathstrawberry, who's been helping me by being my muse for my current stories and keeping me in line when I forget to write (which happens far too often these days).

She really wanted a Shiro x Ichigo fic with a Blind!Ichigo. Also, I wanted to explore writing with Ichigo's new form that was revealed in Chapter 555 of the Manga two weeks ago. So there are spoilers if you've not read it yet, or you do not know what he looks like. I'll be posting a picture on my blog that you can go take a look at if you want, or you can use your imagination as I'll be attempting to describe it in detail in this fic.

Anyhow, there are a few notes. This story is a Two-shot, meaning that Part 1 is being posted today, the Introduction to the situation and characters and the lemon and epilogue (Part 2) will be posted in a few days time, I promise. Now, there are some other notes. This is an AU story that's mixed with a lot of Canon facts. I've also taken liberties with my Shiro this time around and twisted the Bleach Universe.

So the warnings include (Part 1) Blind! Ichigo, Reiou! Shiro, spoilers for Ichigo's look in Chapter 555 and an abrupt ending to Part 1. (Part 2) M/M lemons, a set Shirosaki Hichigo x Kurosaki Ichigo paring, Angst, Blood Play, the somewhat use of an Aphrodisiac and elements of Mpreg in the epilogue.

If any of the warnings have put you off, please do not read any further. I'll not be held responsible for you after this. But for those who are still here, please enjoy. I'll see you at the end of the chapter.

It's all yours, thanks for inspiring this Ichiru deathstrawberry, I really appreciate it and I hope you enjoy and it lives up to your expectations; Part 2 will be much more interisting, I promise:

Winter's Tender Caress:

Gentle flecks of pure white drifted lazily from a partly clouded sky. Blanketing the entirety of the Shiba family mansion and all of Seireitei surrounding it in a tender brush of powdery white that shone iridescently just as the first rays of a dawning sun began to lighten the previous night's darkened sky. A lone figure, bathed in the growing shadows of flowing sunlight, stood solitary proud beneath the drifting touch of falling snow in a traditional Japanese garden. Holding out a white gloved hand to capture the stray drifting flakes with a soft breath of contentment. Shiba Ichigo smiled softly to himself as he internally cursed the layer of fabric that blocked his sense of touch from experiencing the brush of cooling flakes that should have caressed his palm, before pale scarred eyelids fluttered open tentatively to observe the world around him.

There was nothing but pitch blackness that greeted his newly revealed gaze however; his entire world saturated with a toneless, formless existence that stretched into eternity around him but also disappeared into nothingness when his other four senses could stretch no further to perceive his current surroundings. The once beautiful and expressive chocolate brown orbs that he had possessed, were stained milky white from a devastating injury that he had obtained when fighting against the Quincy King in an attempt to stop him and his Shadow Army from penetrating the depths of Seireitei. It had been a near thing those nine days, he thought sadly. Seireitei had almost been levelled by the man's invasion and had Ichigo and the other Captains not been able to stop him before it had been too late, there would be nothing left of Soul Society today.

But their victory had come at a heavy price.

The youngest and fast becoming the strongest member of the Gotei-13 Captains outside of the Soutaichō, had lost his most relied upon sense and more than half of his division that day, five years ago. Five agonizing years that Ichigo could recall he had to relearn how to do things from the beginning, live with his new disability and get over his traumatic stress before he had finally found some peace for his forsaken soul. And after so much hard work; many, many dark days spent in emotional despair whilst living through even darker nightmares, Shiba Ichigo had finally and rightfully been reinstated as the Juubantai-Taichō a little more than a year ago. And nothing made him more content than he was at the moment. He had his overwhelming strength back, his unshakable will to keep moving forward towards the future despite the darkness that his world was constantly bathed within and a family to protect once more with all his heart.

Sightless eyes were gazing at nothing in particular now, the heir to the Shiba family absently leaning into the caressing touch of soft winds that were tugging playfully at a splay of long orange locks that cascaded in two dragon-like tails down a straightened back. Messy orange bangs falling into sightless eyes to feather teasingly across pinked cheeks, partially concealed his new disability from the world as Ichigo traced his white gloved fingertips against the more indiscernible hilt of Zangetsu's second, smaller blade. The first, much larger, as long as he was tall and darker than the blackest of night, was resting protectively against his back as it remained partially hidden by a thick beige cloak, trimmed in black velvet, that sought to keep away the bite of the early morning's winter chill.

He really loved this specific uniform though, the formal ceremonial clothes of the Shiba family that Ichigo had gazed at in wonder as a child and eventually had gotten the chance to wear several times when he had still possessed his sight. It remained a comforting touch to return to, something that was born of his family more than the duty that his black shihakushō reminded him of. Even now, Ichigo still remembered every fold and stitch in the fabric. He had memorized every colour, burned into his mind the touch of every texture present in the fabric as it brushed his skin, even breathed the lingering scent of fireworks that his family was so well known quite happily as it clung in a sensual tumble of silken creases to his lithe form. And all the artful alterations that had been made when it had been passed down from his father to him, Ichigo had memorized it in several different ways before and after the loss of his sight.

With black geta settled across white tabi clad feet, a white robe tied with a dark green sash beneath his beige cloak and a turquoise patterned cloth that fell across his left shoulder to his knee, Ichigo had been forced to ask his sisters to help him dress early that morning when he realized he would never have been able to do it himself. No matter how embarrassed he had gotten throughout the process. It would have been an impossible task to venture on his own, especially when the uniform relied on far too many detailed executions that required one's sight to complete. They had been far too happy to oblige however, Ichigo noted with a frown at the heaviness that weighed him down now. With a patterned and white scarf, as Yuzu had excitedly told him earlier, settled warmly around his neck; she and Karin had sneakily added a turquoise and gold patterned turban-like bandana around the top of his head before he could have stopped them.

Not that he would truly know, he was just going by hearsay but he was thoroughly stuck with it. Trying to remove it now would only mess up his hair that had taken so long to cut just right and falling down his back neatly without it becoming the messy sprawl of orange that couldn't be tamed even on a good day. He had a feeling that it wouldn't last much longer though, but Ichigo simply didn't have the ability to tell Yuzu to stop when she started on one of her projects to 'help' her Onii-chan look presentable. Everytime that Ichigo shifted now, tilted his head to the side to follow the sounds swirling in rising and falling pitch around him, silky cloth would slide sensually against the back of his neck. Brushing irritably against his skin as he shuddered in annoyance at the strangely pleasant feeling it created within him.

Well, at least they had been made happy that day. Even when he had been the one that had dragged them from their beds long before dawn with an abrupt and odd message that he needed their help to get ready for his formal duty later that day. They had been ecstatic when the orangette had told them he would be wearing the formal ceremonial uniform as the last time they had helped him with it, Ichigo had taken over his father's position temporarily as Heir of the Shiba family and a large celebration had been held afterwards. Lazy old man, Ichigo cursed internally. He hadn't even been eighteen in Shinigami years yet but he had still been forced to take over his father's post as both the Juubantai-Taichō and the family duties he had left behind because Goat-Face had decided to go on an extended vacation in the Human World. Again.

Damn it, he was always stuck with this shit and Isshin hadn't been back yet after four years either, but the orangette was not expecting him to return for another twenty at least. Not with the rumours flying around that he had fallen in love with some human woman. Shiba Isshin was whimsical like that, always had been and it was enough to drive Ichigo's grandfather up the walls with sheer frustration. The current Shiba heir had simply left his eldest son to look after his four year younger twin sisters, run an entire Gotei division by himself and dealing with his grandfather's strict discipline that extended throughout the whole of Seireitei and into their family home as well. Leaving Ichigo to sometimes want to run away from it too, just to leave everything behind and escape from all the expectations when it got too much. But he couldn't, not when he had Yuzu and Karin to look after and an entire division looking up to him.

His pride simply wouldn't let him.

Ichigo sighed softly in defeat, black geta shifting cool powdery snow beneath his feet as he tilted his head to the side curiously at the call of morning birds and the wind that brushed icily against his ears. He was listening carefully, extending the depths of his calm reiatsu to search for the unrest that he felt stirring against his skin, a familiar flicker of power pushing against his as Ichigo curled his fingertips more firmly around the smaller Zangetsu's hilt that was sheathed against his right hip. A heady brush of power and unrestrained aura of restlessness exploding across his senses just as another pair of feet landed in the snow next to Ichigo with a soft crunch. The orangette smiled slyly at the sound; someone was trying to scare him again. They were deliberately concealing their familiar reiatsu as Ichigo turned in the direction of his uninvited guest, not needing anything but the being's mere presence to recognize him instantly.

'Good morning, Renji. What're doing up so early? Did Byakuya kick you out of your bed with a silly request or are you running a bet with Yoroichi again to try and sneak up on me?' Ichigo teased playfully, milky white eyes falling shut behind their scarred lids to hide his biggest vulnerability from the world as warm orange locks feathered teasingly against the skin of his cheek and a sudden tired sigh spilled past petal pink lips. He really did not want to face his duty today, Ichigo thought sadly. There was a lingering, uncontainable sorrow swimming through his veins at the reminder that he would not be able to see the magnificence of the Selection Ceremony and the one who would be attending it.

The ceremony happened only every two hundred years, where it would be the first time that Ichigo would attend. And he couldn't even see the splendour that it was said to possess. It was kind of heartbreaking to―.

'Very funny, Shiba-Taichō, but I'm afraid that I'm here on official business. Yamamoto-sama has summoned you to the Inner Temple grounds, he says that you need to come now if the ceremony is to start on time at midday today. You're already late for the morning briefing, so I've been sent to guide you―.' The red head was forced to trail off abruptly however, when Ichigo allowed a small chuckle of amusement to escape his lips. Gloved fingertips falling away from Zangetsu's hilt now that he knew there was no threat as he curled his arms around his waist in search of the warmth that had been draining steadily from his body since he had been standing outside, waiting for one of the servants to come and tell him that it was time to leave. They had probably forgotten, but no, the heat of the winter sun wasn't warm enough to spell the time as ten in the morning, so Ichigo wasn't wrong. His grandfather was just overreacting again.

'I'm not late Renji, the sun hasn't even coloured the sky for more than an hour.' Ichigo scoffed. ' And guide me? Ojii-san still doesn't seem to understand that I can find my way around Seireitei better than him, even without my sight. And it's Ichigo, Renji. For how many years have we known each other now? You're practically family.' Taking several steps through crunching snow, Ichigo tugged his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully as he heard his friend move to follow behind him. But when Renji reached out to take Ichigo's arm in an attempt to guide him, the orangette flitted out of his grasp with a burst of shunpo and turned away to mask the brush of panic he had felt at his friend's unannounced touch. He had ended up on the wooden bridge stretched over the koi pond instead, gloved fingertips whispering across the comforting touch of his two Zanpactō one last time. Tracing their hilts absently before he turned towards the direction in which he knew he needed to go now that he had re-orientated himself in his family garden with the wooden bridge beneath his feet and his grandfather's overwhelming reiatsu to guide him towards his destination.

'Sorry.' Renji interjected but Ichigo merely waved aside his words with a little frown.

'Not sorry, Renji. You may guide me if you can catch up to me in the next few seconds. Other than that, I'll see you at the gala tonight after the Selection Ceremony is over. Look after my sisters please and make sure the kimonos they will be buying later today are not too expensive. I trust you to look after them in my stead.' With that said, a push of power into the snowy ground later and the orangette disappeared into the distance with a flicker of powerful reiatsu. His shunpo so fast and indiscernible that he was already halfway across Seireitei in several leaps before Renji could even have thought to follow him after his parting words. And even with the heavy ceremonial dress weighing him down, Ichigo still lived up to his inherent and incredible speed.

The Selection Ceremony, Ichigo thought absently. It was a pity that he couldn't see it when he got there, but it was also just a fancy way for the nobles of Soul Society to parade their dressed up daughters to the Reiou. The indiscernible King of the Three Worlds; he was said to walk this plane amongst the Seireitei Nobles every two hundred years in search of a Bride and suitable Consort to stand by his side for eternity. It was considered an honour to be chosen as one of the four Shinigami guards for the ceremony, where only the strongest were chosen and given the chance to stand in the Reiou's presence during that day.

Today Ichigo would be taking his grandfather's place to stand beside his childhood friend Kuchiki Byakuya, his godfathers Kyouraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jyuushiro to provide extra support for the Zero Division when the King finally arrived at midday from the palace. It was shame though, Ichigo had looked forward to this event his whole life, just to glimpse the beauty and presence that he was said to possess. It was even speculated that it was astounding enough to corrupt anyone looking at him that were weak of heart. But now Ichigo would never know, even when he could still feel the purity of one's aura and reiatsu filling his senses, he was going to have to use his mind to paint himself a picture. His imagination and the memories of things as they had been before he had lost his sight, still lived within him, so hopefully he could use it well today.

'Ah, there you are, Ichigo. I was waiting for you. Karin was kind enough to inform me through a Hell Butterfly that you were standing in the snow and ruining your ceremonial dress.' A rumbling baritone scolded suddenly and Ichigo shuddered headily in trepidation at the strict voice, familiar fingertips startling the orangette when they patted the top of his head and brushed his shoulders to dislodge the snowflakes that must have settled across his form unknowingly as Ichigo exhaled shakily through his flinching reaction. The open courtyard of the Inner Temple was echoing softly with the clack of a bamboo water fountain, the running water creating a soothing sound despite the cold that should have frozen over it as Ichigo breathed in pure relief. He was just glad that he had made it here safely, without getting lost this time.

When the powerful presence of the Soutaichō began to move away from him however, Ichigo dutifully followed behind the echoing footsteps as he tried to reorient himself in the vastness that was the Soul Society and Seireitei. He always felt dizzy when he came to a sudden halt after travelling such long distances with shunpo and even now it was no different. It seemed to affect him a lot more now because he couldn't see where he was stopping, he had to guess roughly and use his reiatsu to 'see'. It wasn't so easy as he usually made it look, especially when he swayed uncertainly on his feet at the moment. Forcing himself to halt his progress for a few moments to catch his breath and find his faded equilibrium again. Ichigo sighed in the lingering brush of exhaustion that had been affecting on and off all week. It was―.

'What are you waiting for, Ichigo? Come into the palace, child. There's some warm tea and breakfast waiting for us. Shunsui will be joining us in a moment and Kuchiki-Taichō and Jyuushiro are already here.' Ichigo nodded, his black geta clad feet echoing in a steady rhythm upon the polished wooden floors of the large temple-like palace that was hidden in the depths of the mountains, several kilometres away from Seireitei and far past the edges of Rukongai. This was the sacred, fortified palace that had been constructed especially for the Reiou's private and unusual visits when the whim struck him to walk amongst the residents of Seireitei once more.

'Ichigo? Are you coming?'

'I'm coming, Ojii-san. Just give me a moment to find my bearings again.'

...

Silvery smoke tainted with the sweet scent of tobacco, drifted lazily into the atmosphere from a lit golden kiseru that was carved and fashioned after an oriental dragon. The long traditional Japanese pipe, balanced between elegant fingertips topped in long tapering nails of pitch black, was lifted towards equally pale lips thoughtfully as golden eyes set upon a sea of black sclera observed the world of Seireitei covered in snow around him from the small window of his carriage. Golden rings settled upon a ring and forefinger were connected to an array of gold and jewelled bracelets by a thin thread of intricate chain as they curled evocative around his wrist; tinkling softly with every move that his hand made as the Reiou continued to cast his absentminded gaze over one of the worlds that he ruled as the King. Finishing his smoke in relative peace despite the noisy Royal Guard that were spread across the inside and outside of his carriage respectively, the Reiou sighed softly in lingering exasperation.

This almost never happened. Those five were incessantly boisterous with everything that they did, making the pale being wonder (not for the first time) why he had chosen them specifically to protect him and his palace grounds. Ah, but it didn't really matter now, they usually quieted down enough when he got really irritable and Shiro had been fairly annoyed since that morning when he had been woken up from his sleep before dawn, his servants had forced him through the purifying baths and had dressed him up for the Selection Ceremony. It was not something that Shiro enjoyed going through though, because they always picked out something white and black for him to wear even when he wanted something a little more colourful in his life. But apparently that was not allowed for formal ceremonies these days.

He was pale enough himself and with long white locks that tumbled down his back to brush sensually against his hips, Shiro wanted something distinctly different just as much as he wanted to settle the yearning loneliness that stained his monotonous life and heart so relentlessly. That was how the Selection Ceremony had started over a thousand years ago. Where the white haired being had hoped to find a Bride strong enough to withstand his allure and power but remained beautiful enough to stand by his side for eternity. Only, after the last five tedious ceremonies, the Reiou had no such luck in finding a suitable one to keep for himself. They were always far too influenced by his beauty, far too easily corrupted by his power.

He could literally feel their souls being tainted by impure designs, their thoughts saturated with a thousand ways to extort his power and influence for themselves the instant that he stepped into the ceremonial hall every two hundred years. Today would be no different, Shiro thought sadly, that's why something he had enjoyed doing was becoming a drag to complete. He was tired, he wanted to fall into a hundred-year-sleep again just to settle his undue despair because no one so far had possessed a heart and soul pure enough to be a catalyst for Shiro's darker nature, and they never would. He was sure that no one could 'balance' him out so to say, or possessed the compassionate ability so sooth his yearning need for affection throughout the passage of eternal time.

His soul's makeup was part Hollow, part Shinigami and part Human; all indiscernible beings with indiscernible powers. And considering that he ruled over all Three Worlds rightfully, it was only natural that Shiro should possess traits and abilities from all of the different beings. Making it all the harder for him to find someone suitable enough to stand beside him as a Consort. The Reiou could also choose whichever form he'd like to take, mix them up as much as he wanted but he could never portray himself as a being over twenty or a child under four years old. He was also forced to keep his distinguishing marks of white hair, gold and black eyes and pale skin whenever he changed form. But other than that, Shiro was the King, he could do whatever he wished and today he had chosen to keep himself in the form of a twenty-year-old Shinigami that was dressed fairly exotically. Especially when it was so thinly to the biting cold winter that was outside.

Not many people knew, but the cold in these realms didn't affect Shiro the same way as it affected them.

Shifting his crossed legs to stretch one out in front of him to lean his elbow against, Shiro shivered softly at the loose silk pants that clung to his hips comfortably and fell teasingly down his legs to brush the tops of his feet. Where a bracelet of red and gold was set around his left ankle and his black nailed bare feet were pressed irritably against the soft, furry interior of the carriage. His tall, lithe form was covered in a tight silk shirt that had long bell sleeves; trimmed in black designs, falling to the tips of his fingers were he to stand later with them resting by his side. And around his head, strangely, his maids had settled and veil of opalescent material that brushed the top of his brow and fell down his back as a way to conceal his long snow white locks from the world.

Besides the few strands of white that fell over his shoulder and the messy bangs that descended into golden eyes, Shiro was concealed fairly flatteringly that morning. His veil kept in place with an intricate gold circlet crown that featured a crescent moon resting upon his forehead and a turquoise jewel that was suspended from a delicate chain to brush against the bridge of his nose annoyingly with every tilt of his head. It created a cooling touch that made the Reiou squirm more than once as it pressed into his skin just below the edges of that veil and Shiro just barely kept himself back from tearing the jewel from his crown in his irritation. Luckily though, he had managed to keep the rest of his transformation easy that day, choosing to forgo the cracked mask with a long tapering horn fused over his left eye, cheek and white brow that he loved to portray so much.

And just because Kirinji had scolded him for potentially terrifying all the Brides later today, he thought with a smirk. He wasn't really bothered though, they would always be attracted to him, whatever form he chose to present himself in. The Reiou was just missing the reassuring weight of his mask though, wanting to feel it return to him. And as he prepared to call it back to him, it was a knowing glower from the healer of the Royal Guard that halted him instead. So Shiro laid his temple against a left palm, leaned his elbow against the carriage window with an annoyed huff and forced himself to turn his attention back to his smoke. It would be time to relight it soon, he noted absently, but he didn't even get to enjoy it for a second round. The carriage coming to a shuddering halt in the Inner Temple's courtyard as Shiro shifted restlessly in his seat. A miasma of silvery smoke drifting sensually from between his parted lips one last time before he closed his sharp golden eyes to collect himself for the arduous task ahead.

Today was not going to be a good day, he could feel its negativity weighing him down already.

With his reiatsu and overwhelming presence locked away with a barrier as to not influence the souls around him, Shiro followed the rose petal strewn pathway towards the ceremonial hall deeper within the large black and white building with long dipping eaves. His senses distinctly aware of the Zero Division as they moved ahead of him and eventually disappeared out of sight; only a flutter of black shihakushō and white haori to be seen as Shiro glided past the open double doors and cast his golden eyed gaze upon the selection of twenty or more people that were already waiting for his arrival. As always, a throne with intricate golden designs and an imposing presence was settled upon a raised dais where a collection of ten to fifteen candidates were kneeling respectfully before it.

Two Shinigami guards were standing behind it, heads bowed to his presence as two others followed a little behind Shiro when he made his way towards his rightful seat. They all eventually stood behind his throne though, concealing their presence but was not completely out of sight as the white haired being eventually sprawled himself lazily across the seat of power. Legs draped over the side, his hand resting absently on his stomach as he reclined his head against the softer cushion of its back; Shiro adopted his more nonchalant outlook on life as he tried not to let his power spill out and overwhelm all the others gathered around him.

The Reiou merely waved his hand nonchalantly with a nod of affirmation, allowing the ceremony to start after the tedious and formal introductions from one of the present families. He didn't need to speak, not today, or to acknowledge their existence that much. He could already see the outcome so the white haired being felt his mind start to drift away from him as each family head presented him his daughter, niece or whatever else relation that they could come up with. So far, Shiro had not sensed a single one worthy enough. They were too weak, already corrupted by his presence as he politely passed them over and back to their families with a shake of his head. And it was because of it, that the Reiou's attention began to drift away from his task and concentrated on all the thrumming brushes of unusual reiatsu around him.

Golden eyes falling upon the two presences that were standing at each side of his throne and a little behind him instead; a small smile traced pale lips softly as he recognized the one standing by his right shoulder. The long brown haired Taichō of the Hachibantai division, Shiro grinned deviously. He had been there for the last three ceremonies as well and as always, he was casting his hungry gaze across the young candidates quite boldly in the King's stead as Shiro scoffed in amusement at the sight. Really now, that man, he would never change. But when golden eyes moved to Kyouraku Shunsui's side, where the old man Yamamoto had always stood for the last thousand years, the white haired being was expecting to be pinned with all knowing beady eyes and a disapproving frown. He was fairly startled to come across a new face instead.

Oh my, now this one he hadn't seen before but he was instantly captivated by the being's appearance and strength of presence. Long flowing orange locks that descended down a straightened back in two dragon like tails; an immaculate uniform of white, dark green, gold and turquoise settled evocatively around his form identified him as a member of the Shiba family. And even with the odd addition of a turban-like bandana of black, turquoise and gold, Shiro could still see the beauty of the Shinigami's tall lithe frame and delicate features. He was perhaps a few inches shorter than the Reiou and there was a perpetual frown settled across tangerine brows, but what Shiro found the most strange was that even under the King's gaze, the Shinigami did not open his eyes that were concealed behind a heady sprawl of messy orange locks.

The white haired King shuddered deeply, something indiscernible beginning to stir inside of him at the orange haired teen's (he couldn't have been more than eighteen) mere presence. Forcing Shiro to stand through a rapidly descending daze; an opalescent veil fluttered evocatively around his white silk clad from as he held up his hand for silence. A frown of intrigue ruffling his brow as he barely paid enough attention to notice his actions had brought the entire Selection Ceremony to a halt. He was stretching out his locked away reiatsu though, seeking to brush it softly against the one that had captured his interest so wholly, leaving the Reiou completely startled when a pure and inherently warm reiatsu pushed back in answer to his call. This was something that others were far too afraid to do, especially with the intensity in which the Shinigami's unsettled power flooded the room around Shiro and left the King to shiver blissfully under its careful, caressing touch.

Oh shit...he was getting aroused by its intensity, and it wasn't even charged with pleasure yet.

'Stop for a moment,' Shiro breathed shakily. 'We'll take a break.' But even as he found himself saying this absently, golden eyes never once drifted away from his new found interest as he stepped forward confidently, rose petals like velvet beneath his bare feet. Watching in fascination as the orange haired Shinigami tilted his head to the side, almost as if he were following his movements through sound alone and elegant gloved fingertips rested against the hilt of a Zanpactō that was strapped to his hip. The Reiou blinked in surprise, observing the second, larger, hilt that peeked out from the collar of a warm cloak on the Shinigami's back. That one looked much larger and menacing than the one the orangette was tracing suspiciously now, probably not sure what to make of Shiro's enclosing presence.

Twin Zanpactō and continuous release Zanpactō, Shiro didn't think he'd ever heard of anything more rare and astounding. It was perfect and the closer that he drew, the more flushed and aroused his target was becoming with every delicate brush of the Reiou's power. Another unusual thing for Shiro to note, others usually cowered in absolute fear in his presence. But this being, he was leaning towards Shiro almost as if he were instinctively drawn towards him. He could hear several people yell at him in concern, seeking his attention, even the Zero Division had moved out of the shadows at their King's odd behaviour but the Reiou did not stop, could not stop. He had to see, had to touch...to taste...to corrupt this pure being. He wanted to mark him as his, bind him to his soul irrevocably.

Shiro was so sure that he had just found his Bride.

A predatory grin spread across pale lips, long black nailed fingertips reaching out to brush tenderly against a flushed cheek as soon as he was close enough. His left hand pushing the black Zanpactō back into its sheath as his target started to draw his sword in surprise. But those cheeks and the happy pulse of warm reiatsu betrayed their master's attraction towards the white haired being's presence; flushing a darker red at Shiro's touch as petal pink lips parted to expel several ragged breaths of strain. Perfect, Shiro thought happily. Sweet scented air rushing across the King's nose and cheeks as his Bride's breaths teased pale skin when he leant forward instinctively.

Only now however, Shiro was able to see the array of deep marring scars that dragged deeply across the orangette's eyes and temples. The sprawl of orange bangs had hidden them well, but Shiro could see them now and the Reiou instantly felt a dark heat of possessiveness creeping into his veins. Who would dare to mar such a beautiful creature? His beautiful Bride? He growled lowly in the rise of his anger, swiping the pad of his thumb apologetically beneath a left eye, the one eye that seemed to have sustained the most damage. He was not bothered about formalities when the orange haired Shinigami eagerly leaned into his touch though, it even caused a rare smile to cross Shiro's lips as tanned fingertips rose to rest over his hand tenderly in askance to the touch. Or to pull it away, Shiro wasn't sure, but the orange haired Shinigami was practically purring beneath his touch. The entire world was fading away from around them as only they themselves existed as the sole focal point. It was utter, soothing bliss.

'W-what―.'

'What's your name, Shinigami?' Shiro asked softly, a blue tongue swiping across his lips to moisten their sudden dryness as a heady flush fell away to pale pinked cheeks and the orangette tried to step back at their overwhelmingly close proximity. He was still simultaneously trying to lean into the Reiou's comforting touch though, causing the orangette to stumble in lost coordination as Shiro kept him stable by pressing his palm against a warm chest and curled his ringed right hand around a forearm.

'Shiba I-Ichigo...'

'Ichigo,' Shiro purred deeply, drawing out the name sensually as his chin rested against the top of an orange head and he felt Ichigo's lithe form fall against him for support. Panting breaths rushing teasingly against a pale neck at their new found closeness as Shiro used a single forefinger to tilt the orangette's chin, nudging flushing features upwards so that he could see them more closely. Golden eyes gazing into stubbornly closed eyelids again, long curling black lashes brushing the pad of his thumb as he ran his finger against scarred skin softly. 'Open your eyes, my sweet Ichigo. I want to see them.' He said commandingly; having an urgent need to settle his deeply brewing curiosity inside of him. He had see, had to know...

'B-but, I-I can't...they're...'

'Open them.' The instant that the words left his mouth, pale eyelids and long curling lashes fluttered open at his command. The white haired King feeling his breath stall in his chest painfully as everything in the world came to a stop around him. Everything that had been wrong within him, everything that had felt out place, his yearning loneliness...everything just clicked right back into place deep inside of him. Shiro felt nothing but absolute bliss, and even when he was gazing into sightless milky white eyes. Eyes that could not see him, but tore through his very soul all the same. They displayed such a beautiful array of emotions and compassion that Shiro was left absolutely speechless. His heart hammering against his chest in the rise of his awareness, his world tilting on its side as he nodded to himself one last time. Pulling away fairly reluctantly, Shiro still curled his fingers around an arm to bring the orange haired being closer to his side despite the cry of fear and indignation that left petal pink lips as he waved over his guards.

'Get the carriage.' He said in turn, winding his arms around a thin waist as he tugged the orange haired being towards him and straight against his chest, ignoring the squirming figure for now and the dangerous press of that larger Zanpactō that also pressed against him.

'My Lord? What the hell are you talking about? And doing?! Leave the Shinigami to his duty!' Kirinji interrupted, 'The ceremony is not even halfway done...'

'I'm done. I've found my Bride. He's mine, he's perfect...my Ichigo.'

'E-excuse me?! Your Bride?! W-what about my family? I can't just leave?! This isn't a joke!' A tentative voice sung darkly suddenly as the smaller frame tried to squirm out of the King's embrace again but Shiro merely rested a long black nailed hand against the side of a tanned neck, tracing the skin there teasingly as the orange haired being fell back against him weightlessly with a small cry of suppressed pleasure; the ceremony hall suddenly alight with outraged whispers and confused attendants as a cacophony of sounds assaulted their hearing from all sides. But Shiro wasn't interested in them, he was more interested in dragging more delicious noises from his Ichigo. Dear god, if the teen was reacting to just a bit of Shiro's reiatsu now how would react to other pleasurable sensations? 'I have duties...I c-cannot just come with you. I don't even know you―.' Ichigo continued but Shiro merely hushed him by pressing two ringed fingers against pink lips, slipping them inside a warm wet mouth as he allowed his lips to whisper against the top of an orange head. Chuckling softly when instead of biting down, a warm tongue curled around the pads of his fingers eagerly and sucked against his flesh like a new found treat.

Hn, Ichigo's reactions were way too instinctive...especially for such an innocent soul, Shiro thought darkly. He had definately inherited a portion of Hollow power somewhere in his life.

'They can come to the palace too, beloved. But you're mine, Ichigo. I've already decided. Your duties here can be taken over by someone else.'

Alright, all that I ask is that you please don't kill me for ending it there, Part 2 will be posted in a few days, I promise. Also, I'm still running PM entries for my Christmas Request List (a chance for you to get a Gift Fic from me through the month of December), please have a look at my profile or Blog because there are some restrictions for those who wish to enter it.

Other than that, thank you for reading. I really appreciate it. I'll see you again in a few days, now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to pass out from exhaustion.

Uchiha Madara
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Winter's Tender Caress