It no longer feels strange to trust Aizen, or Sousuke rather. Maybe that in itself is strange.
Ichigo no longer cares. He is content, and he never thought he could feel that either.
He always thought having power meant being strong. Meant having all the control.
He didn’t know it could feel like this, on his knees with his hands bound and his mouth gagged. He was nude, his knees cushioned by a thick mat.
He was hard. Aching. But the ring around the base of his cock prevented him from achieving completion.
Sousuke circled around him, each step slow and measured. He held a riding crop in his dominant hand. Ichigo watched the sway of it with hungry eyes.
He waited. He longed. He tried not to be impatient at the sight of Sousuke’s smirk.
“I am not teasing you,” Sousuke said as though he could hear Ichigo’s thoughts. Perhaps he sensed it in Ichigo’s reiatsu instead. “I am building a sense of anticipation.”
The crop swayed.
Ichigo gnawed on the gag. He dripped precome, joining the tiny puddle already beneath him.
“You never have been good at having any patience,” Sousuke murmured with a small laugh. “Though that does make you rather charming.”
He circled behind Ichigo. Goosebumps rose across Ichigo’s skin.
He was ready for it. He wanted it. And if Sousuke didn’t hurry, Ichigo might be forced to take it.
There was a swish of air. Ichigo braced himself, but the crop only touched his back, between his shoulderblades.
Ichigo shivered. He moaned low in his throat as the crop dragged down his spine.
“Beautiful,” Sousuke murmured. “I think we are both going to enjoy this very much.”
Ichigo couldn’t agree more.