[Bleach] Trial Run

Admittedly, it isn’t the worst pick up line Ichigo has ever heard. But it comes pretty damn close.

“Have ya tried evil?” Ichimaru asks with that oh-so-familiar smirk, his reiatsu prickling over Ichigo’s skin like a thousand little needles. “It’s not as bad as ya think.”

Ichigo, of course, responds with a fierce cry and a slash of Zangetsu, one that the former captain bats aside and dances to avoid with more than a little ease. It’s frustrating to fight Ichimaru for more reasons than he can count.

At least, Ichigo thinks to himself, they are trying to recruit him and not seduce him. Frankly, he’s not sure which would be more terrifying. Considering the methods Matsumoto had used the last time he ventured into Soul Society, well, Ichigo would have to think long and hard about it.

“We could talk about this, ya know,” Ichimaru continues, evading Ichigo’s attacks with that ineffable grace. “We could make ya an offer ya can’t refuse.”

Ichigo scowls, eyebrows drawing down, his reiatsu slicing into the air and against Ichimaru’s to no effect. “Not interested,” he growls out and feels his Hollow prickle at the back of his mind, perking up, interested in what Ichimaru might have to offer.

Tastes familiar, aibou, says Shirosaki with hunger in his tone. He’s one of us.

One of us. Ichigo repeats the words to himself. One of us? One of the Vizard?

Ichimaru chuckles at him. “That spike in yer reiatsu tells me otherwise.” His eyes open to mere slits, flashing at Ichigo, before he disappears.

Shunpo?

Ichigo whirls, expecting the attack to come from behind. But then there’s a warm exhalation on the back of his neck and a swamp of massive reiatsu crashing down over him, nearly drowning him in heavy power. He drops to his knees, gasping for breath, taken by surprise and the sheer glee Shirosaki reflects.

One of us! the Hollow cackles.

The old man, Ichigo notices, is oddly silent.

“They’ll betray ya eventually,” Ichimaru purrs, fingers teasing coolly across the back of Ichigo’s neck, leaving a tingle behind. “When they find out what ya are.”

Ichigo reaches inside himself, demands and doesn’t ask from Shirosaki, and finds the reiatsu-strength to push himself back to his feet. He whirls around, Zangetsu bared, and finds Ichimaru staring back at him, nonplussed.

“We’ll be waitin’ for ya, Kurosaki,” Ichimaru says with promise in his tone and a retreat of that debilitating reiatsu. “Open invitation.”

He vanishes as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Ichigo standing alone in the middle of the street, wondering what the hell just happened.

Should listen to him, aibou
, Shirosaki whispers. We’re living on borrowed time.

Zangetsu remains eerily silent on the matter though Ichigo can feel the old man ruminating.

“One of us,” Ichigo murmurs to himself before he shakes his head and leaps to the nearest rooftop.

It seems he has some thinking of his own to do.

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[Bleach] Thievery

“A little birdie tells me that you’re quite the thief.”

Her senses have improved greatly over the past few months. Tatsuki credits that to Soifon relentlessly drilling her with particulars and encouraging her to practice. Therefore, when the voice floats up to her out of seemingly nowhere, she doesn’t startle. As a matter of fact, Tatsuki had sensed her visitor minutes before she had spoken.

Of course, it’s just like Yoruichi to try and throw Tatsuki off balance from step one. It’s probably how she manipulated Soifon, too.

Best to play it off, let the captain think she’s got the upper hand.

Tatsuki performs an exaggerated jump of surprise, whirling to face Yoruichi. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Yoruichi casually examines Tatsuki’s small, personal dojo, taking in the padded mats, the shelves of awards and folded gi. “I don’t like having to come to the Living World to find my protege.”

Tatsuki’s eyes narrow, shifting her stance loosely, still defensive, but ready for action. She watches Yoruichi closely. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you haven’t answered mine,” Yoruichi replies, giving Tatsuki a sidelong look. “Or are my sources wrong?”

Tatsuki tilts her chin. “You can’t steal something that’s been thrown away. It becomes public property after that.” She smiles, but it’s all teeth. Her heart’s pounding in her chest, her fledgling reiatsu swelling within her.

Yoruichi’s way out of her league in terms of spiritual power, but Tatsuki will be damned if she goes down without a fight. She’s never backed down from the fights that matter. She’s a lot like Ichigo in that respect. Speaking of, she doesn’t think Ichigo will take too kindly to Yoruichi giving Tatsuki a beat down. Though, honestly, Tatsuki doesn’t want Ichigo to fight her battles for her. Ah, decisions, decisions.

“Now answer my question,” Tatsuki adds. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She sees no reason to be polite with Yoruichi. The noble obviously came here spoiling for a fight.

Yoruichi turns, something like amusement pulling on her lips, but her gold eyes are dark, dangerous. Easy to see what could have attracted Soifon at first, at least superficially. “I was curious,” Yoruichi purrs, coming closer. “A human? Clearly you’re only a distraction.”

“Am I?” Tatsuki cocks a brow, unaffected by Yoruichi’s obvious attempt to seduce. She doesn’t want beautiful nobles. She wants a surly, frowning ninja who makes the sweetest cries when she orgasms. “Then why are you here? Why are you so curious?” And is that worry she detects in escaping tendrils of Yoruchi’s reiatsu?

A flurry of emotions flickers over Yoruichi’s face before she buries them in a mask of stoicism, though not fast enough. “I thought to observe my competition, but I realize there is none. You couldn’t compare to a Shihouin.”

“Of course I can’t. I’m better.” Tatsuki grins and there’s no fake humor in the action. “You know, I never did understand what she saw in you. All glimmer and no worth. Stringing her around because it was a game for you.”

She takes a step closer, remembering all too well how long it had taken her to get Soifon to open up. Months and months of painstaking care, of biting wit, each moment of laughter hoarded so preciously.

“The shininess is fading though,” Tatsuki adds, watching as Yoruichi’s face twists into something ugly. Beautiful, but ugly all the same. Trust a noble to make fury and jealousy still hold an element of attractiveness. “And it’s not coming back. She’s not your toy anymore.”

Reiatsu flares outward, blasting Tatsuki with heat, but she holds her ground. She’ll fight for Soifon, fight in all the ways Yoruichi never bothered.

“You are a fool,” Yoruichi spits out, but its forced. Like she knows she’s beaten. “And when Soifon realizes the mistake she’s made, you’ll be the one left begging.”

An empty threat if Tatsuki’s ever heard one. She lifts a hand, waggling her fingers at Yoruichi. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

Yoruichi sneers, but doesn’t gift Tatsuki with an answer. She’s gone in a flash of ninja-smoke, leaving Tatsuki to wave away the lingering grey. Ugh. Just like Yoruichi to poison her dojo with that noxious stuff.

Tatsuki moves to the window, cracking it open in hopes to dissipate the smoke. How rude.

Her senses tingle.

“I guess you were here the whole time?” Tatsuki says aloud.

“You’re training is incomplete,” Soifon says from behind her.

Tatsuki turns, leaning against the window sill. “Were you worried?”

Soifon rolls her eyes. “I know better than that.” She comes closer, hands landing on the sill to either side of Tatsuki. “Besides, you seemed intent on defending my honor.”

“Honor? What the hell’s that?” Tatsuki grins, lifting a hand to cup the back of Soifon’s neck. “I’ve been wanting to cuss her out for months. She just made it easy.”

“You enjoyed it,” Soifon says.

“Course I did.” Tatsuki pulls her lover in closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Did you see that look on her face? Priceless.”

A haunted look flickers in Soifon’s eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. “I’m not going to say thank you.”

“Cupcake,” Tatsuki purrs, knowing how much Soifon hates the cutesy endearments. “I didn’t say all that for you to thank me. I’m just staking a claim.” She pulls Soifon the remaining distance, letting their lips come into brief contact. “Though, if you’d like, you can thank me in other ways. Like right now.”

Soifon looks scandalized. “Not in your dojo!”

Tatsuki laughs, affection swelling in her chest. “To the bedroom then?”

The bright burn in Soifon’s cheeks never ceases to be adorable. “… Yes.”

Ha. Take that, Yoruichi.

[Bleach] Kinky Things

“Gin!”

He chuckles, mouthing the nape of Ichigo’s neck again, grinning when Ichigo arches into his arms, hands scrabbling for some kind of hold. “What?” Gin asks innocently.

“I believe you know what he means,” Sousuke says with an arched brow from where he sits in a nearby chair, eyes intently watching the both of them, dark with desire.

He’s nude, too, and Gin hungrily drinks in the appearance of his former captain, hair dark and tousled, expression amused. “Who says?” he replies, and lets his fingers stroke downward, curling around Ichigo’s cock and giving him a long, squeezing stroke.

Ichigo groans, bucks into his hold, fingers clenching and unclenching, desperately trying not to touch since Sousuke hasn’t asked for it yet.

“Both of you are evil,” he gasps.

“We are the enemy here, if you’ll recall,” Sousuke says and props his chin on his hand, eyes raking over his two lovers on the bed. “Now kiss for me.”

Gin has every intention of obeying, when their quarters suddenly starts trembling as though there were an earthquake. He frowns in confusion, meeting Sousuke’s equally confused look, and that’s when the wall to Gin’s right suddenly explodes. Rock and dust fills the air, and a figure clad in white comes hurtling through the opening, sailing across the room, only to smack into the opposite wall, causing a deep impression but not breaking through.

Gin, Ichigo, and Sousuke turn and look as Grimmjow slowly slides down the wall, landing in a crumpled, groaning heap on the floor.

They swing their gazes in the opposite direction, toward the hole in the wall, and find three faces peering in sheepishly. Or not so sheepishly.

“Oops,” Stark says, nonchalant as he steps in over the rubble and crosses the floor. He leans down, hooks a finger in Grimmjow’s collar, and proceeds to drag the insensate sixth Espada across the floor. “That’s my bad.”

Gin knows he’s gaping. Ichigo is squirming with embarrassment. Sousuke looks steps away from strangling his first Espada.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get someone to fix this mess, too,” Stark adds, waving a hand at the hole in the wall as he steps through it, still dragging Grimmjow. “So you can go back to whatever kinky things you were doing. Good night, bosses.”

[Bleach] Safety First

The collar puts a light pressure on Ichigo’s throat. When he swallows, he can feel it. This shouldn’t arouse him, but it does, especially when Sousuke gives the leash attached to it a light tug, pulling Ichigo’s head and making him gasp.

Hard enough to feel it, light enough that it doesn’t hurt.

Gin makes a noise of irritation as their kiss is interrupted, blue eyes slitted with lust, slim-fingered hand reaching for Ichigo’s departing mouth. His thumb swipes over spit-slick lips, smearing saliva.

“Don’t tease, Sousuke,” Gin says as his thumb pushes past Ichigo’s lips and the Vizard flicks his tongue across it. Nibbles even, invoking a low, uncontrolled groan from his lover.

“Yeah,” Ichigo agrees as he laves Gin’s thumb. “Don’t get cocky.”

Fingers drag down Ichigo’s spine, soft across sweat-slick skin, making him shiver and arch into the touch. Clench down on Gin’s cock inside of him, sending a ripple of sensation into the silver-haired man. Gin hisses, his grasp on Ichigo’s hip tightening.

Ichigo can feel the weight of Sousuke’s stare, lecherous and appreciative, and it makes him moan. Especially when Gin replaces his thumb with two fingers that stroke Ichigo’s tongue, a mimicry of their interrupted kiss.

Sousuke sighs, an amused chuckle, the sound of leather creaking as he rolls his knuckles around the leather of the leash. “Neither of you are very good at this submission game.

Gin snorts. “Maybe yer not a good dominant,” he replies, challenges more like, gaze gone smoldering as he glances past Ichigo to their elder lover.

Ichigo groans, clamps down on Gin’s fingers with his teeth, a mild warning. “Not while I’m in the middle,” he threatens.

Warm weight leans on him from behind, granting slack to the leash. “And why not?” Sousuke asks, purring into his ear, mouth warm and wet on sensitive flesh.

Ichigo shudders; Gin’s breath hitches. They both love that tone of voice. Gin’s cock twitches inside him, still hard, desperate for the movement Sousuke won’t grant them.

His fingers tangling in the bedsheets, twisting them, Ichigo feels trapped between their bodies. Sousuke pressed against him from behind, Gin splayed out beneath him. Touches too much and not enough, the collar an ever present threat against his throat. Yet, he also knows he’s safe, and honestly, that’s the best feeling of all.

[Bleach] Double-Sided Coin

For Ichigo, their relationship defies all logic. It doesn’t make any sense. Kisuke is so much older. Kisuke is a Shinigami. Kisuke’s carrying around loads of baggage on his shoulder that Ichigo has no clue how to help him with. He tries, but Ichigo’s still only barely out of his teens, with his own struggles to get through.

Despite knowing all this, however, Ichigo hasn’t been willing to walk away. He won’t throw up his hands, even if it would be better in the long run. They’re no good for each other. Isshin would flip a gasket if he ever knew. And there’s a lingering realization that it will end sooner or later, probably with tears and a broken heart or two.

Yet, he’s still here. Still crawling into bed every night beside the blond and drowning himself in Kisuke’s kisses. He curls around Kisuke, the familiar scent of gunpowder and candy teasing his nostrils. He presses his nose into the back of Kisuke’s neck, blond hair softer than Ichigo expected tickling at his face.

He tells himself that when the time comes, Ichigo will walk away with head held high. When Kisuke gets tired of the immature brat that’s always hanging around and returns to Soul Society, Ichigo will force himself to smile. He’ll shake Kisuke’s hand, wish him well, and pretend that everything is all right.

Until then, however, he’ll take every moment he can get. If it’s all he’s allowed, then Ichigo’s determined to make it count.

For Kisuke, it’s a matter of emotion. There’s a pain buried deep, and he knows that in the end, this will only make things worse. He’s been burned too many times, but here Kisuke is, once again involving himself in a relationship that’s destined to bring more heartache.

Ichigo is young. He’s human. Sooner or later, he’ll grow tired of the blood and pain that is the Shinigami world. Eventually, he’ll meet some cute girl who is sweet and innocent and everything that Ichigo needs. She’ll smile at him, and Kisuke will have to kiss their relationship goodbye. He’ll have to pretend that it’s all right, that he’s not hurt, and he’ll watch Ichigo walk away with a broken, fake smile.

And then there’s the whole matter of what Isshin will do to Kisuke as soon as he finds out just why Ichigo spends so much time at the Shoten.

Until then, however, Kisuke’s going to soak up every moment he can. Lazy mornings and late nights, and the simple joy of waking up next to Ichigo. He’ll memorize all the little things. Like the way Ichigo still blushes despite over a year spent as lovers. Or the way Ichigo suddenly gets aggressive, push Kisuke down, claim him and leave him breathless.

Kisuke holds all these precious memories closely, hoping beyond hoping that the end never comes. It’s the only prayer he has.

[Bleach] Long Night

There are many days that Shuuhei questions his sanity. With peace a reality and no war looming on the horizon, those days are less and less. But not gone, as evidenced by the current situation.

It started with a question. An innocent – if not inappropriate – query, which resulted in Shuuhei being taken by each arm and escorted to the privacy of his quarters. His face burning as whistles and catcalls echoed in his wake, his two escorts ignoring them with the sort of dogged determination that never bodes well for Shuuhei’s sanity.

Oh, he’s sure to come tonight. Over and over until he can hardly breathe and he’s exhausted and drained. But the road to getting there is long and fraught with teasing, toys, and the focus of two men who, let’s face it, the focus of just one of them is enough to send lesser men screaming for the hills.

Shuuhei still doesn’t know if it’s courage that keeps him here, or just a lack of the better sense to walk away before they kill him with sex.

Right now, however, what’s keeping him here is the fact that Kenpachi and Kensei are methodically stripping him of his shihakushou. Shuuhei isn’t exactly protesting because hell, nudity is fine by him, especially when he knows what nudity leads to. Kissing and groping and blow jobs and more orgasms than he can count.

Sure this is all because Renji had asked a rather stupid question that Kenpachi had overheard and Kensei took as a challenge. And sure Shuuhei’s the one stuck in the middle, the one who hadn’t answered Renji’s question quickly enough (who in the hell could?), and his lovers wanted to know. Like Shuuhei could just pick and say which one of them he preferred.

He’s with them both! Isn’t that all the answer needed?

But no. Kensei and Kenpachi are competitive to the max. Whether it’s in a “friendly” spar that usually sends either one or both of them to the fourth division, grinning while dripping blood and barely breathing. Or whether it’s seeing who can make Shuuhei scream the loudest, they love to compete.

By the gods, there’s no way Shuuhei can be sane. What the hell did he do to deserve this?

This being Kensei pressing him down to the bed, kissing Shuuhei like he’s trying to steal his breath. While Kenpachi wraps those long fingers around Shuuhei’s already rock-hard erection and starts gripping and tugging in all the ways he knows Shuuhei likes.

Shuuhei whimpers and groans and moans, body twitching between the two captains, and all he can think is: This is going to be a long, long night.

[Bleach] Self Care

The mirrors at the Kurosaki clinic are the largest, angled so that he can see all around him easily, and best of all, after hours, they are private as well. A privacy that has been given to Chad with Ichigo’s permission. Now, there’s no one to bear witness to what has become an almost nightly ritual for Chad. A daily attempt to get back what had been ripped from him, something he absolutely needs if he is to keep standing at Ichigo’s side.

It’s quiet. One of the coolers containing medicine hums a mournful tune. The wall clock ticks in perfect intervals. The HVAC unit rumbles to life with startling regularity. All of this is background noise compared to Chad’s focus.

He strips off his shirt, leaving himself clad in only jeans. His feet are bare on the chilled linoleum. The buzzing overhead lights seem to wash out his skin tone, making the scars on his upper body stand out in harsh relief.

His fingers are drawn to them, as they are every night, stroking over the ridged flesh. Pale pink and silvery, like soft spiderwebs in his skin. Across his chest, and shoulders, down his arms – yes, both of them. So many scars, so many reminders.

Inoue could have healed them, rejected their existence, but Chad had declined the offer. He both wants and needs these scars. He can’t allow himself to forget. They might be the only link left for Chad, a link to the past and a broken power.

Closing his eyes, Chad inhales slowly. He reaches for that place inside of himself where the power resides. The forces of defense and offense; one to bring death, one to protect life. As conflicting as they are complimentary. That power unfurls, rippling through him. He opens his eyes, watches it flicker across his skin in flares of light, plays of black-crimson electricity. Like a Hollow.

His left hand twitches, fingers opening and closing. Power races through them unabated. The walls shudder. The numbness fades, replaced by warmth, and a smile touches Chad’s lips. He can still fight. He can still–

Pain. His right arm spasms and Chad drops to his knees, legs buckled. The power builds and so does the agony, lashing his innards. His right arm twinges violently, skin crackling and bleeding as it turns black. The dark energies folding inward, collapsing on themselves, subjecting him to its furious backlash.

With a gasp, Chad cuts off the connection to Brazo Directa del Gigante. The power vanishes with a sharp snap and Chad’s left feeling cold. Broken. Helpless once again. He sucks in several breaths, staring mutely at the linoleum, head bowed.

Unohana-taichou said it was irreparable. He hadn’t wanted to believe her. Chad hadn’t wanted to lose that strength, but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t fix himself.