Bleach © Tite Kubo
Summary-
Shirosaki has always been a master of seduction when it came to the unknowing puppet Ichigo. Despite posing as the submissive one, Shiro was always the real master, the puppeteer that knew how to pluck Ichigo's bodily strings.
Warning: Strong sexual content. Yes, this chapter does have smut in it, and yaoi.
All his life Shiro had devoted himself to one being. That being was the only one with the everlasting privilege to have him as his own, and the one that Shiro was a devout guardian of. All the time that he had known him, Shirosaki would prowl the shadows behind him, hovering within his presence like a sentinel and ensuring that he would forever remain safe under the vigilant eye of the porcelain puppeteer that was Shirosaki.
That man was Ichigo.
Ichigo Kurosaki, his host and foremost important thing that dominated his life. Shiro would spend days obsessing over the redhead and adoring him from afar, golden slit eyes of a devilish pallid figure following him wherever he ventured. He paid close attention to everything that Ichigo did and observed every identifiable aspect about him whenever he could. Ichigo was everything. He would practically worship him.
Furthermore, Shirosaki had claimed himself as the controller of Ichigo. Very slowly he had seeped his way into his life, at first gaining no acknowledgement but after vigorous convincing eventually being welcomed into Ichigo's life as his partner and gradual master. Despite playing the master to Kurosaki however, Shiro often liked to swap roles, bringing out his admiration for him in becoming his plaything and being known as his doll, his puppet, and his bedroom pass-time. And oh, was Shiro's activities and lessons within the bedroom quarters something that Ichigo delighted in witnessing.
Today was not a day like any other. Today Ichigo had attended school and been studying hard in his educational field. He often was roped into the duties of any teen and forced to abide by the rules of society and study. He was a damn good student too, always involving a great deal of attention to his work and even dismissing Shiro's conversations with him in favour of doing homework instead. Ichigo was an intellectual guy, something that added to Shiro's deep respect for him. The redhead was far from brain dead and he had a fascinating mind that was absorbed into his work when he wanted it to be. For Shiro, Ichigo's mind was something that he was constantly trying to figure out and draw inspiration from. He wanted to be like his King. Intelligent. Attention focused. Anything to be like Ichigo.
The discolored being had stayed at home and been wandering the empty halls of their abode the whole time that Ichigo was away. They owned a vast and expansive home, something that formed somewhat of a mansion, decorated in a gothic style and adorned by surreal architecture and strangely patterned walls with eccentric designs for floors. Everything from the bedstead to the drawers was decorated oddly yet wondrously so, the amount of dark colors flecked by lightened colors mixing and interlocking to create contrasting shades that mirrored the reflection of himself and Ichigo and how peach and paled they were in comparison of one another. This house was built for them with their every singularity in mind. It really was a strange mansion. But it was unique, and it was for them. It was a palace fit for Shirosaki's King.
While waiting for his puppet to return to him, listening patiently for the sound of wide glass doors being thrown open to announce Ichigo's entry, he began to grow increasingly bored. Yes, boredom. It really wasn't something Shirosaki was fond of.
So what to do when bored? There were lots of things, apparently. Ichigo often amused himself by means of entertainment, via television and through his laptop and headphones and such, relying on the wonders of technology to ease his boredom whenever he had it. But Shiro preferred more physical ways. He wanted to interact with Ichigo whenever he could. He craved the very idea of being able to snatch a moment in which to be close to Ichigo, acting like the puppet master that he was and inventing new ways of which to play around with the strings that plucked certain chords of Ichigo's motivation, activate the imaginary foundations that brought to movement his figure. Play around with him. Turn him into a movable puppet to twist to life. Even if that meant playing with himself first. And the ways in which Shirosaki played were mentally disfiguring, emotionally disturbing yet so physically stimulating.
Stimulating enough to leave Ichigo's desires warped enough to join him and have themselves some entertainment. Of course Shiro was an expert at developing intricate ways to intrigue Ichigo's virgin-mind, so this would be easy. The question was, how should Shirosaki inspire him this time? All puppeteers need to be creative after all.
Rooting through their fine selection of sexually encouraging toys in the dresser room, Shiro began steadily assorting them and searching for one that he would like. He was a picky one for toys. Particularly when it came to ones that he wished for the King to appreciate. He took it upon himself to plan ahead and organize for Ichigo, not only because he considered it a duty of his guardianship, but because he wanted to choose responsibly for the far less experienced teen. The redhead's satisfaction and pleasure had to be attained by something that Shiro had suitably provided for him and by no other way.
Slender hands delved into the contents of the box and then strayed upon a vibrator and a few other things, consisting of a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs. These were very bold objects to put to use and Shiro could barely recall whether they had previously been adopted for use before or not. Despite the reluctance to use items that were so difficult and perhaps problematic for Ichigo, he wanted to experiment with them. They would be good toys. Basic, but rewarding toys.
So Shiro darted off to their room, an expansive master bedroom with extended bed posts and an overhanging drape that created a veil around the base of the bed itself. It was a literal king-size bed, the hilarity of its name a reminder that Shiro's King slept in it from the irony. Their room was dark and everything shaded in here, the only light being shed by the glass windows and balcony where Shiro often sat in his alone time. However, a majority of the room was shrouded in darkness. And darkness was perfect. Shiro enjoyed playing in the darkness. So did the puppet.
He set himself on silk sheet blankets and spread the toys before him. First the pallid male undressed himself, weaving white tendril fingers through the corset-like laces of his Victorian themed upper garments, frilled sleeves and formal fabricated trousers all neatly discarded and folded in a smart heap beside the bed. He always clothed himself formally in the household and sometimes appeared remniscent of a butler. With himself now fully bare and his stark white figure completely exposed, Shiro took a few moments to glance at himself in the mirror. Ichigo always admitted that Shiro possessed a wonderfully toned torso and a refined physique. It was, though Shiro was no vain individual, true to many extents. He did indeed harbor one hell of a delicious body. Something that a puppeteer will often look for in his counterparts too. And what better counterpart than someone with the same glorious body as his own? They were staunchly similar.
The toys were not mainly for Ichigo though. They were Shiro's way of prepping himself, his adventurous means of manipulating his body into readying itself for action with the other male who was about to come home.
First he plucked up the vibrator and noted its settings, grasping that it had a high, medium and low. He snaked a hand beneath one of the cushions and fondled around for the small bottle that was kept under there. Then, once he found what he was looking for, grabbed it and slunk his hand back out while holding a bottle of lubricant. No further time was wasted and Shiro smeared the lube over the warm base of his fingertips, smothering it along his fingers and then lathering the substance along all of his insides to ready himself for what he was going to do. He pressed two thin fingers into the soft flesh of his own opening, gasping slightly at the intrusion and then letting a whimper escape when he surged deep in there. Once he had rubbed the substance along the tender flesh he then applied it to the extension of his paled arousal which was hardening by the second. Then, once he had finished with the lubricant, he slipped it back under the pillows and secluded it there.
The vibrator was switched on to the medium setting and the humming began as he pressed it into his own loosened entrance, moving the vibrator in and out of his own body in rhythmic movements and exercising the flesh of his opening. Muscles contracted and tensed with the contact but he soon adjusted to the feel of it and continued to motion the buzzing machine in and out. Eventually, when he assured himself that the vibrator was doing its job, he flicked on the high setting and let out a shrill cry when it intensified. The sound thrummed in his ears and the sensations that it brought were satisfactory. He even murmured Ichigo's name while he tuned in to the feel. Even, for a few moments, he imagined that this was the King penetrating his rear. The item was used for a long while and the vibrations were blissful as they coursed through his now further stimulated body, being guided in and out teasingly slow.
However Shiro didn't want to push himself into too much excitement just yet. After moaning a long variation of Ichigo's name with the vibrator being pushed into him, he took it out afterwards and let his body shake in anticipation.
Hurry Ichigo, he thought, aware that he was now starting to ache with the need for his partner to be here and intervene on this experience with him. There was a pulsing in his lower body and an aroused erection was starting to shape.
Hiding the cuffs behind him, Shiro then turned to the blindfold and hid that too, hearing approaching footsteps near the door to the bedroom and a short call out of his name from the landing at the top of the stairs.
"Shiro?"
The footsteps got closer. They richoted on the walls and then came to an abrupt halt at the door, where Ichigo paused but then proceeded to open the doors wide. As he opened the doors Shiro then leaned forward, his naked form staring Ichigo right back in the face.
"Shiro, what're you doing?"
He lifted his head and gazed maliciously back at the other, a daring grin inviting him to step into the room and come closer. "Waitin' for ya, King. Ya were missed."
"Hell, I was only gone for a few-" Then Ichigo stopped, taking in the lavish sight of an indecent being before him, and he swallowed. There it was. That nervous, flushing bloom of red dusting his cheeks. How innocent he was. But it soon dawned on him what Shiro was after and Ichigo fell silent, giving a nod. "Oh."
Knowing exactly why Shiro was laying there and what he was after seemed to set Ichigo into a sense of immediate obedience. He slung his school bags to the side and strode into the bedroom, during which he began to strip off his uniform and, as if aware that he would need to be utterly bare for this, started placing the outfit aside.
Shiro's fingers looped through the handcuffs and the moment that Ichigo clambered onto the bed he swooped forwards, agile hands quickly and without a sound clasping the cuffs over Ichigo so that his wrists were bound. He did it too fast for any protest and Ichigo seemed shocked by the sudden binding of his wrists.
"Sh-Shiro-"
"Ssshh," he whispered, ushering for him to be silent. Jus' let it all happen, King.
Strange how Ichigo often got this treatment and yet he was never used to any of it. Sometimes he would squirm, sometimes under sadistic moments he would writhe, and in moments like these he would end up stuttering and just going with the flow of whatever Shiro decided. His timidness in the bedroom was something that Shiro found highly amusing.
Attaching the cuffs to the headboard so that Ichigo's naked form was strung directly in front of him, Shiro had his wrists restrained there so that Ichigo was denied access to do anything else. The addition of a blindfold was then added and Ichigo grunted in confusion as a web of black was sleeted over his eyes. The blindfold would keep his vision limited and reduce Ichigo to concentrating on the sounds and sensations instead of sight. It was a good method of narrowing down the factors that would arouse Ichigo tonight.
"Don't go roug-"
"I'll be gentle Ichigo. Promise."
Smoothing his delicate hands along the design of Ichigo's body, he mapped out the muscles and brandished the warmth of his skin with a serpentine azure tongue, the blue flesh gliding across each and every ounce of the teen's chest. Blindfolded, and unable to detect nothing but the feel, Ichigo shuddered at the chilling surface of his tongue as it lapped at the exposure of his torso. White shaded lips were pressed to his collarbone and a hot breathed ghosted a path down the nape of his neck with an enticing slowness. Teeth traced lines over the peach of Ichigo's skin until they finally arrived at the back of his neck, Shiro now leaning fully on the teen below him and stroking a feathery tip of a finger over the head of Ichigo's arousal.
Sharp canines exacted a spot on the back of the neck and after a gasp from Ichigo, the teeth clamped down to place a hasted bite there. Grunting, Ichigo fought to free his hands, but the cuffs served the purpose of preventing that and instead the teen had to shed a whimper from the sudden sinking of teeth into such a sensitive spot. Once Shiro had left a mark of ownership in the form of the bite, he resorted to simply nipping and pinching at the areas of Ichigo's neckline with his teeth. Those actions again earning a soft whimper from Ichigo.
With the other's mouth now hanging agape, Shiro brought up his hand and slowly inserted fingers into his mouth, the obsidian nails scraping at his tongue and dabbling in the other male's saliva. What he found most odd - yet fascinating, as this was Ichigo - was that the teen then closed his lips as if in some sort of defiance, and began sucking on Shiro's fingers. Strange how certain actions could make Ichigo do these particular things. There were so many bodily strings to pluck and experiment with, weren't there?
Dragging his tongue across Ichigo's cheek, he then holstered himself on Ichigo's knee and settled himself on the base of his lap. The teen could do nothing but let him, russet bangs falling before a black blindfold and strong handcuffs keeping him subdued to the headboard.
His tongue swirled a pattern along the curve of his jaw and then plotted out a route into the nick of his mouth after Shiro removed his fingers. Then his tongue peeked into Ichigo's mouth and swiped over the warm pallet of his lips, wetting them and then following up with a deep and demanding kiss. Ichigo returned the gesture and kissed back, entwining his tongue with his master's own and then craning his neck forwards to arch into deeper kissing. Then he tore away their lips much to Ichigo's objecting shuffles.
Shiro began grinding against the body opposite him by rolling forwards and sparking the collision of hip bones, creating a friction between puppet and puppeteer. His body moved with a practiced intimacy, movements embellished by experience and daringly steady as he rubbed against the other's form while letting out throaty murmurs and whispers. The breath in Ichigo's throat hitched and he broke out in loose moans from the treatment as bodies practically rammed against each other in a grinding fashion. But the movements didn't last for long and another string was tugged at when Shiro's hands ventured back to the other male's seemingly neglected erection.
Once sure that Ichigo was approaching a peak of sorts in his sexual appeasement, Shiro cancelled the movements and then lowered himself. He brought his head down to level with the teen's length. An ashen head began rising up and down as he bravely engulfed the shaft into his mouth and nurtured the twitching flesh with the wonders of his tongue. A skilled flick of the tongue elicited a gasp from the other male when he lapped it over the base of the head, making Ichigo sigh out a secondary moan and rattle the restraints. For every moment that the tongue brushed over the sensual flesh of Ichigo's length it evoked curious sounds that Shiro found absolutely delightful to tune into.
"Ya can see now," Shirosaki breathed out after removing his mouth from the pulsating arousal. He passed hands over the blindfold and lifted it, bringing to light two shining hazel orbs which were wide and watching his every move.
"Finish it," Ichigo told him briskly, panting, "please."
The jet material was then thrown to one side and soon joined by the pair of cuffs as he released them from Ichigo, thus freeing the other male and gifting him with the freedom of bodily response. With now completely movable muscles that could twist and turn and bones that could flex on their own this meant that Shiro could please himself and study how Ichigo's body would perform now. A puppet that could now move on its own.
"Ya gotta try and pin me," he told Ichigo. His tone was firm and there was a profound confidence as if they had done this same thing many times before. They had indeed done this before, but not often. It was sometimes a struggle to bring out Ichigo's dominance when he was so reluctant to initiate full control over Shiro. But he would. Shirosaki would make sure that he would.
Following the instruction given, Ichigo leaned forwards and swapped their positions, bending Shiro's lithe form backwards and pressing his back to the bed so that he was now the one beneath him. The puppeteer could feel the other attempt to induce his own domineering posture, the muscles in his arm tightening as he planted Shiro's wrists securely to the bed and held him there, awaiting whatever was to come next.
Shiro tried to lift himself upwards, but Ichigo's was hold was firm and it kept him pinned to the bed. Good. This was what he needed.
Wrapping legs around the exterior of Ichigo's waist, Shiro shifted himself into the role of a submissive and eagerly began begging. He tremored with the need to have Ichigo inside him and whispered promises of satisfaction to him as he left his opening exposed for Ichigo to penetrate and make his own instinctive move now.
Aware that Shiro was desperate for the attention of his length, Ichigo kept his wrists pinned while bent over above him. There was the toll of hips and a loud grunt as Ichigo moved himself and started the task of pressuring himself into Shirosaki. He entered him without the need for lubricant, the paler being's flesh already slicked and prepped for this earlier in desire of this moment.
Feeling his own breathing hasten and his pallid chest rise and fall with the tension was when Shiro began to moan. Moaning not just from the intrusion but also from the pleasure. Having his King enter him and take up his own procedure without need for Shiro's further guidance was glorious. He felt like he was educating Ichigo and teaching his puppet the pleasing ways of the body. He was a little shaky and unsure, of course, but Ichigo always mustered up his own confidence in the end. All puppets must first learn how to act, after all.
"Ichig-go," he stuttered, but then grinned, that omniscient grin sprawling in a characteristic manner across his features as he purposely took on a despairing tone to make his begs and murmurs that much more of a turn on for Ichigo. "Move, ne?"
As if on cue Ichigo then buried himself deep and began developing movement, gruff pants being spilled from his vocal chords as his body performed and instinctively thrust. He delivered those thrusts perfectly, flesh sliding in and out of flesh in long and steady pounds as he built up a gradual flow of movement. Shiro found it wonderful to gasp and moan amidst looking up to see a glistening body which belonged to the King rocking above his own. He observed as the tendons of his puppet moved and contracted in correspondence with his shifts. How great Ichigo's body was when Shiro got it working.
"I'm going to..." Ichigo's breathing was increasingly heavy, "I..."
The pressure from his wrists was removed as Ichigo halted pinning him and instead placed his hands either side of Shiro's head. He loomed over the paler being below him and continued moving and keeping up the powerful thrusts the more that he bordered what must have been a nearing climax.
"It's alright." The puppeteer ushered. "Yer doin' it. Keep goin'. The King can' stop now."
The sound of Shiro's distorted accent echoing in his ears had Ichigo sighing out a breathy groan and his hips bucked forwards even more, slamming against Shiro's prostate and jutting a cry from him as the pale master was unexpectedly pleasured more intensely by the sudden ram of Ichigo even deeper into his rear.
"God, Shiro..."
Shirosaki stopped his purposeful moans and let the menacing grin return to his face again as he peered up at the man that was now confidently pounding into him with an orgasm just about reached. With Shiro's wrists now free he reached up to stroke the King's hair, threading delicate white fingers into the luscious velvet of Ichigo's amber trusses while his body quivered from the thrusting. The touch made Ichigo tilt his head back, said thrusts slowing as he whined out Shiro's name.
Then he felt heated fluid fill him as the King released and basked in the peak of his climax. He could feel the puppet then stiffen and his body grow rigid. Whispering comforting mutters to his Ichigo, Shirosaki watched as a bead of sweat trickled from his forehead and he became limp. Despite the sudden weakening his body however, Ichigo was shedding half a smile, obviously pleased with the outcome. His milky substance staining the silk below their bodies.
The puppeteer reveled in seeing that tainted smile. Something so innocent yet dangerously influenced by his master. Ichigo was so cruelly compelled by Shiro without knowing it. Now was such an example, guided into sexual pleasure by Shiro's own manipulation. Had Ichigo not have wanted it then he would have been put through this anyway, for the puppeteer always makes it so.
"Is the King satisfied?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Slender hands wormed their way around Ichigo's neck and ghostly lips pressed against the lobe of his ear to tease it with a playful nip. Lips that belonged to a devil of a puppeteer. "Now it's my turn, Ichigo."
Thank you for reading~!