Author's Note: Wow, I finally finished this after months of on and off writing. Karen, it's all yours.
Warning: Yaoi, graphic, rape, as with all – don't like, don't read!
Disclaimer: Don't own…obviously…
Hichigo liked fragile things.
He supposed he was similar to his King in that respect. Both of them knew how to appreciate the vulnerability of all those things easily shattered. Ichigo had always been drawn to fragility and, as a consequence, he had been brought along for the ride. Hichigo had watched as the boy struggled to protect those who couldn't fend for themselves. It was this attraction to fragility, coupled with a hero complex, that was the driving force in almost anything he did. However, that was something that anyone could tell you. From his spot in Ichigo's head, Hichigo knew quite a bit more than other people. That was why he could tell you that Ichigo's favorite thing about fragility wasn't to simply observe its alluring beauty. No, Ichigo wanted it to be dynamic. He needed to see something change. That was why his favorite thing about vulnerability was strengthening it, until it could stand on its own. That was why Ichigo had worked so hard to repair such a heavily damaged Soul Society. It was because he couldn't appreciate fragility simply as it was.
This was another thing Hichigo had in common with his King. Even though he liked fragile things, he liked them much better when they were changing. However, unlike Ichigo, he saw no appeal in helping something delicate get by on its own. After all, what beauty could one see in a fragile object that was no longer fragile? It only became another one of the countless ordinary things in the world, remarkable in no other way than its sheer unremarkability. No, watching something vulnerable become something ordinary was not something that appealed to Hichigo in the least. Unlike his King, Hichigo's favorite thing about fragility wasn't being able to defend it, to make it stronger. No, more than anything, he loved watching it break.
Save for the rain, nothing fragile existed in Hichigo's dreary world. However, in a place where it rained so often, even the delicate beauty of the raindrops shattering against the pavement eventually lost its appeal. That was why when he first saw Ishida, his breath hitched. The boy was beautiful, the very epitome of fragility. Even his pride, for all it was worth, was still only a paper-thin attempt at protection from the cruel world he had long since learned to survive in. And yes, the boy was surviving, but barely; he was surviving just well enough to make him beautiful, fragile. Since then, Hichigo had often wondered what it was that caused Ichigo to overlook such a stunningly delicate beauty. The mask the boy wore was neither intricate nor convincing. It shouldn't have been effective enough to fool him, seeing how easily he had been able to see through that of Rukia. Although, he supposed he should be grateful to Ichigo's closed-mindedness, for, had he noticed the boy's vulnerability, Ishida would be nowhere near as perfectly fragile as he was.
Ishida was untouched and for that reason, and that reason alone, Hichigo swore that he would keep the Quincy's fragile beauty to himself. He would shelter the boy from Ichigo, not allowing him to taint such a splendid display of delicate vulnerability with his twisted ideals about what made fragility beautiful. He wouldn't let Ishida become the next Rukia, a now strong-willed shinigami, left with only a faint shadow of her former unsteadily put together self. The boy would be his and his alone. Ishida would be his to adore, his to admire, and yes, Ishida would be his to break.
That was why he was crouching, uninvited, in the window of Ishida's bedroom. The boy was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chin, with his arms wrapped around his legs. Everything about him, from his porcelain skin to his choice of glasses over contacts screamed "Breakable: don't touch!" For several seconds, Hichigo was content just to watch the boy as he wondered what was on his mind. As fragile as he was, Ishida was always on alert. But now, he was staring vacantly into space as Hichigo remained unnoticed in the boy's flat. Walking over to the boy, he settled down across from him on the bed and continued to stare.
"What are you thinking about, Quincy?" At the sound of Hichigo's voice, Ishida's head snapped up and his deep blue eyes refocused. In less time than it took to blink, the archer was on his feet with a blue arrow pointed at Hichigo's bare chest, all signs of his mysterious trauma gone.
"What do you want, Hollow?" Ishida asked, glaring at the smirking figure on his bed.
"Nuh uh uh," Hichigo mocked, waving a finger in the air. "Let's not forget whose body this is, hm?" Before Ishida could react, the silver cross around his wrist had been yanked off and tossed effortlessly across the room. Grabbing both the boy's wrists with one ashen hand, Hichigo pinned the boy to the bed, hands held captive above his head. Much to Hichigo's delight, the boy was even lovelier up close. The scarce lighting in the room reflected off his glasses and emphasized the tiny flecks of lighter blue in his cobalt eyes. Those flecks reminded Hichigo of broken glass and he grinned, golden eyes shimmering in anticipation.
"Get off of me," Ishida hissed, struggling to free his arms.
"Shh… My pretty little Quincy, you're much more irresistible when you don't speak." In the moment it took Ishida to decide whether or not to be insulted by that statement, Hichigo had conjured up a red retisu ribbon – Ichigo's retisu – and had begun tying the boy's hands to the metal headboard. Feeling the restraint around his wrists, Ishida's eyes widened with realization. It was then that Hichigo decided that such a look, like a deer in headlights, was something that seemed to fit perfectly on the archer's delicate features. The look of absolute terror, along with the knowledge that he was powerless to stop what he knew was coming, was one that suited the boy well. His eyes – Hichigo frowned. Reaching up and removing the annoying object that was obstructing his view of those lovely panic-stricken eyes, he placed the glasses on the night table next to the bed. Squinting slightly in an attempt to repair his vision, Ishida looked blind and helpless. A wicked grin spread across Hichigo's features as he summoned up another retisu ribbon. Blind, he could arrange that. All the while, the fear of the boy held captive underneath him grew.
"Why…how are you…where's Ichigo?" The superior tone that Hichigo had come to expect of the archer had vanished, voice coming out instead like a pitiful whimper. His composure: broken; the first crack in the boy's fragile shell.
"Sorry, sweetheart," Hichigo whispered, leaning over to nip playfully at a pale earlobe, reveling in the obvious disgust of the resulting shudder. "Ichigo's not home right now." Stretching the retisu ribbon across the Ishida's eyes, he could only think of one drawback to this attempt at making the boy as beautifully vulnerable as possible. For the rest of the night, he was going to wonder about just how the Quincy looked with his eyes clouded with lust.
Tying off the red ribbon, one of Hichigo's hands found its way to the collar of Ishida's shirt while the other slipped past the shirt's bottom hem and slid across a toned stomach and lightly muscled chest. Running one finger down the length of the material, Hichigo found that all of the buttons on it had been replaced with metal fasteners and he smirked. Buttons would have been too ordinary anyway.
Allowing his hands to graze the boy's pale skin one more time, he viciously attacked the junction between Ishida's neck and his shoulder with his mouth, his fingers latching onto the shirt's metal fasteners just long enough to pull them apart to reveal more and more of his flawless pale skin. Enjoying the sensation of the boy squirming nervously underneath him, Hichigo allowed his hands to roam freely across the boy's abdomen, letting the heat radiating off of the boy warm his ice-cold hands. Lips trailing kisses across Ishida's collarbone and down his chest, his hands made their way to the waistband of the Quincy's pants. That seemed to be a wakeup call for the archer, as he immediately started fighting harder. However, Hichigo had too great of a hold on him and his struggles proved useless. Reluctantly submitting, (though even reluctant seemed too mild a word) the boy's dignity cracked and crashed around him, joining what was left of his composure.
Undoing the clasp of the boy's pants, Hichigo pulled them down, along with his boxers, in one fluid motion, quickly detangling them from around Ishida's ankles. Looking down, he was almost surprised to find that the archer was already hard, despite the fact that he clearly didn't want to be in such a vulnerable position. But, of course, it was Ichigo's body he was in; the Qunicy would have reacted to it weather he wanted to or not.
Running his tongue sensually up the length, he smirked at the loud, uncontrolled moan that left the boy's lips. He watched amusedly as the archer quickly bit his lip, ashamed of what he had just done. Forcing Ishida's knees apart with his hands, Hichigo made quick work of his own pants before lying down between the Quincy's slender legs. Taking in the sight of the boy, trapped and helpless, he gave the boy's length a few quick strokes, enjoying the muffled gasps of pleasure, before turning his attention to his own member, straining against the archer's leg.
Not bothering with much preparation, Hichigo quickly slicked two fingers with spit and pushed them through the boy's hole, impatience getting the best of him as he pulled them out with a feral growl before positioning himself in front of Ishida's entrance instead. In one swift upward movement, Hichigo was fully sheathed. The Quincy's anguished cries of pain, distorting themselves to his own warped notions, reached his ears as something not unlike the melodious sounds of glass splintering a split-second before shattering and hitting the ground like tiny shards of solid rain.
When he started to move, he could feel the violent shudders wracking the archer's small frame. No longer a sole consequence of disgust, Hichigo could hear the undertones of pleasure in the boy's gasps, the traces of pain in his tears. Unable to control his own senses with Hichigo relentlessly ramming his prostate, the blood running down Ishida's bottom lip was only a minor inconvenience when compared to the number of screams it was keeping locked in his throat. However, he could feel himself coming close to completion, however badly he wanted his body to stop reacting to the other's sinful touch.
With one last well-angled thrust, Ishida came, lips parted in a silent scream, his seed splattering onto both their stomachs. With one look at the Quincy's face, tear-streaked and riddled with ecstasy, Hichigo came on the spot, shooting his load deep into the boy underneath him. However, Hichigo gave no sign of having climaxed, save for an almost inaudible sigh that may or may not have been the other's given name. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the archer and drank in the sight, etching into his mind the exact moment the boy came, pride splintering as he rode out his orgasm. In that split-second, Hichigo had memorized everything about him, from his tears spilling out from under the blindfold to the way his lithe body quivered in a mixed response to his orgasm and the cold. In that moment, the exact moment the boy withdrew his pride – the only thing left that was holding him together – and shattered underneath him, Ishida was beautiful, perfect.
Pulling out, Hichigo leaned over the now still boy and cleaned up the mess on his stomach with his tongue. Sliding off the bed, he grabbed a stray piece of cloth off the floor and proceeded to clean between the Ishida's legs, surprised not to be meeting any form of resistance. Wiping off his own torso, Hichigo pulled on his pants and walked around to the other side of the bed so he could untie the archer's hands. Pulling the red retisu ribbon out of its knot, he watched as it disappeared from between his fingers before gently lowering the boy's arms into a more comfortable position. He contemplated putting on Ishida's boxers, but thought better of it when he caught a glimpse of the handmade quilt on the boy's night table. Unfolding the quilt, Hichigo laid it gently on top of him before pulling off the retisu ribbon that had served the purpose of a blindfold. A small smile graced the Hollow's lips. His prized toy had fallen asleep, eyelashes casting tiny shadows across his cheeks. Stepping up to the windowsill, Hichigo took one last look at the sleeping boy before hopping out the window, eager to return Ichigo's body to his bed and resume his position in the boy's head before he had the chance to figure out what had happened.
That encounter was everything Hichigo had imagined, and yet it had left him unsatisfied; he wanted, no, needed more. With Ishida in such a state, even someone as dense as Ichigo had to take notice, and he counted on his King to do what he was best at and put the fragmented boy back together. Still even if he couldn't, it wasn't too much of a problem.
After all, he could still play with the pieces.
Author's Note: Well, how obvious was it that this was my first lemon? Reviews please, I want to know how I did!