A/N: Still on a rampage for weird ideas. xD Sequel to 'Speechless'. Hope you enjoy.
Lamb
Smuggling cigarettes from the world of the living wasn't nearly as hard as most people thought it would be. Down in the mercantile, material, overwhelming universe where so few dead chose to go out of pure interest alone, Gin liked to wander every once in a while, often returning with a few spoils that were close to impossible to find among the spirits. Where whims were concerned, opium was probably easier to access here, yet although the occasional craving for a little oblivion and light-headedness did appear sometimes, it was generally not something Gin enjoyed. In fact, he happened to detest it. Being high, as people referred to the feeling nowadays, meant less control over yourself and the people around you – and this was one of the situations which Gin would absolute hate putting himself into. He was no fool, after all, and he did not fancy placing his fate in the hands of others… By contrast, the bitter, vile taste of tobacco, the undertaste of corruption and sex which poured from every stick – these had a strange and addictive appeal that Gin didn't mind surrendering to.
"Ya can't keep refusin' ta eat, ya know," Ichimaru trailed off as he took a long drag from his cigarette and held the smoke into his lungs while regarding his captive's face with exaggerated suavity. So far, regardless of what Gin had been saying or not, Toushiro had done a very good job at ignoring his presence. Seated as he was at the edge of a hard, uncomfortable wooden chair, right across from Gin, who had happily taken the bed, the boy said nothing, fumbling lazily with the sleeve of his overly long robe instead. Ever since he'd been publically and repeatedly beaten, mocked and forced, he'd hardly spoken a word, preserving his voice for few special occasions of cursing and several vindictive lines that had only done so much as to amuse Ichimaru. It was pleasing to see that some of the swelling on the kid's face had gone down over the past few days, but the bruises were still visible, and even though he was clean and dressed now, Toushiro still looked very little like the powerful tenth division captain that Gin was used to dealing with in the good old days. The change didn't necessarily mean the boy had lost his feisty temper – that much Gin was morbidly happy to have established already – but the air of authority was hardly more than a flicker now, and what was left underneath was raw, unpolished, unbidden, indestructible anger and hatred.
Pride.
The smoke escaped Gin's lips in a thin, languidly released spiral that spread out above their heads into a lazily dissipating fog. Toushiro grimaced a little at the smell – he clearly wasn't enjoying it very much, but he wouldn't go as far as to ask Ichimaru to stop, which, ironically, the fox would've done if the problem had actually been brought up at any point. As it was, he just carried on enjoying his fix.
"Ya want to ask, jus' ask," Gin nudged softly after a few more quiet minute. The end of his sentence came out mildly curly with laughter as his grin slowly stretched out further and further, wider and wider; becoming tooth by tooth the mouth of a beast. Toushiro's lashes fluttered uneasily at the prompt and although he was staring to the side and at a point on the floor, his jaw visibly tightened along with the muscles in his shoulders. "Go ahead. Ya kno' ya wanna…"
The silence beat by, one pulse of the heart after the other. Throb-throb-throb-
Still, there was nothing - Toushiro's stubbornness was disappointingly unyielding. At the end Gin let out a long dramatic sigh and straightened his back, his eyes running up and down the boy's seated figure. It struck Gin then, that the kid almost looked like a patient in an asylum. He owned nothing of his own; no clothing that fit him, no identity, not even a pair of shoes. His bare feet were only protected from the cold by two mismatched wool socks Gin had located from somewhere, and the robe he was wearing was more akin to one meant for bed than proper attire. Nevertheless, even with the splotches of black and blue, the makeshift bandage around his two broken fingers and the stupid assembly of an outfit he was forced to bear, his dignity had miraculously remained intact.
Gin couldn't possibly fathom how a lamb could be so self-willed even with the butcher in the room.
"They are fine," the former third captain said at last, feeling generous for no particular reason. "Both Matsumoto and Hinamori escaped. Ya're the only one that's been taken alive."
Toushiro's eyes finally drifted towards him and Gin thought he saw some strange softening in the turquoise irises, an exposure of brief vulnerability that opened up further as a long, heavy sigh of relief tore from the boy's chest. Gin's brow arched up at the reaction, some sort of curiosity, mixed with cruelty nibbling at his insides as he regarded the other and slowly sucked another dose of poisonous smoke into his body.
"Nobody will come fo' ya, though," he said, so gently it could've been a caress. "Matsumoto might mourn fo' ya, Hinamori could possibly break from her daze of 'Aizen-taicho betrayal' to feel sad for a bit, but ultimately they won't even consider initiating a rescue mission ta get ya. Ya're not an important piece on the board, pet. Ya're not one of Kurosaki's precious friends, either. Ya're jus'-" Mine. Gin's hand reached out, landing on Toushiro's bare knee and pushing up forcefully, bunching the fabric that was in the way to grip the younger's thigh. "Lamb. An' sooner o' later ya'll be eaten like one."
The might with which Toushiro shoved his hand off himself caught Ichimaru slightly off guard, but he was prepared for the assault when next thing the smaller male did was launch for the man's throat. Gin's laughter erupted like a snarl through the entire room as he grabbed on the reaching hands and squeezed, pulling down sharply till the white-haired shinigami collapsed on the mattress beside him, face up. Physically, Toushiro's strength simply could not match him, and Ichimaru had no trouble pinning the child's left wrist above his head and pressing a forearm across the youth's throat to keep him down. By the time he was sure Toushiro could not move, the little captain was breathing heavily – more from anger than actual exhaustion, his face turned unwillingly away as he pressed his mouth shut and refused to speak. Gin still had a cigarette balanced between his lips, though it had nearly burnt out by now, and he took it away, dropping it carelessly beside the bed without shifting his gaze from the boy.
"Is this what ya wanted?" Gin teased, emphasizing his point by pushing Toushiro's legs apart with his knees. He watched the boy's eyes squeeze shut, a visible sheen of pallor falling over his face although he once again refused to indulge the traitor with an answer, just waiting for what was going to happen next. Gin could see it so clearly on his face – the resignation, the resistance, the need to stay numb, all embedded into this one speechless expression. Toushiro was expecting it, but he could still not accept, fully and truly, what had been done and might still be done to, with, through his body. Perhaps he was trying to assign it all to a passing nightmare. Perhaps he had just allowed himself the luxury to deny the violation and the shame which came with it.
Perhaps Gin was wrong, and therefore just utterly blind for the boy's suffering. It wouldn't be the first time; it would most certainly not be the last.
With the memory of the rape still echoing from somewhere deep inside his head, Gin didn't move for a long time, just staring at the person beneath him and letting his thoughts run, spiral, split and expand till none of them made sense and not a single idea followed a logical pattern. Eventually, something odd and unfamiliar settled in his stomach – a feeling that he didn't recognize but which he didn't particularly dislike yet. "Ah, pet," he murmured finally, his grin never once faltering as he watched Toushiro's eyes crack open apprehensively to regard him. "If ya'd only have yer dinner without any issues, we wouldn't have to go through all this…"
And to rest his case with no additional hassle, he got off the boy, picked the blackened cigarette butt off the floor, and left the room.