Ichigo gasps and his eyes fly open, back arching painfully. All he can see is off-white walls bathed in a soft yellow light with no identifiable source, even as he collapses back to what he assumes is an equally off-white floor. He coughs and then heaves several deep breaths as he rolls over to get his arms underneath him.
What the hell? What had that been? There had been the bright white light as Aizen prepared to kill him and then… that.
Seriously, what the fuck?
He'd get the whole watch your life flash before your eyes thing, but that hadn't been anywhere close to his past. That had been a future or… something. He didn't even…
"Kurosaki!"
He startles and whips his head up, eyes focusing on an approaching – and clearly pissed – Aizen. Ichigo jerks up and makes it to his knees before the traitor lashes out, grabs a handful of his shinigami uniform, and hauls him up the rest of the way.
"What have you done?" Aizen hisses, brown eyes narrowed and everything about him radiating danger.
Maybe he has no sense of self-preservation but he doesn't even think before shoving Aizen away from him, forcing the traitor to release him as he glares right back. "What have I done? That's my line, bastard! What the hell was that?!"
Enough!
Something sweeps his legs out from under him and sends him crashing to the ground with a yelp, barely catching himself on his arms. He pushes back up to his knees and looks around for the source of the mental shout, noting with no small satisfaction that Aizen is on the ground as well. The room they're in is fairly small, though the walls seem to blur if he looks at them too closely, and there aren't any visible doors or windows. It also seems to be unoccupied apart from them.
"I'm here."
He jerks his head around to look in the direction of the voice and immediately wonders how he missed the person standing there the first time. He's between Aizen and Ichigo's height and seems to be emitting white light from his very pores, softening every line of his body and making it hard to pin down anything about his appearance. Long hair falls down his back and he's in some kind of white clothing, though Ichigo can't tell what it is. Golden eyes are watching him, hard and just barely narrowed, though they flick to Aizen when the traitor stands.
"And you are?" Aizen asks, superiority in each line of his stance and tone.
The person – being – grins, steps closer, and Aizen gives a small sound of frustration as his right leg buckles and he's forced to one knee. "You can call me God or King, Aizen."
No way. The King?
The being steps back again, eyes glancing between the two of them. "Not of your universe. Your world doesn't have a King yet, that's why I'm here." He can't help staring as the King sits down onto what looks like a chair of pure energy, one leg crossing over the other. "Here's the deal, this is how the post of King works. Hush, Aizen, I know that you've researched this but you're wrong."
Aizen's mouth snaps shut with an almost audible click. Irritation is sharp in his brown eyes but it's tempered with almost equally sharp curiosity. The King watches the traitor for a moment, ensuring that he'll remain silent, before continuing.
"Good. The King acts as a balancing force for the universe. He, or she, is what keeps all the different worlds in balance and makes sure they don't fall to ruin. This is a destiny sort of thing. You're either the one who's supposed to be the King, or you aren't. No one who isn't supposed to be the King can ascend to the throne, but those who are supposed to don't have to. The King keeps the balance until a new King is chosen, and there's a set person every few thousand years or so. There are at least a couple thousand different universes, probably more, and at least one has to get it right."
"Here's where things get interesting. Any universe that doesn't get it right vanishes as soon as one does – which is a good thing because all those other worlds have fallen into ruin and war. Then an entirely new set of universes is born as if the old ones made the right choices, and life continues. Understand so far?"
Ichigo gives a hesitant nod and Aizen echoes it. The irritation has mostly vanished from the older man's gaze and instead his eyes are thoughtful and turned down to the ground. "Then what happens if there is no universe where the rightful King has ascended?" he asks softly, looking up at the King.
"All reality is wiped clean and we start over from scratch with completely different people. We, cease to exist." Ichigo can't help shuddering but Aizen only shifts to sit cross legged, studying the King.
"Unless you decided to deceive us for some reason, you said you were the King. We should be set for this round unless you're the previous King, though I'd imagine you'd look older if you were."
The King laughs, golden eyes lighting with amusement. "Not necessarily, but I'm not the last King, he was gone by the time I got there. I'm this round's King, but I'm not all of this round's King and I was getting around to explaining that. On rare occasions there isn't a single person with a soul capable of balancing the universe, occasionally there are two people."
Horrible suspicion settles in Ichigo's stomach and the King looks over at him with a smirk as if sensing it. "Yeah, you get it. The both of you, together, are the King for this round." The King stands as Ichigo stares in shock, smirk vanishing. "You're pretty much polar opposites, and that's just enough to balance the world if you put it all together. Now I've tried this with a couple other universes and you're both stubborn asses so there's no point just talking to you."
Aizen stands, irritation once more in his eyes, and Ichigo scrambles to his feet as well as the traitor begins to talk. "If you think I'm going to share my throne with Kurosaki–"
"You guys are soul mates! I'm God, I know this shit, so suck it up and deal." Aizen flinches in shock, eyes widening, and then his eyes narrow to mere slits.
"Kurosaki is a child and I'm not that–"
The King once again cuts him off, rolling his eyes. "Oh please. Our little tour will prove you wrong but that's not what soul mates means, anyway. You aren't fated to be together or anything, it just means that your two souls are linked and you will inevitably be important to each other in some way, regardless of the universe. Now, let's get going!"
Ichigo comes to a sudden realization, staring at the King, and the gold eyes flick to him with amusement dancing in their depths. "Wait, you're-"
The floor drops out from under him and he falls into darkness before he can finish the thought.
"Ichigo?"
Ichigo sways on his feet for a moment before shaking his head, looking up to focus on Aizen. The older, wealthier, and stronger man is looking at him with narrowed eyes over his book, glasses perched low on his nose.
"Sorry, Aizen-sama, just a bit of a head-rush," he bows his head, hand tightening around the rag he's been using to clean the desk he's standing by, "I'll be done in just a minute."
Aizen carefully marks his place in the book and sets it down on the small table beside the armchair he's sitting in. "Don't bother with that, come here." He obeys, setting the rag down and approaching the lord, eyes lowered in feigned respect. Aizen reaches up and grasps his wrist as he stops before him, lightly tracing a thumb over his pulse point. "I bought you as a servant, Ichigo, not my maid. There's no need for you to clean anything unless I order it."
It's strange, almost unbearably so. Aizen had bought him just a little less than three days ago and he's still finding it hard to adjust to the lord's tastes. Aizen hasn't so much as touched him in any kind of sexual sense, doesn't even seem to want to, and that's not even half of his weird behavior. Aizen doesn't mind if he talks, or asks questions or offers suggestions, in fact he encourages it so long as he remembers his place. Like he could ever forget that he's a slave – even if Aizen says servant – or that he has no actual say in his life since being sold that first time.
"Aizen-sama…" he starts, and Aizen gives a slight nod – permission for him to continue. "No offense, and I'm sorry for not knowing, but what am I supposed to be doing?"
Aizen gives a soft smile, gently tugging him down by his wrist to kneel beside his legs. He hates it but doesn't fight, obediently sinking to his knees under the pull. The goal is to convince Aizen that he's a loyal and tamed slave and to make him relax his guard. This is it, the final goal in his long undercover work. If they – him and the other members of the rebellion – can take down Aizen, the lord who runs the slave trade, they'll have completed an impressive accomplishment and be able to rest for awhile. It's just this, just today. He calls to confirm it with Renji at noon and then this place gets swarmed by rebels the moment it hits six.
Aizen releases him and strokes a gentle hand across his cheek. "Nothing, Ichigo." He looks up in surprise and the lord gives a small smirk. "I don't expect you to be a mind-reader, and I certainly don't expect you to find ways to keep yourself busy for my benefit. As my servant all I ask is that you stay in the room with me unless I say otherwise and obey the orders I do give you. Hesitate if you want, ask me why I'm giving them if you want, and so long as I haven't given you something to do you are welcome to entertain yourself. Though I'd appreciate it if you kept the noise level down."
He swallows as Aizen reaches for his book again, watching the older man as he lays it open on his lap. "Really?" He stiffens after realizing he's forgotten to include Aizen's title, which was one of the very first things they'd beaten into him when he started this whole cursed adventure and got himself sold into slavery for his damn cause.
Aizen, however, doesn't even look up. "Of course, Ichigo. Though if you plan to strip or sweat in any fashion let me know. I'd like to watch." The whole thing is delivered in a dry murmur without as much as a glance up at him, and it takes a moment for Ichigo to register it as a joke. When it does register he relaxes, letting out a soft sigh of relief and leaning forwards against the chair and the side of Aizen's leg.
The lord shifts and he tenses again, recalling one of the other rules his last master had insisted on and wondering if Aizen is going to hurt him for daring to touch without permission. He flinches as Aizen's hand settles on his head and then begins to softly card through his hair. He slowly relaxes as it becomes clear that the older man isn't going to hurt him, closing his eyes against Aizen's thigh and allowing himself to lean more comfortably against the chair.
It should probably irritate him that he's kneeling on the ground and letting Aizen pet him like some kind of cat, but Ichigo can't bring himself to care. He's so tired, so utterly exhausted from the years and years he's put into this assignment and the utter hell it's been, that being allowed to just relax is glorious. He's done with all this, more than ready to go back to his life and actually live it.
Before he knows it he's fallen into a half-asleep state to the soft stroke of Aizen's hand and the quiet beat of his own heart. It isn't until he's gently shaken and Aizen calls his name that he snaps back to awareness.
His eyes flick open and he jerks up from his comfortable position against the chair. "I, I'm sorry, Aizen-sama!" He shakes his head to clear the lingering fog of sleep and Aizen easily catches his chin, tilting his head up to connect their eyes.
"Did I ask you to do something, Ichigo?"
He hesitates, "I don't… think so."
Aizen raises an eyebrow and gives a soft smile. "Then you don't have to apologize, do you? If you don't hear me I'll know it and make sure to have your attention before I repeat the command. I will punish you for ignoring me, but never simply for not hearing, understood?"
"Yes, Aizen-sama."
The lord gives a satisfied nod and releases him, getting to his feet and motioning for him to do the same. "Good, now come with me. I believe it's about time for lunch, don't you?"
"If you wish, Aizen-sama." Aizen glances at him with sharp eyes and he almost flinches under the look, barely managing to restrain the reaction.
Aizen leaves the room and he silently follows as the lord easily navigates his home – manor, really – to the kitchen, leaning in the doorway. There's a single cook in the room, a tall man with long blonde hair held behind his back in a loose ponytail that's crouched before the open oven. "Il Forte, time frame?"
The man jumps, slamming the oven shut as he whirls on the spot, brown eyes wide. "Holy!" Il Forte clears his throat, straightening up, and gives a shallow bow of his head. "Ten or so minutes, Aizen-sama."
Aizen nods and steps out of the room, walking to the next door which opens into a small dining area with a table that has six chairs around it. Aizen moves to sit at one end as he hovers at the door, uncertain where he's supposed to go. He doesn't see any specific place for him, only the single table. Aizen looks up, obviously noting his uncertainty, and gestures at the chair to his left.
"Sit down, Ichigo."
He's voicing his confusion before he can stop himself. "At the table, Aizen-sama?"
Slight confusion flickers in the lord's eyes and one elegant eyebrow rises. "Yes, Ichigo."
He obeys, feeling tremendously awkward as he slides into the offered chair, clasping his hands in his lap. Aizen places an elbow on the table and props his head against his hand, watching Ichigo with narrowed eyes. He almost squirms under the studying look before he manages to pull up the control his very first trainer had beaten into him and endure the examination.
"I think it's time we talk about your previous masters, Ichigo." He winces without thought and then almost does it again as he realizes the breach of another of the founding rules. Always show respect to your master, former or present.
"What would you like to know, Aizen-sama?" he asks softly, letting his eyes fall to the table.
"Let's start with rules. What did your last master enforce?"
Oh, too many rules to count. "Noitora-sama?" Aizen nods and he swallows, feeling his shoulders draw in a little at the memory of the brutal lord. "Obey all orders without question, don't speak or touch anything without permission, always refer and speak to him with respect. Never make eye contact unless ordered, always be ready to serve without hesitation." There were others, minor things, but those had been the worst.
"And your duties?"
He gives a small shrug, risking a glance up at Aizen. The older man's eyes are still narrowed, studying, but there's no anger or displeasure that he can see. "Whatever I was ordered to do, as well as keeping his rooms spotless."
Aizen makes a soft noise of understanding. "That would explain the random cleaning. Why your aversion to the table?"
He grits his teeth for a moment before speaking, carefully wiping all trace of anger from his tone. "My previous masters either had a separate table for the slaves or – more often – fed me on the ground, Aizen-sama. Eating at the same table as my master implies equality that isn't there."
Aizen sighs and this time he can't help flinching. "Look at me, Ichigo." He looks up and Aizen's eyes are soft and compassionate enough to make him inhale sharply in surprise. "We've gone over the whole questioning orders bit, so I won't repeat that, but let me clarify the rest." Aizen pulls his elbow off the table and leans back in his chair, one leg idly crossing over the other. "You are always welcome to speak to me, though I would prefer you not when I'm on the phone or in a meeting unless it is exceedingly important, you do not need to ask permission. You may touch anything you wish, though I will punish you for breaking or damaging anything of mine, keep that in mind. I will tell you if you aren't allowed to touch or read something, but for the most part those things will be locked up anyway."
"As to referring to me with respect, I appreciate it. However I will not punish you for forgetting that unless it is a repeat offence, and the punishment will be light. I actually prefer you look me in the eye, it will allow you to read my moods better and me to read yours as well. As we covered, unless you're doing something I ordered you're welcome to entertain yourself, if something irritates me I will tell you to stop. If, after I've told you to stop, you do it again, I will punish you. I don't expect you to clean anything unless I tell you to, that's what I have maids for. Finally, you will always eat at the same table as me unless I'm having a dinner with other lords. If that occurs, you'll eat either before or afterwards. Am I understood?"
He barely manages to nod, shock and relief heavy in his chest. "Yes, Aizen-sama… Thank you."
Aizen reaches over and strokes a very gentle hand across his cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you unless you earn it, Ichigo. The same rule goes for all of my servants, and ideally, it will soon go for all other masters as well."
He jerks slightly and Aizen gives him a knowing smirk. "I don't suppose you knew about that, did you? As soon as I finalize the draft I'm working on I'll be introducing new laws governing the ownership of slaves. It should make things much better, though I doubt I'll be too popular among the other lords."
He can't seem to breathe, the revelation freezing his lungs. Aizen is trying to better treatment of slaves? Why? He owns the entire market, what would policing it better possibly do for him? There's no possible reason he can see for the lord to do this. In fact it might make owning a slave less popular and in the end earn him less money, so why would Aizen not only get behind but actually initiate this change?
Oh god, and they're going to kill him before he can do it. Ichigo swallows, unable to break Aizen's gaze. What are they actually accomplishing here? Sure, it's quite the statement, but in the end all that will happen is someone else will take over the business and things will be just the way they were. But if Aizen lives then within – probably – weeks he'll be forcing through new laws that will, what exactly?
"What will the laws do?" he asks, and there's definitely more demand in the question than there should be for any slave who's been through as many masters as he has but he can't manage to curb it. Aizen doesn't seem to care, brown eyes deep and mildly amused.
"They'll institute a list of rules that slaves must follow, and specific physical punishment levels for breaking each one, along with limiting what a master can do to a slave under the name of 'punishment'. Masters must petition the lord's counsel to add specialty rules, approved by a majority, and those rules apply only to the specific slave they were requested for. In addition slaves will be able to testify at court cases, even against their own masters if required. It will also make it mandatory to have certain living conditions for a slave, including their own room and bed with a door that cannot be locked from either side."
The lord smirks and tilts his head slightly, eyes glittering at his expression. "What, Ichigo? Do you not believe me? I can pull out my rough draft if you like so you can read it."
Ichigo forces himself to shake his head and finally lower his eyes away from Aizen's all-too-knowing gaze. "No, Aizen-sama, I believe you."
It's probably a good thing that the food arrives right then, Il Forte sliding past a swinging door on the far side of the room and walking in with a plate in each hand. "Lunch, Aizen-sama, Ichigo-san."
Aizen's eyes turn away from him, rising to the blonde servant. "Thank you, Il Forte." The plates are set before them, the servant whipping out forks from somewhere and laying them next to each plate.
"Enjoy! I'd like to talk to you within a few days Ichigo-san so you can tell me what types of food you prefer, alright?"
He numbly nods and Il Forte leaves, Aizen immediately turning and giving a small smile. "Dig in, Ichigo."
He looks down at the plate – pasta of some kind with white sauce over it and bits of chicken – and reaches for the fork. It feels strange in his hand after his time with Noitora, sadistic bastard, and it takes him a few moments to remember exactly how to hold it but as soon as he gets it positioned right it all floods back. It had only been Noitora who had forbid him from using utensils, and he'd only been with that fucker for three or four months before he'd pulled the rest of the rebels in to kill him.
He eats in silence – and damn the food is good – with only occasional glances up at Aizen. Most of the times the lord is just as focused on his food as he is, but every once in awhile he'll look up and catch Aizen just watching him. The older man's eyes are always slightly narrowed, thoughtful and distant. That gaze weighs heavy on his shoulders even when he knows Aizen isn't looking at him, and he gets the impression that he's the only thing on the lord's mind.
Eventually Aizen sets down his fork and pushes away from the table, he almost flinches at the sudden noise. "Done, Ichigo?"
Actually, yes. Somehow, while he'd been distracted with Aizen and thoughts of Aizen, his entire plate of food had managed to disappear. "Yes, Aizen-sama."
The lord smirks and gets to his feet, Ichigo quickly follows him to standing and then out of the room. The dishes are left on the table, where he assumes Il Forte will pick them up once they've left. Aizen leads the way, with him staying two or three steps behind, back to the door of his room. He pauses at the door and turns back to Ichigo, eyes dark and serious.
"I'll be taking a shower, Ichigo. Keep out of trouble and don't leave the house, I'll find you when I'm done."
"You don't, want me with you, Aizen-sama?" he asks cautiously, hope flaring in his chest, and Aizen gives a quiet chuckle.
"Of course I do, Ichigo. How could anyone not?" The lord steps closer, reaching out to slide fingers around the back of his neck. He swallows thickly as Aizen presses him firmly but gently back against the wall, free hand slipping to his waist and toying with the edge of his black button-up shirt. The lord leans down and kisses him, pressing him hard against the wall and easily sliding a single knee between his legs. He can't help the low moan that slips from him as Aizen's hand slips under his shirt and he feels the older man smirk into the kiss, pressing a little harder. But the moment Aizen's hand slips down to his ass he flinches sharply, unpleasant memories of all his other masters rising to the front of his mind.
Aizen stills and then pulls back, releasing him and stepping away. "But I'm afraid the temptation would simply be too much for me, and you're not ready." Ready? No one has ever cared about him being ready or not, or even willing for that matter. It's the law, slaves have to obey. Aizen straightens his own shirt and then reaches out to straighten Ichigo's as well, smirking. "Unless you are ready, in which case feel free to join me. However I have the suspicion that you're not. I should be done around one, I'll find you."
The lord slips into his room and the door shuts firmly behind him. He stares after Aizen for a few moments before stepping away from the wall, shaking his head. He might as well take advantage of the free time, he's supposed to contact Renji around now anyway.
He heads down the corridor towards where he knows – having memorized the layout of the building beforehand – Aizen's personal study is. Of all the phones in the house the one in there is least likely to be monitored or recorded, and he can't afford to be caught this late in the game. The house is surprisingly silent despite the fact that he knows Aizen has at least four other slaves and three legitimate servants-slash-staff. Add to that all the staff he must not know about and he should at least be able to hear someone. It makes him vaguely nervous and he can't help but slow his stride and look surreptitiously around as he reaches the door. It's not marked at all, but this should be it.
He tries the polished bronze knob, mildly surprised to find it unlocked, and steps inside the room. Filing cabinets made of some kind of dark wood are scattered around the room, framing a prominent desk made of some even darker wood. There's a computer and, just as he hoped, a landline phone sitting beside it. He moves inwards and listens carefully for a brief moment before picking up the phone. He carefully dials the number and raises the phone to his ear, it rings twice before abruptly going straight to voicemail.
"Ichi, yer late and I'm coming by, see you soon." It clicks off, the robotic voice starting to inform him of the proper way to leave a voicemail, and he hangs up, biting back a curse.
Of course Renji would pick the far more dangerous way instead of just waiting for him to call. There's legitimate reason – theoretically – for Renji to stop by, since he's Kuchiki Byakuya's primary slave. Not that anyone knows the frigid, practically royal, lord is backing them. He's their biggest source of funding and silent support, but he'll drop them in a second if he's suspected of anything. Just because Renji can stop by doesn't mean he should. It's an enormous risk, and of course, the thick-headed bastard is doing it.
Well, he'd better go find the idiot.
He carefully replaces the phone and leaves the office, making his way back towards the entrance hall. Yeah, entrance hall, Aizen is absurdly wealthy. The manor is still strangely quiet and void of people, he doesn't hear a thing or see as much as a glimpse of anyone the whole way there. The main double door opens literally just as he enters the entrance hall, which is done all in white with wooden floors that are nearly black. Renji steps in, horribly out of place with his long red hair free around his shoulders, though his black butler uniform blends in nicely. Ichigo moves to intercept him, praying he won't say anything damning in front of the cameras he knows are scattered across the entire manor.
Luckily, Renji has a fraction more tact than that. "Hey, I'm here to see Lord Aizen, he here?"
Ichigo nods, bowing his head a little. "I'll inform Aizen-sama of your presence, sir…?"
"Abarai Renji, I've got a message from Lord Kuchiki."
He bows, hating the airs required to keep from betraying himself in front of the cameras. "I'll be right back, sir."
He leaves the room, heading back to Aizen's room and entering it. He can hear the shower from the adjoining bathroom and he winces but moves towards the noise. To keep up appearances he has to interrupt the lord.
He turns the knob and steps in, eyes falling automatically to the shower. There's no curtain, or door, so there's nothing to impede his view of Aizen. And what a view. The older man is completely naked, head under the spray and eyes closed, water streaming down his frame. Aizen's half-turned away, just enough that he can't see the lord's cock, but the ass he can see is firm and round. Ichigo has to swallow at the muscles on display, yards and yards of them, all defined and obviously powerful. Aizen's surprisingly built for being a wealthy lord, enough so that Ichigo can't help feeling a bit envious. Riches tend to make you lazy, but obviouslynot in this case. He wouldn't be surprised if Aizen could pin him with nothing but brute strength, and isn't that a nice mental image.
He's snapped out of his ogling by a deep chuckle, audible even over the spray of water. He jerks his gaze upwards and flushes as he meets Aizen's eyes, the amusement and traces of lust in the lord's look only making him flush harder.
"Enjoying the view, Ichigo?" He averts his gaze, cheeks burning, and hears Aizen step out of the shower. "Decide to join me after all?"
Ichigo can't help looking back and nearly melts into a puddle on the floor at the sight. If he'd thought the view before was nice, then this was heavenly. Seeing Aizen moving towards him, smirking and clearly predatory, his muscles moving smoothly beneath his pale skin – well, not pale but still fairly white as opposed to tanned – and trickles of water sliding down his still wet body. His cock swings between his legs as he walks, and even limp it's still impressive – he can only imagine what it would be like when erect.
He forces his eyes upwards as Aizen stops – way too close – and has to bite back a moan. Aizen's brown eyes are dark and slightly lidded, and his hair is nearly black with moisture and plastered to his skull. Regardless of the shit his other masters put him through Ichigo cannot deny that Aizen is absurdly handsome. If things were different, and Aizen and he were on even footing, he'd try for a night with the lord in a second.
He shivers when Aizen reaches out and slides his right hand around the back of his neck, leaning down and kissing him. He nearly just steps forward and lets the lord do whatever he likes, but instead manages – barely – to pull back a little and raise his right hand to press against Aizen's bare chest. Aizen lets him retreat the few inches, though his eyes silently demand an explanation.
He swallows thickly, both regretting and most certainly not regretting putting his hand on Aizen's chest. "There's an Abarai Renji with a message for you, Aizen-sama," he manages to breathe out, struggling to keep his hand exactly where it is and not let it slide down to explore the rest of Aizen's very distracting frame.
Aizen chuckles and he can't help but shudder, jaw clenching for a brief moment. "Is that right?" The lord's free hand comes forward and undoes the first button of his shirt. Ichigo inhales shakily when Aizen traces the tips of his fingers over the exposed skin at his collar, dark brown eyes still holding his gaze. "Did he ask for me?" Aizen asks softly, and he barely notices that the older man is undoing the next button of his shirt.
"Yes, Aizen-sama."
"Mmmm… Well then," the lord kisses him again, murmuring against his lips, "I suppose I should go meet with him, shouldn't I?" Aizen's head lowers and the older man presses a soft kiss to the side of his throat before sharply biting into the skin over the left side of his exposed collarbone. He gasps at the sudden pain, left hand flying forward to grip Aizen's side as he gives a small jerk. Aizen draws back and releases his neck, smirk firmly in place and eyes glittering with amusement.
"Escort Abarai to the parlor, would you?" Aizen says softly and Ichigo mutely nods, not trusting his voice. Aizen's smirk grows a fraction and he feels the lord refasten the buttons he'd undone, each stray brush of his fingers sending a tiny burst of warmth into his skin. "It's the first door on your right when you leave the foyer, you passed it on your way back. I'm assuming of course that you ran into Abarai in the foyer…"
"Yeah," he chokes out after a moment, recalling that foyer is just the fancy way to refer to an entrance hall.
Aizen smoothes out Ichigo's shirt with a few long – and unnecessarily slow – strokes, eyes dark and heated. "Come back here when you're done." He forces himself to nod and Aizen gives a lazy smile that curls up at one edge. "You might want to release me if you intend to leave at any point, Ichigo."
He jerks his hands away as if burned, backing up a step, and feels his flush return in full force. "I… I'll be right back," he stammers and quickly retreats, Aizen's laugh chasing him out of the bathroom.
Once the door is closed he slumps against the wall next to it, letting out a shuddering breath. Dear god. He's never had anyone play him as expertly as that or invoke that much of a response from him so easily. The setting had certainly made it easier – and god he can still feel traces of moisture on the back of his neck from Aizen's hand – but still. He's seen other people – male and female – naked, wet, and obviously interested before but normally it still takes a good bit of cajoling to get him to be truly interested back. But Aizen…
He shudders and forces himself away from the wall and out of Aizen's room. He can't afford to waste time right now, he'll need all the time he can get to talk with Renji. He banishes all thoughts of arousal or Aizen's naked self from his mind – or tries to, with little success – and quickly makes his way back to the foyer. Renji looks up as he walks in from where he's leaning against the far wall, one eyebrow rising in question.
He inclines his head as the other man straightens up and moves with him. "Please come with me, Abarai-san."
Renji nods and walks over, following him as he backs out of the room. "So," the older man hisses through his teeth, "we still on for six?"
He leads the way down the corridor, going to the first door on the right – not more than twenty feet past the double doors that lead into the entrance hall. He pulls it open and steps aside to let the older man pass, stepping in after him and replying just as quietly, "I'm not sure it's a good idea, Renji."
Renji shoots him a mixed look of aggravation and confusion as he hisses, "Why the hell not? Does he know?"
He gives a miniscule shake of his head, glancing around the room for any cameras and – upon not finding any – closing the door. "I don't think so, but still…" Renji glares at him, moving further into the fairly small room and leaning back against one of the armchairs in the center of it. "I don't agree with his business, you know that, but I agree with his personal practices and I'm pretty sure he's trying to make those into law. I-"
"No!" Renji snaps, shoving off the armchair. "We've come too damn far, Ichigo! It'll all be fucking pointless if we stop now! But after this we can all go home, we can all relax for awhile!"
True enough.
He shoves down the doubts and swallows, meeting Renji's eyes. "Yeah, alright. I'll be back in a minute." He leaves before Renji can respond, trekking his way back down the corridors to Aizen's rooms, as he'd been ordered to do. The halls are still strangely silent and absent of people, and finally he starts to wonder why. The manor is big, enormous even, but not enough so that it should be muffling all noise from everyone in the house. The only theories that make sense are that the walls are soundproofed, Aizen's servants are absurdly quiet, or there's simply no one in the house. Wouldn't that be interesting, if Aizen just happened to not have any of his official staff here on the day they were planning to attack. What a coincidence.
He steps into Aizen's room, noting in the back of his mind – as he turns to close the door – that he can't hear the shower running. The second after that he realizes why. Aizen is coming back out of the walk-in closet beside his bed, black slacks lying low and unbuttoned across his hips – thankfully (or maybe not, he can't decide) with black underwear beneath – and a white dress shirt hanging open on his shoulders. The older man looks up at him as he stares, lips twitching upwards in the smirk he's becoming very familiar with.
"Welcome back." How, exactly, Aizen is capable of doing that thing with his voice where he manages to make everything sound rich and inviting, Ichigo doesn't know. "Abarai is waiting?"
He nods, cautiously moving closer to the lord. "Yes, Aizen-sama."
Aizen's hands move to the buttons on his shirt, doing them up, and a glint of devilish amusement enters his eyes. "Get my pants, would you, Ichigo?" He freezes for a brief moment before forcing himself to give a wordless nod, hating the flush that he can feel stealing into his cheeks. He stops before the lord, head ducking, and has to pause a moment to muster the courage to reach forward and zip up Aizen's slacks, popping the button through.
Why? Why is Aizen capable of turning him into a fucking teenage girl who blushes at any even vaguely sexual thing? For fuck's sake he's twenty-four, he's long past any hint of that stage. Besides, it's not like he's a virgin. Even if he had been when he'd started this whole terrible idea – which he most certainly wasn't since he'd been eighteen at the time – his previous masters had removed any hint of innocence he'd still had left.
Aizen simply should not be able to do this to him. But, he can.
Fuck.
"Why thank you, Ichigo…" Aizen all but purrs, and he has to repress a shudder as he steps away from the lord. "Let's go, shall we? Abarai – if I recall correctly – is not a very patient person." The amusement hasn't left the older man's eyes, Aizen knows damn well what he's doing.
He follows Aizen out the door and back down the corridor – and if he takes this route any more he's seriously going to memorize every aspect of it purely by accident – to the parlor, stepping forward as his first master had taught him – Soi Fon because they were sure she'd train him right – to open the door. Aizen gives him a nod of satisfaction, walks in, and he steps in behind the lord.
Renji stands from where he'd been sitting on the arm of one of the armchairs in the center of the room and gives a low bow. "Aizen-sama, thank you for seeing me despite the lack of notice."
Aizen strides into the center and takes a seat as he follows, moving to stand to the side and behind the lord. "Of course, Abarai. Now, I believe you have a message from your master, don't you?" He watches Renji give the tiniest of flinches, recalling that the older redhead despises being reminded of Byakuya's ownership of him and far superior rank. Must suck to have a lover that quite literally owns you.
"Yes, Aizen-sama. Kuchiki-sama is hosting a celebration of the younger Kuchiki-sama's birthday and sent me to extend an invitation." Rukia, and it is in fact pretty seriously convenient that her birthday provides an opportunity for Renji to come over. Byakuya's planning, no doubt.
Aizen raises an eyebrow. "A call would have sufficed. I'll attend, assuming it's not on a day I already have obligations. Send me the information and I'll inform your master of my answer."
That same tiny flinch before Renji bows, his hair falling loose around his face. "Understood, Aizen-sama. Thank you for receiving me." The redhead gives him a brief glance before moving to the door and leaving the room. The door closes with a soft click.
"Strange, isn't it?" Aizen asks softly, and Ichigo hesitates, unsure of what the lord is talking about. Aizen glances up and back at him and obviously notices his uncertainty, clarifying, "Abarai being Lord Kuchiki's slave. It doesn't make much sense given Kuchiki's personality, don't you think?"
He almost answers yes before realizing he's not actually supposed to know anything about Byakuya. According to his records, he's never even met the lord. "I wouldn't know, Aizen-sama. I've never met Lord Kuchiki, or Abarai-san before today."
Aizen makes a noncommittal noise and beckons him forward with a crook of his fingers. He obeys, rounding the chair to stand in front of the older man. "Closer, Ichigo. I promise not to bite you again unless you ask." Again with the flushing and the embarrassment, he's getting real tired of Aizen managing to make him react like this.
He steps forward and Aizen reaches out with both hands, taking hold of his wrists and tugging him down so he's sitting across Aizen's lap with his knees to either side of the lord's hips. Aizen guides Ichigo's captive hands to rest on the back of the armchair before releasing them and lowering his own hands. The lord watches him with dark eyes, hands moving to slowly caress his thighs. He shivers and Aizen's smirk grows by a fraction.
"Keep your hands there unless I say otherwise." He shivers, heat building at the dark promise in the lord's voice. Aizen's fingers slide beneath the edge of his shirt, feather-light against his skin. "Ask me to stop at any point and I will, and I expect you to actually use that right. I will not punish you for it in any way nor will I ignore you. I have never taken an unwilling partner and I never will, slave or not. Understand?"
He relaxes a fraction, letting his weight fully rest on Aizen's lap as he gives a slight sigh. "Thank you, Aizen-sama." The permission means more than Aizen could know – or maybe he does, the lord seems well-informed from what he's seen – given his other master's take on sex and his role in it.
Aizen's fingers pull away from his skin and up to his shirt, pushing each button through its paired hole. "It is admittedly a point of pride for me that I have never had to use my status to coax anyone to my bed, or whatever other surface or piece of furniture we may end up on. It would be a shame to break that streak, hm?"
He clenches his hands over the back of the armchair at the suggestion in the lord's voice, sharply inhaling as Aizen pops open the last button and traces fingertips across his abs, drawing nonsensical patterns up to his ribs. The lord smirks and leans towards him, pressing lips to the site of the earlier bite, which he's sure – though he hasn't looked – is a fairly red area if not bruised. Speaking of…
"Why did you bite me earlier, Aizen-sama?" he asks, and Aizen pauses for a brief moment and looks up at him. Not that he has to answer, or even acknowledge him really. Aizen is more than allowed to completely ignore his question, or bite him for no reason, or anything else he feels like doing. Instead, Aizen gives a soft hum and straightens, smirk growing.
"Honestly, the thought of you being in front of Abarai with my mark just beneath your clothes was too much of a temptation to resist," the lord murmurs and Ichigo can't help the groan that escapes him. Because god now that he thinks about it, it is a pretty damn arousing thought. Knowing that Renji could have found out at any moment, that a shift of clothes in the wrong direction or a glimpse of his skin could have betrayed the imprint of teeth. It would be humiliating if it actually happened, but up till it does it's just a thrill.
"Also I simply enjoyed your reaction, Ichigo. I'd love to see what other reactions I can pull from you in the course of this evening." He twitches under Aizen's still roaming hands, eyes flickering before the lord's hands slip down to the edge of his black pants and skillfully unfasten the button and zipper in a single movement. Aizen pauses for a brief moment – he assumes to give him time to call a halt if he wanted, which he so doesn't – and then slips a single hand beneath the waistband of his equally black boxers and wraps a hand around his dick. He arches at the contact and his hips buck forward as a quiet hiss slips between his teeth, though he keeps his hands clenched tightly on the back of the chair.
"Ah, there's a good one…" Aizen says softly, other hand slipping around to press against his low back. "But I think we can do better, hm?" The lord's hand twists around him, stroking in a slow but firm pace and he gives a low moan. His head lowers and his eyes squeeze shut, tiny shudders shaking his frame at the insistent pleasure of Aizen's hand.
He hasn't been touched in any way even resembling this in years. None of his previous masters had ever cared about his pleasure, only their own. He was a receptacle, a tool, and whether he was satisfied at the end or even enjoyed the procedure was irrelevant. But, of course, he wasn't allowed to touch himself either. It's been years since he got any legitimate pleasure out of anything, and it shows.
It's over almost embarrassingly quickly – minutes – as he jerks and gives a cry of pleasure, bowing forward against Aizen as he spills over the other man's hand. The lord makes a quiet sound of satisfaction, pressing gentle lips to the side of his throat. He twitches as Aizen pulls his hand back out and away from his dick, breathing harshly against the older man's shoulder, and slowly forces his hands to relax their grip on the back of the armchair.
"Much better," Aizen whispers in his ear, the lord's free hand still pressed against his back. He manages to pull through the fog of afterglow and lift his head, raising his eyes to meet Aizen's. The lord's gaze is dark with tightly controlled lust and intense focus, the trademark smirk absent for once.
"Thank you, Aizen-sama."
"Sousuke," his eyes widen in surprise and the smirk returns as the lord's eyes soften a fraction, "in this you are my partner, Ichigo, not my servant. So unless you prefer I behave as a master – which I am perfectly capable of doing – I will treat you as my equal here."
Every time Aizen speaks he finds his resolve being shaken, and it's nerve wracking. "I…" To his utter embarrassment he feels tears gather in his eyes, the sheer concern for his wellbeing and his choices hitting home with perfect accuracy. Aizen's eyes soften and the lord's hand slides away from his back and up to gently stroke through his hair.
"This will always be your choice, Ichigo."
That breaks him. The tears break free, sliding from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks as he stares at the lord, struggling to come to terms with everything the older man is offering. Even the other rebels, even Renji, who's supposed to be more or less his best friend, hasn't offered him the opportunity to make his own choices in a long time. For years he's been under everyone's thumb, forced this way and that and hurt if he steps out of line. But now Aizen, the man he's supposed to fucking kill tonight, is offering him complete freedom of choice in this, in the one thing that he'd thought for sure was going to be decided for him.
"You can let go, Ichigo," Aizen murmurs, and it takes him a moment to realize that the lord is talking about his arms. He releases the armchair, slowly lowering his arms in a sort of daze. He flinches a little as Aizen's hands come up and gently pull his shirt off, balling it and throwing it to the ground. He's still watching the older man, mind temporarily shut down, as the lord slides a soft hand around the back of his neck and tugs him down. He doesn't struggle, allowing Aizen to pull his head down to rest on the lord's shoulder. He closes his eyes against the white of Aizen's shirt and relaxes, letting his hands rise to grip loose handfuls of the shirt. Aizen's hand cards softly through the short hairs at the base of his skull, fingers light against his skin, and the lord's other arm curls around his back, holding him close.
Ichigo allows himself to float, making no effort to stop the tears and just relaxing in the knowledge that – for the moment – he's safe. There's something that he hasn't had in an even longer time. Being able to really, truly, relax. Not since his mother died and he'd become the true caretaker of the family, since god knows Isshin is totally useless as a father.
The fact that he's more relaxed here – kneeling shirtless in an armchair with a lord that literally owns him and that he's intending to kill before the day is over – than he'd been in his own home or in the bed of the one serious lover he'd taken before all of this started is sad. Sad, but true. He hasn't even superficially relaxed since this whole endeavor had started, not for more than a few brief moments in the slave cells while waiting for a new master to buy him anyway.
But through all of it he's never once cried, not even under Soi Fon's fists or Noitora's many tools of pain. Everyone expected him – the wonder kid who'd flown up the ranks – to handle this easily, to be strong and steadfast under the abuse and the slow destruction of his pride and self-respect. So he was. He took it all and didn't waver, let his masters beat him, humiliate him, tear him apart, and did his very best to hold together under it all. And maybe his head wasn't quite so high and his shoulders were a little bowed, but no one ever noticed.
It's freeing to be able to let the shame and pain he's been holding onto go, lifts weight he didn't know he was carrying from his shoulders. To finally let someone know how deeply all of this has affected him. Even if that person is Aizen.
The tears eventually stop, though he doesn't move for a good few minutes after that and Aizen doesn't make him. Finally he pulls back a little, pushing his hands flat against Aizen's chest to straighten himself up. The lord looks at him with unreadable brown eyes and he can't hold the gaze, dropping his own to rest on Aizen's chest.
"Thank you," he says softly, and he sees Aizen's lips quirk in an equally soft smile from the edge of his vision.
"I know others have hurt you, Ichigo, you don't ever have to hide that from me. I want you just as you are, wounds and faults and everything else, understand?"
He hesitates, doubt heavy in his mind that anyone could truly want him like he is. Shame follows quickly with the knowledge that Aizen doesn't actually know what he's like. He's deceiving the lord, pretending to be something he isn't, and doing it is starting to hurt.
He nods, not looking at the lord, and Aizen gives a soft sigh. "Come on, Ichigo, let's go back to my room." He backs off of the older man and stands, self-consciously refastening his pants as Aizen follows him up. He looks around for his shirt and – finding it on the ground – leans down to pick it up. "You won't want to wear that, it's not particularly clean anymore." He gives Aizen a slightly confused look and the lord smirks and waves his right hand, which is remarkably clean since he specifically remembers coming into it.
Oh…
He straightens back up without touching the shirt and Aizen moves towards the exit after giving a small chuckle. Ichigo follows the lord, trailing behind him as they retrace the by now very familiar route from the front of the house back to Aizen's bedroom. He can't stop looking around the whole way there, dreading the possible outcome of having the first person he sees in the house all day come across them now, while he's shirtless and still has red-rimmed eyes from crying.
When they get back to the room Aizen immediately sheds his shirt, tossing it carelessly on the ground, and proceeds to the bed. He follows with only a mild hesitation in his step which clears up when he recalls Aizen's promise that sex – or the lack of it – will always be his choice.
The lord beckons him closer and then tugs him down to the bed, stroking a gentle hand across his cheek and then through his hair. "Lie down on your side, Ichigo. Nothing you don't want, promise." He nods and obeys, silently enjoying the silk of the sheets against his skin. He's used to much rougher fabrics, and he's never been in contact with silk before.
Aizen follows him down, wrapping one arm over his shoulders to pull him closer and up against the lord. For a moment he's tense before the reality that Aizen won't hurt him kicks in and he eases into it, edging closer and curling into the older man. He closes his eyes as Aizen shifts around him, left arm rising to cushion the lord's head.
"Thank you," he repeats for what must be the third or fourth time in the last hour, and Aizen only gives a quiet chuckle.
"You're welcome, Ichigo. Of course."
He forces down the doubts that rise at Aizen's words, swallowing and reaching inwards for the determination he's so famous among the other rebels for. He's been through all these things, spent almost seven years of his life on this goal, and there's no way he can stop now. If he does it's all pointless, wasted time that he could have been with his family and friends and not stuck in servitude.
Just a few more hours, just until it's six and then it'll all be over.
That thought manages to calm him enough for him to drift to sleep, lulled by Aizen's heartbeat in his ear and the lord's steady breathing. But his first thought when he snaps back awake is panic.
How long has it been? Has the attack come and gone?
The bed is cold, Aizen missing, but when he pushes halfway up from the bed he can see the closed door of the bathroom and the light under it. A glance up at the clock suspended on the wall above the door to the walk-in closet calms the last of his panic.
Five fifty. He hasn't missed it, though any longer and he would have.
The door to the bathroom opens and Aizen enters, white shirt once more covering his chest. The lord looks up at him and gives a small smirk, brown eyes glittering. "Sleep well, Ichigo?"
"Yes, Aizen-sama," he replies, pushing himself up and adjusting to sit on the sheets with his legs folded beneath him.
"Good. I–" The ringing of a phone cuts the lord off and Aizen immediately reaches into the left pocket of his black slacks, retrieving a small cell phone. A touch of the screen cuts the ringing off and Aizen raises it to his ear. "Yes?" Aizen crosses the room to the walk-in closet and opens the door, stepping in. His voice is muffled but still understandable as he answers whoever has called. "Thank you, Ulquiorra. Let me know when things are handled."
The lord reemerges and Ichigo has a brief moment to note that Aizen is holding something decidedly not phone shaped in his right hand before a gunshot deafens him and blinding pain stabs into his right shoulder. He jerks in shock and his eyes widen, gaze falling to his shoulder where there's a fairly small black-edged hole that is beginning to trail blood down his arm. He takes in a shuddering breath, biting back the instinct to cry out in pain. It burns and stings and he grits his teeth against it, left hand falling to brace against the bed as he looks back up at Aizen.
The lord's eyes are cold, void of the warmth and amusement that had been present earlier. The gun in his right hand is held closer to his chest instead of stretched out and his mouth is a flat line. Ichigo realizes at that moment why exactly Aizen is both respected and feared as much as he is. The lord is clearly dangerous, deadly even, and perfectly capable of shooting him right here and now and finishing the job, regardless of any emotion he'd exhibited earlier.
"Your friends are here, Ichigo," Aizen says softly, tone smooth, "Apologies for the wound but I'd rather not risk allowing you even the attempt to kill me."
Despite the sickening shock that accompanies Aizen's words he also relaxes a bit, a breathless laugh escaping him. There's no point in pretending, Aizen obviously knows about their plan. "How long have you known?"
Something flickers in Aizen's eyes, gone before he can identify it, and the lord's lips quirk upwards in a tiny smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. "I picked up the pattern of your master's deaths a few years ago, but I didn't solidify your involvement in it until Noitora. He was killed with a knife, but every employee there that day said that the rebels who attacked were using guns. Your own wound from that day, completely surface though bloody, was from a gun. Sloppy of you."
Fuck. He'd hoped no one had picked up on that. He'd killed Noitora – gleefully he might add, sadistic bastard – before Renji and the others had gotten there, and before he knew that all they had with them were handguns. No one had seemed to notice anything and he was never asked to give a statement due to his status as a slave so he'd assumed they'd overlooked it.
"It's a shame, really. I genuinely like you, Ichigo, and I'm certain I'd like who you really are beneath your mask of subservience a good deal more."
He feels the blood reach his fingertips, undoubtedly soaking into the black sheets. "Who's Ulquiorra?" he asks, and Aizen's smirk grows a tiny bit.
"Head of my security team. As you've undoubtedly noticed the house has been very silent today, that's his doing. We knew you were planning to attack today, but not when until Abarai's visit. Thanks for that information, by the way."
He flinches, confusion hitting him hard. "There weren't any cameras in the parlor."
Aizen gives a slight shrug, the gun unwavering. "Actually, there are, they're simply not readily apparent on a glance. But the recorder I slipped on you when you interrupted my shower is what gave us the information, not the cameras. It's attached to the back of your pants, in case you were wondering."
Damn. "What are you going to do to them?"
The lord chuckles, amusement disrupting the cold surface of his eyes for a brief moment. "Relax, Ichigo. It wouldn't look exceedingly good if I slaughtered the rebels en masse, would it? Your friends will be tranquilized and shipped off to a prison where they will all stand trial for trespassing, illegal ownership of weapons, attempted murder, and the like. I'm sure I can negotiate a lighter sentence than death, though that is the general punishment for attempted murder of a lord."
His eyes close for a brief moment in a wince as he shivers, leaning a little more heavily on his hand. "And me?" He looks back up at Aizen as the lord makes a noncommittal noise, the lord's brown eyes narrowing slightly.
"That depends. I can kill you here, claim self-defense – which isn't necessarily untrue – and pin you as the mastermind of this plot instead of the true organizer. Or, if you no longer have the desire to kill me based on what you've learned today, I can claim a rebel shot you. My word is close to law at this point, no one will question it."
Is Aizen really offering him that? To what, be the lord's slave from here on out if he gives up his goal? Death isn't a great end to this, yeah, but he doesn't think he can stomach being Aizen's slave forever. The whole point of this was to be able to go back to his family at the end. He has this sneaking suspicion that Aizen isn't just going to let him go home.
"Go to hell, Aizen."
Aizen sighs and shakes his head slightly. "Disappointing."
The gun shot doesn't even register in his mind before everything goes black.