Ichigo slipped back into consciousness. He remembered falling asleep on the floor..but for some reason the floor suddenly got extremely soft and comfortable. The room didn't reek of dried blood either.
"Good morning, Ichigo."
His eyes shot open, his view filled with the smiling brown haired man. He wanted to move but something weighing heavy on his chest froze him in place. But there was nothing there.
"Oh, that's right. Guess I should let you know..."
Ichigo flinched when Aizen's hand reached out to grab his own arm. That's when Ichigo saw it, odd black marks on his forearm reminding him of Renji's tattoos.
"They're on your other arm too. Helpful little things. Seal off your pesky spirit energy. Can't have you running off. It's probably because of my spiritual pressure that you can't move." Aizen spoke calmly, as if he'd done this a million times before. Ichigo would of given an all-too-familiar scowl to the man, but through the whole thing, Aizen's eyes were locked on his.
Slowly, he felt the pressure off his chest weakened. It was still there, but just barely. Ichigo had an urge to look around, curious to where he was. Aizen seemed to have read his mind, breaking the stare and moving out of Ichigo's view.
The shinigami steadied himself on his forearms, taking a look around the room. He didn't take anything in. What bothered him was the bed he was laying on.
In a second, Aizen was on Ichigo, straddling Ichigo's waist, holding the younger boy down by his shoulders. "How observant."
Ichigo opened his mouth to talk, yell, complain, anything; but Aizen didn't let him. Giving another bruising kiss, slipping his tongue into Ichigo's mouth, exploring the younger boy's mouth.
Ichigo shook his head, attempting to break off the kiss, it didn't seem to occur to him to bite down on the man's tongue. Maybe he was afraid.
Aizen pulled back, pressing his palm to Ichigo's neck, gently applying pressure. Not enough to stop Ichigo's breathing, but just enough to make it more difficult.
"I didn't quite plan on making you enjoy this. You're my plaything. This.." Aizen undid the sash on Ichigo's hakama. "..is for.." He opened up the shirt of the boy's shihakusho. "..my entertainment."
Ichigo couldn't react. What should he do? What could he do? He desperately tried to keep his breathing normal, keep his eyes normal. How could he? He knew very well what was going to happen. With his spirit energy, Aizen could probably rip him apart. Of course, he was probably going to do that anyway.
The shinigami tried anyway. Attempting to raise his arm, Aizen only responded by increasing the pressure on Ichigo's neck. The orange haired boy gasped, writhing under the larger man. So focusing on breathing, on surviving, Ichigo failed to notice Aizen removing the rest of his clothing.
Releasing Ichigo's neck, Aizen flipped the boy around easily, shoving his face back down into the covers of the bed, his hips raised up high. After catching his breath, Ichigo realized how embarrassing this position was. The older man leaned down, his clothed chest touching Ichigo's naked back. Aizen leaned to Ichigo's ear, whispering to him.
"What would your precious friends say if they saw you like this?" His voice held a chuckle. Aizen didn't have to tell Ichigo; he was already imagining it. The younger boy's face held a deep red color.
Ichigo let out a mixture of a groan and a scream, feeling something slip into his entrance. He heard Aizen chuckle lowly into his ear. Ichigo figured it out; it was a finger. Another finger, possibly a thumb, circled around Ichigo's entrance, while the other finger, already in him, moved subtlety.
The shinigami groaned, squirming under Aizen. Movement. Ichigo wanted movement. One part of his mind told him to move, move away from this man. The other part told him move as well, make this man move his finger, make him move to make you feel good.
Another finger slipped in, earning a gasp from Ichigo and a grin from Aizen. But just as quickly as the finger went it, it came out. Ichigo felt the pressure of Aizen's chest off his back, his breath away from his ear.
Curious, Ichigo began turning his face, trying to catch a view of the man. He heard noises...Something similar to clothes rustling. His eyes widened. He knew what was coming.
His attempts to squirm away failed, Aizen held Ichigo's face down into the covers by the back of his neck, the shinigami struggled just to keep his nose up and breathing.
"Now, now, can't have you running away at the best part."
Ichigo felt his stomach sink. It was happening, it was really happening.
"..n-no! S-stop! Please!" His voice came out strained, heavy with fear. He heard no response from Aizen, he attempted to move again, but Aizen's strong hand kept him down.
The orange haired boy felt something else attempting to enter him. Something obviously larger. Ichigo's breathing hitched, finding the strength to move his arms. Aizen's spiritual pressure said otherwise. In one swift movement, he entered the younger boy.
"Hggk-!" Ichigo felt tears well up in his eyes. He bit down on the blankets, attempting to keep himself from saying what went through his mind. 'No, no, please stop! I-It hurts! I can't take it, please, please, take it out!'
Giving little; if any prep time, Aizen began thrusting, a rather fast pace for the virgin boy beneath him. But it was well obvious that Aizen never planned for Ichigo to enjoy this. Ichigo choked on his breath, stifling his sobs, his lower back erupting in pain.
Somewhere above him, he heard Aizen lightly moaning, and maybe even a chuckle at Ichigo's pained sobs. Switching to a more stabbing thrust motion, Ichigo wailed, his hands trembling, clutching the bedsheets.
Any pride the shinigami had left disappeared when he heard another groan from Aizen, the thrusting stopping and a warm liquid filling him.
Ichigo's tears stopped, his cries stopped, his mind completely frozen. He didn't recall when Aizen pulled out, and walked halfway to the door, but when his mind seemed to fall back into reality, tears poured back down his cheeks.
Aizen turned back to Ichigo, who was covering himself with the stained bedsheets. His eyes locked with the younger boy's eyes. Ichigo's eyes spoke of pain. But there was obvious anger.
"Good." The older man smirked, exiting the room.
Ichigo could of sworn there was someone else behind that door...but the pain in his back, his head, his neck, his everythingdistracted him.