Warning: Lemony man sex. Don't like? Then why are you even still reading this story? Ach, people.

Mindless

Sever

His back slams against a wall and he arches against the pain, gasping in a deep breath, the action ending in a hiss as nimble fingers wrap around his throat, slightly cutting off his airway but not enough to be considered actual choking.

His burning eyes meet the brown of Aizen's own, and he feels heat coiling in his abdomen, flooding his veins like searing lava. He grinds his teeth together and presses against the pressure at his neck to lean his head forward, hungrily brushing his lips over the smooth jawbone offered to him, teeth nipping at the juncture of his neck.

There is a throaty rumble, one that can be considered a laugh, and Aizen's free hand moves to swipe over Ichigo's naked chest, fingertips skillfully dipping down to fondle at Ichigo's nipples, tugging on them a bit sharply and making him hiss once more.

Ichigo squeezes his eyes shut, but as soon as he does so, his right leg is being hitched up, pulled to drape over Aizen's hip, balancing him precariously on one foot. Hot breath fans across his face as Aizen claims his lips once more, wet kisses claiming them both in a spiraling detonation.

Ichigo gasps for breath once more as Aizen's clothed hips press against his own, the hardness growing between the older man's legs quite noticeable, and a heady blush spreads over Ichigo's cheeks and down his neck.

…

None of them had been prepared, which is probably why Rukia's sudden actions worked.

Standing with the unresponsive Ichigo behind her with Sui-Feng, Hisugaya, and her brother facing her off, is not something she ever could have imagined. Urahara stands off to her right, lounging against the wall of his shop, expression hidden by the shadow of his hat and the fan spread in front of his jaw.

"Do you understand what you are doing?"

She tries not to flinch at the tone in her brother's voice, refusing to fully meet his blank gaze. She tightens the grip on her Zanpakuto's hilt, hoping that her face is set into a determined mask, hoping that her words feel as steady as she needs them to be.

"Ichigo has done nothing wrong, Brother. Why does the Soul Society need to bring him in? It's not as if he is a criminal. He is only a Substitute Soul Reaper. He does not abide by our laws."

There is an eerie silence as Sui-Feng narrows her eyes, tensing, readying herself for a fight. Byakuya holds out an arm in front of her, gazing steadily at Rukia with that unreadable face, Hitsugaya sighing silently as he lets his eyes roam towards the inconspicuous shop keeper who is helping neither side.

"Captain Yamamota has given the order to bring him back to the Soul Society." Something in Byakuya's voice tilts towards a question, showing Rukia that Ichigo really had gotten through to him in his Rescue of her from her death sentence.

She relaxes her grip just the slightest bit, a sliver of hope curling into her words.

"We just need a little more time. Please, Brother. You see how he is."

Silence, again, and then Byakuya opens his mouth to say something, though whatever it is he had been ready to say is lost as everything that they had known, everything that they thought they know, comes crashing down.

….

"You are truly mine, Ichigo."

The words are a husky whisper and the orange haired male spares a glance over his shoulder, the side of his face pressing into the floor, Aizen's hand keeping the pressure applied so that his head cannot move.

Suddenly there is something pressing against Ichigo, applying uncomfortable pressure, sliding into his hole in slow motion, though that does not decrease the ferocious agony that erupts through his body as just the tip of Aizen's lubricated member breaches him.

He sucks in a large amount of air, eyes screwing shut, eyebrows furrowing in pain. There is a pause, as if the other male understands how much pain this is causing the virgin male, and then Aizen gives in, unable to control him-self any longer.

His free hand wraps around Ichigo's hip bone even as he thrusts forward, violently, burying himself to his hilt as he grits his teeth and smiles that vicious smile, letting out a deep guttural grunt at the tightness provided to him.

Ichigo does not cry out as those normally would. Instead he bites down on his lip, harshly, drawing blood, his breaths coming out in pants as Aizen begins to move, long strong strokes that have no tenderness, no care.

The hand fisted in Ichigo's hair lets go to reposition itself on Ichigo's other hip and as easily as this is done, so does his pace increase. The pressure, the pain, the pleasure of Aizen's member striking against his prostate; it is almost too much for the orange blonde to handle, his face flushed.

He tosses his head back, a soundless cry formed on his open lips as Aizen continues to thrust into him with that animalistic luster, sweat trickling down both of their bodies in tune with the slick, wet sound of Aizen slapping into Ichigo.

Aizen pounds into him ruthlessly, savagely, ignoring or not quite seeing the blood that has begun to streak his hardened manhood, the trembling slender body beneath him writhing in a mixture of severe pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He leans over, chest meeting Ichigo's back as he continues his ministrations, his whispered words husky in Ichigo's ear, tongue flicking out to take the lobe for a harsh nibble between his teeth.

"You feel good."

One hand leaves Ichigo's hip to slide up to his shoulder where the hand clamps down and proceeds to make the thrusts more devastating by pulling Ichigo's body towards him.

Ichigo is suspended between that excruciating pain and the indescribable pleasure being offered to him, drowning in the luxury of lust, of passion, of sex. So therefore he is quite surprised at the familiar voice that slurs out to him in his thoughts, taunting, but understanding.

"It's time, my King."

His eyes snap wide as Aizen burns the back of his neck with an open mouthed kiss, his abdomen igniting with a new kind of fire, his skin flushed and welcoming.

Aizen smiles, jerking his chin around so that they can kiss again, seemingly a favorite thing for the chocolate haired other man.

"King, wa…. or die."

He can feel the small trail of saliva that has slipped from his open mouth to trail down his jaw in a shamefully erotic way. He closes his eyes, loosely, allowing himself to feel every skilled stroke that Aizen offers him.

Hesitantly he draws his hand up to wrap around his already straining erection, squeezing at the base, willing it to die away.

When this only seems to encourage Aizen to give deeper, more devious thrusts, Ichigo bows his head and gasps through that open mouth, eyes threatening to roll back into his skull. He tightens his fingers more on his member.

"Let go, my Ichigo," Aizen whispers in his ear.

"Let go, King."

Ichigo clenches his fist, refusing, refusing, stalling the inevitable. He shakes his head in that silent way now accompanied by gasping breaths and a flushed face.

Then Aizen is reaching around his hips, despite Ichigo's frantic denial by the shaking of his head, wrapping his own fingers around Ichigo's member, stroking it in time to each and every thrust given by his own hips.

And Ichigo finds himself teetering, stumbling, falling over the edge of the cliff he has been avoiding for a long time, the white hot heat bursting from his groin and into Aizen's hand, dripping over his own thighs as he shudders, crying out a very hoarse, very loud, "Aizen!"

It's the first he has spoken in two years.

"Way to go, King-o. Now it begins…."

…

Soooo. First lemony goodness. Note: If you thought their sex was going to come around because of some ground breaking realization that Aizen is some good guy, some mush of a man who like flowers and chocolate and long walks in the park and loving other people, then I am sorry. :) Cause my Aizen is a devious, devilishly handsome man who just knows what he wants.