Pairing: Ichimaru x Kira

Rating: M (Graphic sex, rape, violence, swearing)

Length: 20,000+ (Complete)

Update Frequency: Weekly

Summary: Spanning Kira's lieutenancy from his instatement, until three years after the current story, and the relationship that develops between captain and lieutenant.

Note 1: The terms for the shinigami garments are pulled from http: // paperiuni. livejournal. com/ 4516. html (remove the spaces).

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any characters associated with it. The plot and original characters in Antenora Smiles I do own.

A/N: Things get nastier in this chapter than usual, I am forced to point the accusing finger at Ichimaru. A brief note on the update schedule; Smiles is going to take a few weeks hiatus after this chapter for several reasons. The most pressing of which is I am having surgery and editing/working a computer will be beyond me for a week or two. Chapter nine is also giving me some difficulty, I am having to rewrite it from scratch, which adds into that delay. Finally, I have AP exams to focus on for the next two weeks, which means looong hours studying. I apologize for the delay, but please be patient with me, Smiles will be back eventually. On another note, my profound thanks to those who reviewed last chapter, thank you for telling me what you did/did not like about Smiles, it means the world to me. Without further ado, enjoy!

Antenora Smiles

One Year, Part II.

"Wake up."

A sharp slap to his cheek brought Kira to groggy awareness. His skin felt uncomfortably tight and stiff, as if it had shrunk while he slept. The room reeled around him, dimensions changing as he fought to orientate himself. He was wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets, propped up on a low futon in front of a blazing fire. The heat washed over him, too hot for him to stand, he felt as if he was roasting. Kira struggled weakly against the blankets, his limbs reluctant to respond to him, wracked by violent tremors.

"Kira stop that."

The words barely penetrated Kira's cold fogged mind, he continued to fight the coverings. He could sense the skin on his face starting to char as the heat licked at it. "T-too h-hot," he forced out.

An indeterminate form knelt in front of him, rewrapping the blankets more securely. "You need to stay warm, Izuru."

Kira recognized the voice, how could he not? "Captain?" he mumbled.

"Yes, it's me." Something warm was thrust into Kira's hands; he could smell the unmistakable scent of tea wafting from the cup. His trembling fingers nearly dropped it as he tried to raise it to his lips. Ichimaru's face came into focus as he laid his long fingered hands on top of Kira's to steady the mug. Slowly he guided the cup to Kira's cracked lips, and held it there while the blond gulped down its scalding contents. The warmth of the tea spread through his chilled core, reawakening feeling in his numb limbs in a wash of stiff pain.

"You f-found me?" he said through chattering teeth, the heat of before suddenly faded, leaving him frozen.

"Lieutenant Hinamori and Abarai Renji told me that you had gone running off into the storm. They came to me when they couldn't find you," Ichimaru said dispassionately, "And why do you think they came to me Izuru?"

Kira felt a chill, entirely unrelated to his exposure to the storm, shoot through him, "I'm sorry Captain." With his bleary eyes, Kira could see Ichimaru raise an eyebrow but remained silent. "They w-were asking me questions. I g-got angry and-and…," words failed him. "They were asking me about you," he whispered, "but I didn't tell them anything."

"But you ran out into the storm, all but telling them that their suspicions were right," Ichimaru snapped, showing uncharacteristic anger, Kira cringed from him, sinking deeper into the blankets.

"They d-don't know f-for certain," he choked out. They could guess but they had no firm proof of the relationship between Kira and Ichimaru, a secret that must be kept from all.

"No," Ichimaru sighed, sinking back on his heels, "they don't. If you weren't half dead Kira, I'd throw you back out into that storm for your stupidity."

"P-please d-don't," Kira stuttered, the cold was worse now, the heat of the tea fading from him, the blankets barely warding off the freezing air. His breath was hard to catch; he could see black flickering at the edge of his vision. He dropped the empty mug; it rolled down his enveloped form and clattered, broken, onto the floor. "I'm sorry," he croaked, dropping his eyes from Ichimaru's unsmiling face.

"For the mug? Or for what you did?" Ichimaru asked coolly.

"B-both." Kira said weakly, swaying in time with his faltering heart. Ichimaru's words seemed to be coming from the other end of a long tunnel. He lurched forward, falling after the mug towards the hard floor; Ichimaru's arms caught him, arresting his tumble. Without apparent effort he lifted Kira back onto the futon. He knelt beside the bed, bending his head to untie the knot of his obi. Kira watched, brain sluggishly processing the action, "W-what…d-doing?" he mumbled incoherently.

"You're still too cold," Ichimaru said as he divested himself of his garments. He frowned slightly, "If you died now, I'd have to break in a new lieutenant." He removed all his clothes but his fundoshi, and began peeling back the layers of blankets wrapping Kira. The blonde's cold muddled mind watched appreciatively as the fire light played over lean muscles and scars. It was a body he knew better than his own, but the mind and heart inside of it he could only catch glimpses of.

In a wave of frigid air Ichimaru slipped inside the layers with Kira, his normally cool body felt blazingly warm against Kira's own. It was almost painful as Ichimaru enfolded Kira in his arms, pulling him close. The bitter pain faded as the solid warmth at Kira's back returned him from the precipice. His vision cleared, but he was bone-tired, stiff, and sore.

They lay entwined in the wavering light of the fire, the moment captured in the orange glow, stretching on without count. Kira tried to etch every press and curve of Ichimaru's body into his memory; these were the moments that were too easily shattered. His drained mind dredged up his realization of the storm; he had thought he would never get the chance to tell Ichimaru. In this moment, trapped in a fragile bubble of time, the three words swelled to envelop his entire consciousness. He could think of nothing else. Softly, almost afraid that Ichimaru would hear him, he whispered, "I-I love you."

Ichimaru stiffened against him, pulling away. "Kira," his voice sounded strained, angry, "don't say that."

"But-" Kira shivered at the loss of warmth, cold air filled the space between them.

Ichimaru seized Kira's hair, wrenching his neck back to an unnatural angle, exposing his throat. A hand slipped around Kira's neck, squeezing dangerously. It all but cut off his air, making him gasp laboriously. "Don't ever say that again," Ichimaru hissed in his ear.

Kira was too frozen to respond, too cold, too tired. He simply lay limp in Ichimaru's punishing grip, struggling to fill his lungs. He had already faced death once that night, at least this time it would at his captain's hands. He couldn't bring himself to deny what he had said; he had lied to himself, his friends, and Ichimaru for far too long. He couldn't carry the charade convincingly any longer. "-ove you-," he choked out in defiance.

Ichimaru's hand tightened spasmodically; nails digging into Kira's fair skin and completely cutting off his breath. Kira's eyes filled with silent tears, his body screamed for air, but only a broken whistling sound came from his desperate efforts. He began to thrash instinctively against his captain, fighting the man's crushing strength.

"Pathetic," Ichimaru snarled, shoving Kira away. Kira tumbled, sprawling helplessly onto the floor in a pile of shivering limbs. Ichimaru surged out of the blankets, shedding them contemptuously. He moved over to stand over the blonde, he ruthlessly pinned the wheezing Kira flat to the floor with a foot. He looked up at his captain with shining eyes; the mercurial man had shed his outward anger like the blankets. He was gazing at Kira with eyes devoid of emotion, narrowed into their characteristic squint, but he wore a pronounced scowl. Kira raised his chin rebelliously, he would not lie. He was the creature that Ichimaru had forged, conditioned to love maybe, but he still loved. He wouldn't deny that, even for Ichimaru.

"You want love Izuru," Ichimaru whispered dangerously, without ceremony he unwrapped his fundoshi, letting it drop to the floor, "then I'll give it to you." He bent down, grabbing Kira's hair; he dragged the limp blonde to the corner of the futon. Kira tried to struggle but his tired body couldn't maintain the effort, he knew with sinking certainty what was going to happen.

Seizing a castoff blanket Ichimaru used his teeth and free hand to tear long strips. Ichimaru twisted Kira hair until he had to scramble to his knees to relieve the pressure on his neck. Holding the torn strips, Ichimaru captured Kira's hands in a firm grip, in a smooth motion he turned Kira around and bound them there. He jerked the knot brutally tight, eliciting a small whimper from Kira.

"This is what you wanted," Ichimaru said coldly.

Kira gulped, he had hoped, foolishly, but still he had hoped that under that changeable exterior Ichimaru felt something for him. But he was wrong; he was nothing more than a plaything for his captain, a broken doll used for pleasure to be cast off by at the latest convenience. Yet Kira's love, though it was based on a lie, a dream, was true. He loved the man standing over him, naked, gleaming in the half-light; irrationally, passionately, he loved him. He drove the words past his bruised throat, they came out whistling and weak, "…Captain…I…love you…" It was all the defense he could offer.

"Then you will enjoy this." Ichimaru whispered venomously in his ear, biting down onto the earlobe savagely. Drawing away, Ichimaru shoved Kira onto the futon; he landed prone, whimpering as his arms were contorted strangely by their bonds. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his neck from his torn earlobe. Without mercy Ichimaru sank teeth and nails into his battered flesh as he traced the quivering muscles of Kira's back. From beside Kira, Ichimaru placed a knee in the small of Kira's back, trapping the blond as he tore Kira's lower body free of the hakama he wore. The rags fell onto the floor, little black butterflies of cloth. Naked, Kira was once again unceremoniously thrust to the ground at Ichimaru's feet. He reeled, off balance, trussed arms aching in protest.

The captain took hold of Kira's chin, forcing the blonde's face down towards his distended groin. The other hand wove into Kira's hair, holding him there. Kira hesitated, eyes looking frantically about. Ichimaru, snarling, cuffed him viciously. "Go on. If you love me, take me."

Whimpering, Kira bent his head, grasping Ichimaru's length in his mouth, his tongue working desperately. His teeth gently ghosting along the hardening member, his fear and his shame made the leaking fluids taste sour.

"Suck on it," the hoary haired captain growled, shoving his hips closer to Kira's face.

Kira did as commanding, pushing against his gag reflex. Ichimaru's shuddering hand yanked painfully on his hair as he worked down the shaft; after a moment, he tore Kira away from the swollen member, throwing him, face down, onto the floor. Ichimaru knelt, positioning himself directly behind Kira and grabbed his hips. Without preparation he took Kira, driving into him with a violent motion.

Kira screamed. There was no pleasant glossing of pleasure on this pain; it was a raw savage beast running through his veins, ramming coherent thought from his mind. Again and again Ichimaru slammed back into his body, blood serving as the lubricant. His captain made no effort to hit his prostate, no effort to make the experience a pleasurable one; it was merely a bestial satiation of desire. His frenzied panting mixed with Kira's cries. Finally, Ichimaru released inside of Kira, hot liquid mixing with the blood as he pulled out.

Voice shaking with his exertions, Ichimaru laughed hollowly, "That's love Kira. How did it feel?"

Kira shook his head weakly, that vicious coupling wasn't love. He rolled over, gazing up with tired eyes at the man standing over him. "I still…love you," he croaked. "You can f-fuck with me all you w-want…but I still l-love you."

Something inside Ichimaru seemed to change, his expression of cold indifference twisted on his face into sardonic smile. He snorted, sitting down on the futon, nudging Kira's sprawled body with a foot. "Give up your useless declaration Kira; it won't do you any good."

"Please don't hide," Kira whispered quietly, flinching away from Ichimaru. He could endure Ichimaru's cruelty, he had done so before, but if Ichimaru was smiling, he had lost any chance of reaching him.

"Hmm?" Ichimaru rotated to face Kira's downed form, eyebrows raised in question.

"Your smile…," he choked, "…you're hiding behind it."

Ichimaru tilted his head to the side, the grin shrinking to a half-smile curving on his lips, "Hiding what?"

"You," Kira said, drawing in a deep breath with difficulty.

"Trust me Kira," Ichimaru chuckled darkly, smiling, "You don't want to know the real me." He stood; bending over Kira as he loosed the ties binding him, then threw a blanket over the quivering blonde. "Get cleaned up when you feel like it; bathroom's down the hall. Then get out of my house." He turned on his heel and strode the room, still laughing softly.

Kira reached vainly after Ichimaru, his hand falling short as his exhausted body gave out. The blanket slipped off him, leaving him exposed to the cold of the room, he shivered. Curling up into a fetal ball, his body objecting to every action, he let the tears begin to fall. His heart, placed in Ichimaru's hands, had been twisted and shattered. The callous rejection of his declaration was worse than any denial. He knew now for certain, he was just a body, a receptacle for Ichimaru's lusts. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, give up his love. It was all that he had; everything else had been burned up in the pursuit of Ichimaru.

F/N: Encouragement or critique is appreciated. Thank you.