The Imperial House was a small palace by standards to the other, grander homes of the Holy Court. It was quaint by comparison, downplayed and humble, possessing only one massive garden, but whose vegetation and ponds rivaled even Aizen's favorites in the main. Here, the waters made by the forever divided Life Rivers found their way through rocks and crevices, the multitude of positioned boulders, surrounded by bowing bamboo and cherry trees that blossomed every fortnight.

It was more the place where Aizen-sama devoted to his studies as a younger god, where he now oft-ventured to practice his calligraphy and write little poems and sonnets, the small bits of literature he so artfully did with his own hands and read to Gin as the other cuddled listlessly in his arms. He honestly admitted once that he could have lived here, but then everyone would not have expected him to. It now served as a mere space to retreat, a fortress for solitude where he could think and rest and, yes, even scheme…

The lanterns hung low, tea and food already served on a nearby table, the large windows open, allowing the breeze from the Rivers to wash the boards, walls and every corner of the interior with its warmth, enough that the fire in the hearth was no longer a necessity. The bed was already made, the bare lace of the canopy and the meticulously woven sheets and scattered pillows beautiful, catching the light, yet no one seemed to want to accept its invitation.

Aizen-sama having wanted some time to himself, was meandering somewhere far off, walking barefoot amongst stones, under willows, the Wisteria in their massive clusters making for him several bouquets. These would look better in the daylight. But then the night held its own embracing charm. Where Phoenixes and birds of plumage slept in their nests, and even the Griffins on the high rocks kept their silence.

Ichigo had been left alone, a tired form laid on the hardwood planks of an overlooking plateau constructed to the side of the biggest of the ponds in the garden. The solitary cherry there, first to bloom, reached its heavy branches down, tips touching the surface of the half-black, half-white water like a lady's hands. A lazy head rested, sleepy eyes watching the dallying petals fall and swirl, making a dance in the breeze before disturbing the water, finally becoming as boats, creating tiny ripples.

Koi fish splashed by, crossing from one color of water to another and changing curiously, as if the patterns in their scales weren't beautiful enough to begin with. Then there were the fireflies. They didn't look any different from the soul orbs the wind brought in. Except maybe the Dark Sea always gave forth black ones…

Gin had been present for a while, observing the strawberry from a distance, leaned against one of the carved supporting beams of the balcony. He had been trapped in his own thoughts for the longest time now, contemplating, about Soul Society and what had been going on there, being not all-seeing. He could only rely on what he was allowed to find out and Aizen-sama didn't always tell him everything…

A thousand years ago. Gin was a budding shinigami, just coming into terms with his own powers, when suddenly they came swooping in, gods adorned in fur and snow, angels if there ever were any in existence who immediately decreed, "You have been chosen, and you shall be our Lord's."

He didn't even have time to breathe. These Arcana, as he later found out, carried out his abduction faster than his eyes could have blinked and, in a heartbeat, had transported him to a realm he never even knew existed. The Citadel, they had called it, where a gilded cage awaited him to be its prisoner.

For days he stayed confined, not knowing the purpose behind all this, until the servants came to bathe him, dress him in the raiment he will eventually become accustomed to, and threw him in the presence of the Lord of the Realm.

Their first meeting was surreal. He found himself unable to avoid looking, confronted by both the suffocating and enthralling presence that was Aizen-sama, a harsh, steely-eyed god who seemed to be made of petrified granite.

"Is he the one?"

There was that bronzed being standing beside him, an equally regal presence with his long braided hair and passive expression, "Yes."

The Lord looked Gin from top to bottom; the silver unconsciously shuddering, as if the very hands of this yet-to-be-known being had moved from where they were perched on his throne to caress the flesh, down to the very marrow of his bones. Even with the thickness of robes, he felt a sudden brush as torturous as permafrost against his skin. Once more, he shuddered, and blushed.

This made him smile, but a rather malevolent one at that, the glint of dark in his gold-brown eyes too ominous.

"I usually wouldn't chose a shinigami, but…he is beautiful," said the deity. "I find him most intriguing."

"Then shall I arrange your union?" questioned the other.

Union? Gin's eyes widened, and he shot up immediately at the words. What!?

"W-Wait a minute-"

"Yes," the God replied above his protestations as if he wasn't there. "Make it so in two days' time."

"Of course my Lord," the General all but bowed, not thinking of this as a difficult feat to accomplish.

Gin panicked then and there, "What do you mean by union?! I don't remember agreeing to anything damn it! What the hell are you talking about!?"

The Lord sighed, before impatiently dismissing all the visible-and invisible-beings in the court's attendance, those whose eyes have looked and waited for their ruler's proclamation. He watched a parade of strangers from both sides as they progressed through the doors, powerful these cold yet enchanting faces. He heard a bolt slip into place, and the only possible exit somewhere was evidently locked.

Something warm was blowing in, suffusing the hall with such vitality. The morning (or was that afternoon?) sun streamed through the rose windows and cast their mosaic of colors on the floor, on the impressive length of carpet, where Gin backpedaled through the soaking display, as Aizen rose from his lofty seat and moved forward.

Then he vanished, only to appear before the startled silver, an arm, indistinguishable from iron, easily snaked around his waist, pulling him close...too dangerously close. Some form of malice, obvious in his expression, pinned the shinigami with sudden dread.

"It wasn't my choice either. But I guess your body will do," came the calm voice, the shiver it amassed from the other slithering like a viper down the arching spine as the captive tried to push the other away. But the hold was too strong, it was pointless, the fact galvanized when the unexpected happened next. The Lord stole from Gin his first kiss.

It would be the genuine form of mouth rape, as the god all but swooped them both down to the carpet, his weight holding the shinigami in place. He pressed their lips so hard together, it bruised. The High God forced it even further, positioning the connection in such a way that it became difficult for his captive to breathe so that Gin had to open his mouth and the other could simply take advantage.

His tongue moved in, strong, overcoming, the shinigami fighting more out of the basic need for air than the actual assault before weakening to nearly passing out. The other only broke off when he knew the silver was close to collapse, noting how deliciously the body beneath him trembled, rousing the long-dormant desires in his loins. The High God stayed where he was, looking down at the disheveled appearance of his captive as the latter coughed, gasped for air, palm slack and weakened from the lack of breath.

"Sorry. I got carried away," there was that wicked smile.

Gin's head spun, making him moan. In his disorientation, he had failed to notice that the Lord had already pinned his wrists above his head and with a hand was hiking the edges of the robes up and over his knees, parting his legs to expose those hidden nether regions to scrutiny.

"W-What are you doing!?" the foreign feeling of fondling gave Gin a start, and when he had regained his focus, he immediately resumed his struggle, near hysterical as the Lord began to touch him. "Let me go!"

The High God smiled, rather seductive but alarming, so completely dangerous it was almost akin to diving into fire head first. The silver felt a thumb rub over the head of his cock, pressing, kneading the tenderness, as he was slowly pumped and gripped, caressed into arousal. Instinctively, he tried to close his knees, but the other had already settled between them.

"For some reason, I can't wait until our marriage bed," that was a horrific statement to tell someone you just saw for the first time. It shook Gin to the core.

But there seemed to be no escape. The shinigami's powers, no matter how much he had tried to conjure them, had failed since he got here. Could he do nothing to avoid this? But then even as he tried to flee, the more he seemed to buckle into that insistent hand, strangely getting excited by the other's ministrations especially as his fingers shifted to find that particular place.

"Let me go! Not there!" his voice was raspy, he swallowed, throat dry with effort.

He knew what was going to happen. He had survived thugs and hungry vagabonds in the Rungokai-fiends who found his features tempting-too many times in their attempts to know the seriousness of this situation. It made him cry, a defenseless heap in the arms of an uncommon predator.

After all these years of preservation, after almost making it to a better life in the Academy and Seireitei, the same end he knew to be happening so many times with those around him back home would also happen to him.

This bastard was going to rape him!

"S-Stop! P-Please…no…don't…" the silver pleaded, choking tears as he felt those searching digits find his anus and slowly, as if to torment him further, penetrated its tightness.

A devil's laugh was all there was…before both his innocence and virginity smashed into shards…

Yuri: Just a one chapter update.