To Be By Your Side

by H'ekwos

There is always a price to be paid for power. As Toshiro grows stronger, his past threatens to destroy him and powerful enemies are drawing closer. Toshiro saved him from hell and madness, now he must count on Ichigo to do the same for him before it is too late. This story can be read alone, but is also sequel to Love Calls You By Your Name MATURE, yaoi, M/M

35. Chapter 35

"Oh, no you don't."

Strong, bronze fingers plucked the thick file from my hands, and I let it go, noting absently that his nails needed tending. He tossed the file carelessly onto a surface littered with books and papers that used to serve as a dining table.

"That is the information sent by Soul Society, everything they know and suspect on the higher Quincies, including their king. It is rather important, Ichigo."

"And you've read it a dozen times. It will wait until tomorrow. I won't let you do what you usually do."

He spoke over his shoulder as he returned to the tiny kitchen, barely worthy of the title, a mere alcove with countertop burners. We had taken to cooking most things in the outdoor firepit, and the aroma of crisping fish and slow roasting vegetables made my stomach growl.

"And what is that?"

"Work yourself to exhaustion, then do something incredibly stupid because you're too tired to think."

I stood and stretched. It had been a long day, now far past midnight though that was partly due to time zones. It would be past midday already in Soul Society, the hours falling one by one toward the final night, the final dawn. Temptation delivered to the Quincy, rescue and possible alliance delivered to the Hollow, warning and promise delivered to the Shinigami, it had been a very long day. Inevitable. Nothing could stop the cascade of events now, pieces set out with exaggerated care already tumbling in apparent chaos. But chaos brings all things, in the end, even order.

"I resent the implication, beloved."

"But you don't deny it, oh wise one. C'mon. Let me feed you before you pass out."

Watching him balance a platter of fruit on one steady palm, two sturdy mugs of steaming tea in the other hand, I trailed him out into the cool air of the tropical pre-dawn. Often, I would rise even earlier than usual just to enjoy this time, the peaceful susurrations of the sea, weary insects giving their place in the chorus to the infinite variety of colorful birds, and the brief respite from the heat I had learned to enjoy but never truly loved.

It was a slight risk, a calculated risk to return to our little island, particularly in spirit form instead of power-restricting gigai. Truth be told, we were not safe anywhere. Rather, we were as safe here as anywhere, as able to defend ourselves here as anywhere, and I wanted to spend what time we had in this place where we had been comfortable and happy. This life, as so many, was defined by duty until near the end. The time we had here was a golden age, though so much shorter than I would have wished. Really, time could not possibly accommodate my wishes. Centuries, millennia of peace with my Ichigo would not be long enough.

"Stop it."

I raised a brow. He had settled the platter and mugs on a blanket far enough away from the simmering fire to not pick up any heat or let the light take away from the view of the starry skies. Without thinking, I had drifted along behind him back to the fire, watching him pluck foil packets of vegetables from the searing stones around the fire.

"You are terribly bossy tonight. What am I to stop doing?"

The lopsided smirk as he straightened and placed a wooden tray with the packets on it in my hands became the focus of my attention. He leaned in close as I took the light burden, that playful twist of his lips leaving my sight as his cheek brushed against mine to whisper in my ear, and I shivered.

"Stop staring at me like you are absolutely starving, my dragon."

A hundred possible retorts flitted through my mind, discarded into the ashes of the fire as unworthy, not on this, our last day to pretend we were free. I merely turned my head, pressing my lips to the edge of that crooked smile, and he had no choice but to turn as well. A lingering non-demanding kiss, lips joining and parting in an easy pattern that had been natural between us almost from the beginning, the taste of coconut and Ichigo, and I smiled.

"There. An appetizer."

He chuckled as I stepped around him, leaving him to bring the fish. I could feel his content, his reiatsu calm, at least in comparison. Always there was so much energy, so much power dancing around him as if begging to be used. At times like these or when he slept being near him was much like lazing in the ocean, even at its most calm it is always active, currents and gentle waves forever rocking and caressing. As I had once set my pulse to the slow, eternal beat of the stars, now my heartbeat matched easily the rhythm of my beloved.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

"Well?"

"Huh?"

A huff of breath, and he leaned back down on his elbows. We were side by side on the blanket, the nearly bare remains of dinner scattered beside us we relaxed on the quiet beach. It was his damn fault, I thought, as he stretched pretty feet off the edge of the thick cotton and curled his toes into the sand. I had never thought twice about something like feet before, certainly didn't have any kind of fetish where I had to suck on toes to get off or any such nonsense. Until he denied me the right to touch. Then it became not an obsession, but certainly a distraction.

"Here I thought I was the one in need of rest. I asked how many you think will come with that Espada."

That scowl was one of the fakes, and if he looked away from the fading stars I knew I would see the light of teasing in the dark teal of his eyes in the gloom.

"Not many to none."

"Really?"

The teasing was there and gone as he looked up at me, expression turning thoughtful. I let myself lie back beside him, one hand behind my head, the other finding his and resting on top of it.

"I know what you are thinking, love."

"Do you?"

"You're thinking of Hollow like they are human, just because you've seen a few human weaknesses in the Espada. Oh, you're not wrong. But a human born unwanted and forced to fight its own kind for survival, then forced to act cooperatively with rivals it would rather tear apart than stand beside, what kind of desires motivate it in the end?"

"Selfishness, no doubt. Bitterness and hatred. Cruelty that feeds self-loathing that feeds cruelty. Yet, I have seen something like compassion and brotherhood. They band together; is it only for survival?"

"Don't all men show brotherhood when threatened? Even lower Hollow group together in colonies. It was easy to mistake them for villages full of families, some of them lasting decades, I'm told. They would work cooperatively to fend off roaming groups and the occasional Arrancar, but I saw just how far their feelings of brotherhood extended when a hunting Espada showed up. Not all of my . . . brethren . . . gave them time to flee. Why would they? It was a perfect opportunity to feed."

He let his weight fall back to lie beside me, hand turning to clasp mine, the cool wave of his reiatsu washing over and under my skin like the cold light of the stars. Both of us had past experiences we may sometimes like to forget, but they were invaluable. I couldn't imagine what I would be like now if I had never endured the truths behind my nightmares. Probably I would still be an idealistic kid who thought every evil could be banished, every enemy redeemed.

"What of revenge? Those who have not knelt to the Quincy army have paid for their freedom."

"Wanting revenge for wounded pride is one thing, and any of them would attack Quincy in Hueco Mundo if they could be sure they would survive the attempt. But risking their necks for revenge, and an indirect revenge at that with no promises of victory or survival, that's not in their nature. Nor is loyalty, nor duty, nor friendship unless it has a direct benefit."

"But Jaegerjaquez is the exception."

"It's just weird hearing you call him that. And he's not acting out of friendship or nobility, believe me. Grimm just loves fighting more than his own life. The thought of a great war that he isn't part of is driving him mad. The Kenpachi of Las Noches."

"Well. With him and the Visored, we won't have to worry about the Royal Guard."

"Too bad Yoruichi and old hat-and-clogs can't come up top with us. I'd love to see them cut loose."

A faint hiss made me turn my head away from the fading stars. It wasn't the first time I'd noted the reaction to Urahara, not as strong as my reaction to the damned fox but always there in the tightening of his jaw, the hardening of his gaze. Toshiro wasn't easy to win over, and he rarely forgave a true slight against him or anyone he cared about.

"What's your beef with Urahara, anyway? I mean, I know he's done some shady things, and he can be an insulting ass, but he's been solid."

My first experience with Urahara he had treated me like a pawn, sent me into a situation where he was pretty sure I'd end up dead. He had used very risky methods to train me, nearly getting me killed before I even got started. He lied again and again, and I wasn't foolish enough to actually trust the bastard. Yet, I almost always did what he wanted, and I didn't hold a grudge for the way he had manipulated me and my friends. Why? Because while his motives may have been selfish and unreasonable, I was the one who had come to him. I was the one who had begged for help without asking him anything about his reasons for saying yes. I'd never asked for loyalty, never asked for him to be my friend. He hadn't betrayed me in any way, as far as I was concerned.

Toshiro was still staring up at the sky. I could feel his resistance, reiatsu pulled in tight as if he wanted to hide his emotions from me. Our bond was too strong; I could sense the anger, caution, anxiety he was trying to keep suppressed. I tried not to let it piss me off. If he was reluctant to talk, he had a good reason. Finally, his head turned, eyes searching mine.

"How are you feeling about the Hogyoku?"

"Well, that wasn't what I was expecting. Fine, really. The thing creeps me out a bit. I'm pretty sure it's alive, but I try not to think about that too much, or about how I feel pretty much invincible whenever it's close. That's why Aizen died, you know. The bastard overlooked every warning sign, walked right up to a Vasto Lorde and tried to make it submit because he was sure he was God. It probably worked for him once or twice. Zangetsu was stronger and meaner than any of the others. He should have known, but thanks to the Hogyoku he was convinced nothing was stronger than him even at the end.

"I worry about that, about being overconfident. I mean, Aizen had been aware of the danger before. He kept me weak around the thing because he was worried he'd lose control of it to me. And then when he had merged with it every bit of sense went right out the window. He would have been better off coming after me with his zanpakuto only, but instead he put his faith in that rock and walked straight to his death."

His thumb rubbed lines across my knuckles as I spoke.

"You won't be that weak. And I will be with you, beloved."

"I know. That's why I haven't brought it up. If you're there, you'll keep me from doing anything stupid. If you aren't, it won't matter, anyway."

I didn't give him a chance to respond to that. We both knew the risks. I knew he wouldn't like me thinking that way, but it was a fact that if he died, I wouldn't care about my survival. I'd get angry with him for saying something like that, too.

"What does any of that have to do with you and Urahara scrapping like dogs in an alley every time I turn around?"

He snorted but there was no amusement in his eyes.

"I hesitate because your control of the Hogyoku is vital. I don't know if you've thought of this, or if it might change your . . . relationship with it. Urahara Kisuke has done many things that are unethical, some of which I consider crimes worthy of the harshest punishments Soul Society has ever offered. The creation of the Hogyoku is one of them. That thing should not exist. What went into the creation of Urahara's part of it, I do not know. I do know that the part created by Aizen was responsible for the deaths of thousands, souls whose power is now trapped in the final Hogyoku born when Aizen merged the two. Stolen power, not unlike the power of the Soul King. Most victims were not as fortunate as Rangiku, who only lost a portion of her power until you restored it."

"What?"

I couldn't help the interruption, turning onto one elbow to stare down at him. He hadn't mentioned this before. Why not?

"What about Rangiku?"

"When she was young, she had the bad luck to stumble into Aizen's path. Why he didn't take everything from her I don't know, and we can't ask. Urahara's theory is that stronger souls can resist, though I don't buy it. Whatever the reason, only a portion of Rangiku's power was taken, enough to keep her from reaching her potential for decades. That's what set Ichimaru on Aizen's tail, to get revenge for her, and to get what was stolen from Rangiku back. He didn't have the strength to take the Hogyoku from Aizen, so he planned to kill him, leaving him the strongest in Las Noches with a masterless Hogyoku. Then you came along, and he took the chance to destroy Aizen and use your mastery of the Hogyoku by pushing you to push Rangiku."

"Wait a sec. How . . . I didn't tell the Hogyoku to do anything to Ran. You mean it just . . ."

"Sensed your desire for her to achieve Bankai, to reach her potential, and returned what was taken so that your wish became reality."

"Fuck. I mean, I heard about the whole wish thing, like that had something to do with me and my friends getting so strong while still human. But that thing just read my mind?"

"That's what it does, Ichigo, reads your heart. And your heart was dead set on helping Rangiku get stronger, wasn't it? Also set on helping me find the truth of my past and survive it, set on making us both stronger, closer, safer."

"That sneaky fucking fox."

He snorted again, and this time I saw the glint of humor in his eyes.

"That's what you focus on?"

"Well, the rest of it, I mean, who the fuck cares? Yeah, I want all those things. Remember when I was so stupid about whether you really loved me or if you had no choice because you loved Raiden? Got over that quick enough. So what if the Hogyoku is brainwashing you into loving me more? I'll take it."

"Yes, that must be it. No other reason I would fall for such an idiot."

I glared but he'd turned back to watch the sky, just fading into dark gray with the approaching morning. Flopping back down myself, I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and felt it returned.

"So now you know. I do not trust Urahara. That doesn't stop me from working with him, but his skewed morality nearly does. Yet here I am, arm in arm with both him and Ichimaru."

"Hmm. Can we talk about something else?"

"I don't think so."

There was that teasing again, and I was glad to hear it. We were less than a day away from his reckoning. What was left of the man who chained him, tortured him, turned him against his own soul and conscience, and then destroyed the last happiness he had found was sitting in Heaven waiting on his judgment. Thousands of years he had sought justice without knowing why, suffering with each life, attaining a little clarity with each death. And it would all come to a head in a day.

Yet there he was, my brave dragon, scheming and learning, questioning but not without purpose. Had I ever doubted his strength, the picture of him grinning, stars vying to shine in the jewel eyes, feet still digging idly into the sand as if they could not resist like a child, that would be enough to convince me that my love was the bravest soul in or under Heaven. And he would keep worrying, keep planning through the dawn and the day and the night if I let him.

"Are you finished eating? Then to bed, love. No more talk."

"Not yet. It's almost here."

Unspoken, the reality we both acknowledged. We would be too busy to notice the next sunrise, and so this could be the last. We were both confident, but not blind. At least, victory or defeat, this would be the last day in hiding, the last day I had to grit my teeth against the consuming need to fight. Knowing the enemy was almost within reach was maddening, but the icy touch of my love's soul kept the fire of rage under control.

He turned his head toward me and I stopped breathing. This journey had not only changed me. It was clear now, the little changes day to day one could miss so easily. The aura of something greater that had hit me like a lightning strike when I first set eyes on him, the shadow of a power beyond that of human or Shinigami that had always lingered at the edge of my vision. My love was more now, more than just Hitsugaya Toshiro. No. That wasn't right. He was a more complete Toshiro than ever before.

"Stop it."

"Huh?"

"Always so eloquent, Kurosaki."

He rolled toward me and I was suddenly being kissed all over, one hand in my hair and his lips blessing my forehead, cheeks, eyelids, nose, sweet and light touches that danced across my skin as he hummed deep in his throat, almost a purr. One firm press to my lips, idiot that I am too dazed to grab him and keep him there, and he pulled back, leaning over me with a smug smile.

"Stop looking at me like you are absolutely starving and do something about it."

Thoroughly shaken out of my reverie, I was on him in an instant. It hadn't been the plan, I just wanted him to take some time and then sleep, with me thoroughly wrapped around him, of course, but just sharing the calm before the storm. Wasn't my fault he was addicted to my cock . . . well, and my ass, and my mouth, and my hands. Point is, however it went down all he had to do was command as he just had, and I would do my best to provide.

Despite the way I had turned and pounced on him like I was the starved beast he named me, I stopped, crouched over him, to frame his face in my hands and stare some more. In the beginning, I had to remind myself that this was not a dream, the deep and inescapable bond we were forging was real. Not any longer, no question or doubt, all that remained was the fact that he was as much a part of me as Zangetsu. And it no longer mattered if it was fate, history, or some fucked-up genie in a jewel that pulled us together or a brand-new love born in this life.

"What is it, beloved?"

I chuckled, his smile widened. Sometimes, the stories he had told me about our time together so long ago seemed very real to me, as if I was the one who remembered it all. Almost, I could hear myself asking the same question, almost see the mystified look on the usually serene face of the legendary creature trapped in a world he did not understand. Almost, I could hear him asking how to answer when no answer fit.

Instead of answering the simple and impossible question, I finally brought our lips together again, hearing him hum as he did when he was pleased with me. Oh yes, I was very well trained to obey, the sound making me deepen the kiss, pushing my way into him, mingling tongue and saliva and breath, so familiar now yet always, always hungered for like the exotic treat that it was.

Already his hands were pulling on my shirt, and I cooperated, sucking on his lower lip until the last minute, breaking away to let him tug fabric over my head. Dipping back down, my hands slowly started working buttons free; he always did prefer more classy clothing, even in the simple linen we had changed into as soon as we returned to our temporary home. I lingered on his neck until his shoulders were bared, moving on to the sensitive base of his throat, the collarbones I always enjoyed wrapping my lips around and decorating with faint or bold marks. I kissed the jade dragon lying on his breastbone, too, hearing him snicker.

I did so love his voice, the way he never hid his pleasure. I knew just where to lick to get him to moan, just where to nip to hear him growl, just where to suck to wrest a whine from the back of his throat. Like here, the dark pink ring and firm pebble of flesh that was pushed up to the brush of my tongue and the pull of my lips, so wonderfully responsive. A gasp of breath and I released the precious nipple to soothe the little bite with a caress as I looked up at the angled arch of his neck, stretched back to press himself closer.

Toshiro was not hurrying me, his hands drifting through my hair and down my back with no insistence. Not that it was unknown, but I usually had to convince him to let me go slow, to let me spend more time lavishing attention on his chest and shoulders while stroking silken hair and cheeks. Instead, his elegant hands stoked the fire under my skin, trailing light touches down my back, fingers pushing under the waistband of my pants and then dragging firmly back up. He always sought out the muscles of my back and ribs, his palms resting there, kneading like a cat, and obediently I exaggerated every movement just for him.

"So beautiful . . ."

I sighed against the line under his pectoral, my tongue not done tracing the curve but distracted wonderfully by the unusual compliment which added to the joy I always felt when we shut the rest of the world out to focus solely on one another. The gentle tugging of my hair was another command; my love's mind never rested and of course he caught my reaction. Swiftly, I answered the summons and tried to keep his tongue occupied long enough for him to forget. The strategy backfired, a surge of his strength and we rolled, clattering plates and knocked over cups, a hiss as what I hoped was a fork dug into my hip. An impatient flick of his hand and I watched the various plates, utensils, food slowly dissolve, sucked away, unmade by chaos, along with the rest of our clothing. And I was pinned, hands firmly pressing my shoulders, lithe body draped on top of me and between my spread legs, the hard length of his cock pressed alongside mine.

"Have I never told you . . ." While I simultaneously complained. "You damned show-off."

"Ichigo . . ."

"Pretty sure you have."

My hands were happy with the change of position and suddenly bared skin, now able to clap firmly onto the soft globes of his ass. His too-clever eyes lowered, and he kissed me, catching my tongue and sucking on it for a delirious minute.

"I haven't. Why do you put up with me?"

Next, he sucked on that spot just under and behind my ear that sent little shocks of pleasure to my groin. My fingers pressed between his flesh, trailing lower. His hips moved in response, spreading his legs and causing welcome friction that made us both groan.

"Hmm, I wonder."

"Pervert."

It was a little difficult with the position I was in, not much leverage, but he didn't fight it when I flipped us over again. Immediately, I distracted him with another kiss, tickling the roof of his mouth, swallowing the little moans that action always brought. I shuffled my legs until I had mine between his, then scooted down the blanket while he panted.

"Where was I? Right about here."

I kissed along his ribs, working my way lower, kisses and caresses between words. He was such a sucker for sweet-talk.

"Let's see. You have called me pervert before, I think."

I shifted weight to one hand to move easier, pressing the blanket down into the sand. The other hand did some more teasing of his nipple while I sucked a bruise to grace the spot where ribs met, his deep breaths pushing against my lips.

"Variations of idiot, precious idiot, clever idiot," I made it to his navel and stuck my tongue into it while his skin twitched and his fingers threaded through my hair, "never understood that one. Good boy, animal, rabid dog." I licked the trail of precum from his right side back to the middle, the heat of his erection rubbing along my throat, jaw, cheek, but I moved away to lick the other side. "Bastard, sneaky bastard, twisted bastard," I bit his hip, "I'm perfectly legitimate, you know."

"Ichigo . . . god, shut up."

I had to bring my hand down to hold his shifting hips while I moved lower. Golden thighs, skin like cool, flowing water.

"But some nice things, too. Daarrrlinng," I dragged the word out, purring it against the little bruise I had created while he writhed, trying to get my mouth where he wanted it.

I was taken completely by surprise, not even sure how he managed to slide down and push my shoulders up, using his legs to pull my legs forward and unsettle my weight so he could climb up as he pushed me away. Couldn't complain about the end result once I had reoriented myself, somehow sprawling backward, awkwardly sitting upright with a lap full of Toshiro. Sneaky fucking yoga-master. I growled as I lifted him by the waist, kicking and twisting until my legs were not cramped under me.

"Beloved." The smooth voice moaned the word deep and quiet, a world of meaning in a single word spoken with the reverence of a believer speaking sweetly to their savior.

He pressed teeth firmly into my neck, right on the scar that throbbed so pleasantly with cool reiatsu. My hands moved up to pull us close together, making him lean back a bit on my thighs. This was good, this was amazing, nothing better than having him on top of me like this. God, when he was still so small, having him in my lap was by far the best way to fuck him, and even now it was a favorite.

"Yeah, I'm rather partial to that one myself."

He let go, licking the sensitive skin and then pressing open-mouthed kisses all over my neck. I leaned my head back, the repeated whispers of 'Beloved' heating my skin. He took my head between his hands again, scattering those butterfly kisses tenderly over my face.

"Gorgeous, sweet, so beautiful, so beautiful, my golden one."

Lifting his flushed face, he stared into my eyes while I grinned, sappy, lovesick fool falling for my own trick. It was rare for him to say such things; I couldn't help but melt. I barely noticed the movement of his hands, but I felt the flicker of power, the answering energy of chaos like the faint shock of mild electricity, and there was a small plastic bottle in his hand. I rolled my eyes.

"Now you're just rubbing it in."

He didn't snicker or smirk like I expected, just pressed his lips to mine as he found my hand that was on his waist, pushing the bottle into my palm.

"No, my exquisitely lovely darling. That's your job."

Well, I didn't have to be told twice. Not the best position, but I wasn't willing to change it for the world. Besides, my Toshiro was a lascivious and, let's face it, masochistic minx. If the prep was a little less easy and thorough with my arm having to stretch around his back, he wouldn't care in the least. He helped, lifting a little on knees, his shins folded under him on either side of my thighs, and I renewed the marks already fading on this shoulders and chest while I slipped my fingers in and out of that perfect heat.

My love seemed determined to thoroughly muss my hair. The way his fingers tangled stands I had allowed to grow to my shoulders just for this and pulled them had me moaning along with him. And again, he was letting me go slow, tender, so very intimate. I tried and failed to ignore how his every breath, every little shift of his hips pressed our dicks together, both hard as steel, hot, wet. I wanted to just lift him up and impale him, but I also wanted this to be as loving as possible. We may not get another chance.

Somehow, he always knew when I was overthinking. Or maybe it was happy coincidence. Either way, every rational thought fled when his hands settled on my shoulders and he started riding my hand, brows knitting together with intense pleasure, deep moans telling me to keep my fingers still, he already had them pushing right where he wanted them. I leaned back, trying to lighten the pressure on my own erection from his steady up and down movements. It didn't help in the least.

"Ichigo . . ." he growled, long fingers tightening on my shoulders, glaring down at me when I moved my hand away.

"I need you, baby."

His face softened with a sweet smile and he pressed my shoulders away from him, completely taking control. One hand gripping my shoulder, one hand went back to my thigh, the perfect torso leaning back, and he lifted his weight, hips tilted just right for me.

It never lessened, only grew stronger, the awe that stole every thought each time he accepted me. Ever so warm, ever softening the tight hold on me to conform just right, holding and wrapping me in the fire hidden under the ice. The sound I made as the delicious pressure yielded to me just enough to let me in, impossible friction pulling my skin and burning it at the same time, my groan and hiss of pained delight blended with the satisfied moan from my love. He could have dropped his weight heavily, as he so often would, but this time he stared into my eyes as he settled slowly, snugly, panting slightly through his smiling lips and slipping the hand on my shoulder around my neck.

Beyond the physical bliss as he pushed down on my thigh and lifted himself with barely a pause only to come down slowly again with a gasp, the look in his eyes, opening to me as did his body, the depth of them like the heavens, infinite and mysterious yet somehow filling me with the comfort of home. Those breathtaking eyes saw me, all of me, shining clear light on the darkest parts of me with a tender ruthlessness that bared my soul in all its glory and all its hideousness. He saw me, the petulant child still blaming my father and mourning my mother. He saw me, the terrified human dying under the weight of despair, surrendering sanity just to survive. He saw me, the resolute defender turning into avenging angel, reforging my heart into something worthy of staying at his side.

All this those omniscient eyes saw and reflected back my broken soul bathed in nothing but love, made whole and divine. All the pain, the sadness, the anger not washed away but cherished, clutched as close as the joy, the strength, the resolution. The dark and the light, both invaluable parts of what made me the man he could accept into his heart and his body. All this, too, he saw and welcomed, and I worshiped him for it.

Thoughts ended as he leaned back, tucking himself closer with a roll of his hips to take me deeper, eyes slowly closing with a drawn-out moan. The best part of him riding me was the way his muscles worked to raise and lower himself, clenching, tightening around me as he moved up, exquisite to watch the body I adored, rapturous to feel the slow pulling. It drove me mad when he moved quickly. Moving slow and steady, it made me feel like I was going to cum every single time I watched him rise. Until the pressure suddenly changed, the friction reversed, delightful and agonizing.

"Ohhh, babe, yes! Yes, just like that."

The hand on my neck slipped to my shoulder and pushed. I obeyed, leaning back, my right hand burying the blanket in the sand and giving me a little leverage to flex up into him. My left hand gripped his hip and held the slow, steady rhythm while adding force with my own thrusting. The clawing at my shoulder and thigh as he tensed told me all I needed to know, and my name leaving his sweet lips in a broken cry confirmed it.

Still, he made no demand for the rough pace I knew he loved best, his magnificent body following my lead, rippling like the waves that sighed just like he did, heavy, wet. I was the one nearly losing control, encouraging just a little more speed. Then he sacrificed that perfect angle and some depth to bring his other hand to my neck, eyes raking my body before staring into mine.

How could it still be like this? Somehow, we were still finding brand new ways to enjoy each other. Yes, that was a good choice, we could cling together, I could memorize every detail of his flushed skin, expression scandalously lewd. And being able to kiss his lips, shoulders, that lovely neck was enough to push against him harder, yet so slow, so deliberate, each time we were fully united earning a pause, a moan, a kiss.

And this was how we came, arms wrapped around flexing bodies, tongues unwrapping to call one another's names, reveling in each other's heat, scent, taste. And god! the beauty of him, eyes reflecting, enhancing the glorious sunrise as the pale pearl light made his golden skin glow.

There were so many things people said at times like these, when the threat of separation, the specter of mortality loomed. Things like how much they loved each other, how the outcome didn't matter because of the joy they shared, how they would give anything for one more day, and one more, and just one more. Just words, just wind, unnecessary and inadequate.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Counting hours again, I let myself have until noon when the creeping heat of the day would have woken me anyway. Far away, afternoon was edging into evening in Karakura and Soul Society. Ichigo still slept as I got dressed, and I pulled the sheet and thin blanket away to let him sprawl naked and comfortable for as long as possible. Last morning on the island gone, last morning of our exile ended. The dappled light falling from the huge window onto his bare legs held me entranced for another ten minutes while I thought of nothing but the moving light and shadow on bronze and orange.

The folder I had been reading had been tossed onto the table. I gathered the scattered pages, then heard a mumbling from the bedroom nook and reminded myself that I would have to endure a lecture if I didn't eat breakfast, lunch, whatever. Resigned, I started tea and rummaged around, finding plenty of cold items that I could just set out and munch a little to satisfy my Ichigo while I sat at the messy table to read.

The information has been compiled by Kyoraku quickly, in response to our alerting Soul Society of the Quincy threat. I hadn't expected anything in return, and much of it had already been covered by Ichimaru. But I sifted through it again, hoping to find a hidden detail that would be valuable, particularly in what they knew of the Quincy King. Actually, what the sotaicho knew of the Quincy King. Sneaky old bastard. Well, he had been in charge of the Gotei for thousands of years; the chances of him not encountering any major player in power were slim to none.

The origins of the Quincy leader were unclear. His power a thousand years ago had been enough for a direct order to be issued by Heaven, and the man had survived a direct confrontation with Yamamoto. Truthfully, the intelligence on the leader added almost nothing, changed nothing, too vague and speculative to base any new strategies on old information. Even less was known about the soldiers, a few notes on some of his followers from a millennium ago who may or may not still be alive.

"Mornin'"

Figures. I had trouble continuing to sleep when he woke, as well. I hesitated to glance, but he had at least pulled on long shorts for once.

"Good afternoon, beloved. We're due at Urahara's in less than two hours."

"Way to spoil the morning."

He leaned over to kiss my cheek, my head automatically tilting as his lips never came to grace my skin. I felt the tension in his hand on my shoulder, the strain in his reiatsu. It was not fear, not even mild anxiety or doubt. No, he was champing at the bit to race, beyond ready for the fight so long delayed. I hummed in unadulterated pleasure as his energy and eagerness wrapped around me, contemplating the mostly useless information spread out before me for the last time.

"Around a thousand years ago, the Quincy threatened Soul Society. The details are quite deeply buried in the typical self-destructive secrecy. I only managed to find hints of it. Even Ichimaru's information was vague, and Urahara had nothing to add. There are still many details missing, but this much is clear. Yamamoto himself was ordered by the tyrant to eliminate the leader of the Quincy. He thought he succeeded. This is what little Kyoraku managed to get out of the old man, intelligence on the Quincy leader and his commanders at the time, their abilities, strategies . . . it isn't much."

His hand was steady as it reached over my shoulder to push round the pieces of paper, though I could feel the trembling of his immense aura, alive and seething like a thunderstorm about to break. As he stepped back after the barest glance, I got to my feet and turned to see his grin that was both amused and threatening like a growling wolf. Goddamn, he was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

"Ryu thought he'd killed the Soul King. Yamamoto thought he'd done for the Quincy King. Now we get to clean up everyone's mess."

"That's my mess you're speaking of, beloved."

"No, it's Ryu's, Hyorinmaru's. Hitsugaya Toshiro wouldn't leave a lethal enemy alive behind him. So," I watched the lovely muscles of his mostly naked form as he snatched the empty plate and started loading it with the various leftovers, wondering why I'd never tried to use his chest and stomach as a dining table, "a couple of hours. Plenty of time for you to sum up all the enemies so I can coach any Arrancar with the balls to show up, right?"

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

"Nice tan. I meant to tell you before. So, now that you don't have to hide, just where is your perfect tropical hideaway?"

Bad enough I had time to do nothing but think, now I had no buffer between me and Urahara. Worse, Ichigo had to deal with Ichimaru. Unfortunate that we could not have traded tasks, but once again his vanishing reiatsu made him the only choice to send to Soul Society. Being detected and raising the alarm this late in the game would be a disaster. At least I wouldn't have to wait long for confirmation that the delivery was done, and then I could be back with Ichigo until the next step.

An hour at most and we would all be overseeing the final moves before the attack. Urahara and his team would go to Seireitei, hopefully to do nothing at all. They would guard Ichimaru who would be fully absorbed supervising and adjusting the kido and the Hogyoku, regulating the flow of power through the gem and into the barrier and the power loop that would pierce the matching barriers between us and Heaven.

An hour at most before Ichigo and I would start waiting, watching, feeling the shift in power. When the time was right, we would separate, Ichigo to retrieve any unusual allies from Hueco Mundo while I guided the Visored through the narrow window opened by the Hogyoku.

"Nowhere you need to know about."

What I wanted was to pace, the nervous energy of expectation needed more of an outlet than sitting in a soft chair sipping green tea.

"I simply thought Yoruichi and I could use a vacation after this. Maybe we'll visit Heaven instead. Do the two of you plan to take up residence?"

"The weather there never suited me."

The glare was justified. Ichigo and I were not the only ones risking lives and freedom, and one could argue he had a right to ask whatever he wanted and expect an honest answer.

"Have you followed the pool? Odds are heavily in your favor, though admittedly the only ones who know of the coming battle are those inclined to support the two of you."

When I didn't bother answering or even looking at him, I heard the snap and rustle of the omnipresent paper fan.

"Of course, the more interesting bet is on what you will do next. It's a compliment that none of your friends bet on either of you putting a crown on your head. Quite a few expect you to just disappear, removing yourselves from any authority."

"Because we are both such passive people, content to just let the world do as it wishes without our input."

He laughed. I did not. It wasn't an unappealing option, retire back to our island or close the walls of Heaven around us and let the rest of the universe wind its way to entropy. We had both already proven that we were not capable of such.

"The favored outcome, however, had you taking over the Gotei and Central 46. Personally, I think you would make an excellent sotaicho. Would you simply abolish Central, I wonder? Or lead it yourself and let your younger half tackle Division One?"

He did not mention what we would have done with Yamamoto to make this happen. I suppose the old man's death was expected by most. I was inclined to agree, but my love was not. So, I would see how the day played out, how the tyrant's slave responded to the war and the outcome.

"Your money is on some variant of that outcome?"

"Oh, no. I invested quite heavily on another idea. And if you do plan on taking an active role restoring the balance of power throughout Soul Society instead of feeding Seireitei while Rukongai starves, I stand to make a tidy sum which I would be happy to donate to the worthy cause."

Despite everything, I had to stop a grin. For all my misgivings, there was something about the arrogant, sarcastic prick that I couldn't help but find attractive. Not physically, god, anything but that. No, it was a bizarre kind of charisma the ex-captain had, one that lured even the wary into complacency. I could say I didn't trust him, but the fact was my life, my redemption, my beloved were all in his hands. If he failed to keep Ichimaru safe, if he turned on us or fled, if his cursed Hogyoku failed to handle the power of an entire universe coursing through it, that would be the end. Ichigo and I could still force our way through to confront the tyrant and likely we would win, but what good is a victory when all you hold dear is burnt to ash?

I did not believe that he would fail us. If I thought there was more than the slightest chance of it, I wouldn't rely on him at all. Not a friend. Not a partner. But an ally. And allies should be treated with at least some degree of respect.

"It is highly unlikely that you will ever get your toy back."

A rapid flutter like a raven shaking its wings was followed by the falsetto mockery of a distressed damsel.

"Oh, no. Whatever shall I do?"

"That's what I get for offering a bit of honesty."

"You throw out a random tidbit of information that I already know like it's a gift, but don't answer my simple questions. How is that honesty?"

He had me there.

"Fine. Your donation will be appreciated. It seems we're still allies."

"Speak for yourself."

When he didn't explain the waspish comment, I turned to meet the perceptive gaze.

"This Quincy emperor may be a more dangerous enemy than the Soul King and all his guards. Do you still have some control over the Hogyoku?"

"Kurosaki-san may be the Hogyoku's master now, but I am its creator."

I thought it through one last time, just to be certain I was right. The impenetrable barrier I had designed based on the very ones the tyrant had put in place to keep me out of Heaven would trap the Gotei and the Quincy in Seireitei, infinitely powered by reishi delivered to the Hogyoku thanks to my custom kido.

It would be wise to leave the plan in place, the barrier remaining until Ichigo called the Hogyoku to him, which he would do at the moment of the tyrant's death or before if he needed the extra power. Any tactician would tell you that it was foolish to sacrifice any advantage against an enemy so powerful. And yet, what good is a victorious battle in a lost war? I could live with the fall of Seireitei, even the unthinkable loss of my dearest friends. They were warriors, almost certain to fall in battle tomorrow or a hundred years from now or a thousand. But I could not live with the what it would do to my beloved. I could not survive if his generous heart should break under the guilt if he helped me win at such a steep cost.

"Then, there is one more task for you to handle. Once we have succeeded, the Hogyoku will vanish from Soul Society and be with Ichigo. Should you see a strong sign that the Gotei is going to lose before that happens, I need you to do something for me."

"Let the Quincy through? I thought you'd never ask."

"Honestly, neither did I."

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Curiosity and mild surprise looked good on Toshiro, taking years off his normally stern face. This time of day when the subtropical sun was at its zenith and the humidity wrapped my lungs in a wet blanket was the best time to sleep, sprawled in the hammock. I wasn't nervous about what was about to happen, or about anything that lead up to it. Okay, that's a small lie. But really, I was feeling pretty relaxed and confident for someone who would be trying to kill the only thing close to a deity anyone had ever found. A deity who once fathered the soul I had inherited, and then killed that soul brutally. A deity that held entire worlds in thrall, shamming all into ignoring the atrocious truth of his power.

Yeah, I was okay with deicide.

"Ichigo?"

My crooked smile still made him stare, though it rarely brought the blush that it used to. Or maybe he was just staring because he expected me to still be arguing with the old buzzard instead of playing his favorite song while I lounged on the veranda. Months of relatively quiet living had given me plenty of time to master 'Night After Sidewalk' for him, and a dozen others that had been out of reach. It was far more pleasant to work the strings and create beautiful music than to try to tease a straight answer out of the thing-that-was-not-Zangetsu.

"Daiquiris in the blender, love. Refill mine while you're at it."

He scowled, and I grinned as he snatched my glass. He wouldn't drink. He rarely did. But he also didn't lecture me about me drinking just before going to war. Nor did he question why I was relaxing in the shade playing guitar when we were supposed to be going over everything one last time.

"Everything go okay with the Hogyoku?"

"Mmhmm."

Long fingers unwrapped from the sweating glass that he sat on the small table between us, long legs bent as he settled in his chair facing the ocean but turned slightly in my direction. His scowl deepened, from the one that said he was confused but trying to be patient to the one that meant he was biting back frustration that wasn't quite ready to become full-blown fury. When he just stared at me coldly, I figured I'd better stop teasing before I ruined our last chance to relax.

"The fox was as close to polite as I've ever seen. Shunsui was with him." White brows became one, knitting tight in the middle. "Easy, love. Only so many excuses for letting the traitor who is supposed to be serving out a punishment run loose in Rukongai. Shunsui gave us our space, not that I had anything to say. I stuck around until I could feel the Hogyoku fade behind Momo's barriers."

The lovely face relaxed a little, eyes turning toward the crystal waters that looked back in jealousy. My wise dragon decided to move on, and I kept playing quiet tones as he ran down a list. Names, descriptions, what was known about the skills of each member of Zero Squad and the few known higher Quincy. Definitely not human anymore, soul or not, if they'd been alive and following this emperor for a thousand years. That helped with the guilt. I listened, filing away the details to relate to Grimm and any other suicidal Hollow.

"Did the Quincy spirit have anything to add?"

I'd been meditating frequently since we first encountered the Quincy, trying to gain some advantage, knowledge or skills that might give me an edge. It paid off, and Toshiro had helped me refine the new techniques from my Quincy blood. He had helped come up with ideas, ways to combine Quincy skills with Hollow and Shinigami so that I would be the one surprising them. It would have been a lot better had I done this months ago, as soon as I learned the truth about old man Zangetsu. But when I saw the sketch of the Quincy king from a thousand years ago, that's when the old man and I really had it out. Or I tried. The old fucker didn't cooperate.

"At this point all of our conversations are me asking questions and him guessing. I'm not sure if his answers are even his own ideas, or if he's was just picking up on what I already think. Like asking whether all Quincy have some kind of version of him. He thinks so, but he's got nothing to back it up, no sense of any others or the head honcho, just a fucking guess. Damn, I used to think he knew everything."

"That is maddeningly unhelpful."

Daiquiris weren't really designed for angry swigging. If I got brain freeze, it would just be another thing to blame on the old buzzard. I wasn't mad at him, honestly. How can you be mad at some part of your subconscious that is just as confused as you are about who he is and why he exists? For some reason, it was easier to accept the lack of self-knowledge from Zangetsu. He was pretty fucked up, after all. The old man, though, I'd really thought he had his shit together. Shows what I know.

"Tell me."

"At least the Quincy won't have the element of surprise. It might have come as quite a shock to see the resemblance between him and the Quincy king at the last minute."

"Ha! You'd think I'd be used to impossible surprises."

The sketch of the Quincy that came with the information from Soul Society was the spitting image of my internal emo grandpa. Old Zangetsu denied being part of the Quincy king, but said he was part of the Quincy king. Yep. He sure did a good impression of a zanpakuto, every word a useless riddle. Zangetsu, homicidal Hollow-fused psychopath, seemed as honest and genuine as a child in comparison.

An elegant hand lit on my shoulder with a mild squeeze. He had stood and gathered cups and the ever-present plate of fresh fruit in one hand while I had stopped playing and stared out at the sea as he had. How like my love to clean up one last time when we would likely never see this place again. He had even taken the time file plans with a lawyer, our humble, lovely home and our boat would belong to the quirky, antagonistic hermit two coves over if the world continued to spin.

"Ready, beloved?"

Time to go fetch Grimm. I had considered leaving him and any others he managed to sucker into this fight. But it was his choice if he wanted to fight and probably die. And the Arrancar would be sent after the guards, safely out of our way. If they wanted to risk everything for a chance to take a bite out of Heaven, I wasn't going to stop them.

"You know it. I'll see you at the rendezvous point, love."

I kissed the passing fingers as they trailed across my cheek and got up to store my guitar and fetch my swords. The last twinge of something like regret as I cast my eyes over our serene sanctuary was barely worth noticing, drowned as it was by the joyful rush of anticipation. Zangetsu, the one that hadn't lied to me, the one that was part of me and mot part of my enemy, was laughing almost non-stop. Everything I was, everything I had endured, learned, fought for, ran from, it would all be judged worth the effort or not. Soon.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

A/N – that was it, the last chapter of set up and chat and drama before we get to some action. Like previous battle scenes, I'll probably disappoint some readers with lack of detail. I've never hacked at someone with a sword, so I do find it hard to visualize and describe fights.

So, y'all – avtorSola has a fic on AO3 called "Smells Like Peppermint." It's been there for awhile but, late as always, I just noticed. If you like my IchiHitsu, you must go read that story. Like, NOW.

Thanks, Beebo85, Pako, DenIchi Hitsugaya, Tazbird! I don't want it to end, either. Maybe that's why it takes forever for me to post as I keep rereading and editing again and again . . . sigh.

Thanks, guest reviewers! Grimm/Urahara? That's an interesting match, kinda gives me the creeps. Urahara's just got that dirty old man vibe for me, ya know? But yeah, everybody flirts with everybody so why not?

HEY – you guys think I should cross-post my stories on AO3? I only just started messing with that site. Seems to still draw some readers, so I might get some more feedback. I do have one story sitting (IchiHitsu, of course) that is really dark and completely not appropriate for FFnet . . .

I'll do my best to be faster with the next chapter. See you then!