Chapter Fifty Six:
Shiro hovered outside of the King's Suite, hand resting on the door as he mustered the courage to go inside. He could feel the ever steady and constant reiatsu that could only belong to Aizen, he seemed so serene and relaxed based on the subtle thrum of energy.
He'd passed two of Barragan's Fracción on the way, by the looks of things they had been on cleaning duty to ensure the King's Suite was in pristine condition. Not an enviable job, but they clearly still felt smug enough to sneer at him as he passed them.
"I'm comin' in." He said loudly, more to prevent him having the chance to back out.
Pushing the door open Shiro was taken by surprise at the sight of several candles spattering surfaces, providing a pleasantly intimate illumination across the vast room. For once, Aizen wasn't sat behind his desk working, he was reclining on the long couch near the balcony with a cup of tea in hand, his long white coat discarded in favour of his simple white shihakusho.
"I was beginning to think I would have to drag you in, again." Aizen's voice was coloured with amusement, but his gaze was stern as he appraised the albino, "What happened with Nnoitra? I sensed you becoming distressed, only to disappear up onto the roof."
Striding up the few steps towards the man, he lowered himself onto one knee and looked up at him in surprise, "Nothin' I just... Needed some space."
"What did Nnoitra say to make you change your mind about punishing him yourself?" Eyebrows raised at his vague answer.
Shiro's eyes narrowed, "Ya were watchin'."
"Of course." Aizen chuckled, leaning forwards as he rested his elbows on his knees, "What did he say?"
He tutted and dragged his eyes away again, "Nothin' important. Just... That Nel would hate me in her true form... Because she hates mindless violence."
The brunet Shinigami chuckled softly at his answer, "I see. It is true, Nelliel never did like fighting for the sake of fighting. But neither you, nor Ichigo, have ever truly done that. There was always a reason, no matter how small it may have seemed at the time. Whether it was to save a friend, to save yourselves, to right a wrong, or protect someone's pride. They are admirable reasons to fight."
He shrugged, "Not always though. I always wanna fight, that thrill and adrenaline of battle... It's an addiction I can't shake. Violence is always... What I turn to first."
"It is who you are." Aizen raised one perfect eyebrow, "All of my Espada are warriors, whether reluctantly or not. Battle comes to us all eventually."
"I guess that's true." Gold eyes lowered glumly as his stiff posture loosened.
"But that's not the end of what is troubling you, is it?"
Shiro's heart was racing in his chest, his gut churning to the point of making him feel sick. He had this awful, awful feeling that Aizen already knew. He had eyes everywhere in Las Noches. There was rarely an event that happened in the palace that Aizen wasn't aware of. It wasn't a pleasant thought.
"I... I fucked up." He said quietly, mouth dry, "I made a mistake and... It's been eatin' me up ever since..."
"I see." There was a muted harshness to the Shinigami's tone now, "Would this... Mistake have anything to do my Sexta Espada and his house guest?"
He gulped painfully hard, "Yes... They came up with a plan... A stupid fuckin' plan and I fell for it..." He bit his lip hard, blurting it would suddenly, "I fucked Byakuya."
"I know."
Shiro looked up sharply, he barely had time to react before he felt the hardness of the wall against his back as he was thrown against it, Aizen was in front of him, hands pressed firmly against the wall either side of his head. There wasn't anger in the man's eyes, just a prominent disappointed look on his face. The crease between his eyebrows, the tightness around his mouth.
"How?" The albino asked quietly.
"As you have probably already considered... I have eyes everywhere." Aizen seemed to examine his face for a long moment, sighing softly, "I was going to wait, I wanted to see how long it would take you to admit to what happened. I'm surprised, I truly expected you to try and hide it."
"Why would I hide it?" Shiro frowned, "It wasn't me... Not properly me... I wasn't myself... I regretted it straight away and... And..."
"It is fortunate for you that I saw as much as I did, enough for me to know that you are telling the truth. I'm not sure what came over you, or why you allowed it to guide you to break my rules but I am very disappointed."
"I'm sorry." Gold eyes tried to look anywhere but the Shinigami's face, failing as a tiny surge of anger and sadness rose up in the midst of his regrets, "Why did ya make me?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why... Why did ya make me?" He said again, "Even if Ichigo hadn't jumped in the way, yer desire would have been the same... If it hadn't been him it would have been Isshin or Masaki... I don't understand my place in the world! And it seems like no one else does either. The Espada... They fear me... Hate me... Why am I here?"
For the first time in a long time, Aizen found himself momentarily speechless at the perception of the Hollow he had created, there was the smallest of frowns settled between his eyebrows, a motion which would have been invisible to anyone who didn't know him. However, he was painfully aware that Shiro did know him. Probably better than anyone else alive. That was why the truth sprang forward quicker than he could quash it.
"I desired an equal. Somehow, the Hōgyoku discerned that you were that." He murmured, "I have always been powerful, more so than any other being I have ever encountered. Spending centuries like that tends to alter your perceptions of those around you. I wanted to know if I could make someone as strong as I am, hence my experiments began on Hollows and Shinigami alike. I never imagined the truest form of my desire would come in the form of a completely artificially created being."
Shiro bristled, temper rising, "Artificial? Arti- Are ya kiddin' me?!"
The brunet stared for a moment, surprised by the sharpness of the other's voice, and then realisation struck him, "You... Didn't realise."
The Hollow growled, bringing his hands up as he tried to push Aizen away from him, "I thought... I dunno what I thought! That I was... A mirror of him... A carbon copy flipped upside down..."
"Shiro..."
"No!" He barked, fingers digging into his shihakusho, "What am I?!"
Aizen raised an eyebrow at his reaction, tilting his head, "The Hōgyoku behaves all on its own, unique and unhindered by the heart. It's sole purpose is to fulfil its master's desire. It only ever creates perfection."
"Stop dancin' around it! What am I?!" His voice raised an octave, almost a shriek escaping him.
Sighing softly, the Shinigami's hands slid from the wall to cup the pale face of the Cero Espada, thumbs rubbing circles under those angry golden eyes, "The fusion of Ichigo's untapped power and my desire for an equal. The perfect life form."
Shiro stopped and stared, his mouth falling open as he struggled to find the words, "Ya think... That I'm perfect?"
"That is what I said, was it not?" Aizen hesitated for a moment to let those words sink in before he snagged some of the loose moonshine silver locks that trickled down the Cero's chest, curling them around his fingers, "You know me well enough, I should hope, to acknowledge that I rarely consider anything perfect."
Swallowing thickly, he watched as his hair was toyed with, his heart thundering in his chest as his mind turned into a roller-coaster of different thoughts, "But ya wanted Ichigo, just like everyone else." He said stubbornly.
"I did." The brunet agreed, his other hand coming up and tucking beneath the Hollow's chin, forcing their gazes to meet, "I admit that from the moment I met him I was enamoured by his courage and his persistence, his willingness to do whatever I desired or required. I believed he was my equal, and offered him a place at my side as a result of that."
"I ain't a consolation prize."
"I would never refer to you as such." It was plain, simple but sounded honest, "I gave you my word that I would give you a chance to prove yourself. I have watched how hard you have tried to mingle with the Espada, how you have tried to temper your nature to better suit them, to make them comfortable."
He flinched, he couldn't move and he wasn't sure he wanted to, but his lips remained turned downwards in displeasure, "What of it?"
"It should be obvious, shouldn't it? One such as yourself should never be anything other than what you are." Fingers ghosted a pale cheek thoughtfully, "Ichigo for all his virtues, was incapable of even trying to change; he played the game that was required. You however, while forever being true to yourself have tried to create bonds despite your own anxieties."
"And yer point is?" He huffed.
"My point is, my dear Cero Espada... My dear Shiro..." Warm breath tickled at snowy skin as the brunet leaned closer, "You have proven yourself to me."
Shiro blinked, not entirely sure he'd heard him right. His eyes widened abruptly as he felt soft lips touch against his own. The action was gentle but firm, with no permission being given as he sank into the touch, eyes slipping shut contentedly as his hands rested on the first chest in front of him. His breathing stuttered shakily through his nose as a tongue swiped experimentally across his bottom lip, demanding entrance which he was only too happy to give. A gasp leaked free as hands fisted around his waist, hoisting them until there was no room, no space between them.
He pulled back for breath, as reluctant as the motion was. Shiro lifted his hands, clasping Aizen's face as he looked deeply into those warm chocolate eyes, "W-What about... What I told ya... With Bya-"
A finger covered his lips, "Don't. Don't even say his name again. I can be forgiving. It simply means I shall have to make the effort to... Reclaim what is mine."
Shiro's head was spinning, his heart pounding, his chest tightening as every negative thought that had plagued him fizzled out of existence in the wake of acceptance from the one person the mattered. The one person who had always mattered. The only person who had ever mattered.
Arms snaking around broad shoulders, he allowed himself to capsize into willing submission, his body submerged in tingling trepidation he'd scarcely felt outside of battle. This was different to the times before, those stolen moments when he'd restrained Ichigo's consciousness and taken control, lingering touches and experiences that had seemed out of place, due only to the second skin of Ichigo's body between him and Aizen.
It had been like wearing a Gigai, trapped in a layer of something that he couldn't shed, couldn't remove, couldn't be free of, his movements entrapped and sluggish compared to what he had wanted. Ichigo had been a bind, a pair of shackles several sizes too small, restricting him, taming him, keeping him locked away, keeping every experience selfishly.
No more.
He tore his lips away to suck in a much needed breath, his eyes alive with a brightness all of its own as he scanned the tanned face that had become clasped between his pale palms, his body was quivering against the Shinigami, his world on fire for the first time.
"Swear to me." He whispered.
"Swear what?" Came the hoarse reply, Aizen was a man who reeked of composure, but even he was ruffled, however faintly it was.
"Swear that ya mean it, that ya want me and not him. He's never comin' back. I'll never have orange hair, or tanned skin, my eyes will never be brown. I'll only ever be white, I'll only ever be Hollow, I'll only ever be insane and tormented and wild. Swear to me that it's what ya want! Because I won't change, not even for-" He was silenced by another kiss, his body arching at the contact as he was swept quite literally off his feet, legs hoisted around the waist of the man he was connected to.
"I promise."
Heat flooded his cheeks, turning pale skin pink with fever. The promise was unmistakable from the way he felt arms encircling him, possessiveness washing over him and claiming him until it was almost too hard to breathe properly. He'd felt that greed before, only ever directed at Ichigo, but now it was focused on him with such totality he thought he might wither beneath its intensity.
Allowing himself to be guided across the room, he heard the fumbling of a door handle and the small creak of hinges opening. Clothes were torn away in impatience, tossed aside for later and Shiro couldn't help but catch his breath as his eyes glanced over the taut muscular expanse of Aizen's body. Strong and firm, unblemished, untouched, un-
"What the fuck is that?" His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline as his hands slid down from broad shoulders to curiously swirl around the pulsing orb of light that was nestled in the very centre of the man's chest, he felt pulled in by its presence, sucked in and embraced. It was almost homely.
"The Hōgyoku." Aizen replied, his voice steady despite his breathlessness, his hands rested on the white Hollow's hips as he allowed pale hands to explore, "I have subjugated it, mastering its powers at long last."
Swirling mists of blue, green, purple and pink coiled together in a deceptively sparkling entity which had a sense all of its own. It almost seemed to glow with the whorls of colour kept within it.
Lips parting in surprise, Shiro sucked in a small breath, "It's beautiful." He couldn't believe this little thing was the source of his creation, the very thing that had brought him life. It was so unbelievably small, looked so fragile and yet it's presence was overwhelming. He could almost feel it reaching out into his head, clawing at everything that made him exist.
"Yes, it is." The brunet agreed, sliding his fingers beneath the Hollow's chin and drawing him up into a deep set kiss, soft lips crushed together as nimble fingers made short work of the white shihakusho still covering the Espada.
Shiro barely had time to flush at his sudden nudity before he was hit by the warm spray of water. It was only then as he was gasping and forced to push his hair back off his face, that he realised they were in the bathroom and he had been guided into the walk-in shower. He flashed a glare at the brunet but it soon changed to laughter as he reached out and yanked Aizen under the spray too.
Their lips met again, pale hands sliding up and around the brunet's shoulders as he pulled him as close as he could. His eyes slipped shut as a groan of arousal seeped from between their mouths. He wasn't sure who it belonged to.
Back hitting the cool tiles of the shower wall, Shiro bit his lip as his legs were lifted around the Shinigami's waist again, he tightened them, digging his fingers into curls of brown hair as he felt lips gliding down his throat, tongue dancing a wet pattern. Tracing his jugular and pulse point before teeth dug deep, splitting the skin viciously and leaving a mark that would bruise prominently against his pale complexion. His hiss was one of pain and pleasure combined, body arching in response as his erection ached between them.
"I'm sure you recall," Aizen's breath was warm on the shell of his ear, "I am possessive of what I consider to be mine."
"Is that what I am?" He tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression, yelping as a harsh bite was added to his earlobe.
"What ever gave you the impression that you were anything else?"
Shiro groaned loudly at that, shamefully. He probably shouldn't have been quite as turned on as he was at the less than subtle control being exerted over him, but he couldn't help himself. He was, at least in the most basic of ways, a Hollow. He was all about instinct and power. And when confronted with someone obviously stronger, forceful and demanding than himself... It was instinctual to submit.
He was drawn from his thoughts by the sensation of fingers wrapping around his length, stroking movements firm and unforgiving as his arousal was drawn to fullness by the simple action. Moans were drawn from him easily, his pale skin flushing as a faint sheen of sweat began to glimmer under the faint patters of moonlight seeping through the bathroom window.
Another bite was added to the original, about three inches lower, on the crest of his collarbone. He didn't complain, he arched, asking silently for more as he allowed his fingers to comb through brown hair again, holding him closer and letting out a sharp cry of pleasure as Aizen's free hand slipped lower between his legs, fingers circling his entrance almost teasingly before plunging inside.
Somewhere along the way a lubricant of some kind had been produced, the slickness coating Aizen's fingers was alluring and perverse at the same time, drawing his hips into action as Shiro rocked between both sources of pleasure.
Whimpering pathetically as Aizen's hands left him his eyes fluttered open, which took him by surprise as he didn't recall closing them. A small squeak of surprise escaped him as his legs were dropped, a forceful grasp in his hair guiding him to turn around, his hands pressing against the shower wall. The grip on his snowy damp locks wasn't removed, instead it tightened, drawing his head back awkwardly and driving a guttural sound from him as he felt the brunet's cock pressing between his buttocks, sliding inside without a moment of warning.
His body quaked at the feeling of completion, his mind alive with a trilogy of thoughts that he couldn't quite silence. In some ways he supposed this was his first time, it had never been his body that had received Aizen before, it had been Ichigo's. That thought made his skin tingle with a blissful warmth that left his stomach tied in knots as his face was pressed unceremoniously against the cool tiles, his mouth falling open as a shout of pleasure washed him away, the feeling of rough and jagged movements making his toes curl, each thrust and rock of hips sending zings of unquestionable delight through him.
A biting grip dug into his hip, holding him in place as he clawed at the wall, his body aching as his prostate was struck over and over again, over sensitive and over stimulated, the enjoyment bordered on pain, which made it all the better. He was sure he was going to go mad as he felt Aizen's chest press against his spine, warm lips marking every inch of skin they could reach as the pace increased, brutal and feverish until fingers coiled around his aching manhood and mimicked the movements of the man behind him.
"A-Aizen-sama..." His voice was strained, desperation growing as he felt the spiralling of his gut getting worse by the second, the only warning he had that orgasm was close.
A nip to the ear, a puff of breath following, "I want to hear you say my name." The growl was heated, urgent, Aizen was close as well.
Golden eyes widened faintly, such a demand was a rare honour, his first name had never passed his lips as far as he could remember, he whimpered, body shaking as his back arched, eyes squeezing shut as his climax washed over him, a single hoarse shout breaking free, "S-Sōsuke!"
It was all it took, the sound of his name and the feeling of his Cero Espada's body tightening around his own, and he was shoved well and truly over the edge as well, Aizen's body stiffened, thrusting deeply as his own orgasm took control, his fingers leaving bruising marks on the Hollow's hips, ensuring he didn't collapse.
Shiro's head was hanging, his shoulders slack as a wave of exhaustion took him. He would have fallen had it not been for the almost painful grip around his waist. Whining softly as he felt Aizen withdraw from his body, only to feel hands return lathered with soapy suds. His eyelids fluttered shyly as he was washed. This had never happened before. This was entirely new. For some reason it made him giddy with delight.
"I told you once... When you were stood at my side things would be different. I meant that." Aizen's voice was surprisingly level despite the sex, "I am also aware that this was your first time, technically. So I intend to take care of you."
"Thank ya." He whispered softly, leaning back against Aizen's chest as fingers worked through his long hair.
There was a sudden chuckle against his neck, "Don't get to comfortable, Shiro. Your healing abilities are vastly superior to anyone else I have ever met... I intend to make use of that and christen every inch of the King's Suite with your body before the night is over."
Shiro's compliant weariness seemed to fade in the wake of a breathtaking smirk as his eyes twinkled with excitement, "Oh I'm sure I won't disappoint ya... Sōsuke."
And he didn't disappoint. They fucked in every room, on every surface possible, making as much noise as they wanted, allowing their reiatsu to flow free and tangle together. A silent message to all in Las Noches: the King had his consort.
By the time morning should have been breaking, Shiro was littered with more marks than he cared to heal, and Aizen bore many of the same. They lay together on the giant bed, pillows scattered across the bedroom in untidy piles.
Moaning contentedly, Shiro began to move, shuffling towards the edge of the bed only to be halted by a hand catching his wrist. He looked around, voice barely functioning a small sound left him instead, head tilting questioningly.
"I said before... Things are different now." Even Aizen's voice was a little strained at this point, but the half grin, half smirk on his face helped him carry it off regardless, "Stay." He seemed to add as an afterthought to make sure he was understood.
Blinking, the Cero lowered himself back down, wincing faintly at the uncontrollable ache throbbing in his spine. He would recover quickly, and in a way he wished he could enjoy all the aches and pains and discomforts for longer. He hovered on his side for a long moment before creeping closer, permitting himself to rest his head on the Shinigami's shoulder. When the action was not refused, he closed his eyes, shuffling as close as he could, draping an arm over Aizen's middle as he allowed a long satisfied breath to break free.
"You may consider the rule concerning... Not sleeping in my bed forgotten." It was a quiet statement, Shiro almost thought he hadn't hear it at all for a moment, but he felt an arm coming to rest around his waist as the covers were thrown over him and he was pulled deceptively closer to the warmth of the Shinigami beside him.
Evil, violent, cruel, manipulative. God he loved this man. He'd never say it to his face, never admit it to him, knowing it would never be returned. He was more than aware that Aizen knew of his feelings, and it was something neither of them would ever discuss. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.
Fuck Ichigo. Fuck Byakuya. Fuck the Espada. And fuck Zangetsu too, the bastard had refused to speak to him since his hostile take over of Ichigo's body. Fuck them all. He had what he wanted. What he had always wanted. He wasn't going to give it up for anything, or anyone.
