Chapter 21: King Flesh
Aizen sipped on his Tea as he surveyed the reconstruction of his destroyed throne room. Even with Espadas and low ranking hollows working around the clock, it would still be some time until the building is restored to it's former glory. When he first conquered the tower from Barragan, he found out that the Hollow King had enslaved millions of Hollow sprite to build it over the course of a million years. Now that he had Espada's and even Shinigami helping the construction, he hoped that it would be finished within the year.
Still, it surprised him that so many of his followers volunteer themselves into the reconstruction effort. In Soul Society, the government would've rounded some poor folks from the outer walls, give them an absurdly low wage, and force them to toil day and night to finish buildings they would never be allowed into. In his small little kingdom, nobody is forced to do any of this, and that's one thing he can pride himself on creating.
Aizen picked Hueco mundo as his base of operations not only for ease of recruitment, but also to show everyone in soul society that there's an alternative place for spirits and undead to exist. It may not be as 'safe' as Soul Society is, but in Hueco Mundo, nobody is ordained to live a certain way just because they are born on the wrong side of a wall.
In his kingdom for the exiled, Shinigami and Hollows are free to live as simply or as chaotically as they wanted. For the stronger ones, they can volunteer up to serve in his army for the benefit of a command and prestige. Nobody worships anybody here, and nobody is held to arbitrary rules that a faceless god had inflicted upon them. There is only one law that persists in the wasteland of Hueco Mundo, the law of nature.
In here, only the strong can survive, and Aizen liked it that way. He is constantly surrounded by strong beings whom he respects and understands. Their existence does not only guarantee his safety from Shinigami, but it gave him the freedom to help poor villages without fear of being attacked by the government.
Eventually, helping small projects and donating food to these people wouldn't be enough. He wanted to start inviting them to live in this new kingdom of his. Only one problem persists with that plan; those malnourished civilians wouldn't even last a day down here. They're as weak as sheep, bred to be docile so Sereitei's elite can herd them into a state of powerlessness.
Aizen has not forgotten about them, about his humble beginnings of trying to fill his bowls so he would not starve. He'll come back for his people, and spirit them away to a less hostile place than Hueco Mundo. If necessary, he'll conquer every inch of Sereitei for them.
His domain will not end with this chaotic little kingdom of his.
"Something on your mind?" A cheery voice called out to him. Aizen was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice a half naked Ichigo watching him from a nearby bench.
"Hmm yes." Aizen quickly put on an airy little smile. "I was considering weather I should punish you for taking off your uniform or take you back to my room and ravish you."
Ichigo laughed, clearly flustered at that answer. "And here I thought I can talk to someone who doesn't want to jump on me. I've been trying to shake Starrk and Kenpachi off my tail for hours now."
"And here you are. Running from wolves and into the arms of a lion." Aizen chuckled. "You are very, very naïve indeed."
Ichigo frowned. The boy is too easily baited. He bit Aizen's lip and gave him a sloppy kiss made of tongues and teeth, biting him just enough to draw blood to assert his dominance. Despite his flushed face, Ichigo smirked. The boy is getting bolder and bolder by each day, and Aizen loved it.
In this dark and desolate world, having an equal who can turn his thoughts away from vengeance is a rare thing to have. Nobody has ever filled him with so much peace than this spirited young warrior. Plotting to overthrow the longest reigning regime is no easy task, but Aizen's resolve stood firm and unshaken, for he knows that he has the future Soul King on his side.
Feeling rather sentimental, Aizen took Ichigo's hand and kissed it gently. "After all of this is done," He muttered, "I'll take you someplace nice and we can make a home out of it. Then I'll make you my consort, my queen, wife. Any title you want. And you'll be mine. Properly."
Ichigo chuckled at Aizen's boastful promises. He's not the first person to make such a proposition to him. Kenpachi and his squad members once asked him about going back to Soul Society. Stark told him that if Ichigo tires of being in Hueco Mundo, he wouldn't mind making a nest up in Ichigo's hometown. Grimmjow… well, before he disappeared, the Espada dreamed of desserting Aizen and nesting somewhere in the old woods of the Human realm.
Ichigo stroked Aizen's temple and whispered a sweet 'no' into his ear, smirking at Aizen's unhappy frown. " Starrk will sniff you out in a heartbeat and Kenpachi will have your head. I rather not witness your tragic death and be spirited away somewhere else." He played with the collar of Aizen's Haori thoughtfully. "Besides, I'm happy here."
"Here? In this wasteland?" Aizen laughed, unconvinced by Ichigo's answer. He jostled the boy around until he was lying across his lap. "I could take you to the most lavish cities, or to the most beautifully desolate mountains, or even to your hometown." The mention of Karakura made Ichigo twitch. "Are you sure you want to stay here?"
Ichigo leaned up and gave Aizen another kiss. "Wouldn't want to change a thing." He muttered, leaning into Aizen's soft lips as he silenced all desires about running away. He's a weakling who left his family, betrayed his friends, and consorted with the enemies. Hueco Mundo shall be his purgatory. He deserves that much.
The commander noticed the pained look in Ichigo's face. Silly boy. Within the year, he's going to transform into the strongest being in the world, and still he desires to be punished? Aizen chuckled Ichigo's naivety. The strong has no luxury of justice. They bear the burden of power alone. Soon, Ichigo shall understand this. For now, he'll play along and entertain the boy's blissful ignorance. Let him keep these naïve ideals of love and simplicity for a while longer. When he's King, morals and justice will have no place in his court.
Sereitei, 4th division barracks.
Grimmjow emptied himself into Hanataro tight ass, buckling against the boy's lithe body and giving him a few last thrust to satisfy his greedy hole. When he pulled out, a few lines of cum dribbled out onto his shivering thigh.
"Ow… Guri-san." Hanataro rolled from underneath him, smiling despite being so utterly wrecked and used.
Grimmjow huffed, laying back on the futon to catch his breath. Sex with the officer was a good distraction from the daily drudgery of Shinigami work. The kid was one of the good ones, a completely earnest worker who's easily impressed by everything that he does. It almost made Grimmjow felt bad for thinking about Ichigo during the act. "Was it good for you?" He asked.
The officer blushed and nodded, pulling a blanket to cover his nakedness. "It's always good when it's with you Guri-san." He beamed, looking like the happiest person in the world.
Grimmjow just grunted in response and began to dress.
"Oh? You're not staying the night?" Hanataro's asked in confusion. Grimmjow mumbled something about having an early start at the 11th division. He could almost hear the disappointment in Hanataro's overly happy voice.
He tugged on Grimmjow's newly tied Hakama. "Guri-Taichou," Grimmjow raised his eyebrow and turned around, his eyes watching Hanataro drop the blanket with quiet interest. The boy has gotten bolder since the first time he took his virginity behind the 11th division's dojo. He liked that. Grimmjow prefers his sluts willing and eager, and Hanataro pleases him greatly.
"Would you stay for me?" Hanataro asked shyly, parting his lips ever so slightly to give Grimmjow a glimpse of his wet tongue. "I'll make it worth your while…" he pushed his naked body against Grimmjow's robes, embracing the man while offering his used up body at the same time.
Grimmjow was almost tempted. Being desired pleases him, even if it's not by the person that he wanted. Sadly, tonight is not the time. He had to complete some paperwork before dawn arrives, one of the few daily drudgeries he had to endure as Captain of a division. Grimmjow leaned down, gave the boy a gentle kiss, and promised him to come visit him within the week. "Now pass me my haori." Hanataro looked displeased, but followed him obediently. One other thing that pleases Grimmjow; a submissive mate. Ichigo would never be as docile as Hanataro
As Grimmjow walked out of the 4th officer's barracks, his haori that proclaimed 'the 11th division' fluttering in the air. Just the sight of it was enough to stop every passing officer in awe. It was like the haori seemed to have some magical properties. Wear one, and the idiots who sneered behind your back last week is now laying prostrate on the ground, begging for mercy.
He hated it, this meaningless power.
True power comes from the blood and sweat spilled in the battlefield, not a tittle he's bestowed upon after defeating the highest seat member with a wooden sword. In Hueco Mundo, words will spread when you grow strong, which drew stronger people to him, all eager to test their mettle. In here, people scurry away from the sign of the white Haori, tripping over themselves so they can bow and curry favor to someone with a higher position than them.
Disgusting.
No wonder Aizen wanted to destroy this type of stagnant society. They may live longer than the hollows of Hueco Mundo, but there's more dead people walking around here on Sereitei than they have Hollows in Hueco Mundo.
"Guri-taichou." A calm and gentle voice stopped Grimmjow's long strides. Behind him stood Retsu Unohana, smiling gently in some feminine eveningwear. "Visiting Hanataro again?"
Any other captain would be flustered at the question and try to make up some kind of excuse to hide their tryst, but Grimmjow is an espada. He doesn't need to hide the fact that he enjoys sex. "Unohana-Taichou." He nodded his head to acknowledge her. "Yes I was," He turned around and cracked his neck, deliberately showing Unohana the possessive marks Hanatarou placed on his neck and chest. "If it doesn't please you then I'll stop coming."
The lady hid a laugh behind her sleeve and motioned the man to follow her. "I rather not meddle in the private affairs of my officers." She led his down a short corridor into a tatami room filled with arranged flowers. "Would you care to share a cup of tea before you leave?"
"Yes." Grimmjow answered despite his own distaste for social calls such as these. He needed to maintain a good relation with the other captain. Making himself familiar to them is essential to moving around Sereitei.
"Your predecessor doesn't care much for other division, especially the 4th, so your relationship with Hanataro piqued my interest quite a bit." Unohana explains as she poured them some floral smelling tea. "In a good way of course."
Grimmjow accepted his cup and shrugged. "Yamada and I both have desires, and I see no point in playing coy and hiding them. I am not ashamed of being… human." His answered seemed to please the 4th division captain.
"I'm glad you're not hiding your relationship Guri-Taichou. It really has done wonders to the way your division treated mine. The previous Kenpachi was rather dismissive of us, you see? And it translated to the way his men treated mine." Unohana sipped her tea. "You're a breath of fresh air in this stuffy old fortress."
Grimmjow observed her quietly, noting about the little hint of information that she managed to slip by. "Tell me more about the previous Kenpachi." He said under the guise of making conversation. "I hear he defected from the ranks to join the traitor. I wonder why they're still making me wear the name of a traitor as my title."
Unohana considered his question quietly. "The title of Kenpachi has existed long before Zaraki. To abolish the title would be a great shame. Only the strongest can be named Kenpachi. Although…" Unohana stared at Grimmjow's rebellious frown. "You don't seemed like you like the name at all. Is it true you make your immediate officers call you by your given name?"
The blue haired man scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I have my own name, I have no need for borrowed ones." He hid his frown behind the teacup. Why do these people squabble and fret over something as meaningless as a name?
"About Yamada," Grimmjow coughed and switched the conversation away from himself. "If you want to, I can move our activities to my captain quarter in the 11th, though I probably won't be guaranteeing your officer's timely return. Yamada tears quite easily. The whole reason we do it in his room is so he doesn't have to walk anywhere afterwards."
"How considerate of you." Unohana smiled, unperturbed by his explicit explanation. "I wasn't looking to ask you about that like that. If anything, you're welcomed here in any hour and day of the week. After all, your relationship has been beneficial to both of our divisions."
"If you say so." Grimmjow finished his tea and gave the captains a curt nod, walking out without so much of a goodbye. The 4th division captain frowned, but shrugged off his lack of manner for simply being a member of the 11th division.
"Come again Guri-Taichou. You're always welcomed in the 4th." Unohana called out with a bright smile. Her words did little to inspire any sense of belonging that she intended. In fact, it made Grimmjow feel even more like an alien.
He shut the sliding door unceremoniously and stride out of the base, suddenly feeling suffocated by all these people who suddenly wants to be with him.
'All they respect are titles and ranks. They cower to the strong in hopes that they would be protected. Cowards, all of them.'
As Grimmjow walks through the peaceful street of Sereitei, he couldn't help but to grind his teeth in irritation. How much longer must he keep this façade up?
He longed for Hueco Mundo, for it's everlasting moon and shifting sand dunes. He wanted to bury his claws into the cold sands and blend into the landscape, away from the stench and noises of human spirits. He longed for solitude, for nobody's company but his own. Maybe then he'll rinse away the pervasive ringing of human sounds that's been plaguing his ears.
'No, Ichigo's laughter would drown all of these noises away.' Grimmjow smiled, a warmth spreading in his navel as he begun to think about the boy.
Ever since Kurosaki's father imparted those memories to him, Grimmjow's feeling for him has morphed and changed in a million different ways. The first night in Sereitei, he hated the boy down to the core of his being, the scene of his kiss with Starrk still fresh on his mind. How dare he even consider other people than him? He thought of a thousand different ways he could force himself onto the boy and another thousand ways to kill him after, but after he released his seed into his hand, those feelings dissipated.
He doesn't hate the boy. Not really. He wanted to hold and treasure Ichigo, to be kind to him and to receive a smile back for his effort. He wanted to know the boy until he understand the darkest stain in his soul, and cherish all those ugliness so the boy can feel loved even in his worst hours.
Days past and Grimmjow felt this overpowering need to come back to Hueco Mundo, but his pride stood in his way. When he finally able to let his feelings won over his ego, he was already in too deep into the mission.
This mission was supposed to be a distraction, but it turned into a daily toil in which he found no reprieve. The only thing that bought him comfort was the thought of Ichigo.
He should've just stayed and tried to propose to the boy again. Ichigo might have rejected him again, but at least he could see the boy. Even staying by his side as a 'friend' is a much preferable torture than being apart from him.
Grimmjow was far too deep into his thoughts before he slid down a slippery hill and ended up in a small stream, soaking his Hakama and Haori.
He was ready to mutter a slew of curses when a small glowing dot appeared just before him. It grew in size almost immediately, pushing up to the water until it's calm surface bulged like silk on a pregnant woman's body, pushing and pushing until finally, it broke in gentle rivulets that splashed and hovered in the air.
Grimmjow quickly hid behind a rock and reached for his sword. 'There's something abnormal going on.' He thought. After a quick scan of the streets, he noticed that all the soul inhabitants that were just walking in the streets are frozen in time. A sickly sweet scent of frankincense and myrrh began to permeate the air, all originating from that glowing blob on the stream.
Curious, Grimmjow peaked from behind the rock and watched something magical and terrifying happened on that narrow stream in Sereitei.
From the crater of water on the stream, a line of men began to emerge, all dressed in ornate robes and tinkling bells. On the sockets of their eyes were bloody pulps of pink and white organ. It was their eyes, smashed and gouged beyond repair. Their lips are sewn shut into a line of submissive silence, and he could see that even some of them are struggling to smile despite their sewn mouths.
'Slaves' Grimmjow thought; though he couldn't fathom why would anyone dress their slaves in such lavish clothes and then mutilate them.
Each slaves climbed out of the crater until they were floating on top of the water in a neat little line. They glowed in the darkness like solemn fireflies, some of the ones with open lips were chanting mantras and ringing a bell. On their shoulder they carried a humongous litter decorated with gold and red silk, the doors sealed with charms that flutter precariously, even though the night air was stagnant and windless.
It was a royal procession.
Grimmjow caught glimpse of flowing blond hair through an open window shutter, it's owner leaning out of the window with one of the many bells dancing in her delicate hand. 'No, it's not a girl.' Grimmjow thought, stalking closer to get a better look at the man despite already knowing the truth. 'It's the Soul King.'
He pushed through all the deaf-mutes and jumped onto the shaky platform, grabbing the slender hand and jerking the shutter open to meet his enemy face to face. In one swift movement, he could reach for his sword. He will end this stupid farce today and return to Hueco Mundo to his beloved.
Before his hand could reach in, the barrier made by those seals exploded, and all the litter bearers began to morph and transform into something monstrous. They tear through their sewn mouth and began crying rivers of blood, their muscles bulging out of proportions and turning them from one monstrosity to another.
Grimmjow avoided the hands of those monstrosities, drawing his sword and quartering every enemy that tried to pummel him to the ground. One by one they fell, sinking through the water to settle on the bottom of the stream, their body polluting the water and chocking up any life that resided there. It was glorious. Being bathed in blood made him feel truly alive.
"Interesting." A clear voice cuts through the night. The King had kicked open his doors. He looked like he's been witnessing the slaughter of his men with perfect apathy. "The space where your souls should be… it's hollow." He mused, his eyes dancing around Grimmjow's bloodied silhouette. "Are you here to kill me?" the King tilted his head to the side to observe the bloodied man on the ground, his blue eyes were cold and ready to kill.
Grimmjow grinned and spat out the rancid blood from his mouth. "No." He lied. "You were just so beautiful I wanted to see more of you." He sheathed his sword and wade closer to the litter. 'Come closer so I can rip out your neck.' He thought, stalking through the piles of corpses, eager to add one more to the mountain.
All his plans dissipated when he was engulfed in a massive wave of reiatsu. It was a bright and oppressive force, one that slips through and fro his hollow hole like a snake slithering around it's victim. He understood that if he were to attack, he would simply be scattered into nothingness. "You're more beautiful than what I imagined." Grimmjow added quickly, praying that this monster wouldn't be able to read his thoughts.
The boy instantly beamed, clearly pleased by his answer. He jumped down from the litter and sat on the mound of corpses, unperturbed by the blood and gore of his followers. One by one, he shrugged off his many robes to until he was clad in nothing but a thin piece of translucent silk.
That sight was enough to engorge Grimmjow to the limits of his pants. The boy laughed. He stretched out his foot to nudge Grimmjow right on the hole where his soul used to rest.
"Since you've slaughtered all my servants, you must take responsibility of escorting me back to my palace." He said. Grimmjow was less than pleased with that prospect.
"I don't know where your palace is." He reasoned. The King smiled.
"Put me on your shoulder and I'll show you the way." He commanded with an inhuman authority
This time Grimmjow obliged. He waded closer and held out his hand. The King simply stepped onto Grimmjow's palm, light as air, and took his place on the man's broad shoulder. "Onwards." He said, lacing his fingers through the hollow's blood sodden hair.
Grimmjow only managed to take a few steps before he had the King pinned on a nearby rock, a terrible hunger suddenly rising deep inside of him. They boy looked on, unperturbed, even amused at the state of the Hollow. He reach up to touch Grimmjow's face, only to have his slender wrist slammed down in a vice grip that bruised his flawless skin.
"Run." Grimmjow chocked, his teeth growing longer and his pupils turning to silts. "Run or I'm going to eat you up." Grimmjow said gravely, trying hard to contain himself.
The boy laughed.
He used his free hand to lift up the silk undergarment, revealing a plane of snowy white skin, barely shining with perspiration. "Please do." He whispered, spreading his legs ever so slightly.
Grimmjow need no further encouragement.
He kissed, licked, and bit every inch of his perfect skin until he drew blood, longing to feast on his flesh and savor the energy that's swallowing him up whole. All the pent up lust and aggression he felt in Hueco Mundo are unleashed on this petite body. He embraced him, egged him on, moaned for him in ways that made his cock weep with pre cum. The boy was perfect.
When the King leaned up to kiss him, Grimmjow pushed him down back down, growling with real killing intent. It was his meal to enjoy, and he'll devour him in his own way. The king laughed, happy to play the willing victim. It's been a while since someone with a will of their own desired him like this. He slid off his haori and ripped open his robe, his eyes promising pain and pleasure beyond anything the boy had ever imagined.
"Take me." The king whispered, his eyes glazed with need as his body bloomed under Grimmjow's abuse.
The hollow complied, all thought of Ichigo forgotten as he thrust himself into the pliant flesh and roared. His eager victim gritted his teeth and submitted under his ministration, his gasps and whimper entangling with Grimmjow's feral growl. To His majesty, they sounded more beautiful than the chanting of a thousand mindless worshipers.
In Hueco Mundo, three powerful beings engaged in a similar type of worship; one that revolves around Ichigo's body.
Kepanchi is the violent one. He would thrust and dominate Ichigo until the boy could do nothing but lay there in a daze. The others would always try to stop him, but their protest would fall short when Ichigo stirs and begs for more. The captain would always oblige. He understands the boy. They both have this animalistic hunger that could only be scratch with an equally animalistic rut. It's that special bond that they both share, the need to dominate and be dominated.
Starrk is the gentle one. He would take Ichigo into his arm and held him as he weathered Kenpachi's merciless abuse. His touch would light a fire underneath Ichigo's skin, stimulating his numb nerves to sensations he thought he lost. When it's his turn to sheathe himself in Ichigo's warm flesh, he would stay inside for hours, pumping in and out slowly as he push orgasm after orgasm out from the boy's body. Every night, Starrk would reduce the world's strongest warrior into a tangle of babbling mess, never giving him rest until he release inside, marking Ichigo with his seed and scent.
Aizen is the one who's always in control. One night he may give the boy pleasure, and on the next day he would deny it from him. He'll make the Ichigo beg and debase himself for the chance of touching him. He'll shower him with kisses and overwhelm him with tender words of love and affirmation. He'll treat him like his lover. He'll treat him like his slave. Whatever piece of hell or nirvana he had in store for Ichigo, Aizen made sure that Ichigo experience them to their fullest extent. His greatest pleasure comes from exerting his will, and Ichigo's pleasure comes from obeying them.
After being so thoroughly venerated by these powerful men, Ichigo would fall asleep, satiated by the devotion and love he received on that day. The acts of lust and debauchery were not as important to him as the feelings he received. Kenpachi would have gladly treated him gently if he had requested it, but the man understand Ichigo's need, and he'll put his wants aside for the boy's pleasure. The same goes for Stark. Seeing Ichigo being taken by two other man is enough to make him go berserk, but to have him cling onto him only makes him want to treat the boy gently. Even Aizen followed in this behavior pattern. He'll take on whatever role Ichigo wanted him to be, the lover or the villain, he'll put on whatever mask he needs to wear to quenched the boy's thirst.
All of their earnest feelings would come through to him, from their gentle touches to their vicious thrusts. For every movement and gasp, Ichigo is forever grateful to be cherished so wonderfully.
After receiving all of their energies and feelings, something inside of Ichigo would change and meld together. He felt stronger, more grounded. He felt like his connection with his Zanpakuto has never been closer. He felt inhuman. Powerful. He felt that if he would will it, the world might bend to his liking.
Some nights, the thought of it it scares him enough to wake him from his slumber.
Whenever he needed comfort, he would always find Aizen awake, smoking his pipe near a moonlit windowsill or in his serene little garden. He would then sit himself on his lap so they can share an innocent embrace. He loved those simple moments of intimacy. It made him feel somewhat human again.
He could never do that with Kenpachi or Starrk.
Their desire overwhelmed him. They tear into his body and soul in the most wonderful of ways, and he partook in the pleasure of their flesh with the same passionate fervor. But between Kenpachi's burning desire and Starrk's torrents of emotions, he felt lost. Is he a man, or an animal made for pleasure? Is he a warrior, or has he been reduced to a mere consort of warriors?
When those questions suffocated him, he would reach out for Aizen, the unswaying monument of power and control. When Ichigo touches him and he'll respond to him like he was a man, not an object of desire. The last time he ever felt so grounded was when he walked around Karakura with Grimmjow.
One night, Ichigo stirred up from his sleep not with dread of his own ever-growing power, but about a certain arrancar he pushed away.
Aizen sat in perfect stillness as he enjoyed the artificial breeze in his artificial garden. Moments of solitudes like these have become too rare for him to find. Weather on Sereitei or in Hueco Mundo, people flocked to him and smothered whatever little solitude he has left. It might be unpleasant, but such is the nature of power. Power intoxicates, and both man and beast desires to drink deeply from his fountain of power.
Aizen doesn't mind. He always find proper uses for all the cravens who gathered close to him. If they plan to profit off him, then Aizen will make sure that he will maximize their value before utterly smothering them.
Except for Ichigo. They boy has him, mind and soul.
Aizen will never say it out loud, but Ichigo has done something that nobody else has done. He made him love. For as long as he could remember, his focus has always been about his ambition, not his personal life. Of course when he saw the boy he felt an immediate attraction, but he could never thought that Ichigo could arouse such feelings inside of him.
'It's that reiatsu of his. ' Aizen thought, growing hard just thinking about that intoxicating scent of power. Ichigo's reiatsu is special. It subjugates the mind and titillates the body. If he wanted to, Ichigo could have taken his arrancar army make them do his bidding, but Ichigo was never one to want for lofty goals. All that he wanted is some companion to ease the pain after betraying his family and friends.
Aizen knew all of this. He knows that he is a mere substitute for the boy's real kin, and that one day Ichigo will overpower him, and reduce him into a plaything, but he still stayed with the boy. He couldn't bear leaving him for the other mongrels to paw and consume. Ichigo has a destiny to fulfill, and he wanted to witness that.
'We'll probably be thrown away once he realizes he could come back to Sereitei as their ruler. If I'm lucky enough he'll kill me before then.' Aizen chuckled. He would hate to see his prediction come to fruition, but he has an annoying habit of being right. 'Ichigo is mine. The only thing he should rule is my heart.'
Aizen felt a flare of a familiar flame and snapped out of his musing. He walked over to the hidden door and slid it open, revealing a very ragged looking Ichigo scrambling around.
He gave an indulgent smile and let the distraught boy clung onto him. "What's wrong? I thought you were already asleep." He murmured as he places a kiss on top of Ichigo's sweaty forehead. "Nightmare?" Aizen asked again, lifting his chin so their eyes might meet.
"GrimmjowGrimmjowGrimmjow-" Ichigo slurred, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other. His grip became painful, nails digging through the layer of Aizen's robe, drawing blood onto the pristine fabric.
Aizen watched the boy, his kind eyes turning into cold unmoving gems. Hearing the Arancar's name did little to inspire any sympathy from him, so he opted to let the boy's panic run his course, holding him as he hyperventilate himself into tears. 'If you're going to utter his name then you might as well choke on them.' He thought, all the while stroking Ichigo's hair with perfect gentleness.
Ichigo collapsed on the floor, the exhaustion from being used clearly taking it's toll. Aizen left the boy there, suddenly feeling the urge to humiliate him in the worst of ways. He took a few step to leave the boy alone, but his conscience got the better of him. Taking pity on the boy, he scooped up a handful of water from the garden's stream and offered it to the boy.
Ichigo downed the water with the thirst of a dying animal. He certainly act like it. He's nervous, tense, and ready to run at the first sign of danger. His reiatsu flared up in the same way. The aura around him was so oppressive that Aizen has to keep a thin layer of protective reiatsu so he wouldn't drown in the boy's despair.
"I think Grimmjow might be in trouble." Ichigo choked when he calmed himself down enough. He looked like he's in pain. 'Good. I won't have to punish you for thinking about him.' Aizen thought with a sick sense of pleasure.
"Why do you say that?" He asked gently, wiping the sweat from Ichigo's brows with the edge of his sleeve. "Any prophetic dreams? A voice from beyond the grave warned you? Maybe a coded writing appeared on the walls?"
Ichigo shot him a look. "I'm serious here. We need to get him back here or something really bad might happen. Something happened when we were in Karakura, and Grimmjow never really came back the same, so I-" Ichigo trailed off when he saw Aizen bring out a small glass orb. In it was Grimmjow's name in runes, with light green smoke floating around it.
"I should've told you sooner." Aizen sighed. "Things just got so busy that I never managed to. Anyways, I sent Grimmjow away on some reconnaissance mission, and he checks in every night with this." He handed the small glass ball to Ichigo. "Green is for normal status. Red is for emergency. Blue is for pickup. See?"
"Oh." Ichigo said, quietly observing the swirling green smoke inside the tiny glass ball. "Does that mean he's okay now?"
"Of course." Aizen chuckled. "If I made him carry a phone then I would let you talk to him, but I was worried that the conventional lines of communication was being monitored. So I came up with this." Ichigo hummed, impressed by his resourcefulness. "Though I must say, It was cute how worried you got over him Ichigo-kun. It almost made me jealous."
Ichigo blushed. "Idiot. You're sharing me with two other people almost every night. Why would you even be jealous of someone we haven't even seen in months?"
Aizen hid his answer behind that gentle smile of his. If the boy knew his answer, he'll probably lose him forever. So he decided to push him down and kiss him instead, consciously kicking the ball into some shadowy corner of the room.
A/N: Yeah! Lets finish this fic before the end of the year :D