Posed to Death

Titled // Posed to Death
Authored by // Kokuchou Kayou Studios (BrucesGirl & R. Brightside)
Summary // Isshin is sure Ryuken is like a china doll. Ever so breakable, ever so delicate. Frustration takes it’s toll, and he tests his breakable theory.
WARNING // THIS FANFICTION FEATURES AN INCREDIBLY BRUTAL RAPE SCENE BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH THINGS, PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE.
OOC IS AHEAD.

AN // We wanted to shock the Bleach fandom by posting the first yaoi darkfic here. We worked for a few days on this one – and are EXTREMELY proud of it. –beam-

BrucesGirl: Also, Brightside and I have decided that since we do so much writing together, we've chosen to begin posting here under our new studio name. Websites and archives will come later.

Brightside / Please read and review, yeah? We treat every one like a blessing! You guys are what keep us going!

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When Isshin spends too much time with Ryuken, he gets angry.

He gets tired of protecting the most powerful Quincy there ever was from Soul Society as if though he’s some breakable china doll. He looks like it. He looks like he can be broken, and out of frustration Isshin tries to test the theory…just to see if Ryuken is as breakable as he looks.

The Shinigami just has to know whether or not his pride in his beautiful but forbidden lover is misplaced.

So he tests his theory by tying up the delicate body to iron posts that mark the four corners of a dreary bed, and he cuts the clothes of the screaming, protesting creature beneath him.

He doesn’t give a shit about coverings. He can buy Ryuken new clothes if he holds out. “Stop screaming.” Isshin whispers deceptively soft…

Ryuken’s back makes a graceful arch off the bed, dark fear showing in his equally dark eyes.

"Isshin, stop it!" He yells out, attempting to escape from the fabric that ties him to the bed. "Please!"

At first, he just thinks that this is one of the Shinigami's games. But as soon as Isshin pulls out a knife, he knows it isn't.

He’s got no idea why his lover is doing this, and as much as he protests and begs Isshin to tell him what he's done to upset him so much, his lover won't answer him.

Lover.

What a deceptive word. This man doesn’t love him. This man didn't feel for him at all. He feels him. And he allows all of it.

"Isshin, what have I done to you?" Ryuken tries a different approach, his protests silencing and his trembling limbs stilling ever so slightly. "What did I do?"

Isshin finds his stomach turn at the pathetic whines.

Maybe Ryuken isn’t as strong as he thought, and in that case, he’ll be stuck here, protecting him for the rest of his immortality, locked up in a cage like a wild, pacing animal.

Before he realizes it, his hand is flying and connecting with silken cheek of the man he calls his lover, and his furious chocolate eyes glare down at the slender Quincy, flashing with a sheer disgust and hatred for the other man’s weakness.

“Shut the fuck up.” He snaps, his lips twisting cruelly. He still doesn’t tell Ryuken what he’s done wrong, and Isshin really even isn’t sure that he’s done anything wrong. He’s angry. Just angry. Because the Quincy can’t take care of himself, and because Isshin is in love with a woman that he can’t see because he’s cooped up here with this needy, whining bastard.

Ryuken is his only obsession. He’s like a pure bred dog, kept and maintained because of its beauty. There is no potential for love. Isshin screams at himself for hours at a time at night because he can’t get the bastard out of his mind.

Ryuken's head snaps to the side with the force of the blow to his face, eyes half closing in pain and a soft, angry hiss of breath leaves his lips.

"Why? Just tell me, WHY?" He snaps, straining at his bonds. "What did I ever do to you, Isshin?"

He pulls himself as far into a sitting position as his bonds would allow, eyes showing his anger, his sorrow... his hurt. "Tell me!"

Blood drips from his mouth, but Ryuken pays no heed to it, and it runs down to his jaw and falls onto his chest. "You fucking bastard, just tell me!" He feels more blood fill his mouth, and he spits it into Isshin's face.

"Why did I ever love you?" He snarls, eyes narrowing. "Why did I ever make way for you in my life, Isshin? Why did you even bother to save me, to treat me with tenderness, and then do this to me? Why?”

Isshin is not impressed.

It’s strength borne out of fear and weakness, and there is no bite to the anger that he sees in the Quincy’s eyes.

Only a darkened pain that’s coupled with love which is something that makes Isshin’s stomach turn again.

“You made way because I fucking made you.” Isshin snaps. “Because you don’t have the fucking balls to make way for yourself, Ryuken.”

All pretenses of kindness are gone, and he roughly shoves a finger inside of the beautiful body at his disposal, and he feels the skin stress with the movement, probably painfully, and he twists the digit, to make the pain more potent.

“You’re so fucking weak. Shut the fuck up and take this like a man.”

Like a man. No weakness. There’s no way Isshin could actually want to protect this whining whore. Especially when there’s a beautiful woman waiting for him at home with patient, loving eyes.

Ryuken's teeth grit together as Isshin pushes a single finger inside him, nothing to lubricate him with, and as he twists it cruelly, the Quincy can't stop a gasp of pain.

The faster this would be over, the better. His protests will only slow Isshin's malicious intentions, and he doesn't care for speaking any longer. He'd submitted to Isshin long ago, and there wasn't any changing what he's promised to the Shinigami. He closes his eyes and goes lax, allowing Isshin to do what he wished.

He didn't allow himself to say what he wished to, to whisper soft promises of love even as this Shinigami fucks him raw, breaks him apart and cuts him irreparably deep.

Isshin felt disgust for him, no other emotion. He never would do, would never want to.

The Last Quincy grits back tears, and waits for his punishment.

It comes in calculated measures.

The chocolate eyes grow cold and hateful, and the knife digs deep down into a slender, pale inner thigh, and with precision only a surgeon can exercise, Isshin carves the beautiful kanji that reads his name into the velvet, pale skin, causing crimson blood to poor down into the sheets.

He’ll never speak to Ryuken again when this is over. He will send the Quincy away with nothing but a scar and a horrible memory to remind him of what Isshin truly is.

A monster.

But even in his monstrosity, there is a secret that he holds back even from his precious obsession as he carves the last stroke into his whiteboard.

It is not Ryuken’s weakness that he is fighting. It is his own for loving a man he can never have.

Even as he uses the blood pouring from the Quincy’s body for lubrication as he shoves three fingers in with no preparation, Isshin closes his eyes in terror. At night, when his cock is buried inside of that beautiful woman, he only sees Ryuken.

Ryuken knows now he deserves it.

He’s too weak, too reliant on the handsome Shinigami above him.

His expression is serene even as Isshin’s rough fingers break his opening, breathing only hitches. His thighs part wider, showing he excepted his punishment, but he closed his eyes to hide the agony that burned deep inside him.

I love you, Isshin.

The memory of the many times he said that, and the many times he’d gotten a passionate kiss in reply, or even a soft admission of the older man’s love in return, was enough to make tears catch in his thick, dark eyelashes.

“I hate you.”

It was his only consolation, his only sanity. He hated this man for what he was doing to his heart, grasping it and twisting it until he feels choked.

“I hate you.”

Ripping it apart with his blunt nails and stamping on it with a heavy foot.

“I never loved you.”

Yes… his only sanity.

Isshin knows he’s lying.

He can tell by the dark glint in Ryuken’s eyes and the shining contrast of rare, precious tears. He knows that Ryuken loves him, and that knowledge rips apart his resolve, but still, he’s angry. Still, he hurts the only person that’s ever understood him because he’s scared.

Coward.

Liar.

Cheater.

Fake.

He can think of a thousand words to describe his own sin, but when he leans down to run his tongue along the calligraphy that adorns his lover’s thigh in bloody, deep ruts, only one word comes to mind, and it wipes away all of his self loathing and fear.

Love.

He says he’s never loved Isshin, but the Shinigami knows he’s lying, and he nearly hates him for it.

He almost could hate him…if he didn’t love him so damn much. The fingers ripping apart Ryuken’s tender entrance don’t really gentle, but instead, they curl and offer a reprieve from the pain.

“Yeah, you may hate me, but I fucking love you too damn much.” In that declaration…no…that confession, Isshin admits the truth. The only weakness he fights is his own.

Ryuken's breath shudders, and shoulders tensing, he allows the tears to slip down his cheeks.

Fuck what Isshin says.

He may have the body of a man, but his mind is as delicate and sensitive as a woman's, and the Shinigami knows that. That was the brunt of his anger.

"Then stop." He whispers, the saliva on his thigh burning into his skin, a liquid brand that cleans the deep tears in his skin. "If you love me so much, then stop."

He ignores the pleasure, focusing on the deep rips, the tears, and he remains limp to Isshin's eyes. He won't give into it.

Not yet, not ever again.

This would remain rape, no matter what his... former lover said to him. Rape, like their first time.

"How deliciously ironic that we end how we began." The Quincy snarls at Isshin, defiance shining in his tear-filled eyes.

This was born from fear, from anger, from the hatred he'd conjured from nowhere. It was all he had left.

“And you’ll sing my name just like you did the first time when you came, pet.”

Isshin has never used that term before, but since Ryuken carries his name carved into his thigh, that’s all he is…or maybe he’s more.

Isshin raises his body over the Quincy, admiring how lithe muscles are stretched with his binds, and his chocolate eyes darken as he gazes down on him.

“I can’t fucking love her.” He growls. He thrusts forward, his hip stained with the blood from his mark and his cock meeting blood from rips of his fingers and blood from a macabre kanji. He seats himself fully inside the Quincy, feeling the head of his cock hit that precious place inside the man that always brings him such pleasure, and he gazes down on him with sorrow.

“I can’t fucking love her…because I love you too damn much!”

Ryuken throws his head back, screaming in agony as he's filled with Isshin's erection, fresh tears welling as the rips are forced wider, as the unhealed wound on his thigh is jerked violently.

"Why take your anger out on me?" He hisses, his voice barely audible any more. "It's not my fault that you feel so strongly for me."

The Quincy struggles, clamping his inner muscles around Isshin's cock painfully hard. "It's not my fault that you've fallen in love with someone else, either. Were she never in your life, you wouldn't have to be so stressed about who to love."

He hated Isshin for this. Giving him pleasure, when all he wanted was to be hurt so that he could try and hate Isshin, give him something to build up on his barely-there loathing.

"Maybe, had you not been dragged into the killing of my family, you wouldn't have met me. You wouldn't even know who I was, just a dead Quincy buried beneath your feet for you to piss on." He spits, straining at his bonds. "None of it is my fault."

The idea of Ryuken’s death terrifies the confused Shinigami god moving above him. His chocolate eyes widen to deep, innocent depths, something completely different from his previous rage, and the soft word of ‘no’ escapes his lips as he leans down over the Quincy and wraps his arms tightly about his shoulder, covering the lithe body with his heavy heat.

“Gomen nasai, Ryuken.”

There’s no reason for his insane apology. He apologizes for his wife…for his family…for what he couldn’t have…for what he already had.

Isshin’s eyes close against the barrage of emotions. He wants to be vindictive, and he wants to continue punishing Ryuken for his own sins and fears, but he can’t anymore.
His heart isn’t malicious, no matter how cruel his anger is.

He rolls his hips forward, and he cries out softly. “Ryu-Ryuken…pet.” And suddenly, the insulting term is a term of beauty.

The tears cascade down Ryuken's face as Isshin thrusts into him, breaking him apart more than he felt he could. His head rolls back, his throat choked up with sobs of confusion, of rage, of sheer sorrow.

"U-untie me..." He whispers softly, his tone pleading. "If you're going to hurt me, at least let me hold you..."

Feeling the Shinigami's warm back was one thing he was sure he couldn't live without, and to feel it one last time was all he wanted. Even with his violent scarification, his mind-deep wounds, he wanted to feel Isshin...

"...One last time." He whispers, the exquisite friction within him and the rough rubbing of the small bundle of nerves just enough to make him shiver and whimper in pleasure.

What a way to part with the one he loved most.

Isshin never shows his true strength.

He hides it away inside of himself, too gentle and too loving to show what he is truly capable of, but that comes to surface as bare hands rip away the fabric from Ryuken’s hands, bending the solid iron bed just a little.

As soon as the shreds of pale fabric fall away from equally pale wrists, he sits back and hauls the Quincy against his body, straddling his lap, bodies together, chest to chest, and Isshin is in a frenzy, his lips, teeth, tears, and hands everywhere. He grips the slender erection of his beloved, and it’s nearly brutal the way he strokes Ryuken, but only the Quincy likes the pain this way.

It reminds him he’s alive.

Isshin cries out in pleasure, his voice not held back as it usually is, and he loses himself to his passion, his orgasm clawing at his heart.

“So close…” Silently, he begs Ryuken to let him love him, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they part.

Ryuken cries out, thighs gripping hold of Isshin's hips and his arms wrapping around the Shinigami's neck, his hips rising and falling in time with Isshin's heavy, frenzied thrusts, the ecstasy and agony swirling together but never quite mixing, staying separate.

"I-Isshin..." He whispers gently, a smile on his face even as his lover continues to rip him apart. "I love you."

Orgasm washes over him as soon as he feels Isshin's seed spill within him, a cry of his lover's name on his lips as his back arches out, head rolling back and the expression of bliss staying on his face even as the Quincy fell backwards onto the bed, disheveled and still bleeding from his wounds.

They wouldn't part in rage.

They wouldn't part with silence.

If Ryuken has his way, they won't part at all.

But that will never happen - Isshin is a married man with a baby on the way, and he himself has a son to go home to.

But Isshin doesn’t need to know that.

Isshin grips to the Quincy tightly, falling to his side on the bed with him, covered in semen, blood, and sweat.

He even thinks he picks up the faint scent of some expensive cologne that he identifies as something completely Ryuken, and he falls into a deep sleep with the man at his side.

Sometime, before he leaves in the night, he tenderly cleans away the filth from the other man’s skin, bandages his wounds, and scoops his sleepy body into his arms and places him on the tiny couch in the rented room.

He pulls the bloodied sheets from the bed with calculation and lays Ryuken tenderly back against pale covers and it is then that Isshin realizes that this is where Ryuken belongs…among snow white, pure sheets as if is untouched by the hatred of the world.

With a woman by his side.

Isshin leaves with a mere kiss to the man’s forehead, off to see the beautiful woman that loves him, no matter his faults. The woman that bares him his first born son…an orange haired savior who rescues existence. It’s odd that the very person who Isshin can never love gives him the greatest gift of all, and she suffers none because of it. One day, Ichigo will bring Isshin back to his lover.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

If Isshin had known, he wouldn’t have whispered ‘goodbye.’