Sinner

A/N: God, I’m so tired. Thank you everyone for being so patient, and I love all my reviewers. You all make me smile more than I have in months. Hugs and kisses all around, and for naughty services, see me out back.

Thank you as always to:

Rubedo Jr.
Enslavement Thesis
Nusku
kris
Name
Vaseline
PandorasHeart
Em (huggles)
PhoenixLunairius
Chibi-Berry
Mai Mai
Kitty
p-sama7
Tulip
Ed
satterb


Especially thanks to those of you who have stuck with me since the beginning and have made this story one of the most reviewed on this section. You guys make my heart dance.

Fear

He was being dragged down the white corridors of Las Noches.

The man who was doing the dragging, Hitsugaya immediately recognized as another one of Aizen’s ranked espada. Said man did not look very pleased at the moment, in fact he looked downright pissed to hell that he was having to do this in the first place. He ran one large hand through a mass of shockingly blue hair as his other tightly held onto Hitsugaya’s forearm, pulling him along at a pace that suggested that he better keep the fuck up, lest he wanted to lose his legs in the process. The arrancar’s clothes were slightly rumpled, and his hair was disheveled in a way that said that he had been disturbed during the process of something by this particular order, whatever it was.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Hitsugaya shouted in indignation as his much shorter legs struggled to keep up with the far longer legs of the espada.

“Shut the hell up, will ya? It’s bad enough that I was interrupted during what promised to be a fantastic fuck, but I’m not going to listen to the yappings of some little shinigami-bitch, so hold yer fuckin’ tongue, unless ya want me to cut it out, twerp.” The taller man growled in a low voice, blue eyes flashing. However, Hitsugaya didn’t feel the same suffocating malice as he did when he was around Nnoitra, this espada was different somehow. He seemed to be radiating extreme annoyance rather than the true intention to cause inexplicable damage.

“You didn’t answer my question, hollow. Where the hell are you taking me?” Hitsugaya bit out, his tone just as annoyed as the man’s own.

The arrancar barked out a short, sharp laugh. “Yeah idiot, you’re in a real position to be givin’ me orders.” However, the blue haired espada rolled his eyes and let out an over exaggerated sigh of the inconvenienced. “I’m under orders to take you to see our lord and savior, Aizen-sama.”

All sarcasm that the statement might have held was lost to Hitsugaya as he froze in his tracks, his blood freezing along with his movements.

Why…?

The espada, not noticing that the small taicho had stopped, continued pulling, causing Hitsugaya to fall to the ground. The man turned back to look at the fallen boy. “The fuck? Get the hell up, idiot.”

The words didn’t register. Nothing did at that moment except the fact that he was being taken to the man who was quite literally the devil in his life. Why? What could that bastard possibly want? Hitsugaya really didn’t actually want to know, because none of the outcomes seemed to lead to a bright future.

He remembered all to vividly the sadistic look in the falsely kind man’s eyes as he ordered him to be undressed in front of the hungry eyes of his underlings.

He shivered at the thought.

“No.” His voice came out a low whisper from his position on the ground.

“What?” The espada huffed, cocking his head to the side.

He couldn’t face that man. Not without his zanpakuto. Not without any way to defend himself at all. Dammit, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of it was.

“What is your name, espada?” He didn’t know why he needed to know, he just did. The man above him looked down in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together as the question registered, but he shrugged anyways after a few moments of hesitation.

“I don’t know why it’s any of yer fuckin’ business, but I guess it couldn’t hurt none to tell ya. My name is Grimmjow, the sexta espada.” The last part was said cockier than just about anything that Hitsugaya had ever heard in his life.

“Hollow…Grimmjow…don’t take me there.” Hitsugaya whispered after a few moments of silence, his head hung low, almost as if in shame and Grimmjow had to strain to hear him.

“I don’t think that’s really either of our choice, kid.” Grimmjow said after the low plea registered, his voice filled with an almost disbelieving amusement.

“Don’t…you can’t…”

“I don’t think ya underst-”

“GOD DAMMIT! You can’t take me to that man!” Hitsugaya suddenly screamed, and if Grimmjow had been any less of a badass he would have taken a step back in surprise at the outburst. Hitsugaya lowered his head once more, his voice once again a soft whisper. “Take me back to that prison you’ve put me in, but don’t take me to the Gates of Hell…please.” Hitsugaya never thought that a single word could be so hard to utter.

Grimmjow was suddenly kneeling down beside him, and Hitsugaya rose his head to look into those hauntingly beautiful eyes, and they still held a mask of annoyance, but beyond that they had softened into something that Hitsugaya could only describe as pity and perhaps even empathy.

It made him sick.

“Listen Shinigami, it’s not just yer ass on the line but mine as well and that fucker is sick enough that he’d probably threaten to kill him as well.” Grimmjow didn’t specify exactly who he was talking about but Hitsugaya had the suspicion that it had something to do with that “fantastic fuck” Grimmjow had mentioned earlier. “So forgive me for choosing him over you, but ya wouldn’t willingly let me fuck ya, and rape isn’t really my thing…Now, I can either throw ya over my shoulder and carry ya there like the baby yer face leads everyone to believe ya are, or ya can stand up and walk there with me like a man. You may not have anything left, but dignity is something you can fake until the end. So, what’s it going to be, Shinigami?”

Hitsugaya looked straight into his eyes, his heart struggling for each beat that it took, and he knew it was the truth, that there was no way out of this, not in his current state, but he could at least be the man he swore he was instead of the child he was called.

He rose slowly on shaking legs, willing his body to cooperate, and he began to walk. Grimmjow rose along with him, his expression hard as he stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the young taicho beside him. He wasn’t an idiot, nor was he naïve. He knew more about the evils in this world than most did. Hell, he was one of those evils. The shinigami-bitch had been right, he was leading him to the Gates of Hell.

Through everything, every step that Hitsugaya took, one thought refused to leave his mind.

Where in the hell was Ichimaru Gin?

They reached the large doors that signaled that they had come to their destination, and Grimmmjow looked down at Hitsugaya as he heard the taicho’s breath begin to quicken. Hitsugaya didn’t meet those piercing eyes but instead stared straight forward, his jaw clenched and no matter how hard he tried, his body trembled in sickened anticipation.

He was scared…well, terrified may have been a more appropriate word, and if it weren’t for the current situation, he might have laughed at that moment. What would his squad think now if they could see him like this? Their hot headed, always out to prove himself taicho, scared and trembling like a…child.

It was an appalling notion really, and so unlike himself, but it was true, and their was nothing he could do to change it. No matter how much he might hate himself for even thinking of letting the man that waited on the other side of those doors see even an ounce of the fear that he felt.

He was Hitsugaya Toshiro for god’s sake! Did that not mean anything anymore?

No, it didn’t…not in this place. Who he was and who he thought he was made no difference. He was just another weak prey, and rank and pride be damned.

Hitsugaya Toshiro was not afraid of dying. Oh no, dying was not something that scared him. He was always prepared for that, in his line of work he had to be. Death was just something that happened, an unavoidable event of life, and though he would prefer not to, it wasn’t something he ran from.

But…there were other things that terrified Hitsugaya, things that he would much rather suffer death a thousand times before then have to endure while he breathed in this world.

And there was not a doubt in his mind that Aizen Sosuke knew what every single one of those things was.

As he stared at those unforgiving doors, he truly wished that death was the only thing he was facing now.

He felt a large hand snake once more around his arm and he was jolted from his thoughts as he finally turned to face the sexta espada. The expression before him was hard and the grip on his arm was tight, but somehow Hitsugaya knew that though Grimmjow was once again resuming the role of captor the hand that touched him was not meant to hurt him and that in his own strange way Grimmjow was trying to provide the closest thing to a kind gesture that he could think of. The hand on Hitsugaya’s arm was warm and strong, and…it stabilized him. Though not gone completely, the trembles that racked his body eased and Hitsugaya took the moment to muse how truly fucked up it was that this “monster” was trying to offer him a small form of comfort…and it was working.

Grimmjow raised his fist to knock, and Hitsugaya waited.

“Come in, Grimmjow.” That voice…it was just as kind as it had always been. That sick fuck.

Grimmjow slowly opened the door and with his hand still firmly placed on Hitsugaya’s arm, he led the smaller male inside. The room was lush, extravagant even. A room fit for a king…or a devil. It showed all the cockiness that Aizen surely possessed, stating in everyway possible that this room was for someone who was far above everyone else…and it was white, pure white. That bullshit sign of goodness and light, holiness and purity. Aizen seemed to be obsessed with it. The room, in all its beauty was one thing that finally showed that Aizen Sosuke was a psychotic son of a bitch.

And Hitsugaya barely noticed any of it.

Instead his eyes were trained straight ahead, staring unwaveringly at the man that sat relaxed in the center of the room in a plush, white chair.

He secretly thanked whatever higher power was listening that his anger returned at the sight of that traitorous man lounging so cockily in that chair. For a moment, for a single moment, his body stopped it’s trembling and terror was overshadowed by pure hatred and rage. It was a beautiful feeling. One that he recognized, one that was familiar. He welcomed it. And then…
“Are you afraid, Toshiro-kun?” That gentle voice was washing over him, nearly caressing him in its smoothness, and in an instant that fear was back, because that warm smile may have been on that handsome face, but there was no kindness to be found in those rich, brown eyes.

However, there was no way in hell he was going to let this man see his fear. He stood his ground, fisting his small hands at his sides, in an attempt to keep them steady. “I would never fear scum like you, Aizen.” And he was truly impressed that his voice held the malice that he had wished for.

Aizen grinned at this, his hand coming up to lazily prop his head up. “What a pity, Toshiro-kun. We’ll just have to change that wont we?” The words were said evenly, as if he was referring to the weather. Hitsugaya felt his blood run cold once more. This was not going to be good for him. Aizen turned his eyes to the other occupant in the room at that moment. “You may leave now, Grimmjow.”

The hand on his arm hesitated for one blissful moment and then with a light squeeze the hand was gone, along with its warmth. Hitsugaya never thought he could miss such a simple thing so much.

“Hai, Aizen-sama.” Grimmjow cut his eyes towards Hitsugaya one last time, and Hitsugaya told himself that there really was some form of remorse in their blue depths, before the espada turned on heel and exited the room, leaving him alone in the metaphorical lion’s den to face his fate, alone and powerless.

He didn’t even have a chance to turn back around before he found himself across the room and in the lap of Aizen Sosuke. “Wha-?” When had Aizen moved? Hitsugaya hadn’t even seen it. He didn’t really have time to ponder on that before he noticed how securely Aizen’s arms were wrapped around his waist or how he was placed so fully on said man’s lap. It was only in this sickening moment that he truly realized the difference in their sizes. How small and physically weak he was in comparison to this man. He stilled completely, not even attempting to struggle…trying desperately to think of any possible way out of this hellish situation.

“Aizen…let me go.” He said softly, and he cursed the way his voice shook.

Aizen merely chuckled, his breath ruffling Hitsugaya’s hair. “Tell me, Toshiro-kun, does it get tiresome repeating the same lines over and over again?” This time Hitsugaya did struggle, flailing in a desperate attempt to throw the man off of him, but the arms around his torso squeezed and Hitsugaya felt as if all the air was forced completely from his lungs, leaving him gasping and weak. “Now, let me ask you again, and do be honest. Are you afraid?”

The young taicho bit his lip, refusing to answer, knowing that anything he could possibly say would only condemn him in the end. Aizen clucked his tongue in disappointment behind him. “Disobedience is not something that will be praised, Hitsugaya-taicho. Naughty children will be punished.” In an instant deft fingers were on his plain shirt, unbuttoning it without any sign of hesitation. Aizen had already slipped the shirt off of his shoulders, leaving his upper torso bare before he even registered what was happening.

He grasped at the hands that were at the drawstrings of his pants, trying to pry them away but they wouldn’t budge. “No, don’t do this! Fuck, stop! St-” suddenly one of the hands was gone and he felt a stinging sharp pain on his cheek, his head was forced viciously to the side from the force of the slap, and soon he could taste the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth.

“I will not tolerate such language, Toshiro-kun.” Those words were said with the sternness of a father scolding a small child, and Hitsugaya truly wonder at that moment how such a fucked up and cruel creature could exist in the world. His breath caught when the hand that had just struck him reached up and gently began to caress his hair, he balked and tried to squirm away from the unwanted contact, but Aizen’s other hand wrapped around his neck in warning and Hitsugaya stilled under the caress.

“Such a good child. You know, I’ve always liked this color.” Aizen replied smoothly, threading his fingers through white locks and pulling sharply, causing Hitsugaya to squeak at the pain, before loosening his grip once more. “It gives you such an air of…innocence, Toshiro-kun.” Hitsugaya growled at the comment, squeezing his eyes shut in a mixture of fury and horror. “Does that upset you, taicho?”

He did not answer. Aizen already knew anyways.

Soon knuckles were running almost affectionately over the skin of his cheek before they dipped lower, tracing his collar bone, causing Hitsugaya to involuntarily shiver at the contact. They trailed even lower and Hitsugaya felt his body jerk as a single digit traced teasingly around one of his nipples, causing it to harden, much to Hitsugaya’s mortification. He wasn’t used to this, he didn’t know how to control his body’s actions. Only one person had ever touched him like this, and in that moment he realized that only that one person ever should. Without registering the sound, he whimpered in frustration, and he could just feel Aizen smirking behind him. “Frustrating, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice a mock soothing tone. “You really are a remarkably beautiful creature, Toshiro. Do you know that? Such beautiful, smooth white skin.” The traitor mused, before running his hand along the flat plane of Hitsugaya’s stomach, only pausing when it once more reached the drawstring of his pants. In a second, Hitsugaya felt Aizen’s spiritual energy wrapping around him, suffocating him, and this time when Aizen spoke, his voice was so much colder than it had been before. “So, tell me Toshiro-kun, why hasn’t he fucked you yet?”

He yelped when he was flipped over onto his stomach, resting on Aizen’s knees, and his pants were ripped from him, leaving him bare before Aizen’s eyes, except for his cock, which was hidden underneath him, and as the tears welled in his eyes as cool air hit his bare skin, he thanked the deities for small favors.

Those dangerous hands were back, running along the smooth and rounded skin of his ass, and Hitsugaya gasped for air as it took everything in him to keep from begging…just begging this man to kill him instead. “You’re such a good little bitch. Such a pretty little ass, and I bet you’re tight too…It’s no wonder my Gin loves you so.”

Hitsugaya’s heart stopped in that moment. Aizen couldn’t possibly mean that. Ichimaru couldn’t possibly…it didn’t make sense. Gods, nothing here did.

He screamed when he felt a stinging slap to one of his ass cheeks. “Itai…”

“Pay attention know, Toshiro, I can’t have you drifting off.” He gritted his teeth when another harsh slap came, quickly followed by a third, a fourth, a fifth, and after awhile Hitsugaya just stopped counting and closed his eyes, wondering if he truly had died and been sentenced to hell.

After what seemed like eternity, the vicious spanking stopped and the hand was back to caressing, but even the gentle touch stung the abused skin of his ass and he sobbed silently into the fabric of Aizen’s robes.

“What a beautiful, angry red, Toshiro-kun. It fits your personality so well.” Aizen cooed, smiling affectionately at the trembling captain on his lap. “Now, lets just see if I’m right about how tight you are.”

There was a single digit running down the crack of his ass, inching towards his entrance and Hitsugaya knew then that he no longer cared about pride and turned his head to beg the man that hovered above him to kill him. However, before he could even open his mouth, the finger tracing his ass vanished along with his position on Aizen’s lap. In a blink of an eye he found himself on the other side of the room, cradled in another person’s arms.

The first thing he noticed was the white fabric of the person’s robes billowing around him. The second was the way the person held him, possessively and protectively, turning his body inward to save him at least some form of modesty. The third and final thing he noticed was the person’s face. A face that he would recognize anywhere. The fox face that had tormented so many of his dreams. The face that was now devoid of any sign of a smile, with crimson eyes staring not at him, but straight ahead. The face that no matter how many seconds, minutes or centuries he may live, he would never be more thankful for then in that very moment.

“Ah Gin, I was so hoping you would join us.”