Sinner

A/N: Once again, sorry this took so long. My grandmother just passed away recently. It's been hard to write. Anyways, if you read chapter 9 and 10 together there are hints to who Grimmjow's lover is, but I make it blatant in this chapter, so have fun with that. Thank you lovely reviewers, you make me sing...off-key, but still, please continue to brighten my day.

Desperation

It was almost cliché how much it seemed like time stood still at that moment. There he was, huddled and trembling in the arms of the man that had tormented him, the man that had turned his world ass-backwards and had laughed while doing it. It was ridiculous. It didn’t make sense. It was the type of occurrence that Hitsugaya had spent the majority of his life desperately trying to avoid. His enemy was holding him, and still, even more disturbing, was the fact that instead of struggling to release himself from the admittedly protective hold, he was clinging frantically to the other man, his tiny hands fisted in cloth the same color as his hair, the color he hated the most. However, at that moment, that bit of white was the only source of comfort that he could claim as his own.

The fox had saved him. The bastard was holding him. Thank the gods.

It was almost as if in that one singular moment, Hitsugaya’s pride didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Ichimaru was a traitor. It didn’t matter that the man made him feel things that he had never wanted to feel in the first place. It didn’t matter that a part of his brain still demanded at least an ounce of dignity, at least an ounce of animosity in the face of this monster. And Hitsugaya heard nothing from his pride as he buried his face in the fabric bunched in his hands, everything forgotten for that split second as he breathed in the now familiar scent of his enemy and savior.

However, time must have not really stopped at all. No, time didn’t seem to care one bit for his feelings as he heard a smooth voice cut through the room. “Ah Gin, I was so hoping you would join us.” And the fear was back, only it wasn’t so much for himself this time even though, now that he was not stuck in a moment of indulgent cliché, he was having a hard time admitting it.

He felt the chest under his palm rise slightly as Ichimaru took a deep breath, and then the fox-faced man was shucking out of his haori with Hitsugaya still in his arms, which should have been a difficult task but Ichimaru pulled it off with a grace that would have probably pissed Hitsugaya off had it been any other time.

And now he was being set on his feet, his legs shaking terribly, threatening to stop supporting him at all. All of this reminding him of his current weakness, as Ichimaru’s haori was being wrapped around him, instantly covering up his own indecency and leaving Ichimaru in only his black robes. It was almost funny. Seeing Ichimaru like that reminded him of Ichimaru’s days as a shinigami, before the betrayal. A time when Ichimaru was a different man, or rather he was under the façade of a different man.

He had to hold himself back from jumping in surprise when he heard Aizen’s voice cut through the air once more. “You are free to go, Hitsugaya-kun.”

His eyes narrowed at the words as he turned sharply to the older man still sitting leisurely on his throne, as if nothing had happened at all. “What?” He asked lowly, feeling his anger rise slowly, and not really knowing why.

“It should be quite simple, you are dismissed.” After all that? After Aizen had undressed him, had fucking spanked him, not to mention had attempted to rape him, he was just being dismissed with a simple wave of a hand? What in the hell kind of fucked up God-complex did this man have? He couldn’t just leave, no something was wrong about this situation. He couldn’t just walk out of this room like nothing had happened, but still, even he didn’t understand his own reasoning. Only mere moments ago he had been begging for any way out of this room, and now that it was being handed so simply to him, he was reluctant to leave? That didn’t make sense at all. What in the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t even figure himself out anymore. Gods, this place was fucking with him.

Aizen grinned at the boy’s obvious dismay before speaking once more in a falsely kind voice, the type that one might use when talking to a child. “I need you to leave now, Hitsugaya-kun. I need to speak with Gin alone.”

And then suddenly it all made sense. With those words he knew why he didn’t want to leave, because he knew, even before Aizen had said it, that if he left this room, he would be leaving it alone and Ichimaru would not be coming with him. Though he was the unlikely hero of Hitsugaya’s story, and though Hitsugaya mentally scowled at the idea, Ichimaru had saved him, there was no looking past that, and by saving him, Ichimaru had directly defied his lord. Ichimaru had gone against the man that he had given all of his loyalty to, and he had done it for Hitsugaya, and something told the young taicho that turning your back on a creature like Aizen Sosuke was not something to be taken likely. Hitsugaya didn’t know what would happen to Ichimaru once he left, and he somehow felt responsible and…scared.

Part of him wanted to kill himself at that moment.

“Like hell.” He growled back at the king on his throne, wondering briefly where this new found resolve had come from when mere moments ago he had been ready to beg for death, but then of course, at that time it had only been his life on the line. He looked into Aizen’s eyes and noticed the way something flashed in them, and Aizen’s grin turned into a nasty smirk that made him wince, and he was just about to force his very reluctant legs to move into a probably very futile and very stupid and very anger-driven attack when he felt long and deceptively strong fingers clasp onto his shoulder, stopping any movement he might have made. He turned back slowly to look at Ichimaru, who had remained silent up until now.

He was once more grinning.

It made Hitsugaya want to hit him.

“Now now, Yuki-hime, don’ go getting’ all worked up, jus’ cause yer worried fer me.”

That also made Hitsugaya want to hit him.

He had had a pretty good idea what this feeling inside him was, but that did not mean that he wanted the bastard to voice it aloud…ever.

And he didn’t want to believe that he was worried for the man who so mercilessly teased him, but he could not, nor could anyone else probably, find a better word to describe the sensation that had crept unpleasantly up the pit of his stomach and had speared through his heart and wrapped around his throat. He was worried, so fucking worried about leaving this man alone with the devil that it was making him sick.

And all Ichimaru could do was grin in the face of his impending punishment and Hitsugaya’s unwilling display of concern.

Ichimaru never seemed to falter, but that was all Hitsugaya seemed to be able to do lately.

He wondered if he would still be able to recognize himself if he looked in the mirror now.

However, perhaps the fact that Ichimaru was even standing here in the first place was proof enough that
he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared to be.

He knew that Ichimaru wanted him to leave, knew by the way the hand on his shoulder was squeezing ever so slightly, but his heart and his feet didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

Then Ichimaru was leaning over him, and Hitsugaya cut his eyes to Aizen for a moment, noticing the way the man only stared on, not attempting to stop them, as Ichimaru breathed hotly in his ear, causing shivers to run along Hitsugaya’s spine at a far greater strength than Aizen’s caressing fingers had.

“Ya always seem ta forget, Chibi, that I am not, nor ever will be, yer friend.”

It was those words again. Those same words that had been repeated to him before. Words that were taunting and warning at the same time. Words that defined them completely, and Hitsugaya fully understood it now. They weren’t friends, they weren’t now and they never would be, and though Hitsugaya could use so many different terms to describe what Ichimaru was to him, “Friend” would never be one of them…not when the word seemed so insignificant in comparison now.

Still, he had to know.

“Then why did you save me, Ichimaru…again?” He asked in a soft voice, silently cursing the lack of conviction his tone held. He cringed ever so slightly when he heard a soft chuckle against the shell of his ear.

“Why don’ ya jus’ call it a whim.” The reply was smooth and once again it made Hitsugaya feel inferior and he noticed with some relief that his pride wasn’t completely abandoned.

“You’re a liar, Ichimaru. Don’t fuck with me.” He growled, his eyes narrowing, Aizen almost completely forgotten in that moment.

“But that’s jus’ it, Chibi.” Somehow, Hitsugaya noticed with slight anxiety and mixed triumph, Ichimaru’s tone of voice had taken a slightly darker tone, and then a boney hand was snaking its way around his neck to cup the back of his head, forcing his eyes up to peer into crimson. He was captivated by that rarely seen pair of eyes. “No one besides me is ever gonna fuck with ya. That includes God himself.”

And…there it was.

Ownership.

Though Ichimaru had stated such before, this was the first time he had ever gone so far to truly stake his claim on the small taicho.

Hitsugaya knew he should have been more pissed than he was.

“Now, git tha hell outta this room before I grab that pretty hair of yers and throw ya out.”

“But-”

“Now.” And then Ichimaru was grabbing him by the arm, leading his almost dragging feet to the door, before it was opened and he was shoved unceremoniously onto his ass in the hall, and the door was shut and locked behind him.

He was on his feet in an instant, his hand clasped tightly around the door handle, trying desperately to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Trying a new tactic, he raised his fist and began to pound it against the thick wood, ignoring and almost welcoming the way pain shot through his fingers as his pounding became more vicious in nature, while his other hand clung onto the robe that was wrapped around him “Ichimaru! Ichimaru, open the fucking door! Dammit, let me in! Let me in!…please.” He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that everything that he had forced himself to become was slowly being washed away from him. He didn’t care that even if he got into the room that there would be nothing that he could truly do. He didn’t care that his skin was starting to crack and bruise and blood was smearing on the beautiful wood of the door. He didn’t care that this wasn’t right, didn’t care at all. All he cared about was getting back in that room…to be by his side, consequences, guilt and shame be damned. None of that mattered anymore. At least not at the moment.

His voice was going hoarse, and Hitsugaya didn’t know whether it was from the yelling or the sobs that threatened to tear through his throat.

He nearly screamed when he felt a hand close over his mouth, and he struggled blindly as he was pulled away from the door, his yelling muffled by the calloused hand. “Dammit, stop acting like a horse’s ass!” Someone growled into his ear, and he recognized the voice instantly as belonging to Grimmjow, and as he quieted down and turned his head slightly, he noticed a shock of blue hair.

He relaxed slightly into the grip and the hand over his mouth moved away. “Idiot” Grimmjow mumbled behind him.

“You stayed?” Hitsugaya questioned, his voice coming out slightly raspy.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, barring his teeth slightly. “Fuck you, asshole, don’t think much of it. Someone was going to have to drag ya back to yer room if ya ever came out of that one.” Grimmjow snarled, and Hitsugaya felt the corners of his lips twitch slightly despite the situation, but the sexta espada didn’t seem to notice. “Speaking of which, I’m takin’ ya back now.”

“Wait, you can’t-”

“Jesus, yer worse than a woman, always changing’ yer mind and shit… Look, nothing short of a miracle is getting ya back in that room, and those are in short supply in a place like this. Besides, though I can’t stand the sneaky bastard, ya really shouldn’t underestimate Ichimaru’s ability to talk himself outta a situation. There’s really nothing more you can do now. So, come with me, because like I said before, brat, I’m not above draggin’ ya.”

He realized the truth of these words even though he didn’t want to believe them, and his heart was still pounding painfully in his chest as Grimmjow led him down the hall. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to leave Ichimaru unless he knew the man was going to come out of the room with him, but dammit, what could he do? Helplessness was a now more familiar sensation than breathing to Hitsugaya.

He was almost back to his room, not really noticing how far they had gone in his daze, when another espada appeared before them. He recognized this one as well, the twin trails of green tears running down his pale, smooth cheeks, being very hard to forget.

“Escorting the prisoner?” The smooth voice of the espada inquired, a thin, black eyebrow arching every so slightly as he spoke.

“No kidding, dumb-shit.” Grimmjow simply snorted back in irritation, and Hitsugaya wondered where Grimmjow got the audacity to speak to a higher rank in such a way.

“He doesn’t look very hurt.” The arrancar’s monotone voice was almost unsettling as bright green eyes took in his lack of clothing in a calculating but almost bored way.

“Nah, Ichimaru showed up before he could do anything to him.”

“Interesting.” Finally the espada turned his eyes away from Hitsugaya and settled them on Grimmjow, something the younger of the three couldn’t place flitted across them. “Don’t get too attached, Grimmjow.”

Hitsugaya watched silently as Grimmjow snarled and took a step forward until there was mere inches separating the two espada. For one moment, Hitsugaya thought Grimmjow was going to hit the smaller arrancar but he nearly choked on his own spit when Grimmjow reached a large hand up and tangled it in sleek black hair before crushing his lips to the pale ones below him, and despite all of his disaffected behavior, Hitsugaya noticed the way the green-eyed espada pressed himself almost unnoticeably into the taller man. Hitsugaya felt his cheeks heat at the intimate display. So this must be Grimmjow’s “fantastic fuck.” Grimmjow pulled back abruptly, a smirk forming on his kiss-bruised lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Ulquiorra.”

“I heard what you said about wanting to protect me.”

“Spying in on people through the cameras again, Ulquiorra?” A blank expression was Grimmjow’s only answer but his grin widened nevertheless. “Does it make ya feel all warm and fuzzy inside?” The blue-haired arrancar taunted.

“Hardly, it just makes me pity you.” Though the words were just as dead as ever, there was a slight twitching of Ulquiorra’s lips that indicated something else.

“Bitch.” Grimmjow growled, though his grin still remained in place, and suddenly Hitsugaya felt like he was witnessing some sort of inside game of cat and mouse. Grimmjow’s hands snaked down Ulquiorra’s waist to grab his ass and pull him close against his body. “Mine.”

“I see you’ve reverted back to monosyballic words. Not in front of the child, Grimmjow.”

“He gets pissed when ya call him that.” Grimmjow stated before Hitsugaya could open his mouth to retort.

“Further proof that he is one.” If Hitsugaya hadn’t been so afraid that he would lose the robe wrapped around his naked body at that moment, he would have lunged, he really would have.

“Heh, yer ass is mine tonight.” At those words, Ulquiorra merely cocked an eyebrow before walking passed Grimmjow and down the hall, not even sparing Hitsugaya a second glance. Grimmjow watched his ass the entire time.

“Do you love him?” Hitsugaya surprised himself with his words, he hadn’t even noticed he had asked it before it left his mouth. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know.

Grimmjow looked at him in surprise for a moment, before his expression hardened. “That’s human shit.”

“You’re lying.”

Grimmjow just merely huffed at this. “Get in yer fuckin’ room, bastard.” Hitsugaya for once did what he was told without complaint. The door closed and locked behind him, and he leaned heavily against it. Now without Grimmjow and Ulquiorra there to provide a distraction, he was left once more with his own thoughts, his own fears. He sunk slowly to the floor, wrapping the robe tightly around him and burying his face in it. He breathed deeply. It smelled like Ichimaru.

Now all he could do was wait. He wasn’t sure what he would be able to say about his feelings if and when Ichimaru walked through his door.