Seireitei Monogatari

a/n: Huzzah! Another request finished! Thank goodness.

Much love to all my dedicated readers and reviewers. Big thanks to Kazes, Yakumo, uchiha mikomi, and Kuromei (Ah, yes. After Dark. I hadn't forgotten about it. It's just been pushed to the backburner. lol. Thanks!)

Enjoy! I'm particularly fond of this one.

Title: A Not So Subtle Seduction
Characters: Gin/Ichigo
Rating: T
Warning: Crackity crack… oh, how it burns, boykisses
Words: 2788
Description: Sequel to What the Fox Dragged In (And Subsequently Kept). The seduction begins, and for Ichigo, escape is not an option.
Dedication: For DirtyGirl42 who wanted a Gin/Ichigo.

Ichigo supposed he should be grateful that they were no longer locking him in Ichimaru's bedroom. Aizen had apparently chastised his subordinate that pets required space to roam and would go stir-crazy if trapped in the same space. Not that outside the room was any more interesting. Just miles and miles of white. White walls. White floors. White clothes on crazy Arrancar. White, white, white.

Ichigo was really starting to hate white.

Oh, wait there went a splash of blood. Red then. Must be all that remained of another one of Nnoitra's victims. He had a seriously bad temper. The only one who seemed immune to Nnoitra's nastiness was Tesla, and he got smacked around just like the others. That guy had a serious case of masochism if one asked Ichigo.

Which no one did. After all, he was a prisoner here. And he was being stalked by his captor. Who, by the way, was Ichimaru Gin.

He really didn't look like a prisoner. At least, on the outside. He wore the same trappings as everyone else. White with a hint of black here and there and a pale blue sash, an outfit that had obviously been designed with his bankai in mind. He supposed it shouldn't have been too hard for someone to emulate it. What with the way he went tearing through everything and diving into bankai in any given situation. But that's beside the point.

He hadn't seen Zangetsu in weeks. But Ichigo was sure his zanpakutou was around here somewhere. He just knew that Ichimaru was hiding him. And he'd yet to cajole, bribe, or convince the ex-captain to return him. Ichigo supposed that making demands and uttering curses at his captor probably wasn't helping the situation.

And his new accessory was no fun at all. Ichigo frowned, lifting up his arm and looking again at the thin, flexible bracelet encircling his wrist. It didn't look like much of anything really. But he knew it was part of the reason Ichigo couldn't just shunpo out of Hueco Mundo. Apparently, his lack of ability to control his reiatsu was not only an escape risk but a problem to the others who resided in Las Noches. Thus the low-grade limiter, courtesy of the fluttery eighth Espada.

Ichigo would like to say that he was really, supremely furious. But that emotion had bled out several weeks ago to a tired sort of resignation. And now, he saved most of his energy for the largest task of hand, not falling prey to Ichimaru's manipulations. His very obvious and distinct seduction.

A scowl twisting his lips, Ichigo turned down a random hallway – he was always getting lost in this damn place. Inevitably, someone was sent to find and fetch him. A task no Arrancar really wanted but did anyway because sometimes they were more afraid of Ichimaru than Aizen and that was just strange.

But then, a hand came out of nowhere, smacking him across the ass. To Ichigo's credit, he managed not to yelp. Only jumping about three feet in the air before whirling to face the perpetrator. He needed just one guess.

“Ichimaru!”

“There ya are, Ichi-kun. I been lookin' everywhere fer ya,” the man said, smile dancing on his lips as he folded his hands back into the sleeves of his robes.

Ichigo scowled and backed up against a wall, hiding his backside from Ichimaru's perverted grasp. It wasn't the first time he had been groped out of nowhere, and he doubted it would be the last. Ichimaru had this annoying tendency to pop out of shadows with no warning.

“Why?” he asked, though he had an inkling as to the reason.

Ichimaru crowded in on his personal space, looming over Ichigo with his greater height though his thinness helped detract from his intimidating aura. “Why else? I wanted ta be with ya!”

“Yeah, I sorta got that,” Ichigo retorted.

He searched for an escape. But really, there was none. He was as subject to Ichimaru's whims now as he had been for the extent of his... residence here.

“But you know, my family is probably worried, and I really have this schoolwork I have to do...”

His voice trailed off as Ichimaru's grin widened, eyes slitting open to reveal the gleam of his irises beneath. Ichimaru lifted a hand, and it settled on Ichigo's hip, squeezing gently.

“What? Ya don' like it here?” Ichimaru asked. All pretend innocence and hurt, when really his intentions were pretty damn obvious.

Ichigo squirmed, wishing like hell he had Zangetsu and then wondering if it would even do him any good because Ichimaru was ten times stronger than he. It was pretty obvious in the subtle yet controlled thrum of the man’s reiatsu, always beneath the surface. The scent of the former captain washed over him, oddly smelling of muffins. Blueberry ones like Yuzu used to make.

Ichigo's brow furrowed at the incongruity of it. “Muffins?” he stated in confusion, rather than the “get the hell away from me” that should have poured from his lips. “Were you making muffins?”

“Just fer ya!” Ichimaru told him all too happily. And leaned in closer, his breath a puff over Ichigo's lips, reminding the teen that Ichimaru always made a habit of kissing him out of nowhere as well.

“Gin, please refrain from molesting your pets in the hallway.” The voice trickled through the space between them, prompting Ichigo to sigh in relief and for Ichimaru to draw back a step.

Ichimaru shook his head and pouted at the evil overlord. “He's not a pet, Aizen-taichou!”

Aizen's returning look was allowing and with more than a hint of amusement. “I refuse to call him your concubine.”

“He's my wife!” Ichimaru insisted, not removing his hands from their slow creep to the front of Ichigo's gifted white outfit.

And Ichigo squawked. “Wife? I'm not a--”

“You have to be married first, Gin. We've talked about this,” Aizen commented patiently, lips quirking into a bemused smile.

Ichimaru practically purred, nuzzling the side of Ichigo's face. “I'm workin' on it. He's bein' stubborn.”

The overlord radiated paternal amusement. “Well, work on it somewhere else, Gin. Good Espada are so hard to come by these days, and you're frightening them.”

“Okay, Aizen-taichou!” Ichimaru chirped and grabbed Ichigo's hand without further ado, giving him a good yank as he moved down the corridor.

Ichigo could feel Aizen's eyes watching them, dancing with mirth, as he practically surrendered Ichigo to the whims of his lecherous subordinate. That man really was pure evil.

-------

Ichigo sank down into the heated water with a grateful sigh, one of the few ways he had found to chase away the lingering chill of Las Noches. He didn't know how the others handled it, though he supposed that explained why they wore so many layers. The nights were even worse, though Ichigo had been given a means to combat that entirely without his permission.

Who knew that Ichimaru Gin was like a furnace?

A faint flush stained Ichigo's cheeks. Not that he was particularly proud to have garnered that knowledge. But it was hard to be cold when he spent the night wrapped up in long, thin limbs and cuddled close like a giant stuffed animal.

Ichigo sighed again, dropping down until only his face from the nose up was free from the water. He watched steam rise, silence surrounding him. Bath time was private time, and all the Arrancar had been warned not to step anywhere near when Ichigo was bathing.

Again, who knew that Ichimaru could be so possessive? Not even Stark, the least likely to molest him of the bunch, was allowed in there.

The door clicked open then, and Ichigo turned startled eyes towards it, body poised for flight. Except that a head ringed in silver popped inside, smiling instantly at the sight of him. The urge to flee did not fade, though Ichigo could feel the heat enter his cheeks. If it were possible, he scrunched even further down into the water.

“What happened to privacy?” Ichigo demanded as he shifted until his back was safely against the side of the pool. He felt exposed, despite the cover of steam.

And Ichimaru didn't seem to bothered by the fact that he strolled in wearing nothing more than a small towel around his waist, concealing all the important bits. He really was long and lithe, all lean muscle and pale skin. A few scars stood out brightly, starkly pink against his pallid shade.

“I brought bubble bath!” Ichimaru chirped at him, nonchalantly inviting himself inside and dropping down into the water. “I could scrub yer back fer ya, if ya want!”

“That's okay,” Ichigo assured him, water sloshing as he felt his entire face and body heat up, all the way down to the tip of his toes. “I'm... yeah... I'm definitely done now.”

He reached for the edge of the pool, ready to pull himself out, despite the soap that likely clung to his body still and his hair that desperately needed washing. He could always come back later. Or better yet, stick his head under a faucet.

“Suit yerself,” Ichimaru said with a half-hearted shrug.

Ichigo told himself there definitely wasn't disappointment in the older man's expression. He pulled on a towel and escaped into the hallway, shivering all the while as he made his way back to their shared room. No matter how often he inquired, they wouldn't give him one of his own. Aizen had said something along the lines of pets needing to be looked after by their owners, and after that, Ichigo had stopped asking.

He supposed he should be flattered by the attention. Ichimaru practically lavished him in it and gifts. Rare books. Foods from the living world. Even a Playstation and a hefty assortment of games. Some items from his bedroom at home, though Ichigo didn't know how the traitor had accomplished that. And Ichimaru was a constant presence, talking to him, encouraging him, sparring with some hakudo since they wouldn't give him back his zanpakutou.

Breakfast in bed was a weekly occurrence and more welcome now that Ichigo had convinced Ichimaru not to do so naked. And the occasional moments of being serenaded by recitations of Shakespeare were flattering, especially since Ichigo had proven that Kama Sutra books just couldn't compare to the genius of the bard.

Ichigo was getting used to it all, and maybe that was the biggest problem. He didn't want to be used to it. He should be fighting harder to go back home to where he was supposed to be. He just knew that everyone was insanely worried, probably believing the worst of him. Though they couldn't possibly know the worst he faced was a stolen kiss or grope.

The teen sighed, raking a hand over his wet hair and sending a spray of water across the floor. A passing Arrancar he didn't recognize gave him a look, and Ichigo scowled, setting the woman into a fleeing trot.

Back in their shared room, he scrubbed his towel over his head and threw on some clothes, remembering that he'd left half of them back in the bathing rooms. Well, perhaps it would be safer to return later.

Sighing, he dropped down on the bed, feeling just a bit bored. He contemplated his Playstation, but even that didn't seem appealing to him. He still remembered that faint look of disappointment in Ichimaru's eyes.

Ichigo raked a hand through his hair, trying to dispel his thoughts, when his gaze fell on an envelope on the bedside table. He wouldn't have paid much else attention to it, except that his name was on the front. Considering it his, Ichigo grabbed the item and opened, unfolding the piece of paper kept within. His hands shook as he recognized the familiar penmanship. It was a letter from his sisters, though how Ichimaru had gotten it – because it had to have been Ichimaru – was a mystery to him. The latest in a long line of gifts, Ichigo could only think that this was the best one.

They were worried about him, but they trusted him to be strong enough to take care of himself. Goat-Face was still acting like an idiot, and Chad and Inoue visited nearly every day. Urahara-san was making plans to find him, but otherwise, they wanted him to be strong. To not worry about them, that they would be fine.

“Ichi-kun?”

Ichimaru stepped into the room as Ichigo read the last of the letter, emotions swirling about inside of him in a confusing tangle. He was glad to have received it, though he wondered why Ichimaru would bother. He was just a prisoner, wasn't he?

“Ah, ya got yer letter I see.” His usual smile was there, but a hint of caution was in his voice. “Like it?”

Ichigo numbly nodded, carefully folding the paper back up and sliding it into the envelope. He returned it to the small table, one that had been designated as his and his alone. It housed some of his belongings, mostly gifts that Ichimaru had given him during the length of his stay in Las Noches.

“Yeah. I do actually,” he replied after a moment. “Thanks. How'd ya do it?'

Ichimaru grinned, plopping down on the bed next to him and dropping his towel from over his silver hair to hang across his shoulders. “I have special powers. Like a ninja. Soifon ain't got nothin' on me.”

Ichigo stared at him. “As stupid as that sounds, I think I believe you.”

The ex-captain chuckled and leaned over, laying his head against Ichigo's shoulder in a move that should have surprised him but really didn't. Ichimaru smelled clean, like pomegranate and mango, oddly enough. And his hair tickled at the side of Ichigo's neck.

“When are you going to let me go?” Ichigo questioned because it was something he did every night. And even though he'd yet to receive a decent answer, he continued to ask. Besides, it was sorta hard to be violent with a man who acted as cheerful as Ichimaru did.

“We could spar tomorrow,” his captor suggested instead, avoiding the query as always. “I might even be convinced ta let ya have Zangetsu back fer a bit, ne?”

Ichigo perked up at the offer, though he recognized it for the peace offering it was. “Alright. Fine,” he agreed because it was really boring sometimes and he was dying for something to break the monotony.

He fell back against the bed, bouncing once against the mattress. Just staring at the white, white ceiling. Everything so white. The walls. The floor. Everything.

Ichimaru didn't take his action for the escape it was. Instead following Ichigo down, snuggling against his side.

“Ichigo's so good ta me,” he practically purred, sounding too thrilled by the situation.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Ichigo snorted. He had already learned there really was no point in fighting. Besides, Ichimaru – stolen kisses and gropes aside – had never pushed for anything further. Which was more than he could say about some of his past admirers. Perhaps he hoped that Ichigo would eventually give in of his own accord one day.

A thin-fingered hand settled on his chin, turning his head to the side, and he was met by slitted red eyes. Ichigo waited, sure that this was another moment where Ichimaru was going to steal a kiss. He did it often enough that Ichigo was no longer fazed by them. He figured if that was all that ever came of it, fine by him since Ichimaru never pressed for anything more.

Except that Ichimaru did nothing but look at him. He didn't even speak. Just stroked his fingers over Ichigo's cheek and stared.

Ichigo squirmed, confused and a bit embarrassed. “Aren't you going to kiss me?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

“Is that an invitation?” Ichimaru returned, breath washing over Ichigo and smelling clean. Like vanilla mint toothpaste.

“No!” Ichigo quickly denied because that was how he really should feel about the situation after all.

He looked away, and in the back of his mind, he thought about the letter. Ichigo thought about the flash of disappointment he had caught from the older man. And he thought about the good treatment he had received all things considered. He was a captive true, but thanks to Ichimaru, he wasn't being eaten alive by all the Espada and Arrancar during his weakened state.

Internally, he sighed.

“One,” Ichigo muttered, barely loud enough for the other male to hear. And his eyes slid back to Ichimaru. “Just one.”

The ex-captain smiled at him, a different sort than the face-splitting grins he usually shone Ichigo's direction. And he leaned forwards, crossing the space between them, bringing their lips together. Slow and soft, a meeting of mouths rather than a stolen gesture. Gentle and testing. Warm.

Ichigo didn't resist. Allowed fingers to stroke briefly over his cheek as the taste of Ichimaru washed over his senses. And just to himself, Ichigo thought that it really wasn't that bad.

Not bad at all.

**************

a/n: Ah, what a slow but wonderful slide into Stockholm Syndrome. Poor Ichigo. Oh well. There's more to come in this series, so keep an eye out.

And I successfully completed NaNoWriMo at 81K! Huzzah! It's going to go through a round of editing and then I'll post some links to it for your pleasure.

I won't exactly return to my regularly scheduled updating, but they should at least come quicker. I've got a lot of fanficcy stuff to catch up on. Yikes.

Also, that week of request opening that I talked about? It will start after the next update. Not this one, but the next one. I promise!

Well, I hope you enjoyed!