First Contact - Encounters
folder
Bleach › Yaoi - Male/Male › Aizen/Gin
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,482
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Bleach › Yaoi - Male/Male › Aizen/Gin
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,482
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Glimpse of Silver
The medics called it fading out. I called it being too weak to hold on.
My captain was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, except watch him pass on. And I played to the hilt the role of filial and devoted aide, as I should.
I had been waiting. I could still wait - patience was something I prided myself on.
When I attended the academy open house I caught a glimpse of silver hair and pale skin. Smiling genially I pulled my twelfth seat closer to me, my arm slipping around her waist. She was understandably exhilarated: from the beginning of our relationship she had learned not to expect public displays of affection. This girl was the blank canvas for my as-yet incomplete art, and I had high hopes for her.
“Your place or mine tonight, dearest?” I murmured close to her ear. She flushed rose pink, and her smile lit up her eyes. I chuckled low in my throat.
I could feel his reiatsu passing behind me, pulsing. I held my trophy closer, her body willingly arching into mine. And then he was gone.
“Please, Aizen-fukutaichou, it is time for the zanjutsu and kido exhibitions in the main field.”
I kept her by my side as we moved into the viewing gallery. “Watch for potentials, dearest. I want to strengthen the crop in the fifth. We need about eleven.”
“Which do you prefer, kido or zanjutsu types?” She remained standing beside me as I sat in the captain's chair. No one contested my claim; the captain was fading out, and already both he and Yamamoto had put me down as the next captain of the fifth.
I pretended to ponder. “Well-balanced between the two. Kido corps will surely have bookmarked their favorites, and the eleventh division would fight for the best zanjutsu-type shinigami elects.”
She nodded, her long river of black hair shimmering under the sunlight. I caught a lock of her sweet-smelling hair and twined them around my fingers, kissing the silky smooth locks. She blushed again.
Such an innocent girl. Well, after two years with me she wasn't quite as innocent any more. Hard to believe she was the great-grandniece of the fiery and stalwart Captain-General Yamamoto.
Now that was an excellent example of a strong-willed shinigami. Almost two thousand years and still going strong.
Again a glimpse of silver. And beside him, a lovely mass of strawberry blond hair tumbling past slim shoulders and a full bosom. I found my smile growing, covered as it was by my twelfth seat's hair.
She's no lady of mine, sir.
“Those two. What are their names, dearest?”
She looked where I was pointing and checked her notes. “Um... the girl is Matsumoto Rangiku, the boy is... Ichimaru Gin. They aren't in the graduating class though. They have one more year to go.”
“Is that so.” I rubbed my lips with her hair, inhaling honey-sweet fragrance.
He didn't lie to me.
Good boy.
That night, as I thrust into her, feeling her warmth clamp tight around me, her bare legs wrapped about my waist, I imagined a head of silver hair and pale, apple-blossom skin tinged with pink, and wordless cries from an exquisite yet bold mouth.
Did I want it to be only a game?
My captain was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, except watch him pass on. And I played to the hilt the role of filial and devoted aide, as I should.
I had been waiting. I could still wait - patience was something I prided myself on.
When I attended the academy open house I caught a glimpse of silver hair and pale skin. Smiling genially I pulled my twelfth seat closer to me, my arm slipping around her waist. She was understandably exhilarated: from the beginning of our relationship she had learned not to expect public displays of affection. This girl was the blank canvas for my as-yet incomplete art, and I had high hopes for her.
“Your place or mine tonight, dearest?” I murmured close to her ear. She flushed rose pink, and her smile lit up her eyes. I chuckled low in my throat.
I could feel his reiatsu passing behind me, pulsing. I held my trophy closer, her body willingly arching into mine. And then he was gone.
“Please, Aizen-fukutaichou, it is time for the zanjutsu and kido exhibitions in the main field.”
I kept her by my side as we moved into the viewing gallery. “Watch for potentials, dearest. I want to strengthen the crop in the fifth. We need about eleven.”
“Which do you prefer, kido or zanjutsu types?” She remained standing beside me as I sat in the captain's chair. No one contested my claim; the captain was fading out, and already both he and Yamamoto had put me down as the next captain of the fifth.
I pretended to ponder. “Well-balanced between the two. Kido corps will surely have bookmarked their favorites, and the eleventh division would fight for the best zanjutsu-type shinigami elects.”
She nodded, her long river of black hair shimmering under the sunlight. I caught a lock of her sweet-smelling hair and twined them around my fingers, kissing the silky smooth locks. She blushed again.
Such an innocent girl. Well, after two years with me she wasn't quite as innocent any more. Hard to believe she was the great-grandniece of the fiery and stalwart Captain-General Yamamoto.
Now that was an excellent example of a strong-willed shinigami. Almost two thousand years and still going strong.
Again a glimpse of silver. And beside him, a lovely mass of strawberry blond hair tumbling past slim shoulders and a full bosom. I found my smile growing, covered as it was by my twelfth seat's hair.
She's no lady of mine, sir.
“Those two. What are their names, dearest?”
She looked where I was pointing and checked her notes. “Um... the girl is Matsumoto Rangiku, the boy is... Ichimaru Gin. They aren't in the graduating class though. They have one more year to go.”
“Is that so.” I rubbed my lips with her hair, inhaling honey-sweet fragrance.
He didn't lie to me.
Good boy.
That night, as I thrust into her, feeling her warmth clamp tight around me, her bare legs wrapped about my waist, I imagined a head of silver hair and pale, apple-blossom skin tinged with pink, and wordless cries from an exquisite yet bold mouth.
Did I want it to be only a game?