Darkest Blue

Chapter 5: How Do You Feel Tonight?

"Is there anybody out there?

Anyone that's loved in vain?

Anyone that feels the same?

I feel so high, no one else would know it.

I don't know why i feel the way i do

I can't let go.

Tell me - how do you feel tonight?"

- Bryan Adams

 

Pale moonlight filtered through the gaps in the bars, casting a striped glow upon the orange haired shinigami curled up on the bed. Lying on his side upon the thick sheets, the white sleeve of his jacket slipping down to reveal an abused shoulder, Ichigo drew his legs into his chest as tightly as he could, focusing all his energy on thinking about anything except that which had just transpired out in the hallway. The desire to curl up into a ball and simply cease to exist had never been so overwhelming, the nails digging into the skin of his arms attempted to block out the mental anguish with physical pain, but it wasn't enough. He never thought he'd actually wish to have Gin work his bitter magic upon his skin but now, it seemed preferable to having that done to him again. Preferable to ever having that bastard touch him like that, talk to him like that, make him feel that way by ripping deep emotional wounds, physical and mental scars. A choked whimper tore itself from his throat at the memory of how it felt to be pushed inside of, how it felt to be so utterly defiled by a man he hated more than anything

And he knew, heknewheknewheknew. Ichigo's deepest secret, he'd never told anybody how he felt, not even Rukia. It had taken him months to figure it out himself; why his insides flipped at the sight of the blonde or the sound of his voice; why, when their skin touched in the midst of sparring his stomach fizzed and sent a warm glow sparking off right across his body, all the way down to the tips of his fingers; why he'd started making excuses to himself, finding any reason at all to stop by the shop and visit him. The realisation, when it finally arrived, had completely knocked him for six, could he really be falling for this man? This man, who was stronger, infinitely smarter and, much, much older than him. He knew that, in Urahara's eyes he was just a child, and sure the man was a wicked pervert but Ichigo didn't even know if he was interested in guys that way, after all he did spend a lot of time around with Yoruichi who was a woman, not to mention an attractive one.

And it'd taken him even longer to figure out exactly why he was falling for the ex-captain, why it was that this horribly annoying man had sparked off such a reaction in him. He was sure that it wasn't just physical, though he could not deny how attractive he found the blonde, more so when he wasn't hiding his face under that infernal hat. It wasn't just that the feel of his skin or scent of his hair sent all sorts of emotions and hormones racing through Ichigo's body, it wasn't just the sight of him as they trained and sparred together, sweat beading on his forehead as those lips parted to gasp slightly for breath, lips drawn back in that ever present smile, his blonde hair mussed and tousled free from the confines of the striped hat, the cloth of his jacket pushed back slightly, revealing the arches and curves of his shoulders, fluttering open to display pale skin etched with lines of defined muscle…

It was in the way he spoke, a kind of soft gentleness with the most wickedly delicious edge, sweet and bitter and pure and dirty all at once. It was in his eyes, mercury grey and always shining with such a devious light, even when he was utterly serious. It was in his attitude, confident, humorous, mischievous and oh so intelligent... Ichigo had to admit that his own talent lay in brute strength and the physical; he wasn't ever much of a thinker. But Urahara, he was a genius, his mind was always working, always scheming this or that and though he'd never admit it, Ichigo admired that deeply.

It was because he had let him and Rukia keep Kon; because he had helped him when no-one else would; because he had turned him into something fearful by giving him his power as a Vizard; because he had stepped in on countless battles to save the boy's life; because he had been he had been willing to help him, to send him to Hueco Mundo against orders; because he had always been there as a shoulder to cry on, a true and ubiquitous source of information and inspiration, to teach him and train him and coddle him and chastise him. Because even if everything fell apart he was sure that Urahara and his shop and his silly hat and his weapon-like fans and his noisy, clattering clogs would always be there, waiting at the end of the world.

Thinking about the man made his head spin and his insides ache with a terrible, overwhelming sense of longing which was if possible even worse than the fear and loathing and disgust that he had been torturing himself with before. He tried to turn his thoughts to other things. Like this room, it wasn't his normal one. After that… incident in the corridors he had been half led, half dragged along to this new room, it was larger and more luxuriously furnished that the last, and he had realised with a sickening bolt of understanding that these were most likely Aizen's private lodgings. He had fought back the urge to cry then, understanding with a sinking heart what it meant, that what had happened to him in the corridors was not going to be an isolated incident, it would not be the last time he would be tortured in this way. At the time he was utterly confused, he had no idea why this was happening to him, but in the fog that smothered his mind in the aftermath he knew that this was Aizen's new way of hurting him, of breaking him. It was disgusting, that he would sink so low, and what for anyway? Surely Ichigo was not worth this trouble. Was this merely to break him or he doing it because he got some kind of sick pleasure out of it? With a shudder he realised that it was likely to be both, remembering the way the lord had looked at him as he lay there helpless at Gins hands, relishing in the sounds that his blood made as it splashed upon the floor. The way he'd grinned sadistically as he pressed Ichigo's frail body against the wall, touching and teasing and laughing cruelly as he raped the boy, body and soul.

Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of mixed emotions and immeasurable fears that assaulted his mind. Curling his arms even tighter around him, he tried to think of something, anything but the horror of the last few hours, or the longing for an unreachable love.

'Pleasant dreams pet?' Ichigo's breath caught in his throat, his lungs turned icy cold and he didn't even need to open his eyes, didn't need to look up from his position on the bed to know who was now standing in the doorway. He ground his teeth and let silence act as his last means of defiance, he didn't trust himself to speak at this point anyway. Again it felt as though the temperature had dropped several degrees, and Ichigo's shivering was now only partly due to his fear.

He felt the bed move as Aizen sat down upon it, Ichigo unconsciously shifting as far from him as he could until he felt strong fingers gripping his hair, pulling his head back to force the terrified boy to face him once again. The boy felt calloused hands run down his back, muscular arms pulling him into position on the brunettes lap. He was too physically tired and emotionally drained to even think to protest, he'd just get hurt again, or worse, and those hands massaging his sore shoulders were comforting, lulling him into a false sense of serenity. Something screamed at the back of his mind to get out, get away from the warm chest he was pressed against, away from those hands rubbing patterns on his back, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. He was so sleepy all of a sudden, fatigue sweeping over his body so swiftly and entirely that he forgot all the pain of his world, and was asleep within moments, still perched there upon the lap of a man he hated.

The lord of Las Noches regarded him with a sadistic smirk painting his face, his new method of breaking the boy seemed to be proving effective, at least in the short term, if the sleeping teenager in his lap was any indication. He suspected that the change would not be permanent however, once he had regained his energy and self-assurance he would still be that same defiant, disrespectful, foul mouthed shinigami, but of course then he would have to administer the treatment again, and again, and again until the message got through. The ran the pads of his fingers over the sleeping boys face, tracing invisible lines before leaning and whispering harshly, 'There is no escape, no running from what we will do to you, Ichigo, the sooner you submit the easier it will be for you, for you to lose your soul.'

And even in his sleep, the pained expression on his face showed that on some level the message had gotten through.

---

Ichigo awoke to a world of harsh lights, the bright whiteness of the room stinging his eyes as it always did as he awakened. He squinted into his pillow, that momentary confusion over where he was and how he'd gotten there and why everything was so goddam white fading as a look of miserable realisation crept into brown irises, dulling their fire, much to the amusement of the smirking face that lay alongside his. When his vision unfogged enough to bring the face into sharp focus, a stab of fear shot through his veins as his startled heart skipped a beat. His teeth clenched and lips curled upwards in a snarl as the memories of last night roared at the forefront of his mind.

'Good morning Ichigo.' He remarked in that mocking tone that, if possible, made him hate the man even more, reaching out to pet the boy's cheek, 'Did you sleep well?'

'Don't fucking touch me!' the frightened teen cried out, attempting to jolt backwards from the man, wincing at the sudden pain in his lower back and nearly falling in a heap in the floor. He was stopped by Aizen reaching out a hand and catching him by the restrictive collar around his neck, using it to pull the angry shinigami towards him, nearly choking him in the process.

'Tch, don't be naughty, or I'll have to punish you further…' That sadistic grin was plastered all over the brunette's face once again as he leaned in close to speak torturous words in the redhead's trembling ears, his hands already running along the boy's exposed skin. 'Or, would you like that?' he grinned as Ichigo's skin flared and the lord could practically taste the emotions emanating from the boy, shame and fear and utter rage. The fire which had been temporarily extinguished was once again burning in his eyes and Aizen smiled even wider, the shinigami was turning out to be even more interesting that he had imagined.

'Get the hell off of me.' He snarled, gritting his teeth to stop himself from biting down on his lip.

'Really Ichigo, I thought you might've learned by now,' the traitor raked nails across his exposed collarbone, tracing a line from one shoulder to the other, relishing in the feeling of warm skin beneath his and the way it made the boy squirm and blush even more furiously beneath him. 'I don't like being spoken to in that manner.' The look on his face darkened, eyes narrowing and grin dropping almost instantaneously as he dug his fingers right in to the soft flesh beneath the shinigami's collarbone. 'Did you like me being inside of you?' he mocked as, surrounding his fingers in reiatsu, he pushed right into the boy's flesh, demonstrating the massive power difference between the two of them as he slowly dug his fingers in, shredding muscle and tearing veins as he went, feeling the muscles tense and contract in pain even as he ripped through them.

Ichigo let out a cry, biting it back and trying to choke it down in vain as he grasped Aizen's arm in an attempt to force his hand away, he might've tried to move a mountain for all the good it did him. It was too much, he never thought he'd see Aizen getting his hands dirty like this, but now he was learning that the bastard liked to do more than just watch and Gods it hurt so much, being so helpless as the man tore him to pieces with his bare hands,

(and other parts of his anatomy.)

It was this thought more than anything that made the boy wince, that allowed him to let the pain show fully on his face, greatly humouring the man who was tearing a hole in his shoulder.

'Really Ichigo, you do bring out the worst in me.' The ex-captain whispered, his voice brimming with hidden promises of dark and sensuous and terrible things. 'I'm going to make this easy for you,' he murmured as he twisted his fingers, forcibly widening the hole he was creating in his shoulder, the cruel smile returning again to his lips as the boy cried out beneath him. 'Bow to me, just this once, and I'll take you to see your little friend.'

Ichigo blinked, confusion overriding the terrible pain for a moment as he considered these words. His voice shook a little as he spoke,

'What do you mean?'

'It's simple pet,' he ran his other hand along the boy's arms, catching his wrists and holding them firmly above his head, 'All you have to do is acknowledge me as your Master, that's all.' He leaned in dangerously close, teeth catching the delicate skin of his earlobe. 'And I'll stop all this and take you along to be healed and, of course, to see if your dear friend is unharmed.' Ichigo's eyes had been slipping shut as he felt warm breath on his skin, but they snapped wide open to regard the man with anger in his eyes at this comment.

'What do you mean, see if she's unharmed?' he grit his teeth in rage. 'I swear if you've so much as touched her I'll…'

'You'll what?' he smirked, 'Kill me? Not likely. But worry not, if my orders have been followed she should be fine but, continue to disobey me and that may change. Now,' he glared down at the boy, feeling his temper slip a little. 'What is your response?'

Squeezing his eyes shut again Ichigo considered his situation. If things kept going this way he was sure that he would be violated again, and this time with a bloody big hole in his shoulder. And Orihime; dear, sweet Orihime. It was torture not knowing if she was really alright. If he could just get to see her, to make sure that those bastard's hadn't touched her, then he was sure that he would be able to rest a lot easier. If he could just get to see her, it would remind him of what he was fighting for. All he had to do was swallow his pride and, after last night he didn't really have much pride left to loose anyway.

So he opened his eyes, determined to show as little weakness as possible, and staring right into those brown pits, he replied in a voice that only just rose above a whisper.

'Yes, Aizen… sama.'

A satisfied look crept over Aizen's face as the teen found himself tipped from the bed. This time he really did fall on the floor, giving in to the urge to cry out in pain again as his shoulder came into contact with the solid ground. As he struggled into an upright position he growled at the other man who was sitting there upon the bed and watched in horror as Aizen raised those fingers to his lips, running a languid tongue along them to lick off the boy's blood. Ichigo shivered, his retort dying in his throat at this sight. The brunette touched a little of Ichigo's blood to his bottom lip before, in a movement that Ichigo could not even try to follow, he found those lips pressed against his, more gentle than before, bearing the bitter tang of his own blood, a taste that he had become quite familiar with over these past days. He felt his captor smile against his lips and pushed against his chest in disgust, propelling himself backwards onto the floor once again.

'You… You're sick.' He hissed, putting pressure on the wound in his shoulder to try and stop the blood which was flowing freely, painting the floor and his arrancar outfit a deep red. He could see what used to be white bedsheets and felt sick at how much blood there seemed to be. Even after everything Gin had done to him, he'd never get used to that.

'And you are making a mess on my floor, pet.' He smirked in retort, standing and pulling the protesting boy up by his hair. 'Say it again, show me how serious you are.' Ichigo clenched his fists, every fibre in him longing to throttle the man and wipe that smug look from his face. But terror and reason won over, and so he bowed his head a little, this time refusing to meet his eyes and repeated in a clear voice which still could not fully hide the tone of disgust,

'Yes, Aizen-sama.'

He hated himself, but that didn't matter now. He'd deal with his emotional issues later, right now he had to focus on Orihime, what happened to him and his pride didn't matter as long as he could comfort her. After all, she was the reason he was here, and he was the reason she had been put in danger in the first place. They could do what they liked to him, torture him, rape him, mock him and break him, but if they so dared to touch a hair on her head… He knew he was powerless now but somehow, he'd kill them all for hurting her.

---

Aizen smirked at the tearful reunion that was unfolding before him, and wondered again if perhaps hurting the girl really would be counterproductive. The moment he had shoved the boy into the room before him there had been a heartfelt cry from Orihime as she ran towards him.

'Kurosaki-kun! Kurosaki-kun I'm so sorry! This is all my fault! I…' she stopped with a gasp at the sight of the wound in his shoulder, tears running from the corner of her eyes as she turned her gaze away, as though she felt that she was humiliating him by looking at his injuries. 'Oh Kurosaki-kun, what have they been doing to you? I'm so sorry.'

'Hey, hey, Orihime.' He touched her cheek, bringing her eyes back to meet his, 'None of this is your fault.' He had turned to glare to Aizen then as he spoke, 'It's theirs.' He turned back to her to see her face painted with a blush, her cheek warm where his fingers brushed her soft skin. 'I'm fine, really. Doesn't hurt a bit so, please don't cry.' Knowing not what else to do, he reached for her and pulled her into an embrace, trying and failing to avoid getting his blood on her unsoiled whiteness. 'Seeing that hurts more than anything.'

'Kurosaki-kun…' the girl seemed speechless at his actions, but the glow of her cheeks gave away her delicate emotions to the traitor standing in the corner. She summoned that strange power of hers, bathing the boy in golden light as she began to stitch his wound closed, blood disappearing as the whiteness of the clothes returned. As she worked she frowned a little at the scratch and bite marks adorning her friend's body, wondering how he had gotten these injures but not daring to ask.

The room was enveloped in silence for a few moments as Orihime worked her magic, and all the while she was healing Ichigo's injuries he was scanning her body for any wound that she might bear, causing her to blush deeper behind the golden shield of her shun shun rikka. She seemed unharmed but it was difficult to tell since she was wearing such modest clothing. He was the one to break the silence, almost whispering,

'They haven't hurt you, have they?' She blinked in surprise, waving her hands as she answered,

'Oh, no, no, they haven't.' She touched her hand to her forehead, pulling a face as she spoke, 'I've injured myself a few times by falling off of the bed or tripping over but I can heal myself right up, and Ulquiorra-san makes sure nothing happens to me.' Ulquiorra was protecting her? Ichigo couldn't describe how odd it was to hear that.

'Good, that's good. I'm glad you're alright.' The redhead smiled for the first time since he'd been brought here, feeling that as long as he could be here with his friend for even a short time, if he could have some affirmation that she was safe, and the strength to believe that Urahara and the cat woman would be looking after the rest of his friends back home, he could beat Aizen. He could win, he could resist every torture thrown at him. He had to, for them.

As long as they were safe.

'That will suffice, Orihime-chan.' That voice cut through the warm and fluffy atmosphere that had enveloped that room, causing the resolve building in Ichigo's heart to falter for a moment as he caught the blank look in Orihime's eyes as he spoke. She immediately withdrew her power, and Ichigo shot the ex-captain with a look that could kill a lesser man. He hated him for making her so subdued, so unlike the Orihime he had come to know and love as a dear friend. He had to get her out of here before they sucked all the life from her.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, silently commanding him to move. And so he did, not wishing to kick up a fuss and frighten Orihime further by having himself punished in front of her. As Aizen turned to leave, Ichigo took a chance and leaned in close to his friend, whispering his promise in her ear.

'I'll get you out of here, I swear. Don't worry anymore.' Drawing back he could see the tears glistening in her eyes, and with one last sympathetic glance, he turned and followed his captor from the room.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Orihime sank to her knees on the floor, tears trickling down her face and dripping on her stained uniform.

'Ichigo-kun… you idiot.'