One is Too Many

The thing with Kira is you go two steps forward and one back at all times. But, he's making progress. Aaannddd, the long await sex! Yay! Not bad, if I do say so myself. *L* I'm so conceited. Regardless, enjoy and let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I'm sorry it's late but I'll post tomorrow to make up for it.

~Ikkaku~


It's late but I can at least run to the archives. Hours pass without even a whisper of Kanvis. Who is he? What does he have to do with Kira and the Third Division? It's dawn and the shift changes over, a new crew to answer my questions with shaking heads and confused looks. Even the ancient librarian has never heard of him.

Finally, midmorning, light streaming in the windows, I storm out, stomping down the street to find my mouthy little Lieutenant. He's waiting for me, surrounded by officers as they work their way through paperwork I've been ignoring. “Kira!” A brief start before he looks up, calm eyes meeting mine, hands folded over the report he was writing.

“Yes, sir.” Quiet, not afraid, not mocking, just there, a blank little voice, waiting for what I have discovered.

I want to stalk forward, shake him, make him react but I stay in the doorway, hands on my hips. “Kanvis Tatsuyama doesn't exist.”

“No, sir. He doesn't. Not anymore. Not to anyone but us.” A small hand waves slowly to encompass his team. They stand, staring at me. “Kanvis was”

Tetsummi cuts him off, large hand on his shoulder. “Sir, you don't have to.” Dark eyes glare over a thin shoulder and I think I may have competition if I slip even once.

Blue eyes don't move from my face. The large hand is covered gently by a smaller one and a fragile smile tips upwards over my blond's shoulder. “It's fine, Tetsummi. He asked, after all.” The larger man stays silent but doesn't remove his hand, just stares at me angrily. “Kanvis was the Lieutenant before me, for over one hundred years.”

“Bullshit. There was no Lieutenant listed before you.” I checked every record of enrollment for the Third first thing. But he seems to believe it, face open, eyes wide and sincere; what the hell is going on?

A tiny smile tucks his lips up again. “Of course not. He's been forgotten by everyone except us. He was gentle and kind, a strong man.” His hand starts to shake, pressed against our third's, but his voice is steady. “You asked why we never asked for help, never tried to tell anyone. Because, we were afraid. We did not want to disappear too, from all memory. If you stand against the Captain, you will vanish. Parents, siblings, friends, lover, wife, children, all forget.”

I can't believe this. People don't just vanish, someone, somewhere, remembers them. His voice breaks into my disbelief. “There have been three since I arrived. Hakane tried to run and was cut down in midair. Jiruyen screamed from the top of the barracks what he did to us and no one listened. He killed himself there and no one even looked up. Kanvis.” Finally, a break in the cool composure, a wavering in the steady voice. “Kanvis tried to protect me. He said.”

A brief pause to choke before he continues, the voices of his officers joining his. “You will beat Kira again over my dead body.”

The chant is eerie, perfectly in time, something they heard once and will never forget. “Kira, Sto”

He cuts me off, eyes glazed, staring over my shoulder now, in a trance of old fear and horror. “And he did. He beat him to death with his sheathed sword and threw me down and” Thick arms wrap around his chest, a big hand covering his mouth.

Tetsummi speaks softly in his ear. “Shh, Lieutenant, that's enough now. He understands.” Dark eyes stare at me, demanding that I know without being told.

I do. How could I not? My little Kira, young and afraid, I can almost hear him screaming for them to stop, begging for mercy, crying as he's raped over the body of his only defender. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow heavily, forcing it back down. Slow tears trail my strong, fragile second's face and I turn and stride out, unable to keep from folding him into my arms any longer. But I know if I do, he'll fall, hard and fast, down to where he was when I arrived; even for the comfort it might give me, I won't risk the long way he's come.

All afternoon, a parade of men enters my office, Kira banished to his room again. Story after story, of Kanvis' kindness, his strong arm and steady gaze, his loud laugh and endless faith. Of a harsh temper and quick hands, eager to cuff the errant upside the head, and of an impatient teacher who pushed until there was nothing left to give before dragging his charges back home. His love for his wife, a seemingly addictive quality, their two children, the way he integrated the men into his little family.

Furtive smiles at the memories, sidelong glances as each shares their first day, first training session, first time eating supper with a family. Most of the men seem to be orphans, single, unused to a family setting, like me, but they didn't have a healthy Division to live with, train with, only Kira.

Kira. Stories about him, his gentle touch and unwavering kindness flow as well, unimaginable strength seeping between words, from sad eyes embarrassed that they couldn't help him more. There are few happy stories but everyone has one of fear, of him saving them at least a measure of pain. And through it all, they watch me, waiting for me to turn away, to send them out of my sight, for a sign of disgust.

Before each leaves, they pause; some bow, some kneel, and each begs that I be kind to him. They tell me he smiles now, small but true smiles, his laughter quiet but real. Not because of me, it's too soon I know, but because Ichimaru is gone. I see in their eyes that those smiles, the soft laughs are more precious than anything to them and I swear to each that I will never purposely hurt him.

When I knock in the evening, he's waiting, quiet voice calling me to enter. I only open the door and look at him, sitting there, hands folded, just waiting for me to turn away from him. “Kira, come.” I hold out my hand, palm up.

Surprise flashes across his face before he stands, a tiny smile on his lips as he moves forward to grasp my hand. His touch affects me more strongly than I thought it would and I pull him into a hug, pressing his head to my shoulder “Kira, it wasn't your fault. That bastard would have killed him anyway, you were just a convenient excuse.” A startled snuffle and slender arms wrap around my waist, holding on gently.

“Thank you, si. Ikkaku.” A bit of a smile at my name, and without forcing it this time too.

I ease him back and tilt his chin up to look at me. “I'm not gonna make a bunch of shitty promises, like protect you or keep you safe all the time.” His eyes widen in surprise. “But I can promise this. No one under my command will ever suffer like that, not at my hands or anyone else's. I'll kill anyone who tries to abuse my men.” And this is the hard part; I thought all afternoon about this and I'm terrified he'll take it. “If you don't want to come to my room anymore, that's fine. Just say so. You're not trading yourself for anyone else and I won't be mad.” Disappointed as fuck but not mad.

Those bright eyes stare up, the slightest flicker of disbelief covered up quickly. “Thank you.” His cheeks turn pink as he looks away. “I would like to keep visiting you. If you want me to, that is.”


~Kira~


I feel so bold, saying I want to stay with him, but I do, very much so. He's been kind and gentle and I find myself slightly addicted to him. Him and his kisses. I'm very glad he doesn't hate me now, that he doesn't blame me for Kanvis' death. I know logically it wasn't my fault, but guilt lingers, shame that I couldn't stop it nibbles at me.

The memory is one that has stayed with me all this time; the feel of my blood, hot and harsh on my skin, the warmth trailing away from Kanvis', my hands covered in red, my voice thin and high as I scream in panic and horror. Whispers against my ear, that no one can protect me but Him, no one will ever save me. That He is the only one I can count on, forever. I remember heaving, trying desperately to clean myself of the cowardice and fear that allowed my commander's death. But Ikkaku is holding me now, gentle, kind, and solid.

I breathe deeply, pulling in the warm scent of the Captain's arms, nuzzling into his neck as he holds me so carefully. I want to believe in him, to believe that he won't force me, won't hurt me. But is it worth someone's life if I'm wrong? Can I stand and allow Tetsummi to fall, Kazuma, Toudou, even one of the younger men, those I'm not close to?

No. Never again, I will not lay beaten and helpless. My arms tighten and I huddle close. For now, I will believe, until the first spark of pain comes.

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

I dream. I know it's a dream, I can feel it, but it comes and rolls over my protests, burrowing deeply in my soul. No, no, I don't want to see it again.

I look up from the ground, following the line of Kanvis' legs, watching him fight the intense power of His reitsu, heavy body trembling. “Stop, no!” My voice is too soft, throat sore when He gripped it to throw me, and I don't think they hear me. Or perhaps they merely ignore me. The heavy body falls, stumbling, and I can't breathe. No, please, no.

The short dark scabbard rises and falls mercilessly, steadily as I try to crawl forward, reaching desperately. A strike falls on my arm and I feel it break, hear the sharp crack, feel the brilliant flare travel over my fingertips. Kanvis yells for me to stop, pushing me away as he scrambles to his feet, sword in hand.

He's frozen in place, staring at the wide grin, not even the usual mocking tease but a true smile, the first I ever see. It's etched on my eyelids, the way His name will be, though I don't know it then. Short silver hair flashes as He tips His head back and laughs, melodic and eerily beautiful. I know what is coming but I can't move, tethered to the ground by fear as the dark leather rises and falls again, snapping Kanvis around to his knees.

The final blows fall but I'm whirled away by the dream, sobbing as I move to stand in the same courtyard, in the same place and look up to find the screaming voice. I am Lieutenant now, in the role of protector and failing, useless. Jiruyen has broken, standing on the peak of the barracks, shrieking gruesome details until his voice cracks. No one looks up, turns from their daily business.

“Why won't you look at me? Why won't you help us!”

“Jiruyen, come down.” I call to him, wishing I had the words to explain to him, had an answer for him. He's so young. “They can't save you. Come to me.”

Wild eyes stare down at me, afraid and angry. “Fuck you, Kira! You're a fucking dog, taking whatever he gives you and begging for more! Coward!” His sword is in his hand, shaking as he presses it to his stomach “Well I won't! I'd rather die!”

He has no idea what he's doing, just stabs the blade into soft flesh and cuts sideways, screaming, sobbing as I jump to catch him. He topples, moaning loudly, crying ragged heaves as I ease him to the roof. I start healing immediately, pulling the sword as gently as possible so I can close the wound. “Kira.” I murmur nonsense, soothing as I force the ragged edges of flesh back together. “Please, Kira.” His hand is moving restlessly and I press the blade into it, let him hold it for comfort, knowing the calm that comes of having your weapon at hand.

It flashes, faster than I imagined he was, slashing across his throat, nearly decapitating him; the spray of blood makes me jerk back by reflex. I'm in shock, I recognize the feel, that cool water running over my back. Dark, pained eyes stare upwards, free while I cry, tears washing his blood from my face. When I look down, He is standing there, a tiny smile on His lips; looking around, I see the rest of the Division gathered, huddled together, afraid. No one else can see, will see, no one looks up or even over to us.

It is the first time I really realize the truth; that no one will help us, no one will acknowledge our need. It is also the first time He breaks our agreement; I know, even if I can't prove it, that He drove poor, young, innocent Jiruyen to his death. As a message to us all and to me especially, His favored pet and toy.

We are truly alone.

It ends there, saving me the disgust of having Him take me, laughing and happy, using His hands and body to bring me unwanted pleasure as I fight and scream.

I shudder awake, panting heavily, face wet and hands clenched in fists. The Captain still sleeps, I think. His breathing is steady, soothing, large hand resting on my belly, fingers splayed. Easing away, I slip to the window, wiping my face quickly on a shirt from the floor. The night is quiet, only the murmur of guards and the soft crunch of leaves under their feet disturbing the still darkness.

Minutes pass slowly as I stare out, seeking stars through the pale lamplight, leaning out the window a little to see the bright crescent of the moon. There is quiet shuffling behind me and a big hand presses to my back. “You should come back to bed.” Warm breath on my cheek makes me smile, the tickling of hair brushing my ears.

“Of course.” But he doesn't move, just stands behind me with one hand on my back, the other on my hip, leaning just a bit. We stand quietly for a while, looking at the sky. Eventually, both hands move to clasp over my stomach, chin resting against the back of my head, his heart beating firmly against my back.

I don't want to move; I want to stay here, safe, content forever. It feels as if nothing could ever hurt us, as if time could come to a halt and leave us alone. “Hey, Kira. Tell me about Kanvis.” Of course, nothing stops time.

“He was a great man. Kind, gentle with his children, steady, strong. He loved his wife, his sons, he did his best to protect us.” I hate talking about him, I can feel tears building and try to wipe them away quietly. “He had simple tastes, in food, sport and clothing. He liked to fight, to train others. His favorite food was plain rice and salted fish. Even off duty, he wore his uniform or a plain black robe.” I brush fresh tears away; it shouldn't be so hard after so long.

Still, Ikkaku is silent. “He had a bad temper, tended to swat you if you made mistakes or if he was tired. It didn't hurt, he never hurt us, but knowing he was annoyed with you made you try harder.” A bit of a smile at that. “His favorite thing to do was train until you couldn't stand and offer to take you home with him if you could get there on your own.” I remember stumbling along, leaning on Wabisuki, him wandering along beside me, chatting as if nothing could possibly be wrong. It's something I can't explain to someone else, a feeling of being cared for, of belonging.

“Sounds like a good guy.” Those big hands squeeze gently, pressing me backwards in an awkward hug. “Sounds like you miss him.”

“Yes, I do.” I lean against him, pressing my head into the curve of his shoulder. I don't want to talk, I just want to stay still and quiet, pretend this is real. After so many years of picking through illusion and lies, even a known pretend reality is better.

Slightly chapped lips press beside my eye. “Come to bed.” I turn easily and follow him back, crawling up beside him and curling into his side. It's warm, comfortable, and he falls asleep quickly, the now familiar quiet snores rising in the dark.

I stare at his sharp features for a long time, wishing and praying. 'Please, let this be real, if only for tonight.'

**three days later**

The same knock has come again and I have to admit I'm a bit eager to answer; the Captain has been very kind every night. Nothing has really changed since I told him about Kanvis, but perhaps he's been more gentle, with softer touches and less yelling. It's good, I enjoy his company and I relax more every day, believe in him more.

Even though my 'punishment' is over, he still comes each evening to get me. We eat, talk, then... My face heats thinking of it. It always stops at kisses, warm, gentle kisses, big hands running softly over my skin, making me want more. But I don't know what to say, how to ask to go further. He always stops my hands when I reach for him, holding them firmly at his chest, not letting me touch him.

I sometimes wonder if it's me he wants or someone else and he's making do, pretending. It's a bit disappointing, strangely, but I'm used to it; He always called me His 'pretty Kira' but it was never me under Him, never my skin in His teeth or my blood on His tongue. I always knew it but still, it was a place, a purpose; something a little coward like me could do.

Quit it, pay attention. The door slides under my hand and I step forward. “Yes, sir?”

“Kira, come.” He turns away, a frown on his face; what's wrong? “Oh, and bring that instrument of yours.”

What? No, please, no, I, that's mine. “Si, sir?” My shoulders round and he glares at me until I stand straight again.

“You can play, right?” A reluctant nod shakes my bangs completely into my face. “Hurry up.” Oh, I want to refuse, scream that I won't but my feet turn slowly and I dig the small instrument out, cradling it against my chest. It's a smaller version of a shamisen, delicate strings carefully tuned and wrapped in soft silk to keep them from fraying, the entire instrument tucked into the back corner of my closet, away from anyone's sight, including my own.

Oh please don't take it from me. Even if I'm not allowed to play, I still love it, the satiny feel of strings and body, tight paper under my fingers, the sound it makes when I brush my fingertips over the sleek wood. He's stomping along, not waiting for me and I rush behind him, careful to keep the instrument close to my body.

I stop in the entrance to his room, watching him throw himself on the bed. “You know, I didn't want to be Captain. First, all you little punks think you can fight and talk back to me, then I get dragged to that boring ass meeting. Blah blah, honor and righteousness my ass. Just a bunch of windbags telling themselves they're right.” His little rant stops for a second. “Well, get in here. Play me something.”

Red moves over my face and I stare at the ground. I can't play for him, it's been decades since I tried to play anything! I barely remember even my training songs. “Sir, I'm sorry. I don't think you'll like anything I can play.”

“It's fine, can't be worse than listening to the old man babble about himself.”

“But, sir! I,” How to explain? “I'm, not allowed, sir.” His feet swing to the ground and I cringe around my precious instrument, trying to protect it from his anger.

A thick finger tips my head up and I look up to see him watching me, something almost sad in his eyes. “Kira, I've told you already, you can do whatever you want. You like to play, don't you?” I nearly bite through my lip before nodding; his thumb runs over my lips. “Then play for me. I want to hear you.” I'm released and he nudges me to the bed where I sit, still clutching the shamisen.

It falls into place naturally, the same as when I played for my parents, my fingers sliding to the strings, the ivory bachi set aside in favor of playing with my fingers. He's standing over me, arms folded and I fight not to cringe away because I know he hates it; a quick glance up to see him nod and I pick the first note in three quarters of a century. Still clear, as high and delicate as the day I put it away, and my fingers remember the form, the notes of an ancient song; music flows again, gliding from the beautiful instrument to swell in the air and fade as new chords replace it.

Tears fall unnoticed until a big hand brushes them away, thick arms enfolding me against the wide chest. My chest hurts as I curl into him, leaning my head on his shoulder, sniffling pathetically. Kisses spread over my skin, following the line of my neck, over the pulse at the base and back up to lick at my lips.

Even through the taste of beer and tears, it's sweet, his taste rushing over my tongue; I lean forward, one hand reaching to his shoulder. A soft moan when he pulls away but I don't let go, clinging to the heavy muscle as if I could hold him to me. The shamisen moves in my hand, pulling gently away to be set on the side table and I'm lifted to sit in his lap, arms around his neck.

My belt comes undone quickly, the top shirt fluttering to the floor after it. He seems to want to stop there but I tug and wriggle until I can get the undershirt off and press my bare skin to his uniform. Even with his promotion to Captain, he still prefers a rougher weave. It pulls at sensitive skin, catching and tugging my rings. I shudder and press forward, hands running over his chest, sneaking in the edges of his collar to touch.

His skin is so warm and he shivers when I touch it, trailing over heavy muscle I've mostly learned not to fear, my short nails scratching at the back of his neck. A low groan against my lips and I gasp as he flicks first one nipple then the other, making the rings move; desire, harsh and hot sweeps over me. I push his top down, trapping his arms momentarily as I move from his mouth to his ear, neck, chest, lapping salt from that hot skin.

Flat, dark nipples are sensitive under my tongue, peaking under gentle suction and heavy hands tangle in my hair, pressing me forward to test my teeth lightly. My smaller hands run over his stomach and wiggle past his belt to cup the erection, long and hard. I should be afraid but I'm not, it doesn't matter if he does hurt me; I want him, as close as possible. He tastes salty, a thick sensation, one I want to explore more and I move further down to find new skin, shoving his uniform out of the way.

I'm halted by a firm grip on my hair and he tries to pull me up. I shake my head quickly and pull back, wriggling to gain more ground; his grip gives under my determination. I knew he wouldn't want to hurt me and would let me go. He's always so careful not to hurt me, not even a bit. It makes me smile and I lick his belly button, dipping my tongue inside to tease delicate skin.

A dusting of thick black hair brushes my nose and I blow into them, tickling and making him laugh. I laugh back up at him and follow them down, nuzzling into that wonderful smell, as heavy as the taste. Finally, I reach the tip of his cock, dark red and ready for me; a tiny flick of the tongue and he arches off the bed, moaning. I did that, made him want so much

A hint of pride and I swallow the head, sliding as far as I can in one try, a bit over half. I should take more, do a better job, and I slide back, sucking gently before leaning in again, relaxing my throat as he's pressed in. Almost. I can just see his fists, pressed into the bed beside his hips, knuckles white as he tries not to thrust. I could handle it, I'm used to it, but it's nice that he doesn't. I smile and suck a bit harder, licking my way up and pressing down quickly.

“Kira, I'm going to” My head bobs faster, hair trailing over his stomach and I moan into his skin, aroused by the taste and smell of him, of his pleasure. The shout of my name takes me a bit by surprise but I swallow properly, thick seed filling my mouth and overflowing, slipping away. It's caught and I lick my fingers clean, sucking them to make sure none is missed; they have to be clean for inspection later. “Fuck.”

“Captain?” The word is a bit muffled around the last finger but he looks down at me, smiling a bit tiredly.

Still shaking hands lift me to his lap and I curl around him, checking my hands quickly before holding them up. He looks at them then back at my face; I open my mouth so he can see I've swallowed. “What are you doing, Kira?”

What? He doesn't sound upset, just calm and sated, but there's a tiny frown on his face. “Showing you I'm clean, sir. See?” I hold up my hands again, as if by showing him again, he'll understand. I hope he's not angry, if he's angry, I won't get to come and I want to, rather badly. My uniform is thick enough to mostly hide it but I can feel the blood pounding through my cock, the steady throb of arousal. “Is that...wrong?”

I hope not. “No, Kira. Why are you showing me?” His hands are running over my sides, skimming my thighs but not between them, not touching me sexually at all.

“I'm sorry, sir. I, I'm supposed to.” I look up, half afraid he'll be glaring at me. “Aren't I?”


~Ikkaku~


Well fuck. Somehow, an excellent blow job turned into Gin's fucking him up more. He's staring at me, afraid again, pink in his cheeks, hands still held up a bit. He didn't swallow because he wanted to but because he had to. It makes my stomach twist to think of how sexy he looked cleaning himself like a big cat and how perverted such a simple thing has become. “You don't have to. If you want to, you can. If you want to spit it out, you can do that too. Hell, if you don't want to blow me, don't.” He was so aggressive, I thought he was finally comfortable with me.

His face goes completely red at the blunt words. “I'm sorry, sir.” He looks like he might cry and I brush his stomach gently to calm him. Air is gasped in and I move my hand lower, running over trembling skin to the edge of his pants; he squirms a bit and I grin. He does want it.

A nudge has him standing and I untie the heavy uniform, pushing it over his hips, dropping a kiss to the base of his spine as he shakes. The under pants are thin and I can feel the heat of his skin through them, clearly see the shape of his arousal as I turn him to face me. A lick through the fabric and he's darting backwards, shocked eyes wide; my grip on the tie reels him back in as he tries to backpedal. “Kira, you've called me sir eight times and Captain once. Do you remember the penalty?”

He freezes up and I feel a bit guilty for teasing him like this. “Yes, sir.” His eyes are fastened on my feet and I smile quickly.

“Nine.” A tiny jerk before he nods silently. A finger rubs the tip of his cock through the thin cloth and he bites his lip to hold back the moan; another bad habit I'll have to break him of. “Finish undressing.”

Quick fingers undo the knot I've made and slide the pants over his hips to puddle on the floor; a small step forward to free himself and I take a second to look at him. Pale skin, soft curls and bright jewelry; I want to lick him forever, listen to him cry for me. “Come here, over my lap.”

“Ye, yes.” No hesitation, he just crawls up on the bed and lays carefully over my knees, arranging himself so he can plant his elbows beside my thigh, ass at the perfect angle for spanking. I move him around a little, gently guiding him to a more comfortable position and run my hand over his ass, caressing as he shifts uneasily, erection brushing my inner thighs as he moves. The faintest twitch of my own cock and I grin, chuckling before a finger slips between his cheeks to rub lightly, pressing faintly.

A soft whimper and he ducks his head, ready for whatever I plan to do to him. Except perhaps what I will. It may not be the best idea but I want him to always associate pleasure with my bed, even around the touch of pain. The questing finger moves down to circle his balls, pushing them a bit before cupping them, rolling them together, warm weights in my palm. A gasp is muffled and I rest the other hand on his lower back for a second. It lifts and he quivers, trying not to tense up. “Kira, I've told you before not to call me sir.” My hand falls gently, barely enough to sting but he jerks and cries as I squeeze the heavy globes gently.

He's not hurt, his hips moving restlessly against mine, frantic whines as he scrabbles his hands in the sheet intoxicating and my dick rises quickly as I spank him lightly, pale skin turning a soft pink, balls tightening in my hand. “Please, please, sir, please!”

A harder swat at that and he arches, jerking against me, writhing in my lap as he sobs. “Kira! Are you not listening?” Babbled apologies and I push him to his feet. “What do you say?” Tears are wiped away quickly, ringed cock bobbing as he breathes heavily, thick beads of moisture glistening at the tip.

“I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please si. Capt.” He can't figure out what to call me.

“Say my name.” Blond hair shakes and I weave a trail along his weeping erection, spreading the droplets while he moans and trembles. “You have to say it, Kira. Should I help you?” His eyes fall closed and he groans, head rolling back, spine arched, begging for me to touch him. “I.”

“E, ehh” Unsteady, his voice wavers and I smile before leaning in to lick a nipple ring. It's tugged gently in my teeth before I pull back, the slender body leaning forward to follow.

I have to put my hands on his hips to hold him up. “Ka.”

“K,k,k,a,a,ahh” The pitch is rising by the second and I swoop down on his other nipple, laving it generously for a moment.

“Ku.” I have to grab his hands this time, pin them to his sides as he struggles, tears falling in his need.

“K,k,ku!” The belly ring is sucked into my mouth and he shrieks, bucking his hips frantically as I flip it back and forth between sucks.

A horrible, cruel idea occurs to me and I grin against his skin. “Ma.”

“Nooooo.” A high moan and I laugh, squeezing his wrists. “Please, please.” I can barely keep from throwing him down and taking everything he's got. “Madarame! Madarame!”

Laughter bursts from my lips and I lean in, taking him completely in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head before pushing forward, rubbing the ring against the top of my mouth. I may not have done it before but drink with Yume even once and you'll know all there is to know about the perfect blow job, in step by step detail; whether or not you want to. Tight balls are palmed again, my fingers searching for the right spot. A little cut-off shriek, jerking hips and I've found it; two fingers press firmly and he's screaming, sobbing, hands on my shoulders as his hips move. Slender hips flex forward as he curls, tight enough for me to feel his heartbeat against my head, arms wrapped around my head and neck, holding me close.

He has a light taste, not as thick as I thought it would be, but it's like his skin, a bit salty with a sweet after taste. It's not as strange as I thought either, the feel of my mouth being full pleasant, the rub of the ring a soft tease on my tongue. Pleas, sobs, words have all whirled into a steady stream of whines, tears falling freely from his closed eyes, dropping onto my neck. Am I doing it wrong? My tongue swirls around the head, moving the tiny metal ring and he screams, entire body tensing, convulsing jerkily; well that works. A few flicks then I move down, sucking as I take as much as possible.

I'm surprised when he pushes me away and I let go, letting him fall to his knees before me, panting, head down. “Kira?”

Ragged sobs shake his frame, hands clenched on my thighs. “Please, please, I'll be good, I'm sorry, I'll, please!”

“What do you need?” I'd give him anything, just for him to stop crying like that.

Blond lashes are sticking together, his eyes are red, the blue shocking in his pale face as he stares up at me. “Please, let me come. I swear, I'll be good.”

Oh fuck. He's waiting for me to tell him it's ok. One of these days, I will kill that fucking bastard. I lift my little Lieutenant to my lap and whisper against his ear, hand around his erection as he jerks and cries harder. “Come, Kira, come for me.” Just like that, his head slams back, shriek deafening as his erection nearly jumps from my hand, spurting thick white strands over our chests.

Beautiful. Who would ever have imagined that I, Ikkaku Madarame, worshiper of women, would find a man's orgasm the most beautiful thing I've ever seen? Lovelier than Yumi, even, though not even I dare tell him that. His lips are flushed, pink as his cheeks, swollen from kisses and sucking me, his eyes dazed as he stares at me, sated and relaxed while he trembles with aftershocks.

A soft kiss and I'm a bit surprised to feel him pressing back, a shaking hand running down my chest. I figured with that orgasm, he'd be ready for sleep, and he does look a bit tired but he's smiling slowly at me, fingers circling my belly. “That's enough, Kira. Go to sleep.”

“But, you.” He stops, blushing. “Please, let me please you.” I capture his hand and lift it to my lips, kissing each knuckle.

“No, you don't have to. Go to sleep.” I've already come once, I'm sure I'll survive.

Sleepy eyes search my face, brightening as he looks for, something. I can never figure out what he's thinking in that active little mind of his. “Please, si. Ikkaku. I want to.” White flashes as he nibbles his lip. “I, I want,” A glance to the side. “I want you inside me.” I can barely hear him and just blink as he fiddles with his bangs, hiding behind them and his hand.

“Kira.” I want to say no, I do, but it's not working. My mouth won't move and my arms pull him closer. Well, fuck it. Or, fuck him. That sounds better and my cock fully agrees, long ignored and demanding some attention. I settle him on the bed and stand, kicking the rest of my uniform off to lay with his. A bottle of oil Yume slipped into my bag when I moved is retrieved; I was annoyed when I found it but now I'm grateful.

A shiver and he reaches for me, curling into my chest as I pet him, tugging gently on the nipple rings, lifting him up to sit astride my hips. It might not be the easiest position but he'll be able to control our pace from there. Soft moans as I fondle him, delicate flesh rolling in my hand while I suck and nibble the pale nipples, peaked and driving him crazy. His body is so sensitive, the edges of scars, along his shoulder, small curved ears, fragile skin on the inside of his thighs.

Oil is slick over my fingers, the clear scent of herbs teasing my nose and I spread it over Kira's hands too, letting him smooth it over my chest and stomach. It coats us both, letting us slide against each other, gliding smoothly together and apart, rocking our hips slowly. He shifts forward, letting me slide fingertips along the curve of his ass, sliding between round cheeks to press lightly.

“Kira, say yes.”

“Yesssss.” A low moan and I smile a bit.

“Kira, say no.”

“Mmm, no.” His bangs fall back, leaving his eye exposed, scars and all. I hate those scars, those marks of ownership; every time he blinks, I see the 'IG' is carved into his eyelid. That prick, hurting my precious Kira.

“Hey, look here.” A slow roll of his neck and he turns to me, eyes half closed. “If it hurts or you want to stop, just say so. And if you want to come, do so. Understood?” A slow nod, pink moving over his chest in embarrassment. “Good.” A single finger slips inside and he jolts forward, a cry on his lips as he slams his beginning arousal into my stomach.

His balls rub against my erection, soft skin and firm globes pressing down, and I groan against him, knowing he can feel the vibrations through my stomach and chest; he's so incredibly sensitive and the rings make him more so. Now let's see, based on Yumi's drunk rambling, it should be there. Not quite but I brushed it, the scores on my shoulder tell me that. Just a bit over and there it is, a spongy little bump that sends him sobbing into my neck, short nails ripping over my skin.

Another finger presses close and he stays relaxed, breathing a bit ragged but from moans and breathless kisses rather than pain or fear. My lips part as he asks for entrance, begging sweetly with tiny licks and the barest hint of teeth on my bottom lip. Kira is so beautiful when he's bold, arching into me, demanding I please him instead of begging.

My free hand moves around to tease, running up and down the center of his chest, making large circles around the trembling rings. His patience finally runs out and I grin as he pulls away from me, slim hands moving to tug gently at slick metal, flipping them delicately, running the pads of his thumbs over hard nubs. My fingers are thrusting slowly now, scissoring gently to stretch him enough for a third, and each slow push sends him moving back to meet it, the pull out moving him forward to roll his hips against my stomach.

“Now, I want” His head moves back in a low moan as I add a third finger; there is the faintest bit of tightness around his eyes but he moves into me again. It's easier with three fingers to find that little spot and I rub firmly on each thrust, his voice rising in pleasure. More oil is poured over my hand and I dab enough to slick his cock, stroking him as I flick the ring from side to side, pushing firmly as far inside as he'll take me.

The heat is driving me crazy, satiny, slick, and soft, pulling me in. Incoherent babbling from my sweet Kira and I lick his lips, moving down the long neck and over the lean chest, teeth nipping at random intervals, leaving tiny marks. I hope he's ready, I think I'm going to explode if he makes another little whine without me inside him. “Kira.”

Blue eyes crack open in thin slits as I pull my hands away to spread oil over myself. A brief nod and he shifts a bit until I'm pressed to his entrance. A deep breath and he slides down as he releases it, flinching a bit; I stop him there, kissing slowly, until he's adjusted and takes my hands. His grip tightens as he moves a bit further, his lips still soft while he pants against mine. Finally, he's seated, those quiet whines moving through his chest and stomach to vibrate over my cock.

I was insane to think I could live without this.


~Kira~


I was insane to think I could live without this.

His taste lingers stubbornly on my tongue, heightening the sense of feeling him at the back of my throat; he's filling me to the limit, stretching me firmly. I can barely breath, my body is on fire, nerves burning as he kisses me with his hands on my hips. It hurts, but not badly and he's pressed firmly against that little spot inside he found. I didn't know it even existed and now it's driving me crazy; I always thought I was sick to enjoy even a bit when He fucked me.

He's groaning into my mouth, making me tremble under his hands and I can't keep quiet, soft cries escaping, whines high and strange in my ears. I want to move but it feels so good just like this, a big hand wrapped around me and filled more than I ever imagined. Shaking arms push me up and my hips shift. That scream isn't me, is it? The way he's grinning at me, it must have been. Any blood that isn't focused on my arousal rushes to my face and I look away, embarrassed.

“Kira, make as much noise as you want. I like to hear you.” His voice is a bit strained but still gentle.

The urge is irresistible. “Izuru, my name is Izuru.” My weight shifts slowly and I grit my teeth as I pull up, a slick sound as he slides nearly all the way out before I let myself fall back down. My back arches, lips part, frantically seeking air. He's all the way in, dark curls pressed to my ass, and pressing that little spot, pulsing slowly in time with his heartbeat.

Muscles tense and he growls faintly, hands lifting me and pulling back down as I brace and try not to scream. “Izuru, come for me!” I do scream then, voice high and thin at my name, hips bucking as I release, thick fluid flying over my stomach and spreading to his stomach and chest. Fast thrusts keep me orgasming for long moments until he throbs inside, swelling and pressing at my walls, leaving me breathless and limp, collapsed on his chest.

My name is whispered against my cheek and he leans back, falling heavily to the bed, still joined with me. We both moan at the shift and try to relax for a few minutes before pulling apart slowly. Fluid is running down my thighs and I flush, trying to get away long enough to clean up; he might let me stay with him still but not if I'm dirty.

“Hold on.” Both thick arms wrap around my waist, holding me against him, so I rest my head on his shoulder. I gasp as he rolls us around, retrieving a blanket from the mess of the bed; my skin is incredibly sensitive and even the puff of his breath on my neck sends shivers down my back. “Just a minute.” I'm settled on the bed and he stands, yanking a pair of pants on and flinging the door open.

What is he doing? “Capt...” Maybe I shouldn't call him that. Pink burns in my cheeks at the thought of being 'punished' again.

“Oi, clear the damn hall!” He's not... My entire body burns in humiliation. I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed, no matter what was done or in front of who. “Alright, come here.” Thick arms wrap around me and I'm cradled against the naked chest as he walks slowly down the hall. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

He keeps talking, rambling a bit but I quit listening, too busy trying to vanish into thin air. I'm shifted to one arm and balance precariously on his hip as he turns the water on, tests it, and proceeds to unwrap me after shoving his pants off. My legs tremble, I think I might fall, but he lifts me again, holding me gently under the warm spray. “Okay?”

I should probably answer. “Yes, thank you.” Warm hands move over my skin, a soft cloth cleaning the stickiness away. I suppose it could be worse. He could have just dragged me out there, naked and filthy, in front of everyone. Suddenly, I feel very shy and turn a bit, shielding myself from his touch, clinging to the corner of the cloth.

“Hey, let go.” The second of hesitation is too long and he slides bare fingers up my sides before digging in, tickling mercilessly. I shriek with surprised laughter, uncontrollable as I shove at his hands and kick, sliding around on the slick tile. Deep chuckles in my ear as he hugs me close, kissing my forehead. “Pretty Kira.”

My entire body shudders and he stops, pulling away to look down, frowning slightly. “What? Don't like that?” Wet bangs fall in my eyes as I shake my head quickly. He grunts and hugs me again, pressing my head to his shoulder, gently taking my hands and placing them on his waist; they move on their own, gliding over his back and squeezing him close.

He doesn't say anything, I'm a bit afraid he might be angry but his hands are gentle on my back, strong fingers combing the edges of my hair. “I'm”

“If you say you're sorry one more time, I'm sending you to the Fourth, got it?” Harsh words in a low growl but I've already learned he doesn't mean it; I smile and press closer, curling into his warmth, letting the water run over my skin, soothing and pleasant.


~Ikkaku~


One of these days, I'll find out everything that asshole did to him. What I'll do then, I don't know, but at least I'll know what not to do. I thought he would cry when I called him 'pretty.' It's a bit curious, that he cries so much, his control seems to be pretty good except when it comes to crying or hiding fear. Maybe he was trained that way. I can't help being curious, even when I don't really want to know.

But it's good, to stand in the calming cascade of water, holding him against me, his arms wrapped around my waist, small hands curled on my back. His breathing is even, embarrassment and the brief upset gone as he nuzzles my chest, hair dripping cooling droplets over my skin. The water temperature is dropping slowly and I pull away, wipe him down one last time and towel him off enthusiastically.

His laughter is beautiful as he chases the edge of the towel, trying to tug it away from me, shyness forgotten as he looks straight into my eyes, smiling widely, teasingly running his fingers over my sides, tickling back. If only he could stay this way, happy and free. I have to kiss him again, just the brush of mouths but he leans up, hands braced on my shoulders as he licks delicately. “Careful.”

“Of what?” He can't be that innocent; the flutter of his lashes gives him away and I sweep him into a deep kiss, leaning over him, tongue sliding into his mouth without effort. A soft cry and he's kissing me back, both hands on my head to pull me closer.

Quick breaths and I growl lightly against his throat, working my way over his collar and back up to his lips, leaving trails of shivers and quiet whines. “Unless you want me again?” Red streaks his skin and I grin into his mouth. It's too soon, I know that, but he's so fun to tease. “Come on.”

A clean towel folds him in, keeping those wandering little hands locked away for the moment. I check the hall quickly to make sure no one is there and carry him back to bed, rolling him over rumpled sheets. Pink lingers in his cheeks but he looks up boldly, delicate hands reaching for me. “No. Behave yourself.”

The rejection makes his eyes widen a bit before he looks away, tucking his hands close to his chest. Crap. My sigh is strong enough to move his bangs and he flinches, moving away to dig into the sheets, huddling quietly at the edge of the bed. I didn't redress and can just crawl in beside him, pulling him over to lay stiffly against me. “Kira, don't be like that. Come here.” Soft snuffling and he wiggles a bit closer but doesn't snuggle in the way he likes to. “Aww, come on. It's too soon, and you're too small.” A friendly flick of his nose, which wrinkles.

Mumbling against my shoulder and I poke him firmly, making him look up and speak directly to me. “Not small.” Is he pouting? Half-lidded eyes narrow further at my silence. “I'm not small.”

He is. I want to shout in triumph, gloat to the entire world that I dragged his bright, spunky personality into the light of day. “Not really.” I smirk at him. “I'm just big.” That shyness is so funny, I laugh when he turns blood red and buries his face in my chest again. “Go to sleep, Kira.”

A muffled 'good night' and he settles more, tucking his legs between mine and his arm over my waist, opposite tucked between our chests. This is the way to live.