Helping The King

Title: Helping The King
Author: Ansela Jonla
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: 18
Warnings: rough sex, language
Summary: Hichigo wishes it didn't have to be like this, but he'll help his King for as long as he needs to.
Word count: 1038
Notes: Written for the springkink prompt: 15th - Bleach, Hichigo/Ichigo: Secrets - It must have been a whole new level of fucked up.. Sorry it's late.

When you show up here in the middle of the night, your eyes wild and your shihakushou already half-gone, I know you're not here to fight me. Sure you put up a token protest when I appear, but you know as well as I do why you're here, why you let me jerk you off while calling you names and tearing into the skin on your back with the sharp nails of my free hand, my teeth tearing at your lips until your sweet blood runs down both our faces.

You need to be hurt, something in your brain demands it. I'm happy to help you out with that, glad that you feel you can come to me instead of looking for someone who wouldn't have the same interest in keeping you alive.

There are times when you want more though. That's when I shove you to your knees and force my cock down your throat, verbally abusing you as I hold onto your hair and fuck your mouth. You're so pretty with tears rolling down your cheeks as you choke on my cock, desperately gulping down air whenever I decide you deserve to breathe.

It's fucked up, I know. It's not healthy, the way you can only get pleasure when you're being hurt like that. The way you only ever turn to me for help, when all I am is the darkness that resides inside of you. What will you do when I'm not enough, when I won't - can't - give you what you need any more.

You're here again, that look in your eyes even more desperate than ever. You're clad only in your boxers this time, and I can see you've already tried to get yourself off tonight from the way the blood oozes out from scratches I don't remember putting on your chest.

You smack my hands away as I reach for your cock, your fist flying at my face in your usual half-arsed attempt to pretend you don't want this. I grab your wrist and twist, forcing you to your knees in front of me, your head level with my crotch. I'm not even surprised when my hakama is suddenly around my knees - this is your mind, and if you want my hakama there then that's where they'll be.

You whine as my hand pulls at your hair, your tongue swiping across my slit in retaliation. The usual insults - slut, whore, freak, dirty; all those and more, words that would have you ready to fight if anyone else said them to you, if I said them outside of these times - are falling from my lips, and you respond by taking my entire length into your mouth, forcing yourself to swallow me even as you gag.

You pull off too soon though, releasing my cock with a wet pop and smirking at me. The look in your eyes is a challenge now, and there's only one prize left for me to take. You scramble to your feet, and I lash out before you can make it, my fist slamming into the side of your face hard enough to draw blood and knock you back down.

What will you do if I refuse to take this step, King? What will you do if I don't want our twisted parody of a relationship to reach a whole new level of fucked up? I'm doing this because I'm scared of the lengths you'd go to to seek release if I didn't help, but what will you do when I've had enough, when I'm tired of being used so you can get your pleasure?

I drape myself over your back, forcing you to your hands and knees. You whine as my teeth sink into your neck, grinding your bare ass against my cock as if telling me to get on with it. You don't need to be stretched - I saw where your hand was when I was fucking your face - and if you wanted lube then it would be in my hands already.

You scream as I force the tip of my cock inside of you, from pleasure or pain I can't tell. Can you tell the difference any more, King? I'd give you a moment to adjust to me being in you, but you don't want me to, do you?

You're so tight, and the mixture of saliva and pre-cum on my cock isn't the best lube in the world. I can feel your blood slicking my cock as I tear into you, and that makes the friction slightly more bearable for now.

You're crying now, tears running openly down your face as you struggle to breathe around the sobs that wrack your body. A normal person would pull out now, would pull you into his arms and dry your tears. And if you were normal you'd let me do that, you'd accept the comfort and the reprieve from pain that you've learned never to expect from anyone.

I wish it didn't have to be like this, King. If only you could get your pleasure without having to be bloodied up first. If I knew who'd scrambled your brain so that pain and pleasure were intertwined, I'd fucking go back in time and kill them before they had a chance to.

I sink my teeth in and give you a matching mark on the other side of your neck, moaning as I feel your blood slide over my lips and down my chin. I'm glad you only share yourself with me like this. I don't think I could bear to watch you let another person treat you so roughly. I'd kill them if they tried, as soon as they put the first mark on your skin.

Your walls tighten around me as you climax, forcing me over the edge as well. We collapse into a heap, my cock still inside of you as we lie in a puddle of your cum and blood, panting and sobbing and cursing together. You look so much younger as you drift off to sleep in my arms, the worry and pain and responsibility that lines your face every waking hour just fading away as you slip into dreams where nothing will hurt you for a few short hours.