Poison Apples

The scratch of a quill pen on parchment was the only sound Lieutenant Izuru could hear as he slid the door open to his captain's quarters. Ichimaru-taicho eschewed more modern forms of writing, preferring to use the methods he had learned in his youth. The eerie hush of the surrounding rooms made the quiet scratching sound abnormally loud, sending a shiver of baseless fear down Izuru's spine. Like the rest of the division, he feared his unpredictable captain's displeasure, but he was only obeying his captain's orders.

Izuru knelt just inside the doorway, blond hair falling over one eye as he bowed his head. The folds of his loose black hakama spread out to either side of his legs as he settled his weight on his heels. He felt strangely naked without his zanpakuto at his side, though he knew that danger couldn't possibly get this far into the Seireitei. Ichimaru continued writing, ignoring the whisper of sound as Izuru slid the door shut behind him. The slender lieutenant sat patiently in seiza while his captain finished his task.

At last Ichimaru turned around, a genial smile affixed firmly on his face. "Now, Izuru, what did you want?" He wore his long white haori over the traditional black shihakusho, despite the late hour.

Izuru kept his eyes studiously on the ground, though he desperately wanted to examine his captain's features for clues on how to answer. "Sir?" he asked cautiously. "You summoned me here."

Amusement was evident in Ichimaru's voice when he replied, "Ya, I know. But why did you come here now? It's after work hours."

Izuru's shoulders tensed. Had he done something wrong by responding to his captain's summons immediately? "I… thought you wanted a prompt response, sir," he said softly.

Ichimaru chuckled, rising from his desk and pacing towards Izuru. The blond lieutenant could hear the soft slap of his sandals on the floor as he drew nearer. When Ichimaru rested a hand on his shoulder, Izuru flinched. Ichimaru sighed. "My, Izuru-chan, do I scare you that much?"

Izuru lifted his head slightly. "You don't scare me!" he responded indignantly, before snapping his mouth shut in horror. "I'm sorry, captain, sir, but you don't," he replied more calmly, though the rapid beating of his heart told a different story. "You…" He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

The captain's long, slender fingers tightened on his shoulder. Izuru could feel Ichimaru's interest when the foxlike captain asked genially, "I what?"

Izuru shook his head, still staring determinedly at the ground. "It's nothing, sir, I apologize."

With a whisper of fabric, Ichimaru knelt in front of his lieutenant. A corner of Izuru's mind noted that his captain could make even the simplest movements graceful and dangerous – the rest of his mind was trying not to panic at the unexpected move. Ichimaru reached out and lifted Izuru's chin with two fingers, forcing the younger soul reaper to look him in the eye. "No, it's not nothing, Izuru-chan," he said softly. "What is it?" Concern overlaid his voice, but then Ichimaru was an excellent actor.

Izuru shivered. Ichimaru's lidded gaze was piercing. His captain's fingers felt too hot against his skin, but he couldn't back away. Nor could he lie: Ichimaru always knew when someone lied to him. "You can be intimidating at times, sir," Izuru managed diplomatically. Hopefully that was enough truth to satisfy his captain for tonight.

Ichimaru chuckled softly. "Now, Izuru-chan, you can do better than that."

Rather than respond to that loaded statement, the blond lieutenant asked tentatively, "Sir, what did you summon me for?"

Ichimaru rocked back on his heels, disappointment flickering across his face before being wiped away by his customary grin. "Ah, always so efficient," he chided his lieutenant teasingly. "Come, sit with me for a bit. Would you like some tea?" He rose, and Izuru hastily came to his feet as well. "Let us adjourn to the porch." Before leading the way outside, he poured Izuru a cup of fragrant tea from the pot resting on his desk.

Izuru hesitantly settled onto the cushion that Ichimaru offered, cradling the porcelain cup of tea in his hands. Ichimaru sat next to him, slightly too close, staring out at the persimmon trees filling the courtyard. "You know, it took over a decade to get all of them to bloom," he commented absently, gesturing to the trees. The summer breeze bore the scent of the blossoms, which glowed pale in the moonlight.

"They are lovely," Izuru complimented. He had joined the division after most of them had been planted, but he knew that they had been Ichimaru's handiwork.

"They bloom and die so quickly," the captain mused, staring pensively out at the gardens. "But that makes them all the more lovely." Izuru nodded uncertainly, transfixed by the subtle note of pain in his captain's voice.

Ichimaru sighed, resting a hand on Izuru's knee. The younger soul reaper flushed, a painful mixture of emotions surging through him at his captain's touch. This felt like a more vulnerable Ichimaru, without some of the masks he habitually wore. Gone were the cutting sarcasm and perpetual broad smirk. As he studied the orchard, his lips curved in a genuine smile of pride. "Captain…" Izuru started.

"Gin," Ichimaru interrupted. "Here, there is little need for formality."

Izuru flushed hotter, unwilling to call his captain by his first name. "Ichimaru-san," he compromised. "Why did you bring me out here?"

The moonlight cast odd shadows on Ichimaru's face, giving him an almost demonic appearance as he turned to regard Izuru. Izuru couldn't tell what he was thinking behind that inscrutable gaze. The silver-haired captain tilted his head to one side and again reached out to lift Izuru's chin. Izuru shivered. "Do you really want to know?" he whispered, gaze pinned on Izuru.

He would have nodded, but Ichimaru's hand prevented that, so he swallowed and said, "Yes, sir." There didn't seem to be another possible answer.

Ichimaru slid his fingers down until the pads rested over Izuru's jugular. The lieutenant's heart beat like a startled rabbit's, so loud he was sure his captain could hear it. He could surely feel it under his fingertips. Ichimaru's smile widened. "Sweet, innocent Izuru. Even now, you don't know what's going on." Izuru swallowed rapidly, loath to admit the truth of that statement. Ichimaru chuckled, reading his reluctance in his eyes. "Maybe this will make it more obvious." Without any warning, he wrapped his hand around the back of Izuru's neck and pulled the blond soul reaper into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

Izuru's brain froze in sheer panic. His captain's tongue tangled with his, tasting of tea and dried persimmons; dark, powerful reiatsu flooded his senses. Heat surged through his veins as he drowned in the feeling. Ichimaru's hand crept up to twist through his hair, tugging his head back as the captain sank sharp teeth into the side of his neck. Izuru gasped as the sensation, just this side of pain, intensified. When Ichimaru raised his head, Izuru could see a thin sliver of pale blue underneath his captain's lowered lids.

"Does that answer your question?" Ichimaru asked casually, as if he was questioning his lieutenant about a trivial paperwork issue. Izuru just stared at him, stunned. Ichimaru brushed a tender hand over his bangs, trailing down his cheek. "Dear, sweet Izuru," he murmured softly.

Izuru gulped, unsure how to respond. His captain…had just kissed him? Not gently, either, but as if he wanted him, needed him. Belatedly, Izuru realized that he was sprawled half in Ichimaru's lap, gazing up at his captain with glazed eyes. Hastily, he tried to sit up and rearrange his shihakusho, which had gotten disarrayed somehow, but Ichimaru's hand on his chest stopped his motion before it began. Izuru closed his eyes as long fingers gently caressed the skin at the open vee of his uniform.

When he reopened them, Ichimaru's face hovered inches above his. "Oh, dear Izuru," the silver-haired captain murmured, before claiming his lips in another possessive kiss. Izuru's eyes drifted shut as the tide of sensation overwhelmed him. Ichimaru ran his fingers along Izuru's ribs, drifting under the fabric of the shihakusho and making the blond soul reaper shudder. As the kiss deepened, the captain's other hand found Izuru's hair, pulling in a way that made Izuru whine deep in his throat. Ichimaru purred against Izuru's lips at the sound.

When Ichimaru lifted his head, Izuru noticed that his hands had somehow ended up clutching his captain's haori. He broke his grip and looked away ashamedly. Ichimaru stroked his cheek, bringing his face back up. "Don't be embarrassed, Izuru-chan, ne?" he chided gently. Izuru's cheeks turned pink, but he nodded tentatively. Ichimaru's smile widened, and he brushed his lips against his lieutenant's mouth briefly. "Good. Very good, Izuru-chan," he purred. Izuru blushed harder. His captain never complimented him for anything. It made something deep inside of him relax to know that Ichimaru-taicho approved of his actions.

In an effortless motion, Ichimaru scooped Izuru up in his arms and turned to walk inside. Izuru squirmed uncomfortably, but the older soul reaper was far stronger than he looked. He ignored Izuru's weak struggles until they reached his bedchamber, a spartan room containing only a low pallet and a clothing chest. As Ichimaru slid the door open, Izuru froze – he had never been that far inside his captain's quarters before, and had no idea what Ichimaru expected from him. His captain hummed reassurance as he strode over to the pallet, gently setting Izuru down in the center.

The confused lieutenant gazed up at Ichimaru with wide eyes, fingers tangled around themselves in his lap. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly.

Ichimaru regarded him with a sleepy, inscrutable expression. "Izuru, I thought I said no formality here."

Izuru hung his head. "Yes, sir, I…it's a hard habit to break."

"Try," Ichimaru coaxed softly. "Say my name."

"I…sir…" Izuru took a deep breath. "Ichimaru-san?"

Ichimaru shook his head. "Not good enough. You know that."

Izuru's shoulders hunched. He couldn't bear to disappoint his captain. "Gin," he choked out softly.

"Very good," Ichimaru purred warmly. "Maybe I won't have to punish you after all." Izuru looked up, startled. The silver-haired captain smirked. "Misbehavior can't be allowed to slide, ne?" He cocked his head to one side. "Then again, you may enjoy it." With a swift motion reminiscent of a stooping hawk, Ichimaru flattened Izuru to the cot, pinning his wrists above his head with one bony hand. His other hand traced idle circles on Izuru's collarbone. With his full weight pressing down on the lieutenant's hips, Izuru was trapped.

Every movement of Ichimaru's fingertips left trails of fire on Izuru's skin. He arched his head back as the paths neared his neck, and Ichimaru took that for an invitation. His hand wrapped lightly around Izuru's neck and the younger soul reaper shuddered. Ichimaru leaned down, brushing his lips against Izuru's temple. "I think I was right, hmm?" His fingers tightened slightly, and Izuru bit back a moan. Ichimaru's reiatsu pressed down heavily all around him, flavored with the faintest tang of iron and persimmons. It ran over his skin like silk, played tricks on his senses. When Ichimaru moved to kiss Izuru again, the lieutenant welcomed the heat gladly.

The pressure on his throat increased gradually, until he gasped for breath. Darkness was swimming in front of his eyes when Ichimaru finally released him. Izuru stared up at him, panting, as the silver-haired captain ran a soothing hand through his hair. "Good, ne?" he mused, slitted eyes revealing a thin sliver of pale blue iris. Izuru nodded slowly, scrambling to bring his scattered thoughts into a coherent whole. The attempt crashed to a halt when Ichimaru fastened his teeth onto the base of Izuru's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Izuru whimpered low in his throat, involuntarily bucking his hips upwards.

At first he didn't notice that Ichimaru had undone the white sash holding his kosode together. Then cold air drifted over bare skin, making him flinch. When he tensed, Ichimaru soothed him with a kiss. "Don't worry, Izuru-chan," he murmured, trailing kisses down his naked chest. "It'll be alright." Izuru shivered under the new sensation, arching up into his captain's lips.

When Ichimaru finally released his wrists to remove the kosode entirely, Izuru moved to help.

It made Izuru uncomfortable to be half naked, while his captain was still fully clothed, but the thought was lost in the press of Ichimaru's hand on his throat. There would be bruises there tomorrow, and the blond soul reaper welcomed them.

His captain murmured a word, and kido ropes materialized around his wrists. They yanked his hands above his head, pinioning them firmly. Izuru squirmed under Ichimaru's assessing gaze, but his captain seemed to approve of what he saw.

When the scrutiny lasted longer than he could bear, Izuru begged, "Please…"

"Please?" Ichimaru asked, amused. Izuru sought his gaze, unable to put his desires into words. Unsure if he had the right to ask for anything, here. Ichimaru smirked, brushing burning fingers down Izuru's chest. "I think I'll teach you how to beg properly," he murmured. Izuru closed his eyes.

The touch of icy steel on his skin made them pop open again, widening in terror. Ichimaru held a wickedly curved dagger to his pectorals, dragging the blade slowly downwards. Izuru froze, having seen how easily that blade could carve through muscle and organs. But his captain wouldn't hurt him like that. Right?

The blade traced a delicate pattern down his ribs, dancing over a flat, muscular abdomen before journeying back upwards. Izuru barely breathed throughout the process, staring into Ichimaru's unreadable face like a baby bird watching a snake. When the blade reached his neck, he flinched away and tilted his head back. The steel drew a cold line under his jaw and down his jugular before coming to rest in the hollow of his collarbone. "Very good, Izuru," his captain purred softly.

Izuru didn't dare move. He could feel small rivulets of blood trickling down his side – hardly worth mentioning in a real battle. Here, in this darkened bedroom, they held a strange allure. Izuru's eyes fluttered closed again, and Ichimaru laughed. "Very good," he repeated, rewarding his lieutenant with a possessive kiss. Izuru moaned into his mouth, straining towards him despite the blade at his throat.

Ichimaru allowed their tongues to dance together for a brief moment before pulling back. Izuru whimpered at the loss of the warmth, tugging futilely against his bonds. "My, Izuru-chan, it looks like you want something," Ichimaru murmured from somewhere above him. "No, don't open your eyes," he added as Izuru started to do just that.

"Taicho, please," Izuru sighed, a churning mixture of emotions surging through him. Ichimaru paused, a warning note humming through his reiatsu, and Izuru froze. "Um, I mean, sir… Gin?" The tension in the room fell away, and Ichimaru chuckled. The blade against his throat began to slowly, teasingly travel lower, until it drew a path along the waistband of his hakama. Izuru arched his back, keeping his hips pressed into the futon, silently begging for more contact. The cuts on his stomach had turned into pleasurable fire, and he would do anything if Ichimaru would just kiss him again.

"Beg for it," Ichimaru reminded him lightly. "If you ask prettily enough…" He trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

Izuru took a deep breath. "Please, sir," he whispered. "Please…I…I need…" He couldn't complete the thought.

Without warning, a hand cracked across his face. Izuru's head snapped to the side. He licked his lips, tasting blood, but kept his eyes obediently closed. "Not good enough," Ichimaru informed him dispassionately. "Do you need more encouragement?" Izuru shuddered, hips moving in tiny circles as he sought for more friction. The knife dug into his skin, doing nothing to quench the fire burning in his veins.

"Please, taicho – Ichimaru-san – Gin – I need you," he begged, unable to tell if Ichimaru was even listening.

Ichimaru's smile widened, satisfaction permeating his reiatsu. He rested a hand on Izuru's neck, and the blond soul reaper strained into it. "Better," he allowed. "It'll do for now, ne?" His fingers clenched tightly around his lieutenant's throat as he swallowed any reply Izuru might have made. Izuru arched helplessly into his touch, gasping when the foxlike captain transferred his attentions lower. The dagger still rested below Izuru's collarbone, but Ichimaru appeared to have forgotten about it as he left a line of livid bruises down Izuru's chest. Finally he raised his head, pale eyes gleaming in the darkness. Izuru whimpered.

"Beg for me, Izuru," Ichimaru commanded softly.

And Izuru did.

Author's Note:

The events in this chapter are not intended to be a depiction of a safe, sane, consensual relationship. Izuru's consent is intended to be dubious, at best. Gin's actions are not an appropriate way to behave in a relationship! Especially a power exchange relationship, where informed consent is paramount. This is not to say that kink is bad –it can be incredibly rewarding and fun. But I deliberately wrote this in this way to challenge readers: did you see it as consensual behavior? What if Izuru had been female – would it have looked more acceptable then? Think about it...

That said, enjoy the next chapter!