Author's Note: This is a sequel to Levels of Torture.
Aizen drummed his fingers on his chair and contemplated his captive. The boy was asleep, for now, held in a room two floors down. Marks stood out vivid on his now pale skin - signs of the 4th and 6th Espada's 'tender' administrations.
Ichigo had never fully been a part of his plan. Aizen did have to admit that the boy's appearance in the Soul Society had greatly lent itself to sowing chaos and confusion among the Shinigami, but his own simple, smiling appearance and the faГade he'd built up would have been enough by itself. The boy was an unforeseen part of his grand scheme, but not an inopportune one. Now that Ichigo was in his keeping he no longer had to worry about what chaos the boy might bring to bear against him.
The neutralization of that power had left him one option - turn it to his own use. Simple in theory and in word, but there was that small, miniscule problem of the boy's current loyalty to the Shinigami that must be conquered first.
Grimmjow and Ulquiorra were working on that for him, but as Aizen watched the boy toss on his bed, plagued perhaps by memories of what waking held in store for him, he wondered if a more personal touch was called for.
The thin white sheet draped over Ichigo's naked body slid down as the boy rolled over, exposing his lower back and giving Aizen a glimpse of shadows below. Aizen's fingers slowed in their drumming. Curling his fingers around the armrest, he pushed himself up and waved the monitor off with a single flick of his hand.
White halls stretched in seeming endless lengths. He turned right and the hall shifted downwards for him, moving him towards the level below.
It was his experience that loyalties were like water in many ways. They shifted frequently, always following the path of least resistance. In some cases, they were a great torrent, a rush of force that was both unstoppable and immovable. Those kinds of loyalties were few and far between, and also plainly obvious. Then there were the loyalties he was used to, the ones that could be diverted with careful planning and subtle manipulation, or simply forced where he wanted them.
A cocky smile slid across Aizen's lips. He knew well what kind of loyalties Ichigo had.
After all, powers aside, the boy was mortal, and mortals were so terribly fragile. As long as Ichigo was alive he could be hurt, and he could be killed. It was the fear of both of those things that were Aizen's best weapons.
Unmarked doors filled the hallway Aizen entered. His steps made no sound as he approached his target, his current prey. Fourth door down, right side.
The door slid open with a touch. Inside, the lone occupant froze. Good. That meant he was learning, and that he was afraid.
Eyes opened and stared warily from the bed.
"Did you think we were done with you?" He couldn't help but taunt. The flush of anger that painted the boy's face was like an aphrodisiac. It was so much more fun to take what wasn't willingly given.
Aizen stopped at the side of the bed and stared down at his prisoner. Neither moved for several long minutes.
"I don't care what you do to me," Ichigo said finally, his voice raspy, almost broken.
He was going to enjoy pushing it the last bit.
"Oh, but you do." Aizen reached for the collar of his coat, yanking the fastenings loose with a hard tug. On the bed, Ichigo shivered. The boy couldn't help it, not after what the Espada had done to him. Ichigo's eyes followed the coat as it fell to the floor. To his credit, he didn't move when Aizen leaned forward, setting one knee on the bed.
He'd learned the first lesson, at least. There was no running here, no escape from what they might do to him.
Aizen smiled as he drew the sheet away from Ichigo. With a thought, he lowered the temperature in the room until Ichigo started shivering for real. In the boy's head, he'd associate it with Aizen's presence, with a kind of supernatural pall that came with the lord of Hueco Mundo. That suited Aizen well. Everything in this world was under his control, and Ichigo was no exception.
His pants were unbuttoned as he moved, his other leg swinging around until he was straddling Ichigo's legs. On the boy's back was a pattern of bruises, a pattern that told a story. With his thumb, Aizen traced the spots where Ulquiorra had held him down - only a few, Ulquiorra's preferred avoiding physical tactics - and then moved to Grimmjow's more vivid handiwork - bruises where the boy had been hit, scratches, bite marks, full handprints where Grimmjow had restrained the boy with sheer force.
Even without the marks, he knew exactly what had happened. Afterall, he'd been watching.
Ichigo did nothing to stop him as Aizen pushed him flat face-down on the bed. The boy's hips were raised, positioned methodically and Aizen let him wait there, holding the pose while Aizen finished disrobing, taking more time that he really needed just to see if Ichigo would move, roll over, do anything that could be taken as a sign of resistance.
Lesson two, take what you're given.
Aizen's cock slid inside and the boy whimpered. He was loose, probably raw from the way Grimmjow had fucked him earlier √ going for hours, regardless of whether the boy was conscious or not. There'd be no pleasure in this for Ichigo. Aizen would do nothing to change that.
He started slow, because he could, because he wanted to. In, out, in, out. The pace became as common, as steady as breathing until he didn't have to think about it anymore.
Ichigo was still beneath him, hands fisted in the sheets above his head, face turned into the pillow, eyes shut.
"You can't escape it." Aizen's voice cut through the still silence of the room. "It's not going to stop. It's never going to stop." He slid his hands down Ichigo's sides possessively, then leaned forward to close sharp teeth over one shoulder blade.
With his face close to Ichigo's he could hear the boy whimper, muffled through fabric. Aizen grinned wider.
Both hands went to Ichigo's knees, gripping the hollow of flesh found there and pushing forward until Ichigo's ass was high in the air, lifting the rest of the boy's body with it.
A choked sob echoed in the room.
Lesson three, know when you're beaten.
Rearing up, Aizen slammed his hips forward, breaking his earlier rhythm in favor of fucking Ichigo the way a beast would √ hard, raw, holding no power back and taking everything. The sobbing only increased and Aizen's cock pounded inside that trembling heat to the time of high pitched breath and wavering moans. Fluid slid between them and down Ichigo's legs, staining the sheets a delicate pink.
He sat back and took the boy with him. For a moment Aizen wondered why the boy was no longer making sounds before realizing the collar around Ichigo's neck was choking him. Aizen was tempted, briefly, to leave it just to watch the boy turn blue and pass out but that would have ended their fun far too quickly. Grabbing the collar's chain, he pulled, forcing more length to form from the wall.
Ichigo trembled against Aizen's chest, face red as he gasped for air.
Aizen brushed the hair back from Ichigo's ear with fake tenderness and whispered softly, creating the perfect parody of a lover's tone. "Even after you give in, it won't stop." Ichigo's eyes turned to him as he spoke and there Aizen saw true fear. "You will give in, you know, and after, once you're one of mine, you'll still be our plaything. Do you think I'd protect you, keep Ulquiorra and Grimmjow away to save you?" He chuckled, the sound as cold as the continually dropping room temperature. "They're not going to let you go now that they've had a taste, and neither will I. But..." Aizen's tongue lapped at the sweat forming on Ichigo's neck. "...if you play along, if you're a good little fuck-boy, there are some rewards."
He trailed his hands along quivering thighs while he let the boy sweat it out. Ichigo was close, teetering on the edge but Aizen couldn't push much more. Ichigo had to...
"What do you mean?"
Aizen hid his triumphant grin by kissing Ichigo's hair. "For starters, we may let you enjoy it."
He moved Ichigo's knees again, placing Ichigo's feet flat against the mattress.
"Move."
The boy's indecision was a tangible force, vibrating like Ichigo's shaking back against Aizen's chest.
Slowly, Ichigo lifted himself off of Aizen's cock, rising until the head was barely left inside. He froze there again, pausing before sinking back down.
Lesson four, know your master and serve him well.
Aizen barely restrained himself from laughing. Instead, he touched the boy, running his hands over Ichigo's legs and chest then down, circling the erection that Ichigo had been sporting the moment Aizen walked into the room. He'd known from the beginning that it would end like this. Pain and pleasure were intertwined in Ichigo, and Aizen was going to enjoy teaching the boy all the lessons there were of it.
The boy squeezed around him, slightly more pleasing, in a physical sense, now that he was making an effort. Ichigo's body was tensed, a warm cavern of heat that felt better than most Aizen remembered having. He waited, letting Ichigo move in his lap for another minute before he allowed himself to come. Seed mixed with blood, slick and wet in his lap.
Removing his hand from around Ichigo's cock, Aizen shoved the boy off of him. Ichigo's come spattered on the mattress.
Wiping himself with the bed sheets, Aizen stood and redressed. He let his fingers brush the collar at Ichigo's throat, dissolving the chain but leaving the rest as it was. He left the room without looking back.
"Come."
Ichigo followed.