"Ishida, where do you want to go after school?"


"That's not interesting at all."

A pair of teenage boys, students of Karakura High, was having their lunch on the school's rooftop. One had vivid orange hair and of larger built if compared to the leaner, dark-haired bespectacled teen. Their breads were munched on in silence but it was the taller one – Kurosaki Ichigo – who crumpled the wrapping first and stuffed it in his pocket before reclining fully on his back on the tiled floor.

"I hear there's a new shop opening at the skirt of the town."

Ishida Uryuu – the one with glasses – swallowed his food and sighed, "You want us to go there?"

"Why not? We're free afterwards."

Ishida was not free – never will be. He had books to read, articles to sew, revisions to complete and homework to do. A fall in his grades would mean cancellation of his scholarship which therefore would lead to poverty and disgrace as his dear old father, a hospital director, would mock him for not being able to stand on his own two feet.

"I've been thinking a lot, Ishida. About us," Ichigo suddenly said softly, his eyes averted to his partner. "We've been together for two months already, yet I don't feel if we're progressing at all."

To Ishida, it had been an unbelievable two months. Ichigo had managed to get hold of him in the arts 'n craft clubroom one evening and unfortunately (or fortunately) they had been alone – Ishida, as president had to stay back to ensure the classroom was in order after activities and locked for the day. He was busy collecting baskets of yarn when Ichigo spoke of something incoherent in a bloody quick pace that all Ishida could gather was "sorry-to-be-so-sudden-wah-wah-wah-had-to-say-wah-wah-wah". Shortly put, Ichigo was not making any sense. But the last sentence sprung Ishida to reality.

"I like you."

So Ishida was then slowly coaxed to a wall, baskets of yarn still in his arms. Ichigo settled them on a nearby cabinet before whispering, "I really like you." Then they shared their first kiss.

Ishida was close to putting an aptly placed knitting needle through the bastard's heart but decided against it when he noticed Ichigo's frowning look. The latter always frowned but this time, it mirrored some sort of turbulence within himself. Ishida sensed self-doubt. Ichigo was probably asking himself if confessing was the right thing to do, and would Ishida break their friendship because of this "spur of the moment" action, and would he be thought as a queer for saying "I like you" to another guy?

So Ishida decided to give it a try. The kiss did not make his insides go warm like Inoue Orihime (his club's vice president) had said it would, yet it did not make him feel suffocated with disgust. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was wondering if going out with another guy would result in anything? Ishida hated to use Ichigo to satisfy his inquisitiveness – Ichigo was a man of honour, an invaluable friend (despite being a dickhead sometimes) – but why not give each other a chance? For better or worse, with a pure or manipulative intent, why not?


They spent more time together in each other's company after school. Ichigo always ended up in Ishida's home; it was only there they would be guaranteed privacy. During the first week, they talked. Ishida learned more about his partner and vice versa. He was still not comfortable about telling Ichigo his family affairs so he carefully evaded the query about his father. Ichigo might have gotten the hint as he did not probe further. Ishida was grateful that beneath the crass exterior Ichigo put up, he was quite considerate and thoughtful for a person.

And then at night, in the dark hall with only the moon beam illuminating it through the balcony, they talked no more. Ichigo had his arm around Ishida's more slender frame and was pulling the latter closer to him. With his free hand, he pushed the thin chin up and claimed the lips again.

And that was pretty much what they did for two months.

"What is it you're complaining about now, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo sat up again and turned to the other. He scrutinized the irritated scowl before saying carefully, "Why can't we do more?"

Ishida had never found himself caught in such a sticky relationship before so he had no idea what Ichigo meant by "more". But he had read pamphlets and magazines about homosexual relationships where sex was always first and foremost. Ishida obviously did not want that. So if Ichigo was pressing for it, he would have to speak his mind.

"If all you're after for is sex –"

Then he was pushed roughly to the ground – a pair of strong arms had ceased him by his shoulders – and his head knocked into solid tile. His vision was blurred momentarily but that could be because of the blazing sun, and not to forget the bright orange bristles that were Ichigo's hair.

"I don't mean it that way, Ishida," Ichigo said clearly.

"Get off –"

"No, you have to listen. You have to understand!"

Ishida kept quiet and stopped struggling against Ichigo. The vice grips on his shoulders relaxed and Ichigo inhaled generously.

"I know how you're feeling, Ishida. I can understand somewhat, after these two months. I don't want you to accept my feelings out of obligation that sometimes, I ask myself, maybe it's wrong – starting this relationship? But I don't want to break it off now that I have you." Ishida's shoulders were shaken slightly and Ichigo looked away, his frown deeper than usual. "But if all you can think of is me trying to take advantage of you, then I'd rather we call it stop."

Ishida was deeply astounded. It never struck him that Ichigo was a deep thinker but those words serve as a good wake up call. If their relationship was not going to have sex for foundation, then Ishida suppose it was fine? So slowly, he raised his arms and snaked them around Ichigo's neck. Surprised brown eyes bore into his vision.

"Then what do you expect to find in our relationship?"

"Trust, respect."

Ishida hated mushy scenes. If ever Ichigo muttered the forbidden four-lettered word, he would definitely smite him with his arrows.

"Then it's all good to go."

So on the rooftop, under the blazing sun with the bright orange bristles so close to Ishida, their lips touched… and locked.


"What kind of shop is this?"

After school, Ichigo brought Ishida to the newly opened shop – as promised – and both were fascinated as well as baffled with the gothic-like decoration. Black and leather seemed to be the theme and there was a morbid tang of something unpleasant ringing in the air. Ishida was not happy.

"I'm out of here."

"Ishida, wait!"

Ichigo held his wrist and practically hauled him into the building. He himself never expected an ominous, lingering mood like this; then again, how real could things be when viewed online from a screen?

Ichigo had not told Ishida but this place that threshold they had just stepped over was a center specializing in BDSM training. He suspected it would be the first time for both of them, and honestly, it was a little bit daunting but for the sake of "trust", he would like to give it a try – not to mention it was partially to satisfy his curiosity of a master-and-slave relationship.

Before he clicked the "Book a room!" icon, he had sworn to himself that before, during and after the session, he would never treat Ishida as subservient. He might not be able to help it, watching Ishida struggle in his bonds, but by hook or by crook, he want to main equality in their relationship. It could be as good as over after this one hour, but Ichigo was willing to take the risk.

"Kurosaki! What is the meaning of this?"

Their steps stopped as Ichigo surveyed an unknown man with bright blue hair who was standing by a large pillar in the reception hall. Ichigo nodded to his direction and he came over, his leather boots tapping smartly on the floor.

"Let go!"

Ishida pulled his wrist out of Ichigo's and took a step back from the new presence. The man gave a curt bow to Ishida, to which he reciprocated with a mild glower, and he turned to address Ichigo. "This is your sub?"

Ichigo blinked in confusion while Ishida retreat another step. A look of horror and repulsion was clearly splashed on his façade.

"All right," the man said, "I'm going to assume he is your sub. In that case, if you don't mind…"

The man clapped his hand and two other emerged from the back, each took Ishida firmly by his upper arms. Ishida's string of protests was very quickly silenced when one of his captors fastened his hand around his mouth. Ichigo, greatly displeased at Ishida's manhandling, yelled, "Don't hurt –!"

"Take him away."

"Let him go –!"

The man, however, grabbed Ichigo painfully tight by his shoulder and he too was pulled away in the opposite direction. Before long, Ishida was out of his sight, and so was the reception hall… and all there was to see was brick wall, candles and cabinets. Ichigo was then made to sit in a wooden stool and somewhere in the back, a heavy door was slammed shut. The room – wherever he was – was plunged into utter quietness.

Ichigo steeled in his seat.

"What the hell are you doing to Ishida? What are you going to do to us?"

The man pouted. "That's a very harsh thing to say. You make me sound like a bad person."

"You just took a man away without his consent! That's a breach of his rights!"

"Weren't you the one who signed up for a session here, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo's eyes were alight as his jaws were set, seething at the being before him. The man leaned against the wall, keeping a comfortable distance between them and said, "I'm Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, founder and rightful owner of this center. You are Kurosaki Ichigo, 16 years old, have zero experience in BDSM." His surreptitious glare swept over Ichigo and he added, "And vanilla sex as well, maybe."

Ichigo's face flushed red.

The hint of playfulness evaporated in Grimmjow's next question. "Why do you come here? You two don't look like the kind of people who're into this sort of thing."

A slight fidget caught Grimmjow's attention but he let it past, focusing instead on Ichigo's troubled visage. At long last, the younger said, "I confessed to him two months ago. It was a fulfilling relationship, spiritually, emotionally… but I wish we could do more. I told him of this… desire… and he said, if it's only for the sex, we might as well stop seeing each other. I of course don't wish to have only sex in our relationship." The last of his words were uttered so softly Grimmjow could barely hear, but he did, and he replied, "That doesn't explain why you come to us."

Ichigo lifted his head. "I hear BDSM creates trust and understanding between each other. I'm willing to learn."

Grimmjow did not know if he should burst out laughing, or shake his head in dismay, or even collar Ichigo before walloping him through and through. So instead, he peeled himself from the wall and sighed. Sighing seemed to be a more neutral and acceptable gesture.

"You really have zero experience and knowledge – screw – you don't understand a bloody bit about BDSM. Trust cannot be 'created', as you put it. It has to be earned. And it works not only between lovers; it works the same for everybody. If you think by subscribing your partner to softcore sexual fetishes will help 'create' an understanding, then you are mightily wrong, kid. "

Ichigo guessed he would be kicked out of the premise there and then. Ishida would probably start denying his very existence – that would be the end of him. This would be the end of him – getting so caught up in this relationship.

"But, I'm not stupid enough to turn a potential customer away, albeit a rather foolish one I'll say," Grimmjow said with a slight shake of his head. "The preparation should be ready. Come."

Grimmjow just up and left the room in three strides. Ichigo quickly got to his feet and trailed the other man down dark staircases and hallways. If there was light, it was only because of several lit up candles installed against the walls. On further scrutiny, Ichigo realised they were actually electrical bulbs but the lights were made to flicker like real candles. If only he was not as strung up as he was, he would be complimenting Grimmjow for a suitably conjured ambience.

They stopped in front of another large, heavy-looking wooden door. Grimmjow pointed to another door beside it – one that was made off contrasting aluminium – and said, "My assistant and a medic officer will be in there. This room," he waved at the wooden door, "is equipped with CCTV and microphones. We promise privacy to our clients, so we'll only turn them on every ten minutes to monitor your sub's condition. If there's an emergency, there's a red button on the wall by this door. We'll come right away. Clear?"

Ichigo was going to push the handle when he was suddenly tapped on his back, being asked for attention.

"One more thing, that boy in there is still tense and probably confused. It's your bloody fault though – you should be telling him of your intentions."

"What intentions?" Ichigo asked quickly, slightly panicking.

"That's you're going to touch him… everywhere,"Grimmjow said, the final word stressed out. Watching Ichigo's expression had amused him more than enough.

"I'll see you in one hour then."

"But – no, wait!"

Grimmjow heaved an exasperated sigh and beckoned his assistants to enter the observation room first. When they were alone in the hallway, he folded his arms. "What, now you're getting cold feet? If you want to forfeit your reservation, you still have to pay in full."

"What should I do?" Ichigo asked bluntly, quietly.

"Look, kid. Like I said, your sub in there is still shocked and confused and right now, it's your chance to prove what a loving, kind, sensitive dom you are. You said you wanted to have something physical, so go ahead! Once you manage to calm him down, you get to have your way with him."

Grimmjow turned on his heel and pushed the aluminium door open. Light sifted into the dark hallway. He paused. "However," he started, his blue eyes suddenly cold and unforgiving, "I do not condone violence, torture and most of all, rape. If my client happens to commit one of those acts under this roof, I will personally have him charged. 16-year-old schoolboys aren't excluded either."

Grimmjow then disappeared into the room.


The dungeon-like chamber was dark, so much unlike the observation room that Grimmjow and his assistants were occupying now. There was no way to locate the CCTVs and microphones, not in this level of brightness, but the dim candle-like lights allow him to see no more farther than what was presented in the middle of the space.

Ishida's arms were raised above his head, his wrists shackled and chained to the ceiling. Black cloth was tied firmly around his eyes and he was kneeling on the stone floor, unspeaking, unmoving. There was a small trolley beside his form. Ichigo walked closer and Ishida, upon hearing the footsteps, called out, "Who's there?"

"It's me."

The edgy nervousness that was initially found in his voice was substituted with a snarl. "What is the meaning of this, Kurosaki? Let me go! This is a crime!" He fought against his binds – useless, of course – and the chains rattled in the air. Ichigo half-heartedly wanted to call this off. He never wanted to have Ishida non-consensually.

"Gag him."

Both froze at the impending order; Ichigo assumed Grimmjow (it sounded like him) was having his first check on the CCTV. Ishida continued his struggle with more gusto, tearing and pulling as much as he could at his cuffs.

Ichigo however, approached the trolley and found a ball-like item fixed to a cloth strap. He held it before Ishida's mouth, waiting for it to open. Ishida merely turned his head away and gritted his teeth. From a distant, Ichigo thought he had heard Grimmjow chuckling from the other room. Pushing thoughts of anyone other than Ishida from his mind, he parked himself before the dark haired teen and cupped those angular jawline.

And, like what they had done so many times before, they kissed. Ishida was still bent on having his lips pursed tight but Ichigo was relentless. He bit at the bottom lip, thrust his tongue as hard as he could between them and even tickled the edge of the mouth. None worked. Ishida's body was starting to react to Ichigo's touch, but not the way Ichigo wanted and it pained him. When he brushed the nape of Ishida's neck with his finger, Ishida flinched and pulled away as far as the chains allowed him.

It was as if Ishida had hated and feared him.

"Ishida," Ichigo whispered, inching closer to the kneeling form. Again Ishida thrashed about, but Ichigo merely leaned in and nuzzled at his jawline. Thin kisses were laid at his earlobe, his cheekbone, and finally, landing again at the edge of his lips. "Don't fear me," Ichigo whispered again, licking at the slightly chapped skin. The he pressed his lips fully on Ishida's, this time with sincerity, almost like the time they had their first contact in the clubroom. Ishida's jaws were more relaxed than before and Ichigo nudged at the lower lip with his tongue. Briefly, very briefly, Ishida's lips parted and Ichigo dived for it, tasting the warm cavern with dexterity. He did not let a single spot go untouched and the tongue wrestling they had began to lose its vigour when Ishida was running out of breath. Ichigo backed off and wiped strings of saliva off his chin, watching Ishida panting for dear oxygen.

And that was when Ichigo inserted the gag in that inviting mouth.

The frown returned to Ishida and he thrashed in his chained form, trying to order Ichigo to remove the restricting item but all that could be heard was unintelligible noises. The gag was pressing on his tongue, filling the cavity. Ishida hated the feel of it.

Ichigo walked around and knelt behind Ishida, the latter in between his thighs.

"Don't fear me, Ishida. I won't harm you."

Another train of garbles.

"This isn't the way to gain trust, I know."

Ishida's protests died. Ichigo took it as a sign for him to continue talking, that Ishida wanted some explanation for this horrid situation he was in.

"I don't want to have pleasure to myself. I'm not asking for sex, I'm not asking you out just so I can use your body and throw you away after that. Every day when we're together, I get the feeling we… aren't as close as we should be. I want to fix that."

But could a relationship not exist without physical satisfaction? Could it not?

"If, after this one hour, you hate me, I promise I will let you go and stay out of your life. In return, I hope you can grant me this one chance to show you how much I want to pleasure you."

Ichigo went on and planted a soft kiss at the side of his neck, licking at the pulse that was beginning to go at a maddening beat. His left hand crept to Ishida's chest and the other skated smoothly at his side, causing the teen to twist somewhat in Ichigo's hold. Then, against the pale neck, Ichigo asked, "Is it okay to touch you?"

Ishida spoke something against his gag. Ichigo continued kissing at the dry skin, and kept his hands still. It was only after Ishida stopped making noises than Ichigo's left hand began roaming the expanse of Ishida's chest. When it rested over the heart, he felt the crazed palpitations that were strong below the ribcage. Ichigo leaned deeper into Ishida, pressing his front into the latter's back and hope Ishida could discern his beating heart as well.

"I won't harm you," he muttered. A finger lightly rubbed against a nipple through the cotton shirt Ishida was wearing and Ichigo heard a sound – Ishida's mouth had clenched around his gag. The bud stood up very quickly and he gave the same administration to the other, enjoying the little responses Ishida's body was giving. His right hand massaged the small space between Ishida's navel and crotch, calming the teen down and at the same time, encouraging some sort of guessing game as to what Ichigo was going to do next. Ishida had a good guess, of course, but he did not voice it out and remained silent.


Ichigo fiddled with the hem of the black trousers, letting Ishida know – confirm – what he was planning next. Not finding resistance, Ichigo slid his fingers down the soft bulge before cupping it, eliciting a sudden gasp from Ishida.

"These are all I'm touching… Ishida… will you let me?"

But Ichigo was already unbuttoning the shirt, letting it part so the pale torso was exposed entirely to the chilly air. The nipples stood out – whether from the coldness of sensitivity after Ichigo's touch was uncertain – and Ichigo went back to teasing them.

Then there was a clank – his elbow had accidentally collided with the leg of the trolley.

Peering at the top of it, he saw an array of low-level equipments. Grimmjow's assistants must have selected these specific types to suit Ichigo's level of experience, which was really nil. There was not many to choose from, too – clamps, feathers, vibrators and a bottle of lubricant.

Ichigo quickly decided on clamping the pert nipples. Ishida had hissed from the initial discomfort but when it numbed down, he did not even realise Ichigo was licking and kissing them apologetically. Then the kisses went lower, and lower… and then his belt was undone. The zipper was pulled and there, Ichigo found the prize he sought after. A finger trailed at the bulge and Ishida shifted.

Ichigo went back to the trolley. The only thing that caught his eyes was the vibrator. He had told Ishida there would not be any penetration but that did not really limit the usage of a vibrator, did it? Switching it on, he held it close to Ishida's ear.

"Can you guess what this is?"

Ishida's momentary freeze told him enough.

Ichigo pressed the item at Ishida's sternum. It tickled and Ishida arched his back inwards, pulling away from it. Ichigo quickly used his own body as a "wall", decimating the "escaping area" for Ishida and forced the vibrator down to his lower abdomen and sides. Ishida was frantic – his mouth was clamping harder at the gag and his arms were pulling more fiercely at the chains. Ichigo removed the vibrator and rubbed circles on Ishida's wrists.

"Don't struggle so much," Ichigo cooed into his right ear. "You're hurting yourself."

Keeping an arm there, Ichigo retrieved the vibrator and buried half of it in Ishida's brief. The vibration that was massaging his penis, skin on skin, caused a jolt in his system and Ishida shook, tense against Ichigo's frame.

"Can you feel it, Ishida?"

His free hand went down to cup at the balls through the fabric. The sensation was bringing Ishida to a new level; his temperature rising and his senses heightened. Feeling the need to have more air, he fought against his gag to let Ichigo know. But Ichigo thought Ishida was asking for a greater stimulation so he rained kisses along the shoulder and neck, places where Ichigo had learned today, Ishida loved kissed.

"Remove the gag, kid."

Ichigo swiveled around – for a moment, he forgot he was in Grimmjow's lair. The hand that was holding Ishida securely by his wrists came down to cup at his jaw, pushing the head to lean against his chest.


A deep groan (as much as it sounded with a gag in place) was produced and Ichigo quickly undid the buckle. Carefully, he took the ball now coated with saliva out of Ishida's somewhat bruised mouth and dropped it to the floor, abandoning it, preferring to draw Ishida into an embrace.

"Are you hurt?" Ichigo asked, suddenly worried when Ishida began to draw in air like there was not enough around them. For a while, Ishida said nothing, focusing only on his breathing – Ichigo started glancing at the red button near the exit. But if Grimmjow and his medic had not barged into the room, did it mean everything was still below what the experts would deem as "emergency"?


"Hah – couldn't breathe properly with the gag – hah –"

But the panting did not stop. Ichigo really was going to press the button – but then he heard the dull whizzing of the vibrator, still on and wedged neatly between Ishida's pelvic region and the brief's rubbery hem.

"Sorry, I forgot," he muttered, resuming his caress on Ishida's scrotum. An audible hiss reverberated in the dungeon-like room and the chains chink against each other. With enough air in his lungs to keep a clear mind of what was happening to him, he began to feel a warm stir in his crotch. Even as his legs were getting numb from lack of circulation, he did not care – all he was paying attention to was Ichigo's other hand that had somehow began to fondle at the head of his erection.


"Can you feel it, Ishida?"

Ichigo thought he was going to put in more effort into massaging the bulge when spurts of creamy substances spouted out of the shaft's tip. Ishida himself had his back bent so his head rested on Ichigo's shoulder; his teeth gnashing against each other as though trying to bite away the growls and grunts of peaking pleasure. Ichigo kept his hands on the tightening ball and penis as Ishida hit his orgasm, prolonging the sensation and a quick moan snuck its way out.

A bout of shiver racked the leaner teen's physique. Ichigo promptly removed the vibrator and blindfold, to which Ishida winced as light was introduced into his eyes. Not trusting the strength of his own legs, he rearranged his shaky limbs so that he could sit properly on the floor instead of kneeling.

Truthfully, Ishida did not think it was such a traumatising experience. The sudden feel of vulnerability definitely takes time to be accustomed to – in fact, Ishida did not think he would ever get used to – but at least, during all those times, Ichigo was constantly with him, gentle and selfless. Another thing that infuriated him was his low endurance. He did not believe he had shot his load so quickly – it never even happened when he was doing it to himself – but then again, that was probably eons ago. He would be darned if Ichigo decided to think that he was a poor, sexually frustrated healthy 16-year-old deprived of sexual release and took it upon himself to "ease it away". Ishida was determined to put an end to this sorry excuse for a partner's life should he lay another finger on him within the next few days.

The chains clank again.

"I'm going to remove all these, hold still."

The shackles were the first thing to come off. Ichigo had caringly massaged the pale arms, allowing blood to flow properly into the vessels. He guessed it would be very uncomfortable for the other teen to have his arms up above his head for one full hour and understood why Ishida grimace each time his fingers kneaded into the sore flesh. Using his own broad chest as something for Ishida to prop himself up, Ichigo's coarse fingers then moved towards the heaving chest. With a pinch at the end of the jutting clamp, it came free.

A low hiss was picked up.

"Sorry," Ichigo said, rubbing the swollen nipple gently with his thumb. Ishida hissed again but louder and reached out for Ichigo's hand, stopping the motion.

"Don't. It's more painful if you touch."

Now free from all the items, Ishida let his body be pulled into Ichigo's arms. Well, good.

"Let's get out of here," the orange headed teen had suggested.

That was when the heavy door swung open and the dark room brightened up a bit with a flick of a switch beside the red button which Ichigo had failed to regard just now. Grimmjow – his blue hair a shade of grey under the weak light – was smiling at the door frame. Behind him stood another man whom Ichigo assumed to be the medic Grimmjow had talked about earlier.

"There's a bed at that corner. Let that kid rest. Then you can come to the reception hall and settle the bill."

When they were once again alone in the room, Ichigo dug his head into the crook of Ishida's shoulder. He said, "And the verdict? Do you hate me, Ishida?"

The reply? A soft kiss on Ichigo's lips. If one hour ago, Ichigo had demanded for more from Ishida, presently, he was very satisfied with that simple gesture. Very.