The Hypnotist – Chapter 4
A/N: Thank you for your response to this story.
Note: This chapter has been edited to comply with FFnet's content guidelines. If you are interested in the unedited version, it will be posted on my private site.
Warning: Although the only lemons in this story will be AiIchi, there will be mention of offstage AiGin, AiHina, Gin x Momo, and threesomes in this chapter. Do not read if you are under 18 or do not like yaoi. If you really only want AiIchi, you can skip to the AiIchi lemon after the section break. ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach by Tite Kubo. All characters are 18 or older in this story.
(Originally posted 1/6/12.)
Gin stealthily moved behind the chair where Momo sat demurely working on her darning. Bending, he slipped his long, thin hands around her from behind and casually stroked her skin just above her neckline. She straightened suddenly, and with a jerk, slapped his hands away and sprang up from the chair, spinning to face him and glaring.
"Get your hands off me, you snake!" she hissed, adjusting her bodice.
Gin was laughing. "Aww, Momo-chan," he complained, pouting. "Aren't ya all excited about what's goin' on behind closed doors right now?" he said, gesturing at the double doors to Aizen's bedroom. He cocked his head to one side and gave her an ingratiating grin. "I jus' thought we could keep each other company tonight."
She glared at him. "I don't want your company. Now get away from me and leave me alone."
"Awww," he wheedled some more. "Ya never seem to mind when we're together with Aizen-sama. Then ya let me do allll sorts of naughty things to ya…"
Her eyes narrowed. "That's for Aizen-sama. Not for you."
He saw the beginnings of an angry blush beginning at her throat and grinned more widely. Momo-chan was so much fun to tease. She still had too much in her of the proper young princess she had been before Aizen lured her away and into his bed… without even hypnotizing her. Gin had been astonished. Aizen did appear to have an uncanny ability to draw people to him, to elicit their affection and admiration. But Momo had outdone all the others with her almost insane devotion to the man. She adored him so much she would do anything, absolutely anything he wanted… and it amused Aizen no end to have her commit acts that went against her conscience and her upbringing… over and over again. Gin grinned. Their master was a sadistic bastard. Life in his service was never boring.
She provided Gin with an endless source of amusement as well, for she so obviously despised him, despite the fact that they had given each other pleasure multiple times while in Aizen's bed. The man liked… imaginative bedplay, and Momo was only too happy to indulge his every whim, even if Gin was involved. He had once asked Aizen to order her to obey him as well even when he wasn't around, and the brown-haired man had looked at him with a smirk and said, "No, Gin. Keep your hands off my toys. At least for now."
He thought if he wheedled enough, Aizen might bend enough to give such an order someday… if only that he might find it amusing to know what had happened to the princess at Gin's hands. He certainly did find entertainment in… unusual combinations when the three of them were in bed together. Momo was amazing. For a prim and proper young lady of high birth, she was quite the wildcat in bed.
In the meantime, it was such fun to tease her. Gin was already highly aroused by the little show Prince Ichigo had put on for them earlier that night, and he was hoping to satisfy himself as well as elicit that look of desperation he sometimes could detect in Momo's eyes, when her interactions with Aizen had been particularly… unsatisfying. Aizen enjoyed toying with his subordinates, and in Momo's boundless devotion he found an exceptionally fertile field for his amusement.
Gin sometimes wondered why he himself stayed with the man. Aizen was utterly selfish, in bed or out of it. Anyone who associated with him closely had to be accustomed to subordinating their own desires to an extreme degree. When Aizen wanted something, nothing was allowed to stand in the way of his desire, no matter how inconvenient, embarrassing, painful, or even damaging it was to his associates. Gin had been with him for over a decade now, so he knew very well the personal cost of closeness to Aizen. But… he was still fascinated by the man. His beauty, his will, his intelligence, his ambition… were unmatched by anyone Gin had ever known. And indeed, Gin had come to know Aizen well enough to realize that Aizen did have substantial affection, in his own way, for Gin… as well as for Momo.
Aizen could have anyone he wanted in his bed, willingly or not. And although there were many visitors there, like this handsome young Prince, not many stayed. There were few he allowed into his inner circle. The man did not trust. Anyone he let get close to him, even briefly, had to be under his control in one way or another. For many years Gin had been his only regular companion, having repeatedly proved his loyalty. Gin had not been altogether pleased when Momo, whom he had taken to be another passing plaything, had ended up staying.
Still, she made up for it on nights like these. With a casual twist of his extremely flexible body, Gin cornered Momo against the wall. Her dark eyes blazed at him and Gin smiled more widely. He bent his head to hers and kissed her, hard. She did not respond, pushing at him furiously with her tiny hands. Gin thrust one slender hand into the bodice of her dress and stroked the gentle swell of her heaving breast, pinning her against the wall easily with his wiry strength. He ground his hips into hers, moaning deep in his throat.
"Come on," he murmured. "It's not like we'll be doin' anythin' different from what we've already done hundreds of times before…"
Suddenly there was a sharp pain in his hand and he drew away from her in agony. She had taken a knitting needle from her basket and stabbed it hard into the back of his hand. As he stared at the blood flowing freely across his fingers, she grabbed her basket and ran into the other bedroom, slamming the door and locking it.
Ruefully, Gin put his hand in his mouth and licked at the wound until it stopped bleeding. As he wrapped a clean cloth around the injured hand, he considered whether he should go after Momo some more. The lock on her door would be easy to defeat. Then he shook his head. The injury had dampened his ardor considerably.
Besides, he thought to himself, Momo's message had been quite clear. He shrugged. Next time he would try a different tactic.
The brown-haired man sighed with pleasure and shifted his position on the mound of satin pillows, his fingers interlaced behind his head. Gazing down the length of his own body, Aizen smiled at the orange-haired youth. Languidly, Aizen reached down and wound his fingers into the boy's thick hair. The Prince stopped for a moment to raise his sultry eyes to Aizen's. The man looked at him, caught by the picture the boy made.
"Mmm," said Ichigo. The Prince's frown turned slightly mischievous. "I think it's time for the strawberry preserves now."
Aizen groaned. "Ichigo," he murmured, "Listen closely, because you're not going to hear this very often from me. I think I've had enough sex for tonight."
Ichigo's only response was a teasing laugh. With two of his fingers, he dipped a glob of strawberry jelly from the jar beside the bed. Groaning, the older man sank deeper into the pile of pillows and gave himself over once again to utter pleasure at the athletic youth's ministrations.
Ichigo had surprised him. At some point during the night Aizen had released him from the hypnosis, expecting the Prince to gather his clothing and leave at once. But instead the boy had stayed, stroking, kissing, and teasing; baring his lovely body to the older man with such abject submissiveness and apparent enjoyment that Aizen had wondered at first if he had made a mistake and not fully released the hypnosis.
But then it had become clear that Ichigo, in the all-or-nothing way that had made him a famed warrior on the battlefield, was enjoying this forbidden sexual fantasy to the hilt. He was going to play the game of hypnotized sex slave to the maximum degree. The two of them had lost count of the hours of pleasure that had been achieved that night in the huge and richly decorated bed. It had been a bacchanalia of hedonism that Aizen could not remember having experienced for a very long time. He glanced briefly at the curtained window, wondering if dawn would shortly be tinting the heavy drapes.
At last, Aizen noted in bemusement, he had found a partner who could keep up with him in bed. Even Gin, whom he prized for his inventiveness and stamina, had eventually slowed down a bit, with the result that Aizen had to add the lustful innocent Momo to their nightly trysts.
Ichigo grinned as he swallowed more strawberry jam. He had figured, once Aizen had told him about the hypnosis, that there was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well enjoy it. And once he had decided that, he had discovered to his amazement that sex was far more pleasurable than he had ever imagined, especially if it was sex with an utterly gorgeous and wicked man who wanted nothing more than to dominate, use, and humiliate him.
He had not known such pleasure was possible. Finally he understood his companions' ribald commentary about their adventures with the kitchen maids and village girls. He had always been faintly scornful, considering himself superior to them and their animal urges. At last he understood what it meant to satisfy those urges, now that he had finally attained an object of his own desire.
Finishing his cleanup task, he plopped himself on the bed alongside Aizen, curling into the older man's arms and sighing with bliss. "Aizen-sama," he murmured, "you are beautiful."
The older man chuckled and Ichigo felt the vibration where his cheek was pressed against the man's well-muscled chest. "Ichigo, I find you delightful as well. Where have you been all my life?" He glanced once more at the curtains. "My dear young man, it will soon be light. Do you intend to spend the entire day as well as the night in my bed?" His voice was rich and amused.
Ichigo let out a long, shuddering breath, his face falling once more into its customary scowl. The truth was that he did not want to go back. Although he knew that the man beside him was amoral and dangerous, the thought of returning to his royal duties after the night of wild passion made it only too clear what a dull, dry, confining cage his daily life had become. He saw it stretching out before him like the jaws of a gilded trap.
He groaned. Then slowly, reluctantly, he drew away from Aizen. "No…" he sighed. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing at the soreness he felt in unaccustomed places. He slipped out of the bed and limped over to the bathroom, where he sponged himself clean in a basin of water with one of the thick towels. Frowning at the bruises and bite marks all over the most delicate areas of his skin, he ran his finger over one of the largest. Aizen had been exquisitely rough with him, inflicting both pain and pleasure with the unmatched skill of the veteran seducer he was. Ichigo could not stop an illicit thrill at the memory. He shrugged; he would have to be sure to muffle himself in his clothes today. It shouldn't be too hard with the cold temperatures lately.
At last he returned to the bedroom, dressed and ready to leave. He hesitated for a moment, looking at Aizen, who was still lounging in bed with a faint smirk. The man had wrapped a red silk robe around his elegant body and looked inordinately pleased with himself. Ichigo frowned.
"Well?" Aizen asked in his deep, seductive voice and Ichigo shivered. "I give you the choice, Ichigo. Do you want to remember this night, or should I give your conscience relief and bless you with forgetfulness?"
"You can do that?" asked Ichigo. He hesitated, eying the man who had enslaved his will… or had he? What was Ichigo's free choice, and what was coercion? He paused, indecisive. Then his lips firmed. He did not know when or indeed if he would ever be able to return; his father might require his presence in such a way that would make it impossible to do what he now yearned to do—to sneak out every night and join Aizen in his bed. He raised his eyes and met Aizen's brown ones squarely. "I want to remember. I want to remember everything." His voice was regal again, the voice of the crown prince rather than the submissive virgin.
Aizen raised his eyebrows and nodded; then he turned his hand palm up. "As you wish, my lord."
There was a faintly mocking tone in his voice, but Ichigo ignored it. Wrapping himself once more in his cloak, he walked to the door. With his fingers on the handle, he turned. "I don't know if I'll ever see you again," he said, his eyes smoldering. "I don't want to forget you." Then he was out the door and back on his way to the palace.
Alone in the sumptuous, messy bedroom redolent with the scent of passion, Aizen smirked. "Oh, you won't forget me, Ichigo," he murmured. "And I think… that you'll be back sooner than you might imagine." His smirk turned sinister as he considered the further post-hypnotic suggestions he had implanted in the fiery, independent Prince.
He stretched languidly before moving to the bathroom to complete his own morning toilet. Yes. It had been quite a fulfilling night. Both for work and for play. He had no doubt that the next phase of his plans would go forward satisfactorily. Soon even the proud Lord Isshin would bend to Aizen's will. One more step along the path to the top of the world.
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