He wakes with a cough, aching pain in his chest, and gives a low groan. From across the room, he hears a similar – if deeper – groan from what he can only assume is Aizen. He pushes himself to sitting, the pain in his chest slowly easing, and shakes his head. He hears Aizen moving and looks up to see the older man stand, brown eyes narrowed and watching him.

"You're part quincy, and your father was a member of the royal guard?" Aizen asks, voice low and mildly demanding, and he shrugs as he follows the older man to standing.

"I guess? Explains some things, I suppose. Nice to know my power actually comes from somewhere, as opposed to being some random freak of nature." Aizen lifts an eyebrow and he gives another shrug. "Come on, you can't say you didn't wonder how I managed this much power in this little time, with no formal training. If you weren't worried about the rate I grew and if there even is a limit to my powers, then you wouldn't be trying to kill me, right?"

Aizen gives a small smirk, moving closer. "I suppose that's true. And you're right, I have wondered where all your power comes from. It is very rare that individuals with as much power as you don't come from a family of such individuals."

He watches the older man approach, coming to stand in front of him at a comfortable distance of three or four feet away. "What happened to that Aizen?"

"I don't know. I only saw up till he killed the quincy. I can only assume he dies in some terrible fashion, seems to be the pattern." He can't help chuckling and Aizen watches him, smirking. "He was intending to ask if that Ichigo wished to help him destroy Soul Society. That was the question he stopped halfway through."

"Really?" Aizen nods and he gives a small sound of consideration. "He would've said yes in a heartbeat. Why didn't he ask?"

Aizen gives his own shrug, a tiny lift of broad shoulders. "He simply decided that being alone was better, he was unsure if he could trust that Ichigo." There's something cool in the older man's tone, something behind the simple statement.

He hesitates, watching Aizen's eyes turn away and glance about the room. "Why do you do that?" he finally asks, and Aizen's gaze returns to him.

"Do what, Kurosaki-san?"

He struggles to find a way to word it, letting his gaze drop to the floor for a moment before raising it again. "In every universe, you're always so alone. Why?"

Aizen raises an eyebrow, a tiny smirk on his lips. "It's simpler that way, Kurosaki-san. Why would I surround myself with people who cannot understand me, who cannot hope to match me? Why would I put trust in those people, when I am fully aware that they will betray me given sufficient reason?" He swallows, understanding striking him hard and sinking into his chest like a blade. Aizen only gives a small shake of his head, eyes coldly intelligent. "Can you honestly say that it isn't better to trust solely in yourself and your own abilities, Kurosaki-san?"

"Yes!" he nearly cries out, and Aizen gives a little flinch in response, eyes flickering with surprise.

The older man chuckles, that smirk still firmly twisting his lips. "Then I suppose you are a more hopeful person than I am, Kurosaki-san. I do not believe in such fanciful ideas, and I prefer not to place my trust in those that cannot see the world as I can."

It's probably good that the King takes that moment to reappear. He can't help the disbelieving wideness of his eyes or the sick twist of something dangerously close to sympathy in his chest. The King says something and Aizen responds, but for the life of him he can't understand it. And just like that Aizen is gone, vanished. The King gives him this look, pity in his golden eyes.

"I figured you might need a minute," the King says softly, and this time he understands. He swallows and takes a shaky step back, gaze falling to the ground.

Aizen had as much as admitted that he didn't really consider anyone worthy of being at his side, or capable of so much as understanding him or seeing him as he is. And the very idea that Aizen – for whatever reason – has simply given up on finding anyone that is his equal… The idea of being that alone legitimately scares him, he can't even imagine a world where he doesn't trust anyone or consider anyone at all to be a friend or even an ally.

"Does he really think like that?" he questions quietly and desperately, asking the room at large more than specifically the King.

"Aizen Sousuke is much more complicated than that, it's hard to definitively say he thinks one way or another. But yes, he does believe that no one else can match him. It's easier for him that way, he doesn't need to continue to hope that someone exists who can be his equal." He looks up at the King and the alternate version of him gives a sad little smile. "It must have been exceedingly trying for him. Living among people who couldn't hope to match his intelligence or his skill, who couldn't even see behind the mask he uses. I suppose he simply became used to the idea of people as things he could manipulate, since no one has ever truly known him. Gin is, perhaps, the one who knows him best, but even Gin is not his friend in any sense of the word, not on either side."

He stays silent a moment before speaking, "Then he's truly alone, in all universes?"

The King shakes his head. "Not all, but most. The next universe is one where he isn't, but even then… You'll see."

He straightens, resolve pooling in his chest as he stares at the King. "Not anymore," he spits out, "if I have to be King with that bastard then he's going to fucking learn how to look at me as a person."

The King smirks, golden eyes alight with amusement. "He won't like it, you know he won't."

"Like I give a damn, he can kick and scream the whole way for all I care. He will understand, even if I have to beat it into his thick skull. I'll match him in any way he needs me to, the fucker."

As the darkness consumes his vision, he barely hears the King's last, murmured, word.


"Ichigo-kun? Are you alright?"

He gives a breathless nod and shifts atop Aizen, arching his back and rocking against the older man. Aizen inhales sharply and tightens the grip on his hips, watching him with hungry brown eyes. He manages a smirk and quickens the pace, giving a low moan as Aizen's dick – quite firmly and comfortably inside him – strikes his prostrate at just the right angle. The older man – his professor, and damn someday he wants to do some role-play with that fact – leans up and slides his left hand back from his hip to press against his low back, setting teeth against his shoulder.

Always out of sight, always just a little lower than what's visible in a normal shirt, because while neither of them particularly care what others will say, the administration pretty heavily frowns upon sleeping with your students. True, this is college and there's nothing they can legally do, but they both have decided to keep it quiet until the end of the semester, just for convenience. Aizen for the sake of his job, and Ichigo for the sake of his reputation, mostly. He'd rather just avoid the whole mess of people accusing him of sleeping with Aizen for grades; he has enough trouble with people thinking he's a delinquent as it is, no need to add whoring to that imagined reputation.

He arches forward against Aizen and slips his hands down to rest on either side of the larger man's waist, thighs working to pull himself up and down again. Aizen prefers him on his back or knees – control freak – but he also knows damn well that the older man wouldn't be half as interested in him if he didn't challenge those preferences. If he didn't demand and cajole and take control sometimes, then Aizen would have discarded him a long time ago, that's a fact he's absolutely certain of.

Aizen lays a second bite beside the first one and he hisses through his teeth at the minor pain, tensing a little and feeling the slight tremble and hitch of breath at the sensation from Aizen. He slides his right hand up the older man's chest and around the back of his neck, dragging him up for a kiss. Aizen's tongue slips between his lips without hesitation, pressing into his mouth and giving shallow thrusts in a pale mimicry of the act they're engaging in.

He moans into the kiss and gives a little shudder at the approaching swell of orgasm that he can feel gathering at the base of his spine. "Sousuke," he gasps out, and the older man moves instantaneously.

Aizen flips them, pushing him onto his back on the bed, and somehow managing to keep up the rhythm of thrusts without even pausing. He arches and tightens his grip on the larger man, legs hooked around his waist as Aizen slams into him, pushing him ever closer to completion. One large hand wraps around his dick, expertly twisting in just the way he likes it, teeth descending on his chest to leave a series of biting kisses down his ribs that are hard enough to draw blood. Because Aizen knows – intelligent bastard – that he likes things a little rough, and there's nothing quite like feeling the sting of the scratches beneath his clothes later on.

Especially when he's at his desk in the lecture hall with Aizen – glasses on because the older man always teaches with glasses – calling on him for a question or to read something out, and giving him that expectant look, brown eyes glinting with suppressed amusement since he knows.

That idea pushes him to the edge where he clings, desperate to postpone it for just a few moments longer, and gives a choked cry, neck arching back for a brief moment. Aizen places a bite – harder than the rest – right between his pectorals, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes that swirl with lust and heat.

"Come for me, Ichigo. Now."

He can't do anything but obey.

He comes with a cry, back arching and muscles tensing as his eyes squeeze shut. He knows – dimly – that he's raking his nails down Aizen's back, but doesn't care for the moment, feeling the warm splatter of his release on his own stomach. He gives a low moan and relaxes back against the bed, afterglow hitting hard after the intense release, and allows his arms to lower and rest against the sheets.

Aizen pulls up, hands moving to grip his hips as the older man intensifies his pace in search of his own release. He watches Aizen, heat stirring even though it's far too soon for him to be even remotely hard again. Sweat glints on the older man's body – which is much too attractive and fit for any English professor, seriously – and he bites back a groan of appreciation at the sight, silently enjoying the flex of hard muscle beneath the practically flawless skin.

It isn't particularly long before Aizen is shuddering against him, a deep moan escaping the older man. He twitches and closes his eyes for a moment at the heat that spreads into him, clenching around Aizen's dick in automatic reaction and wringing another groan from the older man. Aizen leans down over him, bracing a single hand on the sheets beside his head and pressing a very gentle kiss to his lips. He can't help a tired laugh, raising his right hand to tunnel through Aizen's disheveled brown – though it's darkened to almost black with sweat – hair.

"Always so gentle after," he murmurs, and Aizen raises an eyebrow in question, pulling out of him as he softens and rolling to stand from the bed.

"What do you mean, Ichigo?"

He watches Aizen walk from the bedroom to the adjoining bathroom, enjoying the view of the older man's ass before it vanishes from sight. There's a momentary noise of running water before Aizen remerges, two obviously wet washcloths in hand. He takes the one that Aizen offers him and pushes himself up, wiping down his stomach before lowering it to give a perfunctory swipe across his ass and thigh where he can feel the trickle of Aizen's seed slipping across his skin.

Sex, while absurdly awesome, tends to be a little nasty afterwards.

"Well, you're always all dominant, master, kinda rough during the sex, but afterwards you get all soft and gentle." Aizen's brow crinkles a little in a tiny frown, and he stands from the bed and steps forward to press against the older man, resting his head against Aizen's chest. "Oh relax, Sousuke. Not criticizing, just commenting."

Aizen gives an amused huff, left hand rising to circle his waist in a loose embrace. "Am I to assume that you enjoy it then? Or would you like me to act in some other way?"

He shakes his head and pulls back a bit, meeting Aizen's gaze. "No. It's nice."

"Then I'll just take that as a compliment, I suppose." Aizen glances over at the door to the bathroom before looking back at him, lips twitching upwards in a smirk. "Shower?"

He grins and steps back, recognizing the gleam of anticipation in the older man's eyes. "Sounds good, yeah." He makes his way across the room and into the tiled bathroom, moving to the walk in shower, switching the water on. He can hear Aizen following him, undoubtedly watching his ass like always. "But, you know, we'll have to make it fast. I have class tomorrow, and my English professor is a real bastard about being on time."

Aizen presses up against his back and he can feel the older man smirk against his skin as the washcloth is taken from his hand. He hears the whistle of cloth through air before the telltale impact of it against the laundry basket across the room. "Oh I'm sure I can wake you up in time."

In the end, by the time Aizen is through with him, he's more than exhausted enough to slip into dreamless sleep. He's also, upon being woken the next morning, pretty sore. He's sporting a set of bite marks across his back to match the ones down his chest, and Aizen's left one particularly hard one on his left hip. As he gets dressed – he keeps spare sets of clothes at Aizen's in the event he sleeps over, which happens fairly often – he shoots the similarly dressing Aizen a nasty glance, pulling his low riding jeans up and hissing a little at the sting of the bite on his hip. His jeans are tight enough to aggravate it, but only come up high enough to cover about half the bite, leaving the other half peeking out over the top.

"You're a bastard, that's going to hurt all day."

Aizen smirks, flipping the collar on his white dress shirt down and buttoning everything but the top two buttons, leaving a sliver of his chest on display. "You know you'll enjoy it, Ichigo. Besides, it's not like you have one of your martial arts classes today."

He huffs and shoves a belt through the loops, pulling it tight before reaching for the plain black t-shirt he'd laid on the bed. "Not the point, Sousuke." He shivers as the older man slips up against his back, lips pressing against the side of his throat.

"You know that as soon as you're in my class you'll start to love it," Aizen smirks against his skin and raises his mouth to speak directly into his ear, "the sting of it, knowing that you're carrying my marks on your skin," the older man's right hand shoves into the back of his pants and he arches in surprise, shuddering at the feel of those long fingers stroking at his entrance, "that the remnants of my release are still inside you."

He flushes, heat gathering as he hardens at the provocative words, and Aizen gives a rich chuckle. "I know I'll be thinking about it. I'll probably call on you just so you have to stand up and answer my question, all eyes on you and only a thin layer of fabric between their gaze and the proof that I've taken you."

"You…" he gasps out, irritation dying under arousal. Aizen will do that, has done that, and it is both nerve-wracking and hot as all hell. "Not fucking fair, Sousuke."

Aizen laughs in his ear and he shivers, hands clenching in the shirt he's still holding. "All's fair in love and war. Would you like me to leave you like this, Ichigo?"

He snorts and then arches back against the older man, head lying back on his shoulder, as Aizen's free – left – hand comes forward and presses firmly against his dick through his jeans. "Finish what you started, bastard."

Aizen makes a pleased sound and skillfully undoes his belt before firmly, but slowly, pushing him down so he ends up on his knees with his front half flat against the bed. His jeans and the black boxers he has on beneath them are tugged down to his knees and Aizen's hands return unhindered to his skin. One hand slips around his hip to wrap around his dick while the other moves to his ass, one long finger pushing into him with no trouble. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes against the bed, hands releasing the shirt to curl into the sheets instead.

Aizen presses over his back, lips placing small kisses along his spine. "Is it the thought of it being forbidden that turns you on, Ichigo, or is it the thought of being owned by me?" He inhales sharply at the suggestion, mind providing him with a surprisingly vivid picture of himself, naked at Aizen's feet, with a black collar around his throat.

"I… No!"

He shudders as Aizen laughs against his back, deep and tinged with lust, and a second finger slips into him beside the first. "Oh it is. Now that just opens up a whole new section of games, doesn't it, Ichigo?" The fingers scissor inside him, stretching, and he shudders. "I could spank you, so every time you sat down you'd feel it, and watch you squirm in my class as you struggled to hide it." He can't help the groan that bursts from his chest at the image, a sharp twist of pleasure sliding down his spine.

"And once it's winter I can put a collar around your throat. You'll put a scarf over it, to hide it, but I'll know, and every time you swallow you'll feel it press against your windpipe, feel it restrict your breathing just that little bit. And you'll know, you'll remember, that you're mine."

He gives a strangled cry, unable to so much as attempt to hold back the orgasm, and spills over Aizen's fingers. The older man gives a pleased sound, stroking and pressing inwards at his prostrate to prolong it. When he goes completely limp Aizen pulls the fingers out of him and removes his hand, reaching for the sheets – which need to be changed after last night anyway – and wiping off his hands.

He breathes against the bed, eyes slipping open, and feels Aizen very carefully wipe him off and slide his hands down the outside of his thighs to pull his jeans and boxers back on. He shivers as they're replaced and refastened, and Aizen gives a soft sound of reassurance, slowly pulling him up and back. He curls into the older man's chest, allowing himself to rest, and Aizen gently strokes a single hand over his shoulder.

"Is this something you want to explore, Ichigo?" Aizen asks quietly, and he looks up, meeting the brown eyed gaze. "Talking about it and using it as a fantasy is one thing, but actually engaging in the kinds of situations I brought up is something altogether different. I am more than willing if you'd like to, but I will not ever press the issue if you do not."

He hesitates and then certainty settles in his chest and steels his determination. "Tell me what it would be," he demands, and Aizen's eyes flash in surprise.

"The kind of relationship I'm speaking of is a master and servant – or to be more extreme, slave – one. You would acknowledge me, in private if not in public, as your master. What exactly occurs in these relationships can be very, very, different in each case. However, you would choose a safe word and that safe word would allow you to call a stop to any situation immediately, essentially functioning as an emergency halt to anything you did not enjoy.

"I would choose types of play I thought you'd like, or you could ask for certain ones. As a master, I would be responsible for your well-being, your safety, your pleasure, with my own as secondary. It won't seem like that, it may in fact sometimes feel like I'm using you for my own benefit, but you will always be my priority. Understand?"

He nods and pauses, lowering his gaze for a moment, and then gives a huff of amusement. "Yeah, I think I would like to try that."

Aizen smirks and kisses him before gently standing and pulling him up as well. "In that case, I'll meet you at my car. When we get to the college, I'll give you a small taste of what you're agreeing to." He swallows and Aizen's smirk twitches upwards. "I'll see you outside, Ichigo."

The older man leaves, the distant sound of the front door of his house shutting snapping him out of the hesitation inspired by that last statement. He steps into action, taking the shirt from the bed and pulling it over his head before moving out of the bedroom, into the living room, and grabbing the bag he'd brought in last night after that day of classes. He collects the homework he'd spread over the low glass coffee table in the center of the room, puts it back into the folder it belongs in, and shoves it in his bag. After donning his socks and shoes – sitting by the door – he steps outside and moves to the gently purring car sitting in Aizen's driveway, sliding inside.

The older man is rich – more so than a professor should be, but he hasn't asked where the extra money comes from yet – and that shows in the sleek black machine. Power and grace all wrapped in an incredibly beautiful outer shell, much like Aizen himself. He slips the seatbelt on and Aizen watches him for a brief moment, eyes heated and with traces of amusement, before starting the car and backing out, beginning the fifteen or so minute trip to the college.

To his surprise Aizen doesn't drop him off a few blocks away like usual, but pulls straight into the staff parking lot – barely a hundred feet away from the offices – and shuts the car off, looking over at him. There's about an hour before the class that he takes from Aizen, which is equally unusual. Usually they get here roughly half an hour beforehand, so there's extra time for Aizen to open the classroom, and him to come in later. The things they do to keep their relationship hidden are a little silly sometimes.

"You'll be coming with me to my office, Ichigo, alright?" He nods and Aizen smirks, amusement in the older man's eyes that makes him wonder what exactly he has planned. "Good, let's go then."

Aizen opens the door, steps out of the car, and Ichigo mimics it, standing on the opposite side with his bag thrown over his shoulder. Without a word, the professor locks the car with a press of one of the buttons on his keys and strides towards the building housing the staff's offices. He follows three or four feet behind, struggling not to let the mix of nervousness and arousal that he's feeling show on his face. Not that it matters even if he does, they don't see anyone on the walk to Aizen's office.

Aizen unlocks his office and steps inside, motioning for him to follow. The older man flicks the light on and moves immediately to his chair, settling into it and watching him over the dark wood of the older man's desk as he pulls the door shut and drops his bag on the floor. Aizen's mouth twitches upwards in a smirk, eyes heating, and the professor relaxes back into the chair.

"Lock it, and pull the blinds over the windows." He flushes, hesitating for just a moment at the pure suggestion in Aizen's orders, before obeying. He clicks the lock on the door and pulls the blind down over the small window at face height before turning, crossing the room, and dragging down the blinds over the larger window that looks out over the campus from the second floor office.

He looks back over at Aizen and the older man pushes his rolling chair back, crooking a finger at him. "Come here, Ichigo." He moves forwards and his flush intensifies when Aizen's legs part and the older man smirks at him. He kneels between Aizen's legs without prompting and the older man's right hand comes forward and threads through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. "Good." He shivers and feels heat stir in his groin at the position they're in.

No one can get into the room, or see into it, but that doesn't mean that they can't get caught. Those blinds aren't impenetrable, someone could knock. There are so many different things that could happen, yet here he is kneeling between Aizen's legs in the older man's office.

"Suck me off, Ichigo." How, exactly, Aizen manages to make that not sound crude, he doesn't know, but the older man does. It sounds rich, amazing, and not at all like it would if he or anyone else said it.

He hesitates for a brief moment, eyes flicking towards the door, before rising up on his knees and leaning forwards, hands coming up to undo the button of the older man's black dress slacks. Aizen pulls sharply at his hair, jerking his head up, and a slightly reprimanding sound comes from the older man's mouth. He shoots Aizen a slightly irritated look but doesn't protest, pausing where he is with his hands on Aizen's thighs.

"Clasp your hands behind your back," he does, though confusion rises in him, "keep them there unless I say otherwise." He has to suppress a shudder at voluntarily keeping himself restrained like that, and Aizen's smirk grows a little darker. "Continue." He glances back down at the clasp of the slacks – a button and zipper – and opens his mouth to demand an explanation as to exactly how Aizen expects him to continue anything with his hands behind his back, but Aizen very neatly cuts him off.

"With your mouth," the older man nearly purrs, and his mouth snaps shut.



He can't restrain the shudder this time, arousal hitting him hard, and judging by the way Aizen's smirk twists upward, the older man can see it. He hesitates for a moment before leaning forward, struggling to stay balanced with his hands behind his back, and Aizen's left hand comes forward and grips his shoulder. He shoots Aizen a thankful glance, leaning into the grip to maintain his balance, and lowers his head to the slacks. It takes a bit of finagling but he manages after a minute to figure out how to take the slacks in his mouth and pop the button through its hole with his tongue.

That done, and some small amount of pride swelling in his chest, he takes careful hold of the zipper with his teeth and drags it down. The next target is the briefs and he carefully takes the waistband between his teeth and drags it down. With some careful force, and a well-timed lift of hips from Aizen, he manages to finally free the prize.

Aizen is erect, and somehow – though this is by far not the first time he's given the older man a blowjob – the idea of the act is so much more appealing now that he's worked so hard to get it. He leans forward and swipes his tongue along the flesh, eyes closing for a brief moment, and is rewarded with a miniscule hitch of breath from Aizen. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, feeling Aizen's hand tighten a bit on his shoulder in reaction.

"You have twenty minutes, Ichigo, before I need to be there to open the lecture hall." Aizen's voice isn't demanding, or even warning, it's merely commenting. Still, it feels like a challenge. Aizen, as he's proven many times, has impressive control, and twenty minutes is not a large amount of time.

Twenty minutes, hm? He can do that.

He goes to town, closing his eyes and pulling out every trick he knows to break Aizen's control. And it works. He doesn't know the amount of time, but eventually Aizen's grip tightens to bruising levels and the hand in his hair drags his head down, forcing the older man's cock deep into his throat.

"Swallow," Aizen's voice is deep and dark, commanding, and he has no choice but to obey as the older man groans and shudders against him. Aizen's release slides down his waiting throat and he swallows repeatedly, drawing a gasped breath from Aizen. It isn't the first time he's swallowed for Aizen, and it isn't something he particularly dislikes or enjoys, but this time – for some reason – it actually ignites heavy arousal in him.

He pulls back when Aizen allows him to, taking in a deep breath and looking up at the older man. Aizen is watching him, relaxed and clearly at ease, though not smiling. Something in him trembles, waiting for a clue in either direction as to what Aizen's thinking. The tense – at least tense in his mind – moment is broken when Aizen gives a very soft smile and the hand in his hair slips down to cup his jaw, thumb sliding over his lips.

"Very well done," Aizen murmurs, and the arousal in him is tempered by relief and comfort. He realizes at that moment that he had genuinely been hanging on Aizen's approval, just waiting to see if he'd pleased the older man. Confusion of how and why that feeling is there rises and Aizen seems to see it, leaning forward and down and giving him a soft, chaste, kiss.

"You surrendered yourself to me, to obeying my commands and submitting to my desires, you devoted yourself to pleasing me. Whether you realized it or not, in your mind that desire to please me overrode everything else. Do you understand?"

He gives a slow nod, caught in Aizen's gaze, and is rewarded with another kiss. "Good. Fix my clothes," before he can even begin to ponder how he's going to do all that with only his mouth Aizen is continuing, "you may use your hands."

He obeys, readjusting and pulling to put the briefs back in their proper place and then to fasten the slacks back up. Aizen releases him when he's done and nudges him back a bit, standing from the desk chair. The older man crooks fingers at him and he gets to his feet, Aizen reaches out and takes his chin in one hand, tilting his head up to connect their gazes.

"You will sit through my class, feeling the sting of my bite marks, tasting my release in your mouth, feeling the ache in your shoulder, and you're going to think about this and decide if you really want to explore it. Am I understood?"

"Yeah," he answers after a moment, and Aizen's eyes harden a little.

"It won't all be like this. I will push you to your limits, and past them. I can only promise that I will take care of you, and I will never do anything you don't want or need." The older man pauses a moment, watching him intently, and then continues. "I won't call on you during class. Take the time to think about it, really think about it. When the class is done I'll want an answer, and an explanation for why. Alright?" He nods and Aizen echoes it, brown eyes softening. "Alright." The older man glances down and a tiny smirk twists his lips.

"This time, I'm offering you a choice. Do you want release, now?"

He pauses, looking up at Aizen, and then shakes his head. "Actually, no. I'm, good."

Aizen makes a pleased noise, smirk slipping to a smile. He's gathered into a loose embrace for a moment before Aizen steps back, eyes serious. "Ichigo, whichever way you choose I will not criticize. I will continue to love you either way."

Warmth blooms in his chest and he gives a very soft smile in response. "Thank you, Sousuke."

The professor nods and moves past him to the door after a last smile. "I'll see you in class, Ichigo."

He just stands there for a moment before he looks up at the clock hanging on the wall, noting that the class will start in about thirty-five minutes, and pride blooms sharply. Aizen gets there half an hour early to open the lecture hall, so he'd finished Aizen's little challenge with plenty of time to spare. Yeah, he's good.

He gives a little grin to himself and heads for the door, retrieving his bag before leaving the room. He heads for the lecture hall, not particularly hurrying, and gets there in about ten minutes since it's at the opposite end of the campus. The door is propped open, a few students that he recognizes but doesn't know by name sitting outside, and he walks in. There are about twenty students already sitting down, mostly the serious studiers – like Ishida – who take up the front two rows. Ishida is, in fact, there, sitting just off center in the front row.

He looks over at the desk with the blackboard sitting behind it and Aizen gives him a friendly nod from where he's setting his things up. He mimics it and heads up the stairs in the lecture hall to his usual seat – fourth row out of eight, and two seats to the right of middle. Just average, right where no teacher pays attention. He mindlessly reaches for his notebook and lays it out on the small desk in front of him, storing the rest of his bag below his seat, and settles in for the twenty-five minute wait for class to start.

Aizen settles into his own chair after a moment, pulling a book from the recesses of his desk and flipping it open. The students trickle in, slowly filling up the seats around him, and it's about five minutes before the start of the class when Renji comes in.

"Abarai," Aizen says, and his friend freezes in step and turns. Renji's hair is down, splaying over his shoulders in red waves, which usually means that he's spent the night with Byakuya and he's trying to cover up hickeys.

"Yeeeessss?" Renji asks, guilt already in his voice.

Aizen replies without looking up from his book, "You will remove those earphones before my class begins."

Renji's eyes widen a little and Ichigo stifles a laugh at the expression of forced innocence on his friend's face. "What earphones?" he asks.

Aizen looks up, one eyebrow raised and one corner of his mouth turned upwards. "The ones you're attempting to hide under your hair, Abarai. Remove them before my class starts, understood?"

Renji stares at the older man, whose gaze has returned to the book, and makes a spluttering sound. "How do you always know?" he demands incredulously, and Aizen smirks without looking up.

"Consider me clairvoyant, Abarai. Go sit down."

Renji wordlessly obeys, pulling the earphones out amidst quiet snickers, and ascends the stairs to sit at the desk directly to his left. "Fucking mind reader," the redhead hisses quietly, and he has to snort.

"Or maybe he just knows you'll always try something, Renji. You're not hard to read, honestly." Renji echoes his snort and leans back in his seat, slouching even as he retrieves his notebook and plops it upon the desk. "Or you could try not wearing your hair down whenever you're hiding something. Serious clue there."

The redhead shoots him a single nasty look before shrugging. "Whatever, he's just magical, I swear."

He shakes his head and leans back, staring down at his notebook and idly rereading his notes from the class. "If you say so," he murmurs, and then jumps a little as Aizen snaps his book closed from the front of the room, standing from his chair and moving to the open door, pushing it shut. Aizen's rule for his classes. If you're late, you don't get in. Simple as that.

"Let's begin. Would someone like to summarize the last lesson for us?"

He relaxes back into his seat, watching the older man and giving a tiny wince as the mark on his hip rubs against his jeans. His thoughts slip back to the scene in the office and he slips into his own little world, eyes on Aizen even though his mind is wandering. He recalls Aizen's order to think about it, to really think, and does his best.

By the time the class is done, some hour and a half later, he has an answer for the older man. He's jerked back to reality and out of his vegetative state when Renji stands from the desk next to him, gathering his things. The redhead gives him a mildly concerned and equally irritated look.

"You alright, Ichigo? You were totally zoned out."

He starts to rise, retrieving his notebook and bag and storing the book. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright. I was just thinking."

Renji snorts and slings his own bag over his shoulder. "How come he lets you get away with that? If I tried zoning out in the royal bastard's presence he'd freaking tear me to shreds. What makes you special?"

He shrugs and calmly answers, "Maybe he just knows that I'm actually good at this, whereas you're failing. He doesn't think I necessarily need to pay attention to get everything I need, and you obviously do."

The redhead gives him a nasty look, but before he can say anything Aizen calls out from the front of the classroom, "Kurosaki, if I could speak with you before you leave?"

Renji's nasty look turns to one of victory and the taller man grins. "Man, he's about to fucking tear you apart. See you later, Ichigo." The redhead walks out of the classroom with the stream of other students and he slowly makes his way down to Aizen.

The taller man waits until all of the students have cleared out before speaking, his expression carefully neutral. "So, your answer, Ichigo?"

He gives a tiny smile and shifts his bag over his left shoulder – the one that's not bruised. "Yes, I want to do this."

"Why is that your choice?" Aizen demands, and he answers without even a moment of hesitation.

"Because I trust you," he states simply, and Aizen seems momentarily lost for words, brown eyes widening.

In the end, that's the only reason he needs. Yes, he wants it, and the idea arouses him, so why not? He trusts Aizen, implicitly, and definitely enough to believe that the older man won't abuse having that much power over him. Aizen cares for him, he knows it, so there's absolutely no reason for him to be afraid. Nervous, maybe, but never afraid.

Aizen blinks out of his surprise after a moment and gives a small smirk. "You don't have any other classes today, right?" He shakes his head and the smirk grows a little. "Then I think we can just head straight back to my place to celebrate. Don't you agree?"

He mirrors the smirk and gives a nod. "Yeah, that sounds fucking fantastic."

Aizen starts to gather things from the desk, tidying it and storing his teaching tools into one of the drawers. "I'll meet you at the car, Ichigo."

He makes a noise of agreement and heads for the exit, slipping out into the sunshine and beginning his walk back across campus in a sort of daze. What, exactly, he's just agreed to is, for the moment, still a bit of a mystery, but he's sure he'll like it. After all, sex with Aizen is awesome, and that might not even be an appropriate word to describe the level of sheer amazing that it is. So how could adding an extra element to that possibly be bad? Especially when Aizen gets to dictate how that extra element is added. Even better, in his opinion.

He doesn't see it or hear it till it's too late. But as he crosses one of the large open grass areas there's a screech of tires in the distance and then a blaring horn. He turns, looks to see the cause, and blinding pain obliterates his mind as something large and metal and going way too fast rams into his side. His senses go black as his head hits the ground.

He jerks up, almost comforted by the sight of the off white walls. He spots Aizen almost immediately – the older man in the middle of rising to his feet – but not the King. That's getting to be a thing, now. He's secretly suspecting that the King is just hanging around somewhere to give them time to talk before he magically reappears.

He gives a mildly frustrated sigh and stands, straightening up and wincing a little at the memory of that – car? – thing hitting him. Aizen moves towards him with a tiny frown on his face and he watches the older man approach. Naturally, naturally, right in that moment his thoughts return to the universe he'd just gotten out of. A sharp flush spreads over his cheekbones and he looks away, it only gets worse as he hears Aizen chuckle.

"Good memories?"

"Oh fuck off," he snaps, calming the flush enough to make himself look back at Aizen. The older man is clearly amused, and he can't get that image of looking up at Aizen from between his thighs out of his head. "Are you…" he hesitates and hates the intensifying of the flush across his face, turning his gaze to the ground to not have to meet Aizen's eyes. "Are you really that…?"

"Incredible in bed?" Aizen finishes for him, laughing. "Better, actually. And that isn't just my own ego talking. No regular human could compare to a shinigami." He manages to look back up in question and Aizen gives a tiny shrug. "Reiatsu adds an entirely different level to sexual encounters, anyone will tell you the same." The older man smirks and an amused gleam enters his eyes. "Why do you ask, Kurosaki? Interested in me?"

He almost automatically denies it before hesitating, clamping down on the reaction. After a moment he snorts and meets Aizen's gaze. "Well it'd be a flat out fucking lie to say no, wouldn't it? The proof is all over the other universes."

Aizen watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable, before speaking. "You could have still said no. We've been through universes where the resident version of you wasn't interested in the version of me. The quincy world, or the captain-commander world."

"I barely even met you in the quincy world, and there was years of hate to block out anything in the captain-commander world. Not the greatest of examples." He gives a little sigh and raises a hand to rake through his hair. "So, what're you thinking for plans when we get back to our world?"

Aizen doesn't answer, brown eyes narrowed, and after a few moments he raises a hand to poke the older man in the chest. "Oi, you still in there?"

"Are you a virgin, Kurosaki?"

He flinches sharply, eyes widening in shock, and takes an automatic step backwards. There's no way. There's no way that Aizen seriously just asked him that question, no way. "I… what?"

"Are you a virgin?" Aizen repeats plainly and the flush – which had just gone away, damnit – returns full force.

"That's… I… None of your fucking business, Aizen," he hisses out, and Aizen's eyes light up in victory as the traitor's mouth curls upwards into a smirk.

"Oh, you are."

His hands clench to fists and he steels himself for the teasing sure to follow, shoulders tensing. "What of it?" he nearly snarls, more than ready to defend his decision.

Strangely, instead of the provocation and teasing he's expecting, Aizen merely cocks his head slightly to the side and his smirk fades. "Why? If you don't mind me asking, that is. It can't be for lack of participants, any number of your friends would come to your bed without hesitation. Obviously you're not asexual, so it can't be that either. So why?"

He stands there staring at the older man for a moment, lost for words. It isn't the reaction he was expecting, and the lack of the expected humiliation loosens his shoulders and his fists. Actually, Aizen raises a question he hasn't looked at for a long time. It's been a long time since he thought about sex or dating or anything similar. Not since at least the start of this whole fight against Aizen and his struggle to save Rukia.

Oh, right. That's why.

He'd realized he was gay just a few months before Rukia had come charging into his life, turning his entire world on its head. That realization had come in the middle of lunch break at his school when Orihime had tripped, her boobs had more or less landed on his face, and his only reaction had been to help her back up. That had raised some eyebrows, and gotten him an approving look from Tatsuki, and it was only upon wondering why everyone was giving him weird looks that he'd really thought about it and come to the – at the time – disturbing revelation that he simply wasn't attracted to women.

Of course, it had been more of a relief than anything else after the initial – and entirely silent – freak out. And after that, well… He already had the reputation of being the school thug, and he really didn't want to add in also being the school's gay guy. So he'd more or less just ignored anything sexual, and that had just become habit. And by the time he was running around saving people, fighting, and doing his best just to not die, he didn't think about it at all.

He sighs and looks away, giving a tiny shrug. "It isn't a widely accepted thing to be gay in the human world, and I didn't want the attention. Alright? Can we just leave it at that?"

"That excuse works up until you consider that over the course of the last year or so you've been around more shinigami than humans, and they don't have the same views."

He scowls and looks back, disliking the investigation into his private life. "Which I was supposed to know how? Besides, someone has been keeping me pretty busy, bastard."

Aizen doesn't react to the accusation, his voice soft and questioning. "Has no one approached you, Kurosaki?"

And there's the heart of it. No, no one's offered or asked or so much as even hinted interest. He crosses his arms and straightens a little, meeting Aizen's gaze defensively. "No."

He's really, really, done with this topic. He hates it even when his friends pry this deeply into his life, let alone people he doesn't know well, let alone Aizen. What makes it worse is that there doesn't seem to be any malice, hint of condescension, or even mocking note in the older man's gaze. Teasing he can deal with, humiliation he can deal with, anger, pain and violence he can deal with, but he isn't used to people prying because they're interested or they care.

"That's a shame," Aizen murmurs and then gives a tiny smirk and a small shake of his head. "Now I believe you asked me what I thought our plans should be when we get back to our world. Yes?"

He grasps onto the new topic with relish, grateful for the change away from his lack of a love life. "Yeah."

"Well, I would suggest that we go back to Las Noches. It is sufficiently isolated from the shinigami and will give us time to hash out the details of this plan for both of us to become King. There is still the consideration of actually getting to the King's realm, and dealing with the royal guard. I intended to create a new key by destroying Karakura, but I'd imagine you're opposed to that."

"Just a little bit," he says sarcastically and Aizen gives a small shrug, smirk still in place, "Does a key already exist that we can use?"

Aizen nods, "Yes, Yamamoto keeps one of them, the royal guard has another, and a third does exist but I am unaware of who controls it. Yamamoto's would be easiest to obtain, but I don't know where he keeps it."

"That, I can help with." He jumps and whirls towards the voice, the King is leaning against one of the off-white walls, a small grin on his face. How long, exactly, the King has been there is up for question – if he ever even left – but he straightens up on being noticed and moves towards the both of them.

"Is your world sufficiently close enough to ours that the key would be hidden in the same place?"

The King snorts, looking between the two of them. "You have no idea, Aizen. Yamamoto's key is hidden in the first division barracks, under a fake panel on the bottom of his desk. At least, it was in my world, but it should be the same. If not, you'll have to find it on your own."

Aizen gives a small nod, and he glances between the older man and the King. "Under his desk? Isn't that… really obvious?"

Aizen looks over at him, brown eyes amused. "Yes, but would you have thought to look there?"

"No, I guess not," he admits, and the King shrugs.

"No one ever said he was imaginative, either." The King gives a small grin and the air around the – practically – god visibly shivers as a wave of power washes out of the King and steals his breath for a moment. "You'll need to open the gate on Soukyoku hill, but you know that already, Aizen. Are you both ready to go back?"

He and Aizen share a glance, and the older man speaks for them. "Yes, I believe we are."

The King looks over at him for a moment and then nods, smirking. "Then good luck, and don't fuck this up, yeah?"

Another wave of power and the world around them starts to fade into indistinguishable white light. He closes his eyes as it gets too bright for him to handle and the world drops out from under him in a – by now – strangely familiar way.