Author's Note: This might be a one-shot, I haven't decided. Enjoy!
Shiro sat on his bed and listened to the screams.
He was all in favor of what was causing the screams. Just a few years ago, he wouldn't have been. But that was before he'd found out the truth about why he was receiving the sacred tattoos, the truth about what the priests intended to do with him. Since that moment he had been a prisoner. A powerful geas entrapped his mind, keeping him from pleasuring himself or ruining the sacred markings. A heavy band of iron around his neck entrapped his body, keeping him from leaving the room. All so he could be flayed to death, the sacred symbols removed with due care and solemnity.
Shiro sniffed the air as he caught the aroma of smoke and frowned. While he wasn't eager to meet his end as a sacrifice being burned to death didn't sound a lot better. But then a stranger kicked down the door to his room. Shiro blinked as he beheld the man. He looked like a normal enough man, but his sword and armoring were strange. Of course, the priests didn't use edged weapons. They limited themselves to flails, maces and staves, things that were meant to kill without letting blood. It often didn't work out that way but that was the idea. The man exclaimed in surprise and Shiro just shrugged to himself. No doubt he was very strange to the fellow. After all, it was his odd looks that had made the priests take him in the first place.
But there was nothing he could do. He couldn't understand a word the stranger was saying and when he disappeared, Shiro couldn't follow.
He could only await his fate.
"Milord Wizard!" Grimmjow grimaced as one of his men skidded to a halt in front of him. He wasn't a real noble and would vastly have preferred they left off the Milord but it seemed like the men were just unable to do it. It probably had to do with his prowess as a wizard. Wizards were rare and held in awe among the common folk. "Milord Wizard, there's a demon chained up in one of the rooms!"
"Eh?" That got his attention and he sent his senses outwards, questing for demonic energies. Then he scowled at the man. "Bullshit! There's nothing demonic here." He scowled at the man, who seemed to be sweating with fear.
"Milord! He's all white, like a ghost!" The man babbled and Grimmjow's scowl lightened slightly. All white? That sounded interesting.
"Take me to him." He ordered and the mercenary hastened to obey. Sniffing the air he caught the smell of smoke. "Idiots." He muttered. Raiders were constantly setting things on fire, it seemed to be a compulsion. "At least let us loot the place first – hoi!" He stopped dead as he saw the boy sitting on the bed. The lad looked up at him, black and gold eyes filled with suspicion and wariness. Grimmjow looked him over, fascinated.
He could see why his man had assumed the boy was a demon. He was white as snow, his hair and his skin both. If that wasn't enough his eyes were black and gold. Then, just to put the cap on it, someone had tattooed the boy. There was a black pattern branching from the corner of his left eye, creating a lovely, flowing black design on dead white skin. Grimmjow reached out to touch it and felt a tingle in his finger as he touched the boy… no, man. This was no child, it was a young man.
"He's not demon but he's bespelled. A slave, most likely." The collar and stout chain holding the man seemed to indicate that and the tingle spoke of magic. Concentrating, he made out the presence of a very strong binding spell. "Yes, he's under a geas. Can you understand me, lad?" He asked but the boy just stared at him. "No. We'll have to figure him out later. Give me your axe." One of his guardsmen handed over a weapon and he enfolded it in a bit of magic before hacking the chain off. "Get him to the ship and treat him like any other slave." That meant be cautious. Slaves were almost uniformly desperate to escape. "But don't damage him." This man interested him, deeply. Grimmjow looked into black and gold eyes again and felt a stirring of desire and also a small pain. Despite his dramatic coloring, there was a resemblance to… him. Thrusting that painful thought aside Grimmjow turned away. He needed to supervise the looting before the fire got out of hand.
He hadn't come all this way to lose his treasure to a fire.
Shiro sat on the floor of his new prison, watching as some of the younger priests and acolytes were dragged in to join him. He smirked to himself as they protested, their wrists and feet shackled onto the wood of the ship. It seemed these strangers were slavers, or at least opportunists. They would sell everything they could.
Paradoxically, he was freer than the priests and acolytes. The collar around his neck would take a blacksmith to remove and the strangers hadn't bothered. They'd just nailed the end of the chain to the wall and tied his wrists together, but otherwise left him alone. He was even moderately comfortable, sitting on the straw.
Shiro wasn't sure what would happen to him but he assumed it would better than his other fate. His time had been close to running out. The priests had been waiting for his eighteenth birthday, which was only a few months away. These strangers seemed to have absolutely no reverence for the priests and their gods, so he would at least be spared that.
He looked up sharply as the blue haired man came back down into the hold. Shiro gazed into his face, appreciating his beauty in an abstract sort of way. He couldn't feel anything more. The geas on his mind ensured it. The man regarded him for a moment before using a hammer to pull out the nail holding his chain to the wall. Then he gripped the chain and said something. Shiro couldn't understand a word he was saying but he got the idea and stood, following the blue man out of the hold.
Is he going to fuck me? Shiro wondered with a mix of fear and hope. Fear because if the geas wasn't removed it would be tolerable at best, painful at worst. He would take no pleasure from it. Hope because if this mercenary stuck his dick into him, he would be tainted, unworthy of the gods. Shiro quickly decided that he was willing to endure some pain for that. Anything to avoid being skinned alive.
Soon he was taken into the man's room. Given that it was a ship everything was bolted to the floor but it was still a luxurious cabin. Shiro tentatively decided that this man had to be very high among the raiders, likely the commander. Then a hand ran down his back, touching bare skin and he gasped. He felt something trying to respond, in the dark recesses of his mind, but the geas snuffed it out and he almost whined in frustration. He wanted to feel!
Then there was a hand on his shoulder and the man made him sit on the bed. Shiro met blue eyes and saw something unexpected in them. Concern? The man began talking but it didn't look like he was speaking to him. What he was saying sounded rhythmic, almost like a chant. What could he…?
Shiro grit his teeth and groaned as he felt the magic on him falter and tear. It hurt after so long, hurt like fire, but he embraced the pain. He's removing the geas! Is he a priest? To his knowledge only priests practiced magic, but somehow he couldn't picture this man as the devotee of any god. The chant came to an end and Shiro sobbed as he felt the magic lift. For the first time in years he felt… whole.
"Thank you." He said to the man who smiled and slid a hand behind his head, gently tangling his fingers in long white hair. "Ah…" Shiro moaned, his eyes half-closing as the raging power of feeling was unleashed. It felt like glorious warmth, running from his toes to his hairline. And that hand, sliding through his hair and lightly brushing his skin, was the cause of it. There was a soft chuckle and Shiro stiffened as warm lips covered his own.
If the hand in his hair had ignited his long dormant desire, this contact rose it to an inferno. Shiro was awkward, completely new to the experience but more than willing to participate. The other man guided him, showing him how it was done and Shiro felt only gratitude. For the first time in his life, he was feeling desire. He wanted this, more than anything.
He was wearing a pure white linen robe, the traditional garment. It quickly came off and Shiro looked up shyly as he heard the man exclaim in surprise. A pale hand, colorful compared to his dead white skin, stroked his tattoos. The marks on his body put the ones on his face to shame. There was a black circle in the centre of his chest, with lines radiating outwards from it. The spot where they would have stabbed me, killed me, after all the other marks were removed. Shiro shoved that thought away and arched with a soft moan as the man stroked the mystical symbols on his abdomen. There were more tattoos all across his back, his shoulders and legs. He was damn near covered with the things, which had made what the priests had planned even more horrifying.
But now, the tattoos were a boon. The stranger with the blue hair moved down his body, slowly licking the black markings on his chest and pausing to tease his nipples. Shiro gasped as pleasure jolted through him, pooling in his groin and pulling a wanton moan from his throat. The man said something in an amused tone and Shiro blushed lightly, looking at him through his eyelashes. He wished he knew what the man was saying.
But body language was enough and he kept making his way down, pausing to trace all the patterns on Shiro's stomach before kissing the firm, toned flesh. Shiro gasped raggedly and bit the knuckled of his hand as the man spread his legs with his hands before giving him a wicked grin.
Holy shit! Shiro arched off the bed with a muffled cry as the man took him in his mouth. The heat, the wetness, the suction was just… "Yes. Yes!" Shiro moaned, repeating the word over and over as the blue man fondled his balls then slowly worked a finger into his ass. Shiro whimpered at the faint sting but any pain was quickly overwhelmed by pleasure. His body had been denied for far too long, he needed this, wanted this…
And he was going to get it. The man let go of his cock with a small pop, making Shiro whimper at the loss. He was vaguely aware that there were two fingers inside him and the man was using grease? Something to make it easier. And those fingers kept brushing against something that sent more pleasure through him, making little pearly beads drip from the head of his swollen member. Shiro glanced down and was shocked to see how big it was. He'd never seen himself aroused before. A third finger joined the first two and he groaned in discomfort at the stretch. But it was only discomfort and that, he could easily endure. He wanted to leave his virginity behind.
As if sensing his thoughts, the blue man slid up his body. Shiro looked into his face and saw intent blue eyes, a wicked grin. Warm hands gripped his thighs and Shiro swallowed in anticipation as the stranger lined his cock up with his ass. Then he was going inside, pushing past that tight right of muscle and Shiro made a stuttering cry. That hurt but it felt good at the same time. The man paused, giving him time to adjust to the feeling. Then he slowly began to move.
Shiro panted and moaned, his body shaking like a leaf as the stranger took him. The thick, hot cock abused his insides in all the right ways, rubbing against that spot inside him that made sparks fly and tiny splashes of cum leak onto his belly. Shiro's lips were caught again, his whimpers swallowed by the stranger fucking him. And for this brief moment, Shiro felt an immense gratitude towards the blue man. He had nothing to measure it against but how could sex get any better than this?
Shiro felt himself coming towards the edge, heading toward some kind of completion. His young, untouched body couldn't hold back. A particularly hard thrust sent him over the edge and thick, heavy cum sprayed across his belly and chest. Shiro moaned softly, feeling incredibly tired and sated. The man above him paused and the pale lad looked up, surprised. He could feel the stranger still hard inside him. What was he…?
Then the man pulled out of him, grinning wickedly, and gripped his shoulder. Shiro had time to make a confused sound before he was pulled onto his stomach. Then the man plunged back inside and he arched with a gasp, black and gold eyes going wide. It was so soon after his release but he still felt himself getting hard. His young body, that had been denied even wet dreams and masturbation, was desperate for sex. Shiro tossed his head back with a moan as a hot hand encircled his cock, stroking him to fully upright.
"Feels so good. Fuck me harder!" He begged, knowing the other man wouldn't understand. But it hardly mattered, he was getting fucked hard anyway. A rough voice, heavy with sex, said something in his ear and Shiro gasped, reacting strongly to the tone. He could be reciting a grocery list for all he knew but it didn't matter. That tone was pure sex. "Oh!" The man reached a bit lower and found his balls, giving the heavy flesh a gentle squeeze. Shiro whimpered, his eyes screwing shut as he felt a second orgasm coming over him. "Sh-shit, uh, ah!" That hand was on his cock again, stroking and squeezing in time with the dick inside his ass. He felt like he was full to bursting, ready to explode. "YES!" He cried out as a second moment of pleasure rolled over him. More cum spurted out, staining the bedsheets. Shiro closed his eyes, just experiencing the moment, hearing the man over him grunt and jerk. He felt hot seed spill into his body and marvelled for a moment at how right it was. This was what his body had been begging for, for so long.
Utterly exhausted, he slipped onto his side, avoiding the wet spot on the bed. The man above him chuckled and Shiro closed his eyes, feeling incredibly tired. But he opened them as his body was touched with a cloth, wiping away the cum and sweat. And it turned out the top blanket on the bed was actually something meant for sex. The man pulled it away, tossed it into a corner and Shiro was able to slip under a real blanket. He heard the tinkle of chains and looked up to see the stranger was fixing the end of his chain to a loop that was part of the bed. After a moment of thought, Shiro decided he didn't care. Of course he was a slave to these strangers. How could he not be? But being a slave was infinitely preferable to being a sacrifice. And now, he couldn't be a sacrifice ever again. He was tainted, unclean. The thought made him smile as he drifted away to sleep.
Being unclean had never felt so good.
Grimmjow settled into the bed beside his pale slave, marvelling as he watched the man drop into an easy sleep.
He'd taken many slaves, over the years. He was notorious for enjoying the company of other men but it wasn't exactly socially acceptable. He only got away with it because he was an excellent swordsman and powerful wizard. Even the most unruly of his folk had better sense than to challenge him.
That didn't hold true of his lovers, though. After a very unpleasant incident Grimmjow had confined his attentions to slaves. To most warriors, slaves were beneath notice, existing only to be used. And while they would never admit it, plenty of men had sodomized a slave or two. It was just the way of things.
Still, he'd never had a slave be so responsive immediately. Even with… him, he'd had to coax, work the man past his initial resistance to the idea. But not with this one. Maybe it had been a backlash from releasing the geas but the boy had practically fallen into his arms. Grimmjow smiled as he looked into the white face, seeing the resemblance again. It hurt, it truly did, but it was also good.
"Ichigo." He whispered the name of his lost lover. He was probably still alive, somewhere. Grimmjow had no idea and didn't want to know. If you love something you have to let it go. He flinched a little as he remembered those words. They sounded so right, and yet it had all gone so wrong. "I'm never letting you go. Never." He said to the pale man beside him, reaching out to rest his thumb against the boy's bottom lip. He could feel the warm breath, watch the rise and fall of his chest. "Never." He whispered before sliding down beside the pale man and holding him close.
He wouldn't make that mistake a second time.