The first time you met Toshiro Hitsugaya was accidental. Kurotsuchi, deliriously excited about some sort of horrible hollow whose blood could eat through five layers of organic tissue, had left the lab unlocked. Nemu would be punished, but you were happy to see the sun for the first time in a week.

Well, a week according to your perception. In the perception of the rest of the Soul Society, 140 years had passed. Urahara, that overconfident dork, had left you in the care of his largely insane successor and some sort of robot girl. At least, you thought she was a robot. After all, when you slept away 20 years every night, any sort of knowledge was subject to suspicion. You found it terribly hard to believe that Kurotsuchi, sadistic as he was, would leave you in peace without some sort of invasive procedure. Unless, you grimaced, he’s been working on me while I’m asleep. Thanks again, Kisuke.

You supposed it wasn’t entirely fair to blame the former captain. When you’d been scratched by that Menos Grande all those years ago, your body becoming an incubator for a virus capable of destroying an entire Rukongai district in a day, Urahara had been the only one willing to help you. He’d worked quickly, but not quickly enough. The virus was degrading your system at an alarming rate, and he finally came up with a plan, if not a total solution. He bound you with an ingenious network of kido, giving him 20 years for each night you slept. Apparently, he had enough confidence in his abilities to create an antiviral program in a century that could fully combat the most devastating biological weapon the Soul Society had ever seen. You supposed he might have succeeded, had he not been banished and the walking freakshow who now held your life in his claws not been promoted.

You knew the only reason he hadn’t been allowed to kill you were your now tenuous ties to the Gotei 13. How quickly they forgot a former captain- and a noble at that! You knew you were lucky- even a lieutenant would have had a hard time getting out of your situation alive. You were a liability at best, and knew you would only survive as long as Kurotsuchi was enamored with your burden. Your luck, as it were, had held out so far- the virus could not be stabilized outside your body, but even its fragments were proving excellent as hollow-binding weapons.

You’d been a fucking captain, and now you were a glorified Petri dish. You snorted, wallowing in self-pity, when a small shadow appeared outside the door to the lab.

“Hey! You got anything to read? Or maybe a sandwich?” Since the lab wasn’t under lockdown, the metal, armadillo-like shell that usually encompassed the entirety of your perspective had been retracted, and you imagined you could feel a breeze slipping in the window and through the thick plasma wall that enclosed your cell. The little shadow hadn’t moved past the lab, but wasn’t coming in, either. “Nothing? At this point, I’d take one of those nasty offal jobs. Brains, or whatever.”

“Then, I suppose you’re in the right place,” was the curt reply. You let out a surprised bark of a laugh. “Why the hell would I have a sandwich?”

“…Because they’re delicious.”

“You just said they’re ‘awful,’” he replied, stepping closer to the door. You wondered why Nemu had left it ajar- that certainly wasn’t like her. Of course, the better you got to know the girl, the more you began feel that part of her job was disappointing her captain just enough to warrant his disdainful attention. Honestly, the more you witnessed of their relationship, the less you wanted to know. It was creepy. Profoundly, unpleasantly creepy. What was your visitor saying?

“Uh, no, ‘offal.’ O-f-f-a-l. The parts of the animal you don’t want to know you’re eating. So, actually, I guess they’re awful, too. Homonyms: nature’s least satisfactory puns,” you noticed, with interest, the further cracking of the door.

“…Who are you?” he asked, reluctantly.

“I’m the captain of the 10th division,” it wasn’t nearly as impressive when you yawned through it, you reflected. All pretense of disinterest vanished, and he stalked into the lab.

“I’m the captain of the 10th division,” he sounded really convincing. Too bad he wasn’t even 5 feet tall. You figured he was sensitive about that, so you decided to refrain from comment. That, and he was just about the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. You were getting soft in your old age.

“Huh. Guess they replaced me. Um, congratulations, I guess, Captain- what was your name?”

“I didn’t mention it,” he wasn’t slow on the uptake. One side of your mouth quirked up. Such a serious kid.

“No, I believe you didn’t. How long have you been captain, cutie?” he stiffened even further, a feat you would not have thought possible. Seriously, the boy needed a vacation.

“I’m fully qualified for the position. If you need convincing-“

“I’m not in any position to fight you, captain,” you held your hands up, placating. “Sorry. I just wanted to know how long they waited to- well, it’s sort of a pride thing, ya know?” The firm line of his mouth softened- pride was definitely something the boy understood.

“My name is Toshiro Hitsugaya.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you bowed, conking your head on the plasma barrier in an embarrassingly graceless display. Hitsugaya seemed to analyze your position for the first time.

“Were you kidnapped, ma’am?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- ma’am?”

“I have heard rumors about the dealings of the 12th division captain- and if anything untoward-“

“How old do you think I am, buster? Ma’am?!”

“I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“Tch! “

“I was only concerned-“

“Don’t worry. I’m supposed to be here. I’ll be here for a long time,” you stretched, feeling the vertebrae in your back crack into alignment. Hitsugaya frowned.

“Why are you here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Captain, the only thing I mind is being called ‘ma’am.’ I’m not surprised no one told you; all the secrecy, it’s ridiculous. Everybody walks around with blinders on all the time, and somebody’s gonna take advantage,” having been trapped in your slumber for the Aizen debacle, you had no way of knowing the irony of your words, and Hitsugaya was struck by the oddly compelling combination of worldliness and innocence you projected. “Anyway, I got stung by a glorified hornet, and now I’m stuck in here until somebody comes up with a better idea. Or kills me. Which, actually, may be a better idea,” Hitsugaya looked alarmed. “Oh, don’t worry, the barrier stops any contagions from escaping. You’re fine. Well, as far as I know, you’d really have to take up the semantics with Urahara.”

“You’ve been down here since the exile?”

“A little longer than that.”

“That was 100 years ago- you’ve been in that cell the whole time? I knew Kurotsuchi had lax standards of decency, but-“

“Well, it’s not that bad. I sleep for 20 years at a shot, so it’s only been a week. Although, the sleeping accommodations are subpar, and I’m so far unimpressed with the entertainment. Present company excluded,” you smiled, stretching out your toes and wiggling them in the tiny patch of sunlight that reached had reached a corner of your cell.

“You don’t deserve this,” he stated, frowning.

“You don’t know me- how do you know what I deserve?”

“You were a captain of the 10th division, and I owe you at least that consideration.”

“Well, thanks, Hitsugaya, but, I’d be fine with the sandwich,” he was going to leave, you saw, but you were enjoying his company, and it was a nice break from the monotony of tests and disappointments. “Or, maybe a story,” he stopped turning, and looked back at you.

“A story.”

“Yeah,” he clearly thought this idea had about as much merit as the brain sandwich, but you pressed on. “How about something from your time at the Academy?”

“I’m not a storyteller.”

“Okay, then, where’d you grow up?”

“The first Rukongai district.”

“Nice. Any family?”

“Momo- Hinamori. She’s a lieutenant.”

“Your lieutenant?”

“No,” he gritted out, and you let the matter drop.

“Who’s your lieutenant?”

“Rangiku Matsumoto-“

“Ahaha! Have you seen her naked yet-“

“I entered the Academy and showed great aptitude in swordsmanship-“ you smiled. Rangiku, though much younger in many ways when you’d known her, had never failed to get a reaction out of any member of the male population. Hitsugaya was right; he was definitely not a storyteller, but something about the timbre of his voice was vaguely comforting. “…and, I suppose that’s it,” he actually seemed to have loosened up a little, nearly cracking a smile as his story ended.

“You must really love her,” you said, softly. You could nearly hear his mask ratchet back into place.

“Who?” Not a storyteller, and not an actor, either.

“Momo,” he sputtered for a few moments, but you cut him off. “Hitsugaya, the sun’s going down soon. You’d better get back to the office. People will talk,” you waggled your eyebrows lasciviously. He blushed, the pink highlighting the vibrant green of his eyes. “You should tell her. Friends make the best lovers,” he turned even redder. “It was a pleasure to speak with you, Captain.” He stood to leave, an odd, thoughtful look on his face.

“Yes, it was,” he graced you with a dignified nod, and left. You closed your eyes and fell asleep soon after, not wanting to be awake to witness the cruelty Kurotsuchi would visit upon Nemu.

Instead, you dreamed of wide, open gardens full of lush, green flora. If the shade of green was remarkably similar to the young captain's eyes, you didn't notice.

**

The second time you met Toshiro Hitsugaya, it was with complete surprise. You hadn’t even expected him to remember you, let alone to visit your lonely cell. But, there he was, older, taller, and somehow just as lovely.

“Hello,” was all he said, having stormed in with all the precedents he’d had 20 years to collect and forced Kurotsuchi to grant the two of you an audience. A private audience.

“Hello, Captain Hitsugaya,” you didn’t really know how to put your gratitude into words. He stuck a sandwich into the containment pen next to your cell. You slid it the rest of the way through, after the pesky scanner had concluded that it was, indeed, just roast beef on rye and not some sort of nuclear device. “Seen Rangiku’s cans yet?” he sputtered, although not as terribly as last time. You swallowed a particularly tasty bite and grinned. “How about Momo’s?” He flushed a remarkable shade of pink, and you crowed.

“I didn’t come here to talk about the…physical attributes of respectable shinigami,” his rebuke was expected, even after your short acquaintance.

“Alright. I apologize, captain, why did you come here?” He looked at you, silently. You wiped around your mouth, wondering if he was staring at crumbs or something.

“I have often returned to visit you in my thoughts. I don’t know why I’m so affected by your plight, but perhaps helping you will help me atone for the wrongs I have done Momo-“

“Huh? What happened to Momo?”

“Her captain, Aizen, is a traitor,” you listened, in varying states of shock and horror, as Hitsugaya explained the horrible misdeeds of the former captain. Although his face remained stony, you watched his hands clench into fists so tight you were afraid the skin above his knuckles would split.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could say. You felt even more impotent than ever, trapped in your cell with no power over your own body, let alone enough to help against this terrible man. One thought stuck out above the rest, and you voiced it. “Hitsugaya, this wasn’t your fault.”

“If I had been there to protect her-“

“You couldn’t have seen this coming. Nobody could,” you felt vaguely nauseated at the thought of such heinous misuse of powers intended to help people.

“But-“

“If I felt you were in any way at fault here, I’d tell you. Do you believe that?” you looked up at him, resolute. He nodded.

“From what I’ve learned about you, I do,” you blinked.

“…You researched me? Is there an encyclopedia or something?”

“I asked around.”

“What did my old friends,” you tried not to let bitterness sink into your tone, “have to say about me?”

“You were a good captain-“

“Damn straight.”

“-that never learned to look before she leapt, and paid a heavy price,” and you could just fuckin’ hear Byakuya Kuchiki’s dismissive, disdainful tone. It hurt, somehow, even more to hear it from Hitsugaya. It hurt to know he would think less of you.

And when he left that night, you were still trying to figure out why it bothered you so much.

**

The next time you met Toshiro Hitsugaya, he was firmly ensconced in adolescence as well as a tumultuous relationship with his Momo. It felt very odd to be giving out relationship advice, but though Hitsugaya never came out and asked for it, you knew that was what he wanted.

“She says I don’t understand women. I’m not sure she’s wrong,” he ran a hand through that shock of white hair, clearly as close to frazzled he could ever get.

“Well, I can’t speak for all women, Hitsugaya, but here’s what we know: she’s been betrayed by the man she trusted above all others, so it’s not terribly surprising she’s having trouble getting back on the horse. She’s insecure. I know you feel uncomfortable being overly…demonstrative in your affections, given your position above her-“you bit your cheek to keep from laughing at your own inappropriate phrasing. Despite your efforts, a snicker slipped out and Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. “But, it’s important to her, and if you don’t respect her wishes, you’re going to lose her. It doesn’t have to be anything big, just, I don’t know, grab her hand or something when you’re walking down the hall. Kiss her right under the earlobe. That’s as far as I’m going to go in giving you sex tips. Ask that Renji guy. Or, better yet, ask Rangiku,” it was sort of touching that you were the only person Hitsugaya had to vent his frustrations to, and a little pathetic because you could only be his councilor every 20 years. However, it wasn’t so touching that you couldn’t find it in your heart to bust his chops, or so pathetic that you didn’t enjoy every minute you spent with him. He was the closest thing you’d had to a friend in years, even counting the time before the infection. You’d certainly never had a closer male friend, and it was good to know you had something to offer in return for the pressure he put on Kurotsuchi to help you, even if that something was only a sympathetic ear. An increasingly attracted sympathetic ear.

Hitsugaya had been a beautiful child, and was a stunningly gorgeous young man. He’d grown several inches in the 40 years since you’d met, and the need to constantly prove himself seemed to have diminished quite a bit with the increase in height. He clocked in around 5’5, and you had a feeling he wasn’t done growing yet. You felt very much like a dirty old woman, and stubbornly pushed down any naughty thoughts that tried to surface. You certainly ignored the way his voice, which had always been able to comfort you, now seemed to be able to awaken long hidden needs.

After all, he had his Momo. You could be content with seeing him happy. Absolutely.

That night, even as you dreamt of the two of you writhing and straining passionately together, you wondered how you’d be able to look at him without blushing.

**

The fourth time you met him, Toshiro Hitsugaya seemed distant. You tried several times to engage him, but his answers were always vague and usually frustrating.

“Well, fuck, Hitsugaya, why’d you even come at all?” the words were out before you could stop them, and the ambivalent atmosphere dropped to something downright chilly.

“I don’t know. Why did I bother? This really is a waste of time, isn’t it? You sit in here in your little room, untouched by anything, and you try to remember what it’s like to be a real person. How’s it going today? Have you leeched off enough of me to try to form your own opinions yet, or are you just going to parrot everything I say? What a joke,” he sneered, any traces of the serious little boy replaced by this heartless man. Finally, in your mind, the child you’d first met was no longer your default impression of Hitsugaya. He made a scoffing sound, and stormed out of the lab. You couldn’t tell if you were crying for the boy you’d lost forever or your own self-pity.

You hoped you’d die before you woke up again.

**

The fifth time you met Toshiro Hitsugaya, you didn’t say anything. He was genuinely tall now, 6’2, maybe taller, judging from his shadow, and he stood close to your cell, begging you to sit up, to look at him. You curled in further on your cot, listening to his excuses. He’d found Momo with Izuru, and he realized now that he had just wanted someone to hurt as much as he did. You were an easy target. He’d been drinking- he never drank, so he didn’t know how well he could hold his liquor. He’d had too much, said things he didn’t mean-

“Of course you meant them. Alcohol doesn’t turn you into a liar, Hitsugaya. Surely you’ve found someone more interesting to talk to in 20 years.”

“Please, look at me,” you certainly would not. Not when you knew the promises of his youthful beauty had surely been fulfilled. Not when you knew how he really felt about you. And especially not when you knew how you really felt about him. “Dammit, I’m sorry-“

“Hitsugaya, do us both a favor and save your breath. God knows I should have. We’re not friends. I’m just some pathetic creature a boy was kind to once, and you’re a captain with better things to do than babysit me,” you turned around to face him; you did owe him that much. “Please don’t come back here,” your voice shook a little, and your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you didn’t cry. Hitsugaya looked stricken, and you wanted nothing more than to take away his pain.

After all, you loved him. 20 years worth of dreams had made you sure of that. You didn’t want to see him suffer, and cutting your ties with him would give him one less thing to worry about. He didn’t need to keep pouring over your case- Nemu had mentioned his erratic behavior over the last 20 years when you’d awoken this morning. He needed to get out, and find himself a girl, and he couldn’t do that if he spent all his time in the archives, pouring over dusty old books. You couldn’t give him anything, but you could damn sure release him from whatever silly vestige of a childish companionship it was that kept him returning to you. While he certainly didn’t see things your way at the moment- he looked both unbearably beautiful and terribly sad- you were confident that he would accept your decision as the correct one. Maybe, after enough time had passed and he’d married some pretty little cadet and settled down, he’d come visit you. As it was, you simply turned back toward the wall, waiting for the sound of his retreating footsteps.

Though it was a few hours and many silent tears until you fell asleep, he never did leave.

**

The next time you met Toshiro Hitsugaya, you realized you’d made several mistakes during your previous encounter. Despite your love for him and despite your long acquaintance, you’d underestimated him. It was obvious now that sending him away was only going to make him that much more resolved to return. Telling him to forget you was only going to make him work harder on your case.

If he’d looked heartbroken and beautiful the last time you’d seen him, he looked resolved and a little frazzled today. He was trying to explain something, his long, elegant fingers scrubbing across his scalp as he delved into the more complicated aspects of the natural laws of biology in Soul Society.

“When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” He was your age now, perhaps even a little older, and he clearly didn’t appreciate being spoken to like a child. His piercing green eyes, no longer softened by slight deposits of baby fat, were unnervingly intense, and you were reminded for a moment of Byakuya Kuchiki. No, you realized, Byakuya’s gaze was chilly, and the intensity of Hitsugaya’s eyes was definitely…hot. Passionate, even. It wasn’t a far stretch to go from seeing him burn so brightly, discussing something as mundane as plasma respiration bypasses to a more…intimate setting.

“I don’t need that much sleep,” he stated, the harsh line of his cheekbone stark under the skin.

“Yes, you do. You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? Your metabolism doesn’t shut down because you’re not sleeping, and you’re burning the candle at both ends trying to maintain your body while you act as captain,” he brushed your explanation aside, pursing his mouth into a sinful pout.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway-“

“Yeah, it does! Did you not get the candle metaphor? You’re gonna burn out-“

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m done with research,” even after you’d told him to go, hearing him say it himself was a little bit painful.

“Oh. Good. Did you finally pick a wife? Who’s the lucky lady? There’s a cute little thing who works in here- unseated, but she’s got a rack like a pair of canteloupes-“

“I’m done with research, because I found the cure.” You stared up at him, your hands still vaguely motioning at your chest.

“You found the cure.”

“Yes. You probably would have figured that out by now if you actually listened to a word I said,” even when he was a pissy know-it-all, he was unbearably attractive.

“I listen.”

“Really?” that little smirk- did he honestly have no idea how heartstoppingly handsome he was? Because that slight quirk of the lips thing could kill a girl if she wasn’t prepared.

“Yeah. Something about…forced cell replication?”

“Close enough,” 20 years, and the dynamic of your relationship had totally changed. He was the teacher. You wouldn’t mind staying after class.

“Extra credit,” you gave a smirk of your own. A thin, white brow arched. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you want to know about it?” Oh, yes.

“Give it to me straight, doc,” you folded your arms under your chest.

“Pregnancy. The cell replication and division preceded by the DNA synthesis-“

“Do I seem like a science girl to you?” He relented.

“If you conceive a child, the virus should be eradicated.”

“How the hell am I supposed to get a bun in the oven if the oven’s a biohazard?” You scratched your ear, figuring he had a solution. He seemed to enjoy feeding you bits of information at a time. Maybe this was payback for your easy dismissal last time. He wanted to prove that you needed him. Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“In vitro fertilization.”

“So, I guess I just need a male donor?” Your grasp of the reproductive systems of beings made entirely of ectoplasm was tenous at best.

“Not just anyone. You need someone with a large amount of spiritual power. At least, a shinigami. Ideally, a captain.” Wait…was he saying-

“Are you saying you want to be the father of my virus-killer?” What?

“It’ll be a child, eventually. If this works.”

“But are you saying-“

“Yes,” and he was serious. He would do this for you. You certainly weren’t going to expect him to become a parent with you, if the fetus even survived to term, but you were still touched by his generosity, even after the strain your relationship had undergone. You fell a little more in love with him at that moment.

“Listen, Hitsugaya, I’m sorry about what I said last time we met-“

“I didn’t do this to make you feel indebted.”

“I didn’t-I know you’d never-I’m trying to apologize, here.”

“Alright. If you accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.”

“Uh, okay. I accept your apology, captain.”

“I accept yours in return,” and though his speech was unbearably stuffy, the relieved smile that passed over his lips was beautiful, made even more striking by its rarity.

“Thank you,” he was the best man you’d ever met, and you felt lucky to have known him. You certainly didn’t expect him to want to further the acquaintance once you were healthy- once he’d saved you, he would go back to his world, and you’d…find a job in the Rukongai, maybe? Were there still any open captain’s commissions?

“Stop that,” you jumped at the harshness in his voice.

“Stop what?” you blinked in confusion. What the hell’s the matter, now?

“You’re doing it again. You’re withdrawing into your little world, even after-dammit, woman! You’re infuriating! I came here, I apologized, I fucking found your cure and you still don’t get it,” you’d never seen him so openly upset.

“Hitsugaya, I’m sorry, I just thought it would be easier for you if-“

“If you pretend the way I feel about you, the reason I’ve spent the last 20 years of my life ignoring everything else, doesn’t matter? If I pretend I don’t see it in your eyes every time you look at me, pretend it doesn’t wake me up at night, wanting you?” Wait, what?

“Wait, what?”

“And you have the gall to mock me with silly girls, as if I haven’t tried! As if you don’t know how you’ve ruined me for any other woman-“

“Uh, Hitsugaya-“

“I suppose you’re going to try to deny this. I don’t know how much clearer I can be,” he was winding down a little, now, and those piercing eyes pushed right through to your heart. “I am in love with you. I have loved you for 56 years. Probably longer, but that’s when I realized it. I will continue to love you until the last breath leaves my body. I will save you, and if you want me even half as badly as I want you, I’ll spend my life helping you make up for the time you lost in here.”

“You can’t love me,” you blurted out. “You’ve only known me for six days!”

“No, you’ve only known me for six days. I’ve known you for 120 years.”

“So?”

“So, Kurotsuchi created a monitor for your brain activity. I’ve visited you every night for the last 40-odd years.”

“Oh.” Oh. “So, then you noticed-“

“Yes.”

“…about the sex dreams.”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” You sort of wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“You really don’t remember, do you? Nemu told me you probably wouldn’t, but I had hoped…something would slip through.”

“Did we-“

“Yes. Often,” you blushed at his bluntness, finally recognizing the knowing way he looked at your body.

“Ah. Right. So. Right. Uh, then, I guess…you know how I feel. About you.”

“I had an inkling.”

“Um,” this was just so weird. Even by your exacting standards of oddness.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is. The important thing is that you’re going to be alright. Everything else can wait,” you felt your lips split into a slow smile as you realized how well he truly knew you. And, he was right. Bossy as hell, but right.

“Okay,” he blinked, clearly not expecting you to give in so quickly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I trust you, Hitsugaya,” he grimaced slightly.

“We’ve known each other for decades, and you’re about to become the mother of my child. Please, call me Toshiro,” you scrunched up your nose.

“It’s weird. Toshiro,” you got a sudden flash of screaming that name in ecstasy, and your eyes rushed to his. Yeah, he seemed to be remembering something, too, if the instant darkening of his gaze was any indication. “Toshiro,” you murmured again. His jaw clenched tightly, and his eyes slid shut for a moment. When he opened them, the unadulterated lust that saturated his gaze knocked you for a loop, and you spoke the only thought in your mind. “Get me the hell out of here,” you were shocked at the husky quality of your own voice. At that moment, staring into his eyes, you realized two things:

He was really in love with you, and you were finally going to be happy.

**

The last time you met Toshiro Hitsugaya, he held your hand in his own like it was a lifeline. You’d lost another 20 years, but the fertilization had been successful. While only an evening had passed for you and the baby inside you, Hitsugaya looked another 2 years older. He was older than you. If you thought about the temporal anomalies of your relationship, you’d probably go cross-eyed. Instead, you smiled as people you hadn’t seen in centuries congratulated you on your return.

You really fucking hated parties. Hitsugaya didn’t seem to enjoy them, either. You supposed it was nice of the gotei to let you back in, giving you one of the positions vacated by a traitorous captain. Truth be told, you’d rather have had somebody send you a fucking card or something instead of carefully ignoring you for over 250 years. But, you supposed a bunch of balloons and watching Byakuya Kuchiki try not to seem too mortified to be seen in public with some of the less savory lieutenants was an acceptable consolation prize.

Especially with the way Toshiro had been looking at you all evening. You were regarding the end of the party with excitement and dread, when it snuck up on you like a bad penny.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him; you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted a man in your life. You were afraid you wouldn’t measure up. He’d loved you for over half a century, and while you’d been intimate in your mind, the mental arena was far more flattering to your body than the lights of your new bedroom would be. He’d probably built you up to some sort of idealized pinnacle of perfection, and you were terrified of what would happen if you couldn’t live up to such high standards.

You were shaking by the time he led you back to your new quarters. Toshiro wasn’t blind. He sat down with you on your expensively upholstered sofa, careful not to spook you.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight, you know.”

“I know.”

“I can leave, if you want.”

“Please, stay with me,” you murmured, sliding across the cushion that separated you and into his open arms. He was so thin. You were going to have to fatten him up a little. At least until his thighs were thicker than your own. “I’ll make you some sandwiches,” the reverberation of his soft laugh through his torso was comforting.

“What’s wrong?” simple and to the point. You sighed, sagging further against him.

“I just…you’ve waited so long, and I’m not perfect, and I’m going to disappoint you,” you were alarmed and embarrassed to feel a prickling at your eyes. You would not cry.

“I know you’re not perfect. You snore,” and the prickling was gone. You let out a sharp noise.

“I do not snore,” you yelped.

“My snoring beauty,” he grinned down at you, and you relented.

“Maybe I do. You try sleeping in a stuffy old lab for a few decades and see how well your sinuses fare, captain bossy.”

“Anyway, the point is, I know you aren’t perfect. I don’t want you to be perfect. I want you to be you, and I want you to be with me. How’s that?” you considered, then nodded.

“Okay. However, if you decide to leave me after…sampling the wares, I’m gonna kick your ass, rescuer or not. Deal?” He gave a long suffering sigh.

“Dea-,” you cut off the end of his acceptance with a kiss. His mouth quickly opened against yours, hot and demanding. You were terribly glad you hadn’t made him wait- bottling up a need this fierce couldn’t be healthy. His lips seemed content to busy themselves with your own, but his hands quickly undid the knot holding your yukata together, flinging clothing out of his way and baring you to his ministrations. You arched against him as his palms slid over your nipples, gasping his name and earning a soft groan. His mouth broke away from yours, slowly making its way down your rapidly flushing neck, and finally taking the place of one of his hands on your chest. Your hands carded through his soft hair, learning quickly which parts of his scalp were the most sensitive and concentrating on them as he laved at each of your breasts in turn. You scrabbled for purchase against his shoulder as he bit one of the straining peaks, and gave a hazy frown as you realized he had you at a disadvantage.

You shoved him back against the corner of the sofa, your nipple leaving the hot suction of his mouth with a soft ‘pop.’ You had no care for preserving his uniform, ripping at the offending garments and giving a frustrated growl when they refused to reveal more of his tanned skin. He gave a shaky laugh, gently extracting your hands from the strong fabric and undoing the ties himself with slow, teasing movements. Two could play at that game, you reflected, brushing your lips against his own and creating a rapidly deepening kiss that soon took precedence in Toshiro’s mind over the task at hand. As his fingers slipped away from the now loosened yukata, you reached under all those layers of fabric and squeezed him. Hard. His back nearly bowed and he gave a harsh, shuddering moan. And when you started to stroke him, following instincts you guessed came from your subconscious sexcapades, it was his turn to clutch at you, an impossibly sexy flush blooming high on his cheeks. His eyes were screwed shut, and his breaths came in hitching gasps. You lowered your head, nipping gently under his jaw and down to the crook of his neck. He was delightful responsive, thrusting hard against your hand as you sucked and nibbled at the tender flesh until an angry looking bruise formed. It was terribly satisfying to stake a claim to this beautiful man, knowing that if his collar slipped during the day, any of those silly girls who mooned over him would know exactly who had given it to him.

“Mine,” you growled, a little surprised by your own possessive streak. Toshiro didn’t seem to mind, if the harsh moan he let out was any indication. You slid further down, varying the pressure on his cock to keep things from getting too predictable. You licked and kissed at his nipples, but your ultimate goal was too appealing for your few strands of patience to overrule. With a soft application of teeth to the skin under his navel as the only warning, you pressed a long, wet kiss to his member through the tented fabric of his pants. Somehow, that snapped him out of the fog of lust, those vibrant eyes flying open and pinning you to the spot.

“Later,” and there were enough dark promises in that one word to make you shudder in need. Later, he would let you have your fun. Now, he was going to take you, cement your bond in sweat and screams and satisfaction. You couldn’t wait. He stood up, carrying you with him to your new bedroom and dropping you on the mattress, quickly shucking his pants and yours, before covering your body with his own. The friction of his long, tan body against your own was delicious, and you arched your back to rub your chest more firmly against his own. He cradled your head, kissing you softly as his other hand drifted down to part your slick folds. You gasped in pleasure as he brushed your clit, bucking impatiently into his hand as he let out the sexiest, smokiest chuckle you’d ever heard. You tried to glare up at him, but the effect was somewhat diminished by your swollen mouth and lust-glazed eyes.

“Please, Toshiro, don’t tease me,” your trump card. As always, the effect of his given name spilling from your lips was instantaneous and gratifying; made even nicer at the moment by your current position. He blew out a shaky breath against your temple, nodding down at you as he spread your thighs farther apart. Locking his electric gaze with your own, Hitsugaya slid home in one perfect thrust. You threw your head back with a delighted groan, baring your neck to his reverent kisses. He kept the pace at a slow burn, brushing lovely spots inside you and slipping a finger around your clit most enjoyably. You leaned up and caught a drop of sweat rolling down the cord of his neck with your tongue.

His soft, growling moans against your hair were gorgeously sexy, and you squeezed your inner muscles around him to hear more. He let out a sharp, pleasured gasp and thrust harder, making you groan in return. It wasn’t enough- you needed more, more of him. “Please, Toshiro,” you could feel the release at the edge of your consciousness, but the harder you reached for it, the faster it dissipated. His brow creased in concentration as the hand that had been teasing your clit slid back around and hoisted one of your legs up and over his shoulder. The new angle of penetration combined with the hard grind of his manhood against your bud was just what you needed, and you gave a grateful, breathy moan of his name as you tumbled into orgasm. Watching you come, hearing you call his name, and feeling you clench around him pushed Hitsugaya over the edge, and he growled in satisfaction, collapsing into your waiting arms as you both bucked against the ecstasy. It was several minutes before you felt collected enough to speak, and Hitsugaya seemed content to rest his head against your breast as he caught his own breath.

“What kind of sandwich do you want for supper?” you asked, voice still a little throatier than normal. Toshiro’s shock of white hair comprised most of your field of vision as you looked down. You could practically feel him roll his eyes against your chest.

“Woman, I don’t know how you’ve gotten to be this old without anyone properly explaining things to you, but we don’t need to eat.”

“We don’t need to fuck, either, but you sure seemed to enjoy that.”

“I didn’t fuck,” he said, prim as a noble maiden despite the way your sweaty skin stuck to his. “I made love to you.”

“Okay. Whatever. The point is, it’s a little embarrassing ‘making love’ to someone with thinner thighs than you.”

“…You find my body unattractive?”

“Hell no, but I don’t want people to look at our wedding photos and think I’m a fatty,” he considered this for a moment.

“Did you just propose to me?”

“Kinda.”

“…Alright. You aren’t fat. You’re pregnant-“

“Not that pregnant-“

“-so, you will be fat. But not yet.”

“Is it too late to retract the proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. I guess I’m stuck with you, then, Sticklegs McBossy.”

“I suppose you are. How can I make this tragic affair more bearable?” you smirked good-naturedly at his sarcasm.

“I’ll think of something,” you arched your hips against his own, a challenge in your eyes.

And Toshiro Hitsugaya met it, that night and every other for the rest of your lives.