magic_in_flames: (Casual)
[personal profile] magic_in_flames
Title: The Mind of One Who Follows
Fandom: Bleach
Pairings: Aizen/Gin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mentions BDSM (specifically bloodplay, temperature play, knife play, impact play, gags, bondage, blindfolding), alludes to sex. Mild gore.
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo and related companies, I just like to play with his characters.
Summary: Gin knows exactly why he follows this man.
Author's notes: It began as a kind of character study into Gin and developed into this. I'm not entirely sure why it's written in second person... I'm going to say Gin wanted it that way. Nothing that's actually incredibly explicit, rathing just alluding to them.


You never know if the gun is loaded, or whether the knife is sharp; if he’ll release the restraints and untie the gag, or even if he’ll take off the blindfold.

Uncertainty is rife when your back is to the wall, more so when it’s not, and the low pulse of fear thrills through your veins, releasing emotions you didn’t know you had.

Ropes rub against your wrists as you twist in the bindings; you know that there are other restraints, but revel in the fact that he chose these as they burn against your skin. Cold steel set against your neck is so much more unforgiving than the supple leather you could wear, but your breathing quickens as he locks it.

As he reaches beneath the bed you shiver, knowing what is kept there. This time the flame could be too hot, too close, too much. The ice could be too late, too little; but you still wait, trembling, for the first touch.

There’s always the chance he’ll leave you there, used and exhausted and unable to move for any number of reasons, that just because he’s always stayed before and helped you into bed doesn’t mean he’s going to do it this time.

One day he’s going to tire of this game; a game is all it is and you know that. One day he’s going to hit too hard, hold too long, move too fast. But one day isn’t today.

Your breath hitches as he moves again without touching anywhere but where he must, as the restraints pull and bind; the black cloth blinds, and the white silences all but the groans that slip unnoticed from you as his hands are suddenly everywhere and nowhere.

Every time he picks it up you anticipate the stinging wounds and every time you welcome them, welcoming the knowledge that if he misses by just an inch it’s going to break something. You know that he’s never consistent, that sometimes it’s playful and sometimes it’s harsh, but you’re willing to take whatever he gives, because it’s him that gives it.

“Master” drops from your lips at every turn, the names he has for you so much less polite, yet all the more meaningful for that. You obey his every command, knowing that if he asked you to throw yourself out the window you would without a second thought. When he calls you “Pet” you know he’s about to do something that will make you scream and your heart beats quicker, out of lust and a little bit of fear.

You can’t count the times he’s had to leave you sleeping afterwards; mastery comes with duties after all. And you know that he might not come back; he locks the door when he goes and no-one else has the key. No matter that he has so far come back each time to find you, to slip in beside you and warm your cold skin. You know that he won’t be there forever, and yet you follow.

You’re useful. That’s all it is.

You live in the moment, stealing and storing what you can now so that when he does leave it’s not as painful.

Even when he does cast you aside, it won’t matter. It’ll be him doing it, so it’s ok. He’s graciously let you stay by his side all this time, so when you lose your usefulness to him you’ll understand why he leaves. There’s no point in dwelling on it.

Much more pleasant is what he does with perfectly filed fingernails, with long, slender hands, tugging you where he wants you to go and filling you with fire when they drift lower.

He calls you “Pretty” when you bleed, tells you that the red against white makes for such beauty. You believe him, yet if anyone else had said it you would call them lies; you would never question his word. You like to bleed for him.

Your world is one where pain and pleasure are the same, and you revel in it. You dread the day that world will be shattered and huddle in the present, leaving the future for the one who is your God to decide.

So when he calls you to his side, you follow.

When he asks you to abandon those you’ve had beside you for years, you don’t hesitate.

When he asks if you’d die for him, fight those who you abandoned, you answer “Yes.” within seconds of the question.

And when you follow him through the devastation he has wrought, pools of bright red staining the ground littered with things out of nightmares, and he tells you to kneel at his side when he ascends the throne of heaven, you’re surprised and grateful.


So grateful.
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