Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Warm Like Me ❯ One-Shot

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Warm Like Me

by debbiechan


Description:  One-shot inspired by Bleach chapter 565 “God Like You” in which Haschwalth confronts Ishida with Yhwach’s origin story and its grim implications for all Quincy.  This story toys with Haschwalth’s balancing act and with the dichotomies and parallels Kubo-sensei himself is fond of. Aaaaaand there is sex.

M/NC-17 Haschwalth/Ishida

This chapter may have excited fandom more than any in recent memory. Quincy fans are especially revved up. Lend me your speculations at my bleachness post: http://bleachness.livejournal.com/754893.html  (ff.net readers, whose site does not allow links, go to bleachness.com and look up the “I want to talk about Ishida Uryuu post” dated 25 Jan 2014)

This little fic is part of a series that plays off the current Thousand Year arc. Other in the series are:

“Leichtigkeit des Seins” Haschwalth/Ishida  

“A Dream in the Ice Palace”  Ishida/Orihime

“Neun Momente, Eine Nacht” Yhwach/Haschwalth/Ishida

“Indulgence” Hashwald/Ishida  

“Sun and Rain, Love and Pain” Ichigo/Ishida

“Midnight to Daybreak” Ichigo/Ishida  

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~ o~o~o~o~o~



The king rose from his chair. Sunlight filled the giant room and sent kaleidoscopic beams of color across the ice walls of Silbern.  He walked across the glistening floor with new strength in his limbs and a deep gratitude in his broad chest for those who had died before this dawn of the second day of war.

Time for a change of clothes, a light breakfast, an assessment of the day’s impending battles.

But when the king turned the corner into the large alcove that served as a dressing room, he saw that the royal bed was occupied.

Haschwalth and the prince lay on top of the sheets, nude, their uniforms in disarray around them except for two pristine white capes, each hung carefully from either post at the foot of the bed.  Haschwalth lay on his back and on the gold fan of his own long hair One of his arms was stretched across the width of the bed, and the prince’s head lay on the arm as if on a pillow, his slender body curled towards Haschwalth’s form.

The prince was cold.  His blue-white legs were goose-pimpled, but there was still a sheen of sweat on his body. Semen had dried in dull patches on his belly.

Haschwalth’s body was very like the prince’s--the same refined bone structure, the elongated fingers and toes, the muscles like whips under smooth hairless skin. But the two plates of the scale were not even. Haschwalth was larger, if only because Uryuu was not yet fully grown.  Haschwalth’s hair stole all the sunbeams in the room, created the illusion of a corona around his sleeping face, and made his presence dominant. The prince lay on his side, his black hair covering his face, his silver glasses set on the nightstand next to the tall decanter of oil.

It’s no wonder they have not noticed my presence. Sex steals the senses. It sends the strongest men to sleep.

           ;            &n bsp;             ;            &n bsp;    ~0~0~0~0~0~

A half an hour earlier, the hand which Haschwalth had held in a threatening gesture against the door next to the prince’s head had relaxed, sliding an arm’s length down the icy panel. Haschwalth had pulled his face away from the prince’s face and said in a resigned voice, “The sun is about to rise. His Majesty will awaken.”

There had been genuine confusion in Ishida Uryuu’s blue eyes. Haschwalth was wary of the intelligence in those eyes, wary of whatever plans the king’s chosen successor could be devising towards the fate of all Quincy, but this morning those eyes were young and afraid. The prince’s breath, unlike the breath of any other Quincy who walked the halls of the ice palace, could be seen in a bright cloud before his face. It was the breath of a human still warm from the Land of the Living.

Haschwalth had lowered his face again to the prince’s cheek and whispered. “His Majesty rises with the sun. We don’t have much time.”

Haschwalth opened his mouth and took the prince’s ear into it, as if sucking on wasanbon.
          & nbsp;           &nbs p;            & nbsp;           &nbs p;            & nbsp;  ~0~

Ishida Uryuu jolted as if struck by a weapon. His first instinct, though, was to draw closer to Haschwalth’s body.

What game is Haschwalth playing? What is he still hiding and … and …. if all Quincy are connected, then what is THIS? What does he GET from me?

The open-mouth kisses Haschwalth was pressing against Ishida’s jaw were not like ones before. The man’s caresses during Ishida’s training and after the initiation had been tentative, gentle, not desperate and hard like this. Ishida could feel teeth. He could feel an urgency. And when Haschwalth pressed Ishida against the door and kissed his mouth, Ishida felt the absence of a request--here was a demand to share the horrible burden Haschwalth had forced on Ishida moments ago. That they were brothers in their fate, that Quincy lived and died for the soul of their king, that peace was a lie and all war was perpetuated so that the king could stay awake.

The pressure of their bodies pushed the door ajar. Haschwalth grabbed Ishida’s upper arm. “Inside.”

“But his Majesty will hear,” Ishida whispered.

“Then let this be a test of your fortitude, soldier,” said Haschwalth, and he ushered Ishida past a vast expanse of palace floor and where the king sat sleeping in his chair to the alcove with the large bed.

Of the few things Ishida knew to be true, one was that Haschwalth’s advances were always irresistible. Maybe anywhere else but in this palace of shadows and sacrifices Ishida could have resisted, but here Haschwalth touched all parts of Ishida that were missing something or someone. Here, the sensei who had died, the father who had disapproved, the mother who would never return could be defied in the rush of facing this slim, stern Quincy presence, this Stern Ritter who insisted on tactile acknowledgement. Haschwalth’s hands always said “touch me back, touch me back.”

Ishida could feel Haschwalth’s hands in their gloves as they pressed through Ishida’s clothes, clutching his shoulders and running down his spine, as if sculpting a body or trying to redefine Ishida’s true identity.

Haschwalth was quicker at removing his own clothes.  He deftly tipped Ishida backwards onto the sheets and unbuttoned what was left of the prince’s uniform. He then bit Ishida on the neck.

Ishida didn’t cry out, but he felt the blood dribble warmly across his own cold flesh. It was freezing in Silbern. If there was something more malignant to this biting ritual that he hadn’t been told about, he didn’t care; for some reason his own blood felt like a balm.
Then Haschwalth’s mouth moved, laving with abandon across Ishida’s chest, until it reached a nipple and inhaled the flesh all around, nursing fiercely.

Ishida’s fingers grabbed fistfuls of the sheets.

It was some time before Ishida was conscious of anything else but electrifying waves of heat and joy.  When Haschwalth’s face left Ishida’s chest, the sweat there turned cold. The ravaged nipple throbbed. What is he doing now?  He was rubbing some of that strange oil on himself, without care, as if for the sake of rubbing, on his own abdomen and thighs as well as his predominant member, which however engorged and ridiculous-looking as all sexual close-ups seemed to Ishida, was somehow as long and poised as Haschwalth-san himself.  It shone with a refined paleness covered in the oil, this substance that Ishida knew from experience evaporated quickly, left no stain on the sheets, and carried pleasure with a rolling burning slowness like lava traveling across a doomed city.

“Who are you?” Haschwalth hissed as he pressed his oily crotch against Ishida’s. “Are you a boy or are you a man?”

“The king’s successor,” whispered Ishida. “I am the king’s successor.”

“Then prove it. Fuck me.”
                       &nb sp;                         &nb sp;                   ~0~

Haschwalth narrowed his eyes as his soldier rose to the challenge and pushed against Haschwalth’s chest with one palm. He had scarcely parted his legs before Ishida was inside. Clever boy. Inexperienced but he thinks he can distract me. Ishida was struggling to angle himself into the right position, and in the meantime had cupped Haschwalth’s arousal and was pumping with deliberation.

“Ah, there.” Haschwalth rewarded his pupil with a throaty sigh when Ishida found the right spot.  At the same time, he reached forward to touch the wound on Ishida’s neck. The king would not approve of any damage to the prince’s skin.

Haschwalth healed the mark, feeling at the same time a sharp pain in his own neck. His hand moved next to Ishida’s swollen nipple and covered it, sending restoring vibrations through the bruised flesh. His own nipple felt chewed and pleasured. He tossed his head back and rubbed Ishida’s chest in rhythm with the first slow movements of Ishida’s hips.

Who are you? When the nipple was healed, Haschwalth could think better, and his hand stroked the Quincy scar that flared dark red along with other blushes rising on the prince’s upper body. Someone shot you with a Quincy arrow to the right of your heart to restart your powers. How …. How insignificant. His Majesty has sped his own blood directly to your heart to start your powers.

As the pace increased, Haschwalth noted the prince’s control even as sweat stuck black bangs to his forehead. Those blue eyes that Haschwalth didn’t trust were wide open, deep like wells and catching the light of morning filling the room. The prince’s shoulders didn’t droop--he held them back with athletic grace, and he breathed with the same measured grace, puffs of white escaping his panting mouth.

Haschwalth felt an odd majesty in Ishida Uryuu’s presence. The boy was the prince after all, but … ?

Our father loves us, but he will never let us free. Can you save us? Can you save us?

Haschwalth felt his orgasm approaching as if someone had dropped an unrolled carpet in another room and the carpet was running like a flaming path towards some inevitable throne of truth.

Uryuu, who are you?

The prince climaxed first, his eyes finally closing and his lips forming silent sobs. Haschwalth clenched his thighs tight around him and followed.

There was a flash of sunshine through the windows, a draft of icy wind across the bed, and the prince fell into Haschwalth’s arms.

                       &nb sp;                         &nb sp;    ~0~0~0~0~0~

“I awoke moments too late,” the king spoke in an ordinary voice, and the sleeping figures in his bed startled awake. “I missed a performance.”

Haschwalth had bolted upright. He pressed one eye with the heel of his palm. “Sorry. So sorry, your Majesty. We were not invited here.”  His other hand was resting on the prince’s head, stroking the hair in a reassuring way. The prince had risen on one elbow--eyelashes fluttering, limbs trembling from the cold.

“You were on duty while I slept and may do as you please,” said the king. “Now it is time for my pleasure.” He turned his gaze to the prince who was hastily composing himself. “It is a good morning, Uryuu. Are you well?”

The prince’s hand scrambled for his glasses and could not find them. “Haschwalth-san said that you imprinted a letter in my soul when I drank your blood. Is that true?”

“Always with the questions.” The king sat on the foot of the bed. “You and I have not had intimate time together since the night of your initiation because you can’t handle my strength, but here, come take off my boots. You look cold. I’ll show you another way to drink of me.”

The prince pulled himself to a sitting position and couldn’t hide the involuntary shudder of his shoulders.

“It’s all right,” the king said. “It will make you warm like me. My body is warm and dense with so many souls. Come, drink of me.”

Haschwalth turned to take note of the prince’s expression. Uryuu’s eyes widened with understanding and his lips parted.  

Every son defies his father at some point. I keep waiting for you to refuse me.

“It will be all right,” the king went on. “If Haschwalth didn’t teach you, all you have do is open your mouth and I will move inside it.” The king put out his hand in a beckoning gesture. “Allow me to nourish you.”

The prince blinked. “Yes, your Majesty.”  

“Here.” The king’s fingers curled. “Come.”

And Ishida Uryuu rose, naked, from the bed to the task of pulling of the king’s boots and taking off the king’s clothes.

This too is part of your path. You will not out-smart me, Uryuu. Your plans will melt inside my knowledge of a thousand years.


Das Ende