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Kira had just been transferred as Third Division Vice-Captain when Captain Ichimaru's hands first touched him.

Since that day, he remembers a confused mix of sensations. The warm voice of captain Aizen wishing everything well between his two former subordinates. His pride when he fastened his Vice-Captain insignia. Hinamori-kun's congratulations, and his hope to be up to the new expectations assigned to him. And then came the resentful thought "I'm not Hinamori-kun, who just wants to be patted on the head like a little girl" when the third division Captain raised his hand to his head, smiling.

Then, there had been nothing else in the world other than Captain Ichimaru's touch - his fingers which brushed his hair before ghosting over his cheek, so lightly that Kira shouldn't have felt it. There had been a shiver through his whole body, elicited by those cold fingers. There had been the shadow of a threat - the feeling that at any time, those nails could have pierced his skin. Those fingers could have tightened around his throat - and although they did not, Kira did feel a lack of air, his breath quickening.

When the touch was broken, he was able to think again and convinced himself that his fears were totally inappropriate and ridiculous from a Vice-Captain. He swore he was not to cause trouble with his work for personal reasons, and tried to put his face and thoughts in order.

Yet, there were Captain Ichimaru's hands which didn't touch him anymore, but they waved in the air like they were alive, like they were intending to break something, or perhaps just had. Kira couldn't take his eyes off of them.

And he didn't. Not since then.

He sometimes stole glances at them while Captain Ichimaru was looking elsewhere. Those slender, elegant, inexplicably disturbing hands. Those long, slim fingers. Occasionally they contracted or suddenly seemed more snake-like than they should when Captain Ichimaru moved, and Kira shuddered again, almost like that time...

Then he blushed and looked away, not because it was unpleasant, only because he felt it was strange and improper. It wasn't unpleasant... was it? Then why did he feel so awkward? He even caught himself regretting that he was unable to love that sensation, that he hadn't savoured every part of it.

He caught himself wishing Captain Ichimaru would lay his long hands on him one more time.

Contrary to the rest of his wishes, it did happen.

He was late for work one day for the first time since he had started at his position. He bowed down with shame, mumbling apologies. Captain Ichimaru swore it wasn't a serious fault and put his hand on Kira's neck in a gesture which was half-reprimand and half-caress.

Kira shivered again, feeling a burning pain running from his neck through every part of his body, and he longed for Captain Ichimaru to sink his nails into his neck. To pull his hair - anything which could make this contact last longer... intimate - anything which would make him feel it was more than just a fleeting feeling. He wanted to understand what was true and definitive, and the meaning of the strange feeling he received when he was in his place under those hands.

But it didn't happen, of course. Kira could have sworn that Captain Ichimaru had been smirking, and a shameful blush reddened his forehead. Of course, these kinds of desires were ridiculous and not normal. When Captain Ichimaru's hand left him, he painfully remembered it, but it didn't burn him any less.

And when he looked at his Captain's hands long enough, Kira could feel them touching him again. He begins to sweat at the thought of the illusory touch, even if it is in no way the same.

One day, he arrived late on purpose and horribly embarrassed with his own actions, but Captain Ichimaru greeted him without special attention.

He should have already understood that it was impossible to foresee his Captain's reactions. He was sometimes considerate and generous, just as often as he could be cruel. It didn't even seem to depend on his mood, rather than on a sort of providence as mysterious and beyond understanding as he was - as frightening as he was, as appealing as he was.

Once Kira let himself go with secretly watching those hands again - he tried to refrain himself, but it had been months... it had been too long - and he looked up to see Captain Ichimaru watching him, smiling.

When Ichimaru's eyes met Kira's, his smile grew larger and Kira felt he was falling deeper and deeper as his Captain approached him, grinning and unfathomable. That hand raised at him again, those fingers moving like snakes - like bonds. Kira felt his body tense, his spirit abandon every coherent thought, his breathing quicken... but Captain Ichimaru just lightly touched his cheek, just near his lips, before leaving him again.

Something broke in Kira. He couldn't hold still.

He kneeled and took Captain Ichimaru's hands in his own and buried his face into them, he pressed his lips against them and kissed them frantically. And like the other times, the natural shame he should have been feeling was burned, annihilated by this contact. Captain Ichimaru did not draw back his hands, and because of this Kira was convincing himself that he was just dreaming. All of this couldn't be true, nor his actual position nor the feeling of completion he felt while holding these hands against his face.

Then Captain Ichimaru laughed. A little laughter, just before he spoke; "Seems like you're ready, Kira-kun."

Kira did not understand, but at this point he didn't need understanding - just to feel Captain Ichimaru's fingers, the waves of pleasure, of fear they sent to his face. To lean in them, gasping. To drown in them... "Yes, Captain," he said without thinking.

And then Captain Ichimaru's hands glided against his face, his lips, his cheeks, lingering on his throat. Even if this contact was not quite hard enough - not quite perfect - he had never been so complete, so intimate. Kira felt like there was nothing else in his life, and he really must be dreaming because it wasn't like him at all to think and act like this.

Then the hands locked around his throat and started tightening.

And the dream devoured him.