Chapter Text
Toshiro was a unique person. He was strong, a child prodigy that was the youngest to ever become a captain in the gotei 13. He was closed off, and didn't enjoy opening up to people. Ichigo was a unique case himself. He had become a permanent soul reaper, an important member of the gotei 13 that was valued and obsessed over, but Toshiro didn't seem to care too much. In public, at least.
Something important to remember about the soul society was that different people took on different forms, their spirits each having their own classification. It was.. an odd thing to get used to. Ichigo had been interested in the white haired shinigami since his time as a human, but only when he became a permanent member of the soul society did he realize something was different about Toshiro.
As a human, the scent he caught from Toshiro was nothing special, a hint of what smelled like cologne and clean laundry. As a soul.. He felt like he was seeing Toshiro in a whole new light. The subtle scent radiating off of him increased tenfold, the undertones of pine and fresh snow spiking into something more. It was intimidating, almost, the scent of a winter blizzard mixed with fresh melons and green grass clogging his nose. He welcomed that smell, especially now.
They had been together for the better part of a human year, their touches always gentle and slow, but Toshiro seemed to reach the end if his patience. Ichigo's back hit the futon underneath him, words barely having time to leave his lips before his were met with his partner's. Ichigo wasn't helpless, not at all, but underneath his omega, he felt weak.
They had discussed spending cycles together beforehand. Ichigo had been in soul society for some time, but the lessons on dynamics had almost always passed over his head. "How will I know when it starts?" He asked when laying in bed with Toshiro one night, only receiving a piercing stare in response to his ignorance. A sheepish smile got him an answer. "trust me, you'll know."
And he knew.
Toshiro was a strong person. He was a captain, someone to be feared for their strength, and Ichigo knew that, which was why he wasn't surprised to find out someone classified as 'submissive' was able to keep him so utterly helpless and smitten.
"What?" Toshiro had gruffed out, throat hoarse from dehydration, body glistening with sweat as he sat on top of his partner. His fair skin had flushed to a pink tone, sweat dripping from his neck down to his collarbone. Even with his top off, he still felt painfully hot and too covered, the fine white hairs of his pubic area exposed as he shuffled out of his pants.
And Ichigo stared. "What are you looking at?" Toshiro sighed, unable to ignore it after some time. He paused when a hand came up to stroke his cheek, brushing sweat slick hair from his eyes and stopping to cup at his jaw. Leaning into the delicate touch, he closed his eyes, only to have them shoot open again at the words he heard.
"You're beautiful. And I want to breed you."