S+M - Part Nine
Apr. 14th, 2010 01:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_crowTitle: Smoke and Mirrors [Part Nine]
Pairing: Akon x Grimmjow
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing, gayness
Beta: The lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gypsygrrl420 who was kind enough to read this bad boy for me, and help me clean all my messy typos and shitty sentence structure. You know how much I appreciated it, bb! I also thank xglimpsex for the read through and awesome feedback :D
← Part Eight
The water is warm against my aching body, sliding in rivulets over torn and battered flesh. I tip my head back and close my eyes, offering my face to the showerhead above me. The pressure is harsh but not unwelcome, relief soaking through my pores. I already cleaned the dried blood and come from my body, even took the time to wash my hair, which is something I rarely do. Now I'm content to just stand here, pelted with wet heat.
When I woke up earlier Grimmjow hadn't been in his room. I was tangled alone in the sheets of his futon, but I hadn't been surprised to find him gone. Instead I just closed my eyes and tried to melt further into the mattress, inhaling deeply and smelling the scent of our sex. There'd been an underlying trace of the Sexta's own aroma, curling beneath heavy trails of sweat and dried come. I liked it enough that I was tempted to lay there all day and just breathe, drawing on his smell the way that I draw on my cigarettes. But I knew that I still had work to do that couldn't be ignored, so eventually I dragged my ass out of his bed to get dressed.
The ache in my backside had been immediate, and even now it persists. That had been another thing I wasn't surprised by, because it'd been a while since I'd been fucked so roughly. Not that I was complaining, far from it. I could easily grit my teeth against the painful aftermath, so as long as I had the memory of that immense pleasure, and a feeling that there was plenty more where it'd come from.
I had pulled my uniform on carefully, then took my time bending over to dig the pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of my lab coat. I left the ruined article of clothing in his room before leaving, leisurely noticing that the hallways were quieter than usual. On my way past Kira Izuru's office I stole a glimpse inside, only to find it empty. It made me curious, and I had to wonder if the blond captain being gone had anything to do with the blue-haired Arrancar. I briefly considered asking one of the other members of Third, but decided against it while making my way out. I figured that I'd find out eventually, and I still wanted to keep my interest in Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to a minimum while in public.
So here I am now, back in my own division and washing away the events of last night. Naturally, the Twelfth has showers for its members, in case one of us should get some deadly substance on us that needs to be washed off immediately. I also like to keep extra uniforms here for that reason; either because my clothes were destroyed during the aforementioned situation, or simply to change because they got soiled with someone's body fluids.
Rubbing the warm water over my body one final time, I exhale slowly before reaching out to turn the dial. The small, tiled room goes quiet without the sound of pattering droplets. I grab a towel to dry myself off, working it over my hair roughly and stepping into the next room. I grab the fresh uniform that I left sitting on a bench and start pulling it on, still cautious of the pain that comes with any movement that's too swift. The sigh from my mouth is something between annoyance and sluggish acceptance. When I'm finally fully dressed, and with a new, unsullied lab coat, I stick a cigarette in my mouth and head outside into one of the laboratories.
Kurotsuchi-taichou is there, like I thought he'd be. He doesn't do anything to acknowledge my presence, his attention on a large column that stretches from floor to ceiling. The green fluid that fills it glows faintly in the dimly lit room. I approach the older scientist unhurriedly, watching him beneath lowered lids as I light the white stick between my lips. There is a figure floating inside the jar, its skin stained a murky gray from the liquid that it's immersed in. One of the other Arrancar he'd brought back from Hueco Mundo, though this specimen had already been dead on arrival.
Leaning against a steel lab table, I exhale smoke through my nose and watch as my captain's long fingers move over a keypad positioned in front of the vessel. He still hasn't done anything to indicate that he's even noticed me, and my mind wanders in the silence stretching between us. Since waking up I've thought off and on about how my captain may react to what's happened in the past twenty-four hours. Of course I've considered that he might punish me for letting Grimmjow know about that surveillance bacteria..
I tilt my head slightly as I continue watching the other man, taking another long drag of my cigarette and, glancing around slowly for an ash tray. When I don't see one anywhere in sight, I turn my gaze to my captain's back, then tap my cigarette as discretely as I can, hoping that he won't notice the ash on the floor.
There's an even longer, drawn-out silence as I look from the painted scientist to the Arrancar inside the jar. Its eyes are closed and it's naked, with endless incisions stitched along its body. They look like roads drawn on a map, detailing every inch of my captain's journey as he studied the creature from the inside out. The Arrancar's hollow hole is centered in the middle of its chest, and staring through it makes me think of Grimmjow. Tracing the curves of that crevice with my eyes, I think of tracing the Sexta's hole with my fingers.
I also think that it could be him in that jar, dead and desecrated.
Ashing my cigarette for a second time, I stare at my captain's back. "How long do you want to keep going with the study?" I ask him outright, returning the cancer stick to my mouth so I can suck on the end of it. Kurotsuchi-taichou stays quiet for a lengthy moment, his stark-white fingers still flying over the keypad.
"For as long as I'm interested," he finally states, in his unconcerned drawl. I don't say anything in response and simply stare, waiting for him to add more as I roll the cigarette between my teeth. The rhythmic tick that his fingers create suddenly ceases, and then the man is looking over his shoulder with a toothy smile.
"And the Espada is very interesting."
I quirk a hairless brow and feel torn between a faint frown, and a dryly amused smirk. My mouth decides for me, curling at the corner before my brain's caught up with the action. I'm not exactly sure why I should be smirking over my captain's attentiveness to the man I'm fucking. I guess because for the moment it's fairly innocent, and I say that because I know that Kurotsuchi Mayuri is capable of far worse than keeping visual tabs on the former Espada.
Not to mention the fact that it doesn't look like he wants to penalize me for letting Grimmjow know.
"Why do you think that?" I question after a minute, feeling the paper burn close to my fingers as I suck more nicotine down my throat. Kurotsuchi-taichou pivots and heads straight for me, his golden eyes unblinking, sharp gaze burrowing into my own. That kind of penetrating scrutiny from a man such as himself would have most shinigami shaking in their waraji; but I just tilt my head slightly, inquisitive.
"Take that off," he orders, unyielding eyes never leaving my face. My brows arch faintly, but I simply nod and put my cigarette on the table, before pulling my lab coat over my head. I drape it over the table and then grip the edge of my shihakushou, waiting for more instructions. My captain merely stares at me, his expression unchanging. I take that to mean he wants me to continue, so I pull my kosode and shitagi apart, freeing my arms from the sleeves and letting the material fall around my waist.
With my torso bared to him, I ready myself for the inevitable inspection. His cold hand grabs hold of my arm to pull me closer, and his other hand goes to my jaw, gripping it firmly as he tilts my head up. I let my eyes go to the ceiling and feel the heat of his gaze on my neck, no doubt cataloging the various bruises. Then he lets go of both my chin and arm, and I feel the press of his fingers against the scratches along my ribs. His touch is chilly but surprisingly soft, almost chalky from the paint he uses, dried to feel like baby powder. The lab itself is already cold enough, and that coupled with his invasive study of my naked torso has my hair rising, skin prickling with barely noticeable bumps. His hand curls around my waist and pushes roughly, forcing me to turn around. I grip the edge of the metal lab table, holding onto it lazily while his fingers skim over my back.
"It wishes to test me, when it is the testee."
That followed by a jeering chortle, the sound of it unpleasant, and for obvious reasons. My captain thinks that Grimmjow is challenging him and he's amused by it. A very threatening sign if I've ever witnessed one.
"He'd gloat over anything," I mumble, attempting to diffuse the scientist's dangerous enjoyment as nonchalantly as possible. I'm vaguely aware of him pulling at the ties that hold my hakama in place, loosening them so he can tug the black apparel down. I tap my finger against the table quietly, using it as a distraction from the probing around the crack of my ass.
"And you seem to enjoy it," Kurotsuchi-taichou replies, his cold finger passing over my entrance. He wants to assess the damage Grimmjow did in that area, that much is apparent. I turn my head slowly to see him over my shoulder, meeting a narrowed gaze and disturbing grin. "What did I tell you about developing emotional attachments to test subjects?" he asks, while shoving what feels like two fingers deep inside of me. My knees want to buckle under the abrupt intrusion, nails biting into the underside of the table as I try to keep myself steady. I exhale a strained breath, then widen my arms and shift my hips in an attempt to get used to it.
"I've always been honest with you,Taichou . I've known you too long to lie -- effectively." I add the last word with some humor, looking at the older man again, my lashes lowered. His eyes narrow even farther and his grin turns to a sternly drawn line. I just smirk faintly, gaze languid.
"He's more your test subject than mine. It started as a study for me, and now it's straightforward fucking."
My captain sneers at me, "tsk"ing in a way that sounds like a hiss. He twists his hand and crooks his fingers, sending a jab of pain racing up my spine. I grunt throatily and lean against the table, vision gone a little hazy.
"Disgusting, Akon. Disgusting! What pathetic swine, to think that I actually expected better from you. He, you say? It is nothing more than a lowly half-breed. Its only value is dissection."
"That isn't true, he's also good for fucking," I manage, with a wheeze of a laugh. "And you know that he's male, Taichou. He has all the parts to prove it."
The older scientist makes another revolted sound, extracting his fingers and wiping them on my back. He pushes me around so I'm facing him, yellow eyes incredibly hard. I brave his cross stare and rectify my hakama, uncaring of the fact that he never said he was done with his examination. But even as I secure the ties once more, I leave the top half of my uniform undone.
"Why are you doing this, Mayuri-sama?" I ask him seriously, using a more intimate way of addressing him. Normally I go with the simplest "Kurotsuchi-taicho" -- because I can't be bothered with anything else -- but in moments like this I like to call him by "Mayuri-sama." It's my way of saying that it's just me and him; that I want things to be honest and personal. His unkind stare becomes lazy and void beneath drooping lids, painted lips drawn over yellow teeth in a grimace.
"You said that he's only good for dissection? If that's what you really think then why are you watching him? You already got a look at his insides, the scars on his body are a testament to that."
Brows furrowing indistinctly, I stare into his golden eyes with growing curiosity.
"You're studying his behavior, Taichou. You're interested in the things he does. This is a psychological study to you, now, and not just a biological one."
"You've only now just realized that?" Eyes blazing, my captain continues between gritted teeth. "You ought to cut out your tongue so as not to embarrass yourself further."
His hand shoots out incredibly fast, grabbing me by the throat and yanking me forward. I stagger a little and out of reflex I reach out, gripping his upper arm to catch my balance. The fingers of his other hand rest under my chin, and his thumb presses against my mouth, prying my lips apart. I taste his skin as he pushes past my teeth, the pad of his thumb coarse and its flavor bitter with traces of what's around the lab. His fingers dig into my throat as he pulls my tongue from my mouth, stretching it to a point that it starts to hurt.
"The Arrancar distracts you this well? I have no use for scientists who let themselves be so easily sidetracked, Akon."
My eyes narrow faintly, but I don't make any attempt to dislodge myself from my captain's grasp. A smile starts to creep over his face, and I feel the long nail of his middle finger scrapping along the underside of my tongue.
"Of course I'm studying its behavior, you wretched fool."
The last word is spat at me, the man's golden eyes ablaze with sinister intent as he grins madly.
"If I'm to understand every facet of the Arrancar, I cannot limit myself to their physiology alone. I must dissect their thinking as well, the way that they process things mentality."
His nail is unrelenting, and I really think that he's prepared to pierce the wet muscle and rip it out. But then he lets go and shoves me back, into the lab table so it scrapes across the floor with a grating sound. I just swallow to work moisture into my dry mouth, moving my tongue around my teeth to remind myself that it's still intact.
"If it wasn't for my 'distraction' you wouldn't be able to study him at all, Taichou," I tell him, holding his attention with a level gaze. "It's my interest in him that gives you a front row seat to everything he does. So, the thing you're so disapproving of is really your golden ticket."
The withering look of his face should be enough to kill me where I stand, like the poison of his zanpakutou. Thankfully it isn't, and I busy myself with putting my arms through the sleeves of my shihakushou, then readjusting the folds. "I don't mean any disrespect, Mayuri-sama. Just know that whatever 'attraction' I have for Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez won't get in the way of my work. I'll perform at my best and deliver whatever you need. You don't have to worry about that."
The older man is quiet for a long moment, simply staring at me with those unnerving eyes. The paint on his face and the elaborate headgear shield him like a mask, and it's times like this that drive me crazy with ambiguity. For as long as we've known each other he's never told me anything of his life before the Maggot's Nest. Sometimes I want to take a wet cloth and rub it over his stitched skin, to peel away all the white and black; to strip him bare before looking into his eyes and asking him for his story.
"Worry? I'm not familiar with the term," he mutters, upper lip arched derisively over yellow teeth. "If I find something displeasing I dispose of it. Make yourself an annoyance, Akon, and you'll be the one I gut and bottle next."
With an empty look in his eyes he turns, arms hanging by his sides as he walks away. I watch the slump of his shoulders under the weight of his head, silently contemplating what it is I should say. Shadows spring forth lethargically as he nears the doorway, trying to swallow his waning form. Before he's out of my sight completely I sigh under my breath, then mumble my assent loud enough for him to hear.
"Hai, Taichou."
I want to make an active example of the promise I made to him. The lab that I'm working in is deathly quiet, save for the muffled sound of water that bubbles sluggishly. I'm standing over a naked female gigai, staring down at her lifeless face as I thread gloved fingers between her lips. Normally I'd be sitting for a task as simple as this, but as of right now my ass is still too sore. I feel over each individual tooth slowly, then pry her jaw open so I can touch the underside of her molars. I can't remember who ordered this particular gigai, but that isn't important. The only thing I need to concern myself with is completing the final tests before sending it off. I've done this hundreds of times, and it's become such a deeply ingrained routine that I could do it in my sleep.
When I'm through examining her teeth I trace my fingers over her slim face and crack her eyelids open. The irises have rolled back, unresponsive but clear. Once I've finished with the physical inspection I can put some soul candy inside her, to make sure that her muscles are in working order.
"I really don't know how you do this all day."
Glancing up, my eyes dart to my left, searching for that unexpected voice. I'm surprised to see the ninth division captain walking towards me, a look of discomfort written on his face as he eyes the naked gigai lying on the table.
"It looks too much like a corpse," Hisagi mumbles, crossing bare arms over a white clad chest. I just smirk faintly and reach for her forearm, lifting it into the air and moving her wrists so her hand bobs.
"You think so? It'd be a really clean corpse, if you ask me. No cuts; no bruises; no anything. How'd she die? Let's come up with a story for her."
The other man's dark eyes are fixated on the gigai's limp hand, a barely there grimace twisting his mouth. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and laughs tightly.
"That's so morbid, Akon."
"You're the one who brought it up," I chuckle in return.
Lowering her arm back to the table, I lean against its metal edge and pull my gloves off slowly. "I'm surprised that you're here, Hisagi. You never visit the Twelfth."
The scarred captain nods minutely, the fingers of his right hand scratching near his left elbow. He looks a little unsure, or maybe it's plain uneasiness. His spares the gigai one more glimpse, before meeting my gaze with his own.
"I've been waiting for you for half an hour, so I decided to come find you."
My brow arching, I toss my gloves in the trash and wipe my hands over my lab coat. "Waiting? I didn't know you were expecting me."
"I came by earlier today. You weren't here but your captain... I told him to let you know that I'd be waiting for you in my office."
I stare at the other man for a moment, expressionless. Then the corner of my mouth is curling as I laugh. "You didn't believe him, did you?"
Hisagi heaves a sigh, smiling just barely. He runs a hand through his dark hair and his eyes droop so they're nearly shut. "Not really. But I'd rather not argue with someone like Kurotsuchi-taichou, and I'd rather not wander around Twelfth. So I just accepted it and left."
"It's really not so bad here, you know."
"Maybe to a scientist like yourself."
I notice that the ninth division captain goes back to crossing his arms, signaling that he's serious about not liking it here. I really can't blame him, not many people outside of our division are comfortable inside the dark laboratories of the Twelfth. Tilting my head slightly, I move so I'm standing between him and the lab table, blocking his view of the gigai as I lean back with my hands gripping the cold metal.
"Why did you want to see me, Hisagi?"
The other man shrugs his shoulders easily, looking into my eyes with a soft, weary smile. "To talk. They took the Arrancar this morning to remove the reiatsu limiter. Did you know that?"
At those unexpected words my eyes widen a fraction, hairless brow knit. "You're kidding me."
"No," Hisagi says, shaking his head. "He's really lucky that Ukitake-san is the new Soutaichou. If Yamamoto were still here..."
"He'd have been thrown into the Maggot's Nest," I finish, cocking an eyebrow. The scarred shinigami nods his agreement, looking up at me with his slanted eyes and faintly furrowed brows.
"Do you think it's wise, Akon? You seem to know him well."
Arching my brow again, I reach into my pocket for a cigarette. "You want to know if I think it's safe to nix the collar?" Hisagi just nods. I stick the smoke in my mouth and purse my lips, thinking to myself quietly as I light the end.
"I can't say. I guess we'll know when we do -- or don't -- find dead shinigami scattered everywhere."
"Akon."
I glance at the smaller man's unamused face, taking the time to pull a deep drag. Then I pinch the cigarette between my fingers and remove it, smirking at Hisagi while I exhale, blowing a silver plume of smoke in his direction. "You're so serious all the time, Hisagi." Pointing at him with the two fingers securing my cancer stick, I lean closer. "You need a drink."
"I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bar with me tonight, actually."
Staring at Hisagi, I pause in bringing the cigarette back to my mouth. "You want me to go drinking with you?"
The tattooed shinigami nods, the corner of his mouth quirking in what looks like droll amusement. "I don't know how to ask you any plainer."
I'm about to respond when I notice something moving in the open doorway. I glance past Hisagi's dark-haired head, spying my captain as he advances. His steps are swift and vulturine, golden eyes practically glowing as he stares at the ninth's back. He looks like a crazed ghoul gliding towards us, and Hisagi must realize that something is up by the direction of my gaze, because he suddenly turns his head to see over his shoulder. When he finds my captain standing directly behind him -- with mere inches keeping them apart -- he mutters a short (and faintly startled) "Shit."
"Hisagi Shuuhei," Kurotsuchi greets, his mouth curling to form a slow grin. "Twice in one day. Exactly what are you up to with my researcher?"
The scarred captain steps sideways, repositioning himself so he's facing both of us while we face each other. The movement looked calm and fluid, but I've known him long enough to sense the disquiet coiling inside of him. He folds his arms behind his back, one hand gripping the opposite wrist.
"I've had to come twice because he never showed. You didn't tell him that I'd be waiting for him like you said you would, Kurotsuchi-taichou."
Golden eyes are baleful as my eccentric captain steps closer to Hisagi, closing the distance that the younger man tried to gain. "Oh? Is that what you said earlier? I wouldn't recognize anything from your mouth unless they were screams of pain and terror."
I watch behind the filter of smoke from my cigarette, intent on their intimate exchange. Hisagi appears to be as rapt as I feel, staring fixedly at my captain, his jaw tense. His sloe-eyed gaze starts to drift towards me, then darts back when a long, dark fingernail raps just below his maimed eye.
"How is this working after all these years, Hisagi Shuuhei? It has to be problematic in a battle. We could fix that for you."
"It's functioning just fine."
The younger of the two steps away quickly, moving around my captain and striding for the door. His white haori billows around him, and he pauses just long enough to send me a look over his shoulder. "Are we on?"
I smile faintly and nod.
"Good. You know where to find me."
Hisagi offers one final smile, the gesture not touching his eyes completely. Then he disappears around the corner, leaving me alone with my captain. I glance at the older man, who is looking to the spot where Hisagi just stood.
"You really shouldn't say those kinds of things to him," I mumble, tapping my cigarette a few times over the trash can.
"Hisagi Shuuhei seems like a very private man."
Turning his unsettling gaze on me, he smiles menacingly. "How do you think he'd feel if he knew that someone he considered to be a 'friend' could record his every word?"
My mouth twitches, and Kurotsuchi-taichou's wide eyes narrow to threatening slits. "You won't tell him like you told the Espada."
The older man doesn't say anything else as he leaves, and I frown around my cigarette, glancing at the naked gigai while thinking of what my captain just said.
By the time I finish with the gigai and alert its requester by way of Hell Butterfly, night has fallen. I put everything away and clean the tables down, then switch the lights off and leave. Outside the air is surprisingly warm, a leisurely breeze wafting over Seireitei. There's still a good number of shinigami trailing the streets, and lights illuminate the buildings. I head for a bar that Hisagi and I have frequented throughout the years, located in a middle-class district near the Thirteenth. The building is two stories high with a wraparound porch on the uppermost level, paper lamps that glow a vibrant red dotting the overhang. The scarred captain is waiting for me outside like I expected, arms crossed lazily over his slim chest. When he sees me he smiles softly and waves me over. I crush my cigarette on the cobblestone pavement, then follow him as we enter the bar.
It's noisy inside, and busy. For me there's too many people in one place, but thankfully Hisagi secured us a private room. It's towards the back of the building, away from the main area and occupying a hallway that looks to have many other private rooms. He slides the shoji open and enters first, then shuts the screen door once I've followed him inside. The room is a decent size with saffron walls and dark tatami mats. The low table is also dark, lacquered black and with two cream colored pillows on either side. There's a bottle of sake and two bowls waiting for us, and I wonder briefly if it's been sitting there long.
Hisagi sits down easily enough, pushing his haori behind him and crossing his long legs. I try my hardest to position myself opposite him without it looking like I'm having difficulty. I must not get away with it, because the other man watches me more intently than usual, his scarred brow arching faintly. I just smirk at him wryly and settle on the pillow, crossing my legs loosely. He shakes his head with a soft smile, eyes downcast as he pours us both some sake.
"I thought that you might sleep with him."
Cocking an eyebrow, I take the cup he offers me. "Is that why you wanted to talk to me, Hisagi?"
The smaller man just shrugs his shoulders softly, looking at me as he takes a sip of his sake. "No, not necessarily. I just... I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week."
"What about?"
"The Arrancar."
Placing his cup on the polished tabletop, he holds the rim with just his fingertips, turning it in a slow circle with eyes downcast. I watch him in silence, drinking from my own bowl of sake as I wait for him to continue.
"I want to request a transfer to my division."
Eyes narrowed faintly, I set my cup down and lean forward on my elbows. I lace my fingers together underneath my jaw, and study the other man's face. He glances up and his expression is naturally unreadable, even if he doesn't mean it to be. He takes another sip of his sake, and his tongue skims his lower lip to collect a drop that escaped.
"But he's with the Third."
"That's why I want the transfer."
I furrow my brows a little, still staring at Hisagi as I reach for the sake bottle so I can refill his cup. "What's wrong with the Third?"
The scarred captain doesn't answer me right away, his dark irises at the corner of his eyes. He looks calm sitting there, a quiet force, like the still waters of a lake. But I'm not easily fooled, and I know from personal experience that beneath his seemingly composed surface, Hisagi Shuuhei is anything but stagnant.
"There's nothing wrong with the Third, it just isn't the right division for someone like Jaegerjaquez."
"I'll be straight with you, Hisagi. I don't know why you would care. Have you ever talked to him?"
"In passing when I visit Kira," he answers smoothly. Another drink, and it reminds me that I have my own cup of sake that's being ignored. But I'm more interested in what he's telling me, because I have a feeling that there's a lot more to this than he's letting on.
"The ideal place for someone like him would be the Eleventh. I've told Kira this but he insists that Jaegerjaquez is overqualified for a position there because their highest seats are occupied." Running a hand through his hair, Hisagi sighs softly and looks me in the eye. "I agree with him, even if I don't want to."
"I still don't understand why you want him moved. He's doing fine where he is right now. And I also don't understand why you're telling me."
The other shinigami chuckles quietly, eyes downcast again as he leans against the table on his forearms, the sake cup poised between both hands. "I'm not sure why I'm telling you either. You're easy to talk to?" Here he pauses, glancing up and smiling softly. "You also know the Espada better than I do. I guess I thought you could tell me about him, let me know if I'm right for wanting to do this, or out of my fucking mind."
"How sentimental," I comment, smirking with sarcastic humor. Hisagi just snorts softly, knocking the table with his knuckles.
"Stop, I'm being serious."
"Of course you are, you were born serious, Hisagi Shuuhei."
The ninth division captain stares at me and smiles faintly, but the look in his eyes suggests that he's tired of fucking around. I just exhale and reach for my sake cup, bringing it to my mouth for a drink. "If you're asking me if I think you can handle him..."
Trailing off, I make a face and suck air through my teeth. And to my mild surprise the scarred shinigami actually laughs; a genuine, heartfelt laugh that I've rarely heard since the ryoka invasion. "Fuck off. That isn't what I'm asking; I know I can handle him. What I'm curious about is this: do you think he's still an enemy of Soul Society?"
I tilt my head a little and look down at my sake bowl, reaching for the bottle so I can pour myself another drink. "Honestly? I don't know, Shuuhei. I'd like to say that he isn't, but I'm not inside his head. I can't be sure of how he thinks, or how he feels. I don't know if he's willing to align himself with us, or if he still plans on butchering shinigami whenever it suits his mood. Maybe you should ask him yourself? He likes things point-blank, and you'd probably gain his respect if you were up-front with him. But If you really plan on going through with this, you should know that you have to be firm. He likes to break rules and push the limits, so if you aren't at the top of your game he'll walk all over you."
"You don't have to warn me, I've already prepared myself for the inevitable headache."
Glancing up, I reach across the table for the other man's cup so I can fill it for him. I go silent as my mind computes the conversation that we're having. I question why the tattooed shinigami is really doing this, and then I imagine Grimmjow sitting in Hisagi's office, or trailing the scarred man during hollow missions. My thoughts eventually lead me to what Kurotsuchi-taichou told me earlier, and I frown to myself faintly. I realize that I shouldn't have come here, that I should have found a way to get out of it. Hisagi Shuuhei is talking to me in confidence, and he has no idea that the surveillance bacteria violates that. I feel like I'm lying to him somehow, and that doesn't sit well with me. There are very few people in my life that I care for, but the scarred man across from me is one of them. I want to tell him what's going on, but recalling my captain's last order stays my tongue, keeping it at the edge of my teeth.
"What's wrong, Akon?"
I remain silent and hand the sake bowl to Hisagi, feeling the brush of his calloused fingers against my own when he accepts it. The corner of my mouth curls faintly, and I shrug my shoulders while mumbling, "You'd understand if I said nothing."
Indistinct emotion ignites within his dark eyes, what looks to be mild suspicion and then...realization. He doesn't say anything as he takes a drink, but he looks away and his brows furrow minutely. It would seem to me that he's thinking about something deeply -- contemplating. I'm waiting for him to excuse himself now that he knows something isn't quite right, or if not to excuse himself, then to ask me to leave. But instead he just sets his cup down, his sloe-eyed gaze snaring mine.
"I'd like it if you came out with me more. You're always cooped up in those damned laboratories."
"You're one to talk," I counter, chuckling. "You're always cooped up in that damned office."
"At least my office isn't teeming with inanimate bodies and stitched corpses."
"Touché."
Hisagi smirks softly, looking pleased with himself. Strands of dark black fall over his eyes as he tilts his head and pours himself more sake. His hair has gotten longer since the war, and paired with the white of his haori, it's like looking at a throwback to his academy days. I look at the three scars and remember when he'd gotten them, and then I look at the sixty-nine tattoo and remember when he'd gotten that too.
"Don't get any ideas if Jaegerjaquez is transferred to your division," I tell the other shinigami, my mouth quirking. "I know you have a thing for men with crazy smiles and rough exteriors."
Pausing in his next drink, Hisagi's slim fingers tighten around the cup in his hand. He stares at me with slightly wide eyes, his expression blank, looking as if I caught him off guard. I can't allow him any time to recover, so I look at his tattoo pointedly. Then I arch a questioning brow, before meeting his gaze once more.
"When are you going to do something about that?"
The smaller man is quiet for longer than I expected. He stares at me for a moment -- inexpressive -- then shuts his eyes and tips his head back, downing what's left of his sake. When he's drained the cup of its contents he sets it on the table, exhaling quietly before he offers me a soft, reserved smile.
"I know where he is, and he knows where I am."
I take it that the twist of his mouth is meant to be untroubled, but his eyes are distant, and the tone of his voice is uncharacteristically detached. I simply stare at him and feel the beginnings of a frown, but before I can question him further there's a loud bang outside our shoji. Both of us look in that direction, and through the rice paper screen I see two shadows moving. Another bump against the door, followed by a familiar voice.
"Aba-- You're going to break something, get out of the way."
The shoji flies open abruptly, and the first thing I see is a large body with striking hair. My eyes go to the man's chest, his uniform open farther than it should be, a strong contrast between tanned flesh and ink-black tattoos. He stares into the room dumbly, looking from Hisagi, to me, and back again. With his sight trained on the scarred shinigami he grins broadly, clutching a bottle of sake as he throws his arm into the air.
"Hisagi-senpai!! See Kira, I told ya that senpai was gonna be here. Didn't wanna believe meeeee, but there he is, right there."
I can't help snorting a little, taking a drink to wash down a laugh. Even if the red-haired shinigami wasn't waving around a sake bottle, it'd be safe to assume that he's had too much to drink. There's a faint flush on his face, a light sheen of sweat on his skin, and all-in-all he looks pretty damn lively. I've seen him before with Hisagi, but I can't remember his name for the life of me. If the badge on his arm is anything to go by, though, he's the vice-captain of the Sixth Division.
As for that familiar voice I heard, the boisterous shinigami already announced it. The blond's head appears around the other man's arm, his expression bland and just a little annoyed.
"Yes, Abarai-kun. It looks like you were right about something -- for once," Kira comments, while giving his companion a good shove. The tattooed redhead stumbles over the step that leads into our room, but he's still all smiles as he saunters over. He plops down on the pillow beside Hisagi, setting his sake on the table and unfurling his fingers around two cups. Kira Izuru on the other hand wears his usual, somber look, brows stern despite the redness of his pale cheeks. He hangs in the doorway with his hand on the shoji, but he hasn't yet closed it.
"I hope we aren't disrupting anything?" he asks, sparing Hisagi and I a slow glance. I look to the scarred shinigami across from me, whose dark gaze is currently focused on the red-haired lieutenant.
"No, we were just talking. Sit down, Kira-san."
The blond nods, sliding the screen door shut behind him. He walks over and sits down beside me, pushing his haori back so it fans across the floor behind him. I can't see his face at this new angle, because his flaxen bang is blocking my view. But I do see his equally pale hands resting on the table, then extending forward to grab the cup that Abarai hands him.
"The Espada isn't with you," Hisagi states, staring at the third division captain. Even though Kira's face is hidden from me, I can imagine his small smile in this moment.
"No he isn't, how observant of you."
The darker of the two just frowns softly, his eyelids lowered as if to conceal something. "Shouldn't you be with him now that the reiatsu limiter is gone? He's capable of anything."
"I can't babysit him forever, Hisagi-san. I stayed with him the first few hours and he seemed to be adjusting perfectly fine. I'm sure he'll be alright on his own."
"Or maybe he was just waiting for the right opportunity, and now that he's alone he'll have one."
Kira just sighs softly, the sake cup at his mouth as he takes an exaggerated drink. My eyes start to wander towards Hisagi, but their attention is stolen by Abarai, who's watching me with slits for eyes. I cock my hairless brow, staring back at him with dry curiosity.
"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is the type of man that performs poorly under supervision. If I followed his every move he'd feel restricted. He would think that I'm trying to control him, and he hates the very idea of being controlled by anyone. So naturally he would lash out, yes? I've decided to give him some room to roam, Hisagi-san. It will keep things from taking a violent turn."
Setting his bowl on the varnished tabletop, Kira tilts his head to the side. His long, angular fringe falls across his shoulder, and he looks at me with pale blue eyes, smiling softly. "You'd agree wouldn't you, Akon?"
Now I have three sets of eyes on me, and I look from one to the other unhurriedly, then shrug my shoulders and down the rest of my sake. "Sure." The blond shinigami smiles more, but the seemingly warm gesture stops short of his eyes.
"Besides, I think Jaegerjaquez has found reason to behave himself."
That glacial stare of his refuses to let me go, wet with alcohol and something else I can't put my finger on. The pale man sips at his sake again, and with the cup hiding his mouth his expression assumes an entirely new sentiment. I can feel my naked brows starting to furrow, eyes narrowing. I wouldn't be surprised if Kira Izuru knew about Grimmjow and I, because he'd seen us go into the Arrancar's room the day before. And for all I know he'd come to Grimmjow's room this morning and caught us in bed together. I don't care if the blond is aware of our fucking, but the way that he's looking at me is grating on my nerves.
Maybe... could it be that Kira is the reason behind Hisagi wanting to move the former Espada? I glance at the dark-haired captain, and his face is grave as he watches the blond beside me.
"Hey, you're that gigai guy from the Twelfth, ain'chya?"
Abarai's voice tears me away from the two captains, and I turn my attention to him as he leans over the table. One of his tattooed brows is cocked high on his tanned forehead, eyes pinched and full lips moist with sake. He squints at my forehead, mouth falling open as his nose scrunches.
"How'd you get those things on your head?"
If I had yen for every time someone asked me that throughout the years. Inevitably, the redhead's question takes me back a couple of weeks; to the time that Grimmjow demanded to know the same exact thing. I can't stop thinking of the blue-haired Espada after everything that's been said in this room, and I'm itching to go find him. Not only do I want to make sure that he hasn't gotten himself killed (or someone else killed), but I want to feel him with his spiritual pressure unleashed.
"The members of the Twelfth like to modify themselves," I inform Abarai, smirking at him lazily as I start to stand up. I grit my teeth against a wince, having forgotten about the pain in my backside. The man's eyes are all over me as I straighten to my full height, from the horns on my forehead to my...crotch. His glossy-eyed and rosy-cheeked face is undoubtedly contemplative, especially when he cocks his head to the side and squints.
"If you're considering an enhancement for your lower region, Abarai-kun, I'm sure that the Twelfth can arrange something."
The sixth division lieutenant balks and slams his cup down, sake splashing over his hand and onto the table. "The fuck you talkin' about, like hell I am! I don't need any kinda enhancement!"
"Then what are you considering?"
"I'm considerin' other people who'd do it!"
"...Why would you consider such a thing ...?"
"J--jus' shuddup!"
Rolling my eyes faintly, I ignore the bickering shinigami and look down at Hisagi Shuuhei. His dark eyes lock with mine, and he smiles softly while raising his sake cup to me. I'm tempted to lean down and put my arms around him; to say something to him even if I don't know what; to pull him away from the other two and take him back to my place. Then I could ask him the things I didn't get to ask before Abarai and Kira interrupted us.
But I don't do any of that, because the red-haired shinigami leans into Hisagi suddenly, their shoulders bumping. He stares at the smaller man with narrowed eyes, then jabs a finger at Hisagi's slim chest.
"Taichou's been askin' after you, senpai. And jus' what the hell for?! 'Cause you two ain't never talk."
I watch with mild amusement as a barely there blush stains Hisagi's face. He looks a little taken aback by the other man's question, mumbling something under his breath that I don't catch. I'm suddenly curious, tilting my head slightly as I stare, letting my mind deviate from previous thoughts. Yet another thing to ask the scarred captain the next time I see him.
"If you're off to find Jaegerjaquez, make sure he doesn't get himself into any serious trouble, will you?"
Turning my head, I glance at the blond shinigami beside me. He pushes the thick strand of hair aside with two fingers, a small smile on his face. But there's that strange look in his eye again, like molten lava bubbling beneath a heavy sheet of ice.
"If you don't want him getting into trouble, maybe you should watch him, Kira," I inform him, my tone indifferent. "He's your subordinate, after all."
I smirk at him coldly, and the gesture warms with satisfaction when I see a flash of agitation in his polar gaze. I don't wait for him to respond, tucking my hands inside the pockets of my lab coat as I stride past him. I can hear Abarai's loud voice booming behind me, along with Hisagi's quieter tones as I slide the shoji open. I also feel Kira's restrained scowl on my back, making me chuckle before I shut the door on him.
Pairing: Akon x Grimmjow
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing, gayness
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I only steal its characters so I can go on perverted conquests via fan fics. Also, all characters involved in sexual situations are fictional and above the legal age of consent in the state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
A/N: Plot in my story, WHAA? I have to move things along because this fic is steadily coming to an end :) I'd apologize for the lack of smut, if only I didn't enjoy all the different interactions I got to write for this chapter so much. Rated for some ass-probing and suggestive talk. Oh, one more thing. Most of you might remember that Yamamoto was alive at the beginning of this, but I've done some edits to match what's happened in the manga. Beta: The lovely
gypsygrrl420 who was kind enough to read this bad boy for me, and help me clean all my messy typos and shitty sentence structure. You know how much I appreciated it, bb! I also thank xglimpsex for the read through and awesome feedback :D← Part Eight
The water is warm against my aching body, sliding in rivulets over torn and battered flesh. I tip my head back and close my eyes, offering my face to the showerhead above me. The pressure is harsh but not unwelcome, relief soaking through my pores. I already cleaned the dried blood and come from my body, even took the time to wash my hair, which is something I rarely do. Now I'm content to just stand here, pelted with wet heat.
When I woke up earlier Grimmjow hadn't been in his room. I was tangled alone in the sheets of his futon, but I hadn't been surprised to find him gone. Instead I just closed my eyes and tried to melt further into the mattress, inhaling deeply and smelling the scent of our sex. There'd been an underlying trace of the Sexta's own aroma, curling beneath heavy trails of sweat and dried come. I liked it enough that I was tempted to lay there all day and just breathe, drawing on his smell the way that I draw on my cigarettes. But I knew that I still had work to do that couldn't be ignored, so eventually I dragged my ass out of his bed to get dressed.
The ache in my backside had been immediate, and even now it persists. That had been another thing I wasn't surprised by, because it'd been a while since I'd been fucked so roughly. Not that I was complaining, far from it. I could easily grit my teeth against the painful aftermath, so as long as I had the memory of that immense pleasure, and a feeling that there was plenty more where it'd come from.
I had pulled my uniform on carefully, then took my time bending over to dig the pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of my lab coat. I left the ruined article of clothing in his room before leaving, leisurely noticing that the hallways were quieter than usual. On my way past Kira Izuru's office I stole a glimpse inside, only to find it empty. It made me curious, and I had to wonder if the blond captain being gone had anything to do with the blue-haired Arrancar. I briefly considered asking one of the other members of Third, but decided against it while making my way out. I figured that I'd find out eventually, and I still wanted to keep my interest in Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez to a minimum while in public.
So here I am now, back in my own division and washing away the events of last night. Naturally, the Twelfth has showers for its members, in case one of us should get some deadly substance on us that needs to be washed off immediately. I also like to keep extra uniforms here for that reason; either because my clothes were destroyed during the aforementioned situation, or simply to change because they got soiled with someone's body fluids.
Rubbing the warm water over my body one final time, I exhale slowly before reaching out to turn the dial. The small, tiled room goes quiet without the sound of pattering droplets. I grab a towel to dry myself off, working it over my hair roughly and stepping into the next room. I grab the fresh uniform that I left sitting on a bench and start pulling it on, still cautious of the pain that comes with any movement that's too swift. The sigh from my mouth is something between annoyance and sluggish acceptance. When I'm finally fully dressed, and with a new, unsullied lab coat, I stick a cigarette in my mouth and head outside into one of the laboratories.
Kurotsuchi-taichou is there, like I thought he'd be. He doesn't do anything to acknowledge my presence, his attention on a large column that stretches from floor to ceiling. The green fluid that fills it glows faintly in the dimly lit room. I approach the older scientist unhurriedly, watching him beneath lowered lids as I light the white stick between my lips. There is a figure floating inside the jar, its skin stained a murky gray from the liquid that it's immersed in. One of the other Arrancar he'd brought back from Hueco Mundo, though this specimen had already been dead on arrival.
Leaning against a steel lab table, I exhale smoke through my nose and watch as my captain's long fingers move over a keypad positioned in front of the vessel. He still hasn't done anything to indicate that he's even noticed me, and my mind wanders in the silence stretching between us. Since waking up I've thought off and on about how my captain may react to what's happened in the past twenty-four hours. Of course I've considered that he might punish me for letting Grimmjow know about that surveillance bacteria..
I tilt my head slightly as I continue watching the other man, taking another long drag of my cigarette and, glancing around slowly for an ash tray. When I don't see one anywhere in sight, I turn my gaze to my captain's back, then tap my cigarette as discretely as I can, hoping that he won't notice the ash on the floor.
There's an even longer, drawn-out silence as I look from the painted scientist to the Arrancar inside the jar. Its eyes are closed and it's naked, with endless incisions stitched along its body. They look like roads drawn on a map, detailing every inch of my captain's journey as he studied the creature from the inside out. The Arrancar's hollow hole is centered in the middle of its chest, and staring through it makes me think of Grimmjow. Tracing the curves of that crevice with my eyes, I think of tracing the Sexta's hole with my fingers.
I also think that it could be him in that jar, dead and desecrated.
Ashing my cigarette for a second time, I stare at my captain's back. "How long do you want to keep going with the study?" I ask him outright, returning the cancer stick to my mouth so I can suck on the end of it. Kurotsuchi-taichou stays quiet for a lengthy moment, his stark-white fingers still flying over the keypad.
"For as long as I'm interested," he finally states, in his unconcerned drawl. I don't say anything in response and simply stare, waiting for him to add more as I roll the cigarette between my teeth. The rhythmic tick that his fingers create suddenly ceases, and then the man is looking over his shoulder with a toothy smile.
"And the Espada is very interesting."
I quirk a hairless brow and feel torn between a faint frown, and a dryly amused smirk. My mouth decides for me, curling at the corner before my brain's caught up with the action. I'm not exactly sure why I should be smirking over my captain's attentiveness to the man I'm fucking. I guess because for the moment it's fairly innocent, and I say that because I know that Kurotsuchi Mayuri is capable of far worse than keeping visual tabs on the former Espada.
Not to mention the fact that it doesn't look like he wants to penalize me for letting Grimmjow know.
"Why do you think that?" I question after a minute, feeling the paper burn close to my fingers as I suck more nicotine down my throat. Kurotsuchi-taichou pivots and heads straight for me, his golden eyes unblinking, sharp gaze burrowing into my own. That kind of penetrating scrutiny from a man such as himself would have most shinigami shaking in their waraji; but I just tilt my head slightly, inquisitive.
"Take that off," he orders, unyielding eyes never leaving my face. My brows arch faintly, but I simply nod and put my cigarette on the table, before pulling my lab coat over my head. I drape it over the table and then grip the edge of my shihakushou, waiting for more instructions. My captain merely stares at me, his expression unchanging. I take that to mean he wants me to continue, so I pull my kosode and shitagi apart, freeing my arms from the sleeves and letting the material fall around my waist.
With my torso bared to him, I ready myself for the inevitable inspection. His cold hand grabs hold of my arm to pull me closer, and his other hand goes to my jaw, gripping it firmly as he tilts my head up. I let my eyes go to the ceiling and feel the heat of his gaze on my neck, no doubt cataloging the various bruises. Then he lets go of both my chin and arm, and I feel the press of his fingers against the scratches along my ribs. His touch is chilly but surprisingly soft, almost chalky from the paint he uses, dried to feel like baby powder. The lab itself is already cold enough, and that coupled with his invasive study of my naked torso has my hair rising, skin prickling with barely noticeable bumps. His hand curls around my waist and pushes roughly, forcing me to turn around. I grip the edge of the metal lab table, holding onto it lazily while his fingers skim over my back.
"It wishes to test me, when it is the testee."
That followed by a jeering chortle, the sound of it unpleasant, and for obvious reasons. My captain thinks that Grimmjow is challenging him and he's amused by it. A very threatening sign if I've ever witnessed one.
"He'd gloat over anything," I mumble, attempting to diffuse the scientist's dangerous enjoyment as nonchalantly as possible. I'm vaguely aware of him pulling at the ties that hold my hakama in place, loosening them so he can tug the black apparel down. I tap my finger against the table quietly, using it as a distraction from the probing around the crack of my ass.
"And you seem to enjoy it," Kurotsuchi-taichou replies, his cold finger passing over my entrance. He wants to assess the damage Grimmjow did in that area, that much is apparent. I turn my head slowly to see him over my shoulder, meeting a narrowed gaze and disturbing grin. "What did I tell you about developing emotional attachments to test subjects?" he asks, while shoving what feels like two fingers deep inside of me. My knees want to buckle under the abrupt intrusion, nails biting into the underside of the table as I try to keep myself steady. I exhale a strained breath, then widen my arms and shift my hips in an attempt to get used to it.
"I've always been honest with you,Taichou . I've known you too long to lie -- effectively." I add the last word with some humor, looking at the older man again, my lashes lowered. His eyes narrow even farther and his grin turns to a sternly drawn line. I just smirk faintly, gaze languid.
"He's more your test subject than mine. It started as a study for me, and now it's straightforward fucking."
My captain sneers at me, "tsk"ing in a way that sounds like a hiss. He twists his hand and crooks his fingers, sending a jab of pain racing up my spine. I grunt throatily and lean against the table, vision gone a little hazy.
"Disgusting, Akon. Disgusting! What pathetic swine, to think that I actually expected better from you. He, you say? It is nothing more than a lowly half-breed. Its only value is dissection."
"That isn't true, he's also good for fucking," I manage, with a wheeze of a laugh. "And you know that he's male, Taichou. He has all the parts to prove it."
The older scientist makes another revolted sound, extracting his fingers and wiping them on my back. He pushes me around so I'm facing him, yellow eyes incredibly hard. I brave his cross stare and rectify my hakama, uncaring of the fact that he never said he was done with his examination. But even as I secure the ties once more, I leave the top half of my uniform undone.
"Why are you doing this, Mayuri-sama?" I ask him seriously, using a more intimate way of addressing him. Normally I go with the simplest "Kurotsuchi-taicho" -- because I can't be bothered with anything else -- but in moments like this I like to call him by "Mayuri-sama." It's my way of saying that it's just me and him; that I want things to be honest and personal. His unkind stare becomes lazy and void beneath drooping lids, painted lips drawn over yellow teeth in a grimace.
"You said that he's only good for dissection? If that's what you really think then why are you watching him? You already got a look at his insides, the scars on his body are a testament to that."
Brows furrowing indistinctly, I stare into his golden eyes with growing curiosity.
"You're studying his behavior, Taichou. You're interested in the things he does. This is a psychological study to you, now, and not just a biological one."
"You've only now just realized that?" Eyes blazing, my captain continues between gritted teeth. "You ought to cut out your tongue so as not to embarrass yourself further."
His hand shoots out incredibly fast, grabbing me by the throat and yanking me forward. I stagger a little and out of reflex I reach out, gripping his upper arm to catch my balance. The fingers of his other hand rest under my chin, and his thumb presses against my mouth, prying my lips apart. I taste his skin as he pushes past my teeth, the pad of his thumb coarse and its flavor bitter with traces of what's around the lab. His fingers dig into my throat as he pulls my tongue from my mouth, stretching it to a point that it starts to hurt.
"The Arrancar distracts you this well? I have no use for scientists who let themselves be so easily sidetracked, Akon."
My eyes narrow faintly, but I don't make any attempt to dislodge myself from my captain's grasp. A smile starts to creep over his face, and I feel the long nail of his middle finger scrapping along the underside of my tongue.
"Of course I'm studying its behavior, you wretched fool."
The last word is spat at me, the man's golden eyes ablaze with sinister intent as he grins madly.
"If I'm to understand every facet of the Arrancar, I cannot limit myself to their physiology alone. I must dissect their thinking as well, the way that they process things mentality."
His nail is unrelenting, and I really think that he's prepared to pierce the wet muscle and rip it out. But then he lets go and shoves me back, into the lab table so it scrapes across the floor with a grating sound. I just swallow to work moisture into my dry mouth, moving my tongue around my teeth to remind myself that it's still intact.
"If it wasn't for my 'distraction' you wouldn't be able to study him at all, Taichou," I tell him, holding his attention with a level gaze. "It's my interest in him that gives you a front row seat to everything he does. So, the thing you're so disapproving of is really your golden ticket."
The withering look of his face should be enough to kill me where I stand, like the poison of his zanpakutou. Thankfully it isn't, and I busy myself with putting my arms through the sleeves of my shihakushou, then readjusting the folds. "I don't mean any disrespect, Mayuri-sama. Just know that whatever 'attraction' I have for Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez won't get in the way of my work. I'll perform at my best and deliver whatever you need. You don't have to worry about that."
The older man is quiet for a long moment, simply staring at me with those unnerving eyes. The paint on his face and the elaborate headgear shield him like a mask, and it's times like this that drive me crazy with ambiguity. For as long as we've known each other he's never told me anything of his life before the Maggot's Nest. Sometimes I want to take a wet cloth and rub it over his stitched skin, to peel away all the white and black; to strip him bare before looking into his eyes and asking him for his story.
"Worry? I'm not familiar with the term," he mutters, upper lip arched derisively over yellow teeth. "If I find something displeasing I dispose of it. Make yourself an annoyance, Akon, and you'll be the one I gut and bottle next."
With an empty look in his eyes he turns, arms hanging by his sides as he walks away. I watch the slump of his shoulders under the weight of his head, silently contemplating what it is I should say. Shadows spring forth lethargically as he nears the doorway, trying to swallow his waning form. Before he's out of my sight completely I sigh under my breath, then mumble my assent loud enough for him to hear.
"Hai, Taichou."
***
I want to make an active example of the promise I made to him. The lab that I'm working in is deathly quiet, save for the muffled sound of water that bubbles sluggishly. I'm standing over a naked female gigai, staring down at her lifeless face as I thread gloved fingers between her lips. Normally I'd be sitting for a task as simple as this, but as of right now my ass is still too sore. I feel over each individual tooth slowly, then pry her jaw open so I can touch the underside of her molars. I can't remember who ordered this particular gigai, but that isn't important. The only thing I need to concern myself with is completing the final tests before sending it off. I've done this hundreds of times, and it's become such a deeply ingrained routine that I could do it in my sleep.
When I'm through examining her teeth I trace my fingers over her slim face and crack her eyelids open. The irises have rolled back, unresponsive but clear. Once I've finished with the physical inspection I can put some soul candy inside her, to make sure that her muscles are in working order.
"I really don't know how you do this all day."
Glancing up, my eyes dart to my left, searching for that unexpected voice. I'm surprised to see the ninth division captain walking towards me, a look of discomfort written on his face as he eyes the naked gigai lying on the table.
"It looks too much like a corpse," Hisagi mumbles, crossing bare arms over a white clad chest. I just smirk faintly and reach for her forearm, lifting it into the air and moving her wrists so her hand bobs.
"You think so? It'd be a really clean corpse, if you ask me. No cuts; no bruises; no anything. How'd she die? Let's come up with a story for her."
The other man's dark eyes are fixated on the gigai's limp hand, a barely there grimace twisting his mouth. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and laughs tightly.
"That's so morbid, Akon."
"You're the one who brought it up," I chuckle in return.
Lowering her arm back to the table, I lean against its metal edge and pull my gloves off slowly. "I'm surprised that you're here, Hisagi. You never visit the Twelfth."
The scarred captain nods minutely, the fingers of his right hand scratching near his left elbow. He looks a little unsure, or maybe it's plain uneasiness. His spares the gigai one more glimpse, before meeting my gaze with his own.
"I've been waiting for you for half an hour, so I decided to come find you."
My brow arching, I toss my gloves in the trash and wipe my hands over my lab coat. "Waiting? I didn't know you were expecting me."
"I came by earlier today. You weren't here but your captain... I told him to let you know that I'd be waiting for you in my office."
I stare at the other man for a moment, expressionless. Then the corner of my mouth is curling as I laugh. "You didn't believe him, did you?"
Hisagi heaves a sigh, smiling just barely. He runs a hand through his dark hair and his eyes droop so they're nearly shut. "Not really. But I'd rather not argue with someone like Kurotsuchi-taichou, and I'd rather not wander around Twelfth. So I just accepted it and left."
"It's really not so bad here, you know."
"Maybe to a scientist like yourself."
I notice that the ninth division captain goes back to crossing his arms, signaling that he's serious about not liking it here. I really can't blame him, not many people outside of our division are comfortable inside the dark laboratories of the Twelfth. Tilting my head slightly, I move so I'm standing between him and the lab table, blocking his view of the gigai as I lean back with my hands gripping the cold metal.
"Why did you want to see me, Hisagi?"
The other man shrugs his shoulders easily, looking into my eyes with a soft, weary smile. "To talk. They took the Arrancar this morning to remove the reiatsu limiter. Did you know that?"
At those unexpected words my eyes widen a fraction, hairless brow knit. "You're kidding me."
"No," Hisagi says, shaking his head. "He's really lucky that Ukitake-san is the new Soutaichou. If Yamamoto were still here..."
"He'd have been thrown into the Maggot's Nest," I finish, cocking an eyebrow. The scarred shinigami nods his agreement, looking up at me with his slanted eyes and faintly furrowed brows.
"Do you think it's wise, Akon? You seem to know him well."
Arching my brow again, I reach into my pocket for a cigarette. "You want to know if I think it's safe to nix the collar?" Hisagi just nods. I stick the smoke in my mouth and purse my lips, thinking to myself quietly as I light the end.
"I can't say. I guess we'll know when we do -- or don't -- find dead shinigami scattered everywhere."
"Akon."
I glance at the smaller man's unamused face, taking the time to pull a deep drag. Then I pinch the cigarette between my fingers and remove it, smirking at Hisagi while I exhale, blowing a silver plume of smoke in his direction. "You're so serious all the time, Hisagi." Pointing at him with the two fingers securing my cancer stick, I lean closer. "You need a drink."
"I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bar with me tonight, actually."
Staring at Hisagi, I pause in bringing the cigarette back to my mouth. "You want me to go drinking with you?"
The tattooed shinigami nods, the corner of his mouth quirking in what looks like droll amusement. "I don't know how to ask you any plainer."
I'm about to respond when I notice something moving in the open doorway. I glance past Hisagi's dark-haired head, spying my captain as he advances. His steps are swift and vulturine, golden eyes practically glowing as he stares at the ninth's back. He looks like a crazed ghoul gliding towards us, and Hisagi must realize that something is up by the direction of my gaze, because he suddenly turns his head to see over his shoulder. When he finds my captain standing directly behind him -- with mere inches keeping them apart -- he mutters a short (and faintly startled) "Shit."
"Hisagi Shuuhei," Kurotsuchi greets, his mouth curling to form a slow grin. "Twice in one day. Exactly what are you up to with my researcher?"
The scarred captain steps sideways, repositioning himself so he's facing both of us while we face each other. The movement looked calm and fluid, but I've known him long enough to sense the disquiet coiling inside of him. He folds his arms behind his back, one hand gripping the opposite wrist.
"I've had to come twice because he never showed. You didn't tell him that I'd be waiting for him like you said you would, Kurotsuchi-taichou."
Golden eyes are baleful as my eccentric captain steps closer to Hisagi, closing the distance that the younger man tried to gain. "Oh? Is that what you said earlier? I wouldn't recognize anything from your mouth unless they were screams of pain and terror."
I watch behind the filter of smoke from my cigarette, intent on their intimate exchange. Hisagi appears to be as rapt as I feel, staring fixedly at my captain, his jaw tense. His sloe-eyed gaze starts to drift towards me, then darts back when a long, dark fingernail raps just below his maimed eye.
"How is this working after all these years, Hisagi Shuuhei? It has to be problematic in a battle. We could fix that for you."
"It's functioning just fine."
The younger of the two steps away quickly, moving around my captain and striding for the door. His white haori billows around him, and he pauses just long enough to send me a look over his shoulder. "Are we on?"
I smile faintly and nod.
"Good. You know where to find me."
Hisagi offers one final smile, the gesture not touching his eyes completely. Then he disappears around the corner, leaving me alone with my captain. I glance at the older man, who is looking to the spot where Hisagi just stood.
"You really shouldn't say those kinds of things to him," I mumble, tapping my cigarette a few times over the trash can.
"Hisagi Shuuhei seems like a very private man."
Turning his unsettling gaze on me, he smiles menacingly. "How do you think he'd feel if he knew that someone he considered to be a 'friend' could record his every word?"
My mouth twitches, and Kurotsuchi-taichou's wide eyes narrow to threatening slits. "You won't tell him like you told the Espada."
The older man doesn't say anything else as he leaves, and I frown around my cigarette, glancing at the naked gigai while thinking of what my captain just said.
***
By the time I finish with the gigai and alert its requester by way of Hell Butterfly, night has fallen. I put everything away and clean the tables down, then switch the lights off and leave. Outside the air is surprisingly warm, a leisurely breeze wafting over Seireitei. There's still a good number of shinigami trailing the streets, and lights illuminate the buildings. I head for a bar that Hisagi and I have frequented throughout the years, located in a middle-class district near the Thirteenth. The building is two stories high with a wraparound porch on the uppermost level, paper lamps that glow a vibrant red dotting the overhang. The scarred captain is waiting for me outside like I expected, arms crossed lazily over his slim chest. When he sees me he smiles softly and waves me over. I crush my cigarette on the cobblestone pavement, then follow him as we enter the bar.
It's noisy inside, and busy. For me there's too many people in one place, but thankfully Hisagi secured us a private room. It's towards the back of the building, away from the main area and occupying a hallway that looks to have many other private rooms. He slides the shoji open and enters first, then shuts the screen door once I've followed him inside. The room is a decent size with saffron walls and dark tatami mats. The low table is also dark, lacquered black and with two cream colored pillows on either side. There's a bottle of sake and two bowls waiting for us, and I wonder briefly if it's been sitting there long.
Hisagi sits down easily enough, pushing his haori behind him and crossing his long legs. I try my hardest to position myself opposite him without it looking like I'm having difficulty. I must not get away with it, because the other man watches me more intently than usual, his scarred brow arching faintly. I just smirk at him wryly and settle on the pillow, crossing my legs loosely. He shakes his head with a soft smile, eyes downcast as he pours us both some sake.
"I thought that you might sleep with him."
Cocking an eyebrow, I take the cup he offers me. "Is that why you wanted to talk to me, Hisagi?"
The smaller man just shrugs his shoulders softly, looking at me as he takes a sip of his sake. "No, not necessarily. I just... I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week."
"What about?"
"The Arrancar."
Placing his cup on the polished tabletop, he holds the rim with just his fingertips, turning it in a slow circle with eyes downcast. I watch him in silence, drinking from my own bowl of sake as I wait for him to continue.
"I want to request a transfer to my division."
Eyes narrowed faintly, I set my cup down and lean forward on my elbows. I lace my fingers together underneath my jaw, and study the other man's face. He glances up and his expression is naturally unreadable, even if he doesn't mean it to be. He takes another sip of his sake, and his tongue skims his lower lip to collect a drop that escaped.
"But he's with the Third."
"That's why I want the transfer."
I furrow my brows a little, still staring at Hisagi as I reach for the sake bottle so I can refill his cup. "What's wrong with the Third?"
The scarred captain doesn't answer me right away, his dark irises at the corner of his eyes. He looks calm sitting there, a quiet force, like the still waters of a lake. But I'm not easily fooled, and I know from personal experience that beneath his seemingly composed surface, Hisagi Shuuhei is anything but stagnant.
"There's nothing wrong with the Third, it just isn't the right division for someone like Jaegerjaquez."
"I'll be straight with you, Hisagi. I don't know why you would care. Have you ever talked to him?"
"In passing when I visit Kira," he answers smoothly. Another drink, and it reminds me that I have my own cup of sake that's being ignored. But I'm more interested in what he's telling me, because I have a feeling that there's a lot more to this than he's letting on.
"The ideal place for someone like him would be the Eleventh. I've told Kira this but he insists that Jaegerjaquez is overqualified for a position there because their highest seats are occupied." Running a hand through his hair, Hisagi sighs softly and looks me in the eye. "I agree with him, even if I don't want to."
"I still don't understand why you want him moved. He's doing fine where he is right now. And I also don't understand why you're telling me."
The other shinigami chuckles quietly, eyes downcast again as he leans against the table on his forearms, the sake cup poised between both hands. "I'm not sure why I'm telling you either. You're easy to talk to?" Here he pauses, glancing up and smiling softly. "You also know the Espada better than I do. I guess I thought you could tell me about him, let me know if I'm right for wanting to do this, or out of my fucking mind."
"How sentimental," I comment, smirking with sarcastic humor. Hisagi just snorts softly, knocking the table with his knuckles.
"Stop, I'm being serious."
"Of course you are, you were born serious, Hisagi Shuuhei."
The ninth division captain stares at me and smiles faintly, but the look in his eyes suggests that he's tired of fucking around. I just exhale and reach for my sake cup, bringing it to my mouth for a drink. "If you're asking me if I think you can handle him..."
Trailing off, I make a face and suck air through my teeth. And to my mild surprise the scarred shinigami actually laughs; a genuine, heartfelt laugh that I've rarely heard since the ryoka invasion. "Fuck off. That isn't what I'm asking; I know I can handle him. What I'm curious about is this: do you think he's still an enemy of Soul Society?"
I tilt my head a little and look down at my sake bowl, reaching for the bottle so I can pour myself another drink. "Honestly? I don't know, Shuuhei. I'd like to say that he isn't, but I'm not inside his head. I can't be sure of how he thinks, or how he feels. I don't know if he's willing to align himself with us, or if he still plans on butchering shinigami whenever it suits his mood. Maybe you should ask him yourself? He likes things point-blank, and you'd probably gain his respect if you were up-front with him. But If you really plan on going through with this, you should know that you have to be firm. He likes to break rules and push the limits, so if you aren't at the top of your game he'll walk all over you."
"You don't have to warn me, I've already prepared myself for the inevitable headache."
Glancing up, I reach across the table for the other man's cup so I can fill it for him. I go silent as my mind computes the conversation that we're having. I question why the tattooed shinigami is really doing this, and then I imagine Grimmjow sitting in Hisagi's office, or trailing the scarred man during hollow missions. My thoughts eventually lead me to what Kurotsuchi-taichou told me earlier, and I frown to myself faintly. I realize that I shouldn't have come here, that I should have found a way to get out of it. Hisagi Shuuhei is talking to me in confidence, and he has no idea that the surveillance bacteria violates that. I feel like I'm lying to him somehow, and that doesn't sit well with me. There are very few people in my life that I care for, but the scarred man across from me is one of them. I want to tell him what's going on, but recalling my captain's last order stays my tongue, keeping it at the edge of my teeth.
"What's wrong, Akon?"
I remain silent and hand the sake bowl to Hisagi, feeling the brush of his calloused fingers against my own when he accepts it. The corner of my mouth curls faintly, and I shrug my shoulders while mumbling, "You'd understand if I said nothing."
Indistinct emotion ignites within his dark eyes, what looks to be mild suspicion and then...realization. He doesn't say anything as he takes a drink, but he looks away and his brows furrow minutely. It would seem to me that he's thinking about something deeply -- contemplating. I'm waiting for him to excuse himself now that he knows something isn't quite right, or if not to excuse himself, then to ask me to leave. But instead he just sets his cup down, his sloe-eyed gaze snaring mine.
"I'd like it if you came out with me more. You're always cooped up in those damned laboratories."
"You're one to talk," I counter, chuckling. "You're always cooped up in that damned office."
"At least my office isn't teeming with inanimate bodies and stitched corpses."
"Touché."
Hisagi smirks softly, looking pleased with himself. Strands of dark black fall over his eyes as he tilts his head and pours himself more sake. His hair has gotten longer since the war, and paired with the white of his haori, it's like looking at a throwback to his academy days. I look at the three scars and remember when he'd gotten them, and then I look at the sixty-nine tattoo and remember when he'd gotten that too.
"Don't get any ideas if Jaegerjaquez is transferred to your division," I tell the other shinigami, my mouth quirking. "I know you have a thing for men with crazy smiles and rough exteriors."
Pausing in his next drink, Hisagi's slim fingers tighten around the cup in his hand. He stares at me with slightly wide eyes, his expression blank, looking as if I caught him off guard. I can't allow him any time to recover, so I look at his tattoo pointedly. Then I arch a questioning brow, before meeting his gaze once more.
"When are you going to do something about that?"
The smaller man is quiet for longer than I expected. He stares at me for a moment -- inexpressive -- then shuts his eyes and tips his head back, downing what's left of his sake. When he's drained the cup of its contents he sets it on the table, exhaling quietly before he offers me a soft, reserved smile.
"I know where he is, and he knows where I am."
I take it that the twist of his mouth is meant to be untroubled, but his eyes are distant, and the tone of his voice is uncharacteristically detached. I simply stare at him and feel the beginnings of a frown, but before I can question him further there's a loud bang outside our shoji. Both of us look in that direction, and through the rice paper screen I see two shadows moving. Another bump against the door, followed by a familiar voice.
"Aba-- You're going to break something, get out of the way."
The shoji flies open abruptly, and the first thing I see is a large body with striking hair. My eyes go to the man's chest, his uniform open farther than it should be, a strong contrast between tanned flesh and ink-black tattoos. He stares into the room dumbly, looking from Hisagi, to me, and back again. With his sight trained on the scarred shinigami he grins broadly, clutching a bottle of sake as he throws his arm into the air.
"Hisagi-senpai!! See Kira, I told ya that senpai was gonna be here. Didn't wanna believe meeeee, but there he is, right there."
I can't help snorting a little, taking a drink to wash down a laugh. Even if the red-haired shinigami wasn't waving around a sake bottle, it'd be safe to assume that he's had too much to drink. There's a faint flush on his face, a light sheen of sweat on his skin, and all-in-all he looks pretty damn lively. I've seen him before with Hisagi, but I can't remember his name for the life of me. If the badge on his arm is anything to go by, though, he's the vice-captain of the Sixth Division.
As for that familiar voice I heard, the boisterous shinigami already announced it. The blond's head appears around the other man's arm, his expression bland and just a little annoyed.
"Yes, Abarai-kun. It looks like you were right about something -- for once," Kira comments, while giving his companion a good shove. The tattooed redhead stumbles over the step that leads into our room, but he's still all smiles as he saunters over. He plops down on the pillow beside Hisagi, setting his sake on the table and unfurling his fingers around two cups. Kira Izuru on the other hand wears his usual, somber look, brows stern despite the redness of his pale cheeks. He hangs in the doorway with his hand on the shoji, but he hasn't yet closed it.
"I hope we aren't disrupting anything?" he asks, sparing Hisagi and I a slow glance. I look to the scarred shinigami across from me, whose dark gaze is currently focused on the red-haired lieutenant.
"No, we were just talking. Sit down, Kira-san."
The blond nods, sliding the screen door shut behind him. He walks over and sits down beside me, pushing his haori back so it fans across the floor behind him. I can't see his face at this new angle, because his flaxen bang is blocking my view. But I do see his equally pale hands resting on the table, then extending forward to grab the cup that Abarai hands him.
"The Espada isn't with you," Hisagi states, staring at the third division captain. Even though Kira's face is hidden from me, I can imagine his small smile in this moment.
"No he isn't, how observant of you."
The darker of the two just frowns softly, his eyelids lowered as if to conceal something. "Shouldn't you be with him now that the reiatsu limiter is gone? He's capable of anything."
"I can't babysit him forever, Hisagi-san. I stayed with him the first few hours and he seemed to be adjusting perfectly fine. I'm sure he'll be alright on his own."
"Or maybe he was just waiting for the right opportunity, and now that he's alone he'll have one."
Kira just sighs softly, the sake cup at his mouth as he takes an exaggerated drink. My eyes start to wander towards Hisagi, but their attention is stolen by Abarai, who's watching me with slits for eyes. I cock my hairless brow, staring back at him with dry curiosity.
"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is the type of man that performs poorly under supervision. If I followed his every move he'd feel restricted. He would think that I'm trying to control him, and he hates the very idea of being controlled by anyone. So naturally he would lash out, yes? I've decided to give him some room to roam, Hisagi-san. It will keep things from taking a violent turn."
Setting his bowl on the varnished tabletop, Kira tilts his head to the side. His long, angular fringe falls across his shoulder, and he looks at me with pale blue eyes, smiling softly. "You'd agree wouldn't you, Akon?"
Now I have three sets of eyes on me, and I look from one to the other unhurriedly, then shrug my shoulders and down the rest of my sake. "Sure." The blond shinigami smiles more, but the seemingly warm gesture stops short of his eyes.
"Besides, I think Jaegerjaquez has found reason to behave himself."
That glacial stare of his refuses to let me go, wet with alcohol and something else I can't put my finger on. The pale man sips at his sake again, and with the cup hiding his mouth his expression assumes an entirely new sentiment. I can feel my naked brows starting to furrow, eyes narrowing. I wouldn't be surprised if Kira Izuru knew about Grimmjow and I, because he'd seen us go into the Arrancar's room the day before. And for all I know he'd come to Grimmjow's room this morning and caught us in bed together. I don't care if the blond is aware of our fucking, but the way that he's looking at me is grating on my nerves.
Maybe... could it be that Kira is the reason behind Hisagi wanting to move the former Espada? I glance at the dark-haired captain, and his face is grave as he watches the blond beside me.
"Hey, you're that gigai guy from the Twelfth, ain'chya?"
Abarai's voice tears me away from the two captains, and I turn my attention to him as he leans over the table. One of his tattooed brows is cocked high on his tanned forehead, eyes pinched and full lips moist with sake. He squints at my forehead, mouth falling open as his nose scrunches.
"How'd you get those things on your head?"
If I had yen for every time someone asked me that throughout the years. Inevitably, the redhead's question takes me back a couple of weeks; to the time that Grimmjow demanded to know the same exact thing. I can't stop thinking of the blue-haired Espada after everything that's been said in this room, and I'm itching to go find him. Not only do I want to make sure that he hasn't gotten himself killed (or someone else killed), but I want to feel him with his spiritual pressure unleashed.
"The members of the Twelfth like to modify themselves," I inform Abarai, smirking at him lazily as I start to stand up. I grit my teeth against a wince, having forgotten about the pain in my backside. The man's eyes are all over me as I straighten to my full height, from the horns on my forehead to my...crotch. His glossy-eyed and rosy-cheeked face is undoubtedly contemplative, especially when he cocks his head to the side and squints.
"If you're considering an enhancement for your lower region, Abarai-kun, I'm sure that the Twelfth can arrange something."
The sixth division lieutenant balks and slams his cup down, sake splashing over his hand and onto the table. "The fuck you talkin' about, like hell I am! I don't need any kinda enhancement!"
"Then what are you considering?"
"I'm considerin' other people who'd do it!"
"...Why would you consider such a thing ...?"
"J--jus' shuddup!"
Rolling my eyes faintly, I ignore the bickering shinigami and look down at Hisagi Shuuhei. His dark eyes lock with mine, and he smiles softly while raising his sake cup to me. I'm tempted to lean down and put my arms around him; to say something to him even if I don't know what; to pull him away from the other two and take him back to my place. Then I could ask him the things I didn't get to ask before Abarai and Kira interrupted us.
But I don't do any of that, because the red-haired shinigami leans into Hisagi suddenly, their shoulders bumping. He stares at the smaller man with narrowed eyes, then jabs a finger at Hisagi's slim chest.
"Taichou's been askin' after you, senpai. And jus' what the hell for?! 'Cause you two ain't never talk."
I watch with mild amusement as a barely there blush stains Hisagi's face. He looks a little taken aback by the other man's question, mumbling something under his breath that I don't catch. I'm suddenly curious, tilting my head slightly as I stare, letting my mind deviate from previous thoughts. Yet another thing to ask the scarred captain the next time I see him.
"If you're off to find Jaegerjaquez, make sure he doesn't get himself into any serious trouble, will you?"
Turning my head, I glance at the blond shinigami beside me. He pushes the thick strand of hair aside with two fingers, a small smile on his face. But there's that strange look in his eye again, like molten lava bubbling beneath a heavy sheet of ice.
"If you don't want him getting into trouble, maybe you should watch him, Kira," I inform him, my tone indifferent. "He's your subordinate, after all."
I smirk at him coldly, and the gesture warms with satisfaction when I see a flash of agitation in his polar gaze. I don't wait for him to respond, tucking my hands inside the pockets of my lab coat as I stride past him. I can hear Abarai's loud voice booming behind me, along with Hisagi's quieter tones as I slide the shoji open. I also feel Kira's restrained scowl on my back, making me chuckle before I shut the door on him.
***
This time when I make it outside the atmosphere is chilly. I hold my arms close to my body for warmth, my lips hugging a lit cigarette. The burning paper glows brightly in the dark, orange-red like the chain of lanterns running parallel to each other down the street. It's just the right kind of weather for snow, and I look to the sky, expecting to see white flakes raining down. The black expanse above is overrun with moody clouds that smother a shining moon, effectively blocking its light. The further I get from the bar the less busy it becomes, and after stomping my cigarette out beneath my waraji I leap up, onto the roof of a lonely looking building. I couldn't see any lights on inside, and I don't know if its inhabitants are asleep or if it has any at all.
Standing on the tile, my hands still held securely within my pockets, I look out over Seireitei. I let my reiatsu simmer faintly, eyes surveying the city. I'm not up for searching high and low, so I figure that I'll advertise my position and let the Arrancar come to me. If he doesn't then it's his loss, but I've a strong feeling in my gut that he won't be able to ignore me.
It doesn't take long, which brings a faint smirk to my lips. I sense him coming at me from behind, but I don't turn around. He comes to such an abrupt halt behind me that it sends a gust of wind rushing forward, my uniform thrashing with the force of it. I'm about to face him when suddenly, my vision goes black. My heart throbs hard once, adrenaline surging through me immediately. I'm still fully conscious even if I can't see, and I realize that he hasn't done anything but put something over my head. I can smell the muskiness of its fabric, feel the coarse fibers against my face.
Panic hasn't hit me yet, and I doubt that it will. I can't remember the last time I experienced panic, and though I'm unsure of what Grimmjow is up to I'm not scared of him in the least. I do however want to know what the fuck is going on, so I open my mouth to ask him.
"What--"
A strong hand slaps against my mouth, while a muscular arm curls around my throat in an unforgiving headlock. The former Espada pulls me tight against him, his hold strong enough to bruise my neck. I'm already suffocating with the sack around my head, the fabric restricting my airflow, I don't need his hand covering my mouth or his arm trying to crush my windpipe.
But then I hear his growl close to my ear, muffled and softer than it's ever sounded. He removes his hand slowly, sliding it down my chest and over my abdomen. The arm encircling my throat loosens, and his fingers curl around my shoulder, bunching my uniform. I shudder at the feel of his front pressed against my back, closing my eyes and wetting my lips. I'm breathing harder than I was a moment ago, either in an attempt to gather more air through the sack, because I'm uncertain, or because I'm aroused.
I decide that it's all three of them at once.
Grimmjow doesn't say anything as he holds me in a death grip, but I do feel his nose against the nape of my neck. The tip of it is cold but his breath is warm, and when he exhales gruffly, snorting air against my chilled skin, a shiver runs all the way from my scalp down to my toes. It instantly evokes memories of last night, and I remember thinking that the way he'd snort against me was the weirdest (and most interesting) thing that anyone's ever done. I don't know what he means by it but I want to, and the possibilities have all the blood in my body going south.
And if it wasn't rushing there already, the feel of something wet would have helped it along the way. That something brushes the spot where his nose just was, rubbing roughly over my nape. It's his tongue and fuck if it doesn't twist my gut... I bite my own tongue to hold back a groan, tipping my head forward to give him more room. Warm lips touch down, and then sharp teeth prick my skin. Grimmjow chuckles throatily, the feel of his grin against my overheating flesh all the more intense than actually seeing it.
Then suddenly he lets me go, the blistering heat of his body leaving mine. He grips the back of my uniform in both hands, pulling on the fabric as he jumps off the roof and drags me with him.
Part Ten →
Standing on the tile, my hands still held securely within my pockets, I look out over Seireitei. I let my reiatsu simmer faintly, eyes surveying the city. I'm not up for searching high and low, so I figure that I'll advertise my position and let the Arrancar come to me. If he doesn't then it's his loss, but I've a strong feeling in my gut that he won't be able to ignore me.
It doesn't take long, which brings a faint smirk to my lips. I sense him coming at me from behind, but I don't turn around. He comes to such an abrupt halt behind me that it sends a gust of wind rushing forward, my uniform thrashing with the force of it. I'm about to face him when suddenly, my vision goes black. My heart throbs hard once, adrenaline surging through me immediately. I'm still fully conscious even if I can't see, and I realize that he hasn't done anything but put something over my head. I can smell the muskiness of its fabric, feel the coarse fibers against my face.
Panic hasn't hit me yet, and I doubt that it will. I can't remember the last time I experienced panic, and though I'm unsure of what Grimmjow is up to I'm not scared of him in the least. I do however want to know what the fuck is going on, so I open my mouth to ask him.
"What--"
A strong hand slaps against my mouth, while a muscular arm curls around my throat in an unforgiving headlock. The former Espada pulls me tight against him, his hold strong enough to bruise my neck. I'm already suffocating with the sack around my head, the fabric restricting my airflow, I don't need his hand covering my mouth or his arm trying to crush my windpipe.
But then I hear his growl close to my ear, muffled and softer than it's ever sounded. He removes his hand slowly, sliding it down my chest and over my abdomen. The arm encircling my throat loosens, and his fingers curl around my shoulder, bunching my uniform. I shudder at the feel of his front pressed against my back, closing my eyes and wetting my lips. I'm breathing harder than I was a moment ago, either in an attempt to gather more air through the sack, because I'm uncertain, or because I'm aroused.
I decide that it's all three of them at once.
Grimmjow doesn't say anything as he holds me in a death grip, but I do feel his nose against the nape of my neck. The tip of it is cold but his breath is warm, and when he exhales gruffly, snorting air against my chilled skin, a shiver runs all the way from my scalp down to my toes. It instantly evokes memories of last night, and I remember thinking that the way he'd snort against me was the weirdest (and most interesting) thing that anyone's ever done. I don't know what he means by it but I want to, and the possibilities have all the blood in my body going south.
And if it wasn't rushing there already, the feel of something wet would have helped it along the way. That something brushes the spot where his nose just was, rubbing roughly over my nape. It's his tongue and fuck if it doesn't twist my gut... I bite my own tongue to hold back a groan, tipping my head forward to give him more room. Warm lips touch down, and then sharp teeth prick my skin. Grimmjow chuckles throatily, the feel of his grin against my overheating flesh all the more intense than actually seeing it.
Then suddenly he lets me go, the blistering heat of his body leaving mine. He grips the back of my uniform in both hands, pulling on the fabric as he jumps off the roof and drags me with him.
Part Ten →
