![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blood_crowTitle: Smoke and Mirrors [Part Six]
Pairing: Akon x Grimmjow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, some angst
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: Back to Akon's POV :D This chapter took me about three weeks to finish. At first I thought I had writer's block (and perhaps I did) but then I realized that what I originally wrote just wasn't right. Maybe my gut was trying to tell me that, and that's why I couldn't bring myself to edit/post? Either way I ended up changing the whole thing, and then it only took me a total of two and a half days to complete this chapter. Yay for sudden inspiration ^_^
Oh, and thanks to chibicoffee for giving this a read through! And many hugs and kisses to goldensprite for keeping me motivated!! I LOVE YOU, BABY ♥
← Part Five
The lab is quiet, as always. I'm alone as I measure strange-colored liquids inside test tubes. I have a bright light shining on the table, but the rest of the room is dimly lit. There aren't any windows nearby, and I've been in here for so long that it's starting to mess with my perception of time. It's something I've gotten used to, though. Over the past hundred years I've had my fair share of all-nighters, and there were times that I spent entire weeks in these laboratories, without any fresh air or sunlight. Other people would go crazy with cabin fever, but I'm a scientist and this is home.
Deep down, though, I realize that there's more to me working for hours on end. It isn't because I'm cozy here, it's because I need a distraction. I'd say that it's been four days since the last time I spoke to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I was serious when I told him that I'd stay out of his way. It took me a few visits, but I finally came to the conclusion that I only aggravate the situation. I'm the thing that triggers his violent behavior. If I'm honest with myself, I'd admit that it's driving me a little crazy. I don't understand why he acts so angry around me, but relatively calm around other shinigami like Kira Izuru. The urge to figure him out is gnawing away at me, like an experiment I can't complete. But no matter how badly I want to, I can't indulge my curiosity. Not only would it jeopardize me, but it'd jeopardize the former Espada. If he keeps lashing out whenever I'm around -- to the point that he ends up attacking others -- it could be his funeral.
And speaking of funerals, I should start planning my own. The blue-haired Arrancar is going to be the death of me, I know it. He's awakened things in me that I never knew existed. I've experienced the kind of "compassion" and consideration that a scientist (like myself) should never experience. I'm the researcher, and he's the specimen. I shouldn't care what happens to him. I shouldn't care if he suffers, or if he dies. So, why do I? Why can't I make that distinction between me and him as black and white as it used to be? Why are things blurring at the edges and becoming gray? This sort of thing has never happened to me, in all my hundred years. These are foreign thoughts, and foreign feelings, and I'm not sure what to make of them let alone how to handle them.
I want to regain control of my life. I want to go back to how things used to be. Having nothing but my research kept things simplistic and predictable. I was never caught off guard; my emotions were never a whirlwind like they are now. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez didn't exist, and my life was uncomplicated. I was a man whose interests didn't go beyond that of the things he studied, alone in the dark corners of some laboratory.
Sighing softly, I reach up to rub my fingers over aching eyes. Even when I try to keep myself sidetracked, I can't manage it. My thoughts always wander back to the former Espada and my current predicament. Maybe it's time to stop fighting it. What's the use, it's only making things worse. Putting so much effort into something without any results is exhausting me. I think of what I just said, about wanting my old life back, and I have to ask myself if that's true. Do I really want that? There was no substance there, nothing that was real and alive. Two weeks ago I'd bite my own tongue, but now I consider that statement a simple truth. It's funny how one person can change your entire outlook on life.
With a wry smirk, I reach into my pocket for a cigarette. I've gotten myself worked up, and I could use a little nicotine to relax me. I lean back in my chair and hold my silver lighter up, using its flame to light the end of my cancer stick. The paper turns an angry orange, then settles to a singed black. I pinch the cigarette between my fore and middle finger before taking a long, deep drag. My eyes fall almost completely shut, and I tip my head back so I'm staring at the ceiling. After a moment I blow smoke into the air, watching as the cloud of gray floats upwards, blending with the shadows until it disappears from view.
Ah, that's better. I can feel my tense muscles unraveling already. There's nothing like satisfying that ever present craving. I take another draw of my cigarette, and make sure my workspace is clean before standing up. I've decided that I could use a real smoke break. I don't spend a lot of time outside, but then again there's a lot of things I've been doing that I never used to. A clean atmosphere should do me some good, and help me to clear my head.
The sun is there to welcome me when I get outside, and its brightness has me squinting. I tilt my head down to shade my eyes until they adjust to the new lighting. The air around me is warm, and fragrant; different from the stagnant smells of the laboratory. I breathe it in, tucking my hands inside the pockets of my lab coat. There are other shinigami roaming the streets, their voices a loud collective of sound. All in all it's a very new experience for me, a lot louder and busier than what I'm used to. Normally I'd be unimpressed, but right now I'm actually intrigued.
I feel a little out of my element, but I can't help smirking in spite of that. I tilt my head back, eyes drooping against the glare of the sun, its rays hot on my face. I still have my cigarette nestled between my lips, and my eyes slip shut as I suck on it. I pull its essence into my mouth, swallowing it down, feeling it inside my chest. I'm still walking as I concentrate on the taste and feel of it, and that's when I collide with something hard. My eyes fly open at the sudden impact, and the force of it is enough to knock me sideways, my back hitting the wall of a nearby building.
"Watch where you're fucking going, you stupid shit."
My eyes widen at the sound of that rough, husky voice. I look to its owner, and my gaze locks with a pair of cold, blue irises. The Sexta Espada stalks past me, his brows forming a deep scowl. The look in his eyes is hungry as he stares at me, and he spits at my feet before dragging his tongue over his teeth. My brain is still trying to process what just happened, and because of that I feel rooted to the spot. I can't think of how to react, so I just stare at Jaegerjaquez numbly. He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then squares his shoulders and walks away. My eyes are glued to his retreating back, and other shinigami stare as he saunters past them, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"Akon?"
I twitch in surprise, startled by the use of my name. I don't know when he showed up, but suddenly the ninth division captain is standing right beside me. His thin brows are knitted together in a soft frown, and his eyes are questioning as he stares at me.
"Where did you come from?" I ask him, my tone calm despite my rattled nerves.
Hisagi points to his left, at another street that branches from the one we're on. "I was just walking by, and I saw the Arrancar bump into you."
Straightening up slowly, I run my hands over my lab coat to brush it off. The nonchalance that I always possess is making its return, and a little smirk tugs at my mouth. "Really? I thought I bumped into him?" I mumble, my hairless brow arching faintly.
"Well, from what I saw, your eyes were closed and his weren't."
I have to chuckle at that. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was the one that did the bumping? And intentionally, if Hisagi's words are anything to go by. From the very beginning I've had a hard time working the Arrancar out. Just when I think I'm getting somewhere, he does something to throw me off. I can only assume that he ran into me on purpose to get my attention, but why? I was certain that he hated me (what with all the threats against my life), or at least tired of me being in his general vicinity.
So why did he do something to make me notice him?
"Isn't it strange to see a former Espada walking around freely? In Soul Society, of all places."
Judging by the tone of Hisagi's voice, I'd say he's slightly amused. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and note the upturn position of his mouth. It has me smirking back at him, and I shrug my shoulders lazily. "I think we surpassed strange a long time ago, Hisagi. Is he still wearing the reiatsu limiter?"
"Yea," the other man answers, nodding his head. He looks in the direction that Jaegerjaquez went (far out of sight, now), before his gaze drifts back to me. "They take it off to test his fighting abilities, though, and when they want him to do kidou exercises."
My brows shoot up, surprise evident on my face. "Kidou exercises and fighting? Are they trying to train him?"
Hisagi nods again and rubs at the nape of his neck. He starts walking, leaving me no choice but to follow him. "You knew that's where all this was heading, Akon. If they didn't train him what use would he be? It wouldn't make sense to keep him alive without any purpose."
Frowning softly, I stare at the cobblestones at our feet. The scarred captain is right; I did know. I'm not sure why I asked him that question, because the answer was obvious. I guess a small part of me is irked, for whatever reason. The Gotei 13 really plans on using Jaegerjaquez in any way they can, don't they?
And why is that thought so bitter in my mind?
"He seems to like it, though. The fighting I mean. As for kidÅ, he has about as much talent for it as Abarai."
The other man ends his sentence on a laugh, shaking his head. His good humor gets a smirk out of me, even if I'm still bothered by all the testing the former Espada is going through. I have no doubts that Hisagi is telling the truth, and I'm sure Jaegerjaquez is basking in the opportunity to fight. But how will he feel when he realizes that he's being shaped into some kind of tool? He went through it before with Aizen, and I don't think he'd be interested in a repeat.
"That isn't surprising," I mumble after a moment, slowing to a standstill. "I don't think he has the attention span for something like Demon Arts. I should head back to the Twelfth, though. I have some work I need to finish before the day's over."
"Oh...yea, of course. One more thing before you go. Don't let the Arrancar get to you."
Staring at the tattooed shinigami, my brow gives a little twitch. "I'm not letting him get to me, what makes you think that?"
"You should've seen the look on your face when you bumped into him." Hisagi pauses then, staring back at me for a long moment before he smirks slowly. "And I thought you preferred the pronoun it?"
I know my face goes blank, and so does my mind, disabling any response I may have. From the first moment I meant the former Espada, I called him an "it." Back then he was only a thing to be studied -- an object -- and I didn't identify him as male or female. Then as I got to know the Arrancar better, "it" slowly became a he. Still, I decided that I'd keep him genderless when I talked about him in public. I didn't want anyone catching on, because my viewpoint changing might look a little suspicious. All of that effort for nothing, because now I've just blown it in front of Hisagi Shuuhei.
But I guess it could be worse, I could have blown it in front of Kurotsuchi-taichou. I'm grateful that it was Hisagi who heard me slip, because of all the people I know, he's the only one I'd consider a genuine "friend." I know that I can trust the tattooed captain to keep my "secret" safe.
"Well, it definitely doesn't look like a she, does it?" I ask, smirking softly. The other man chuckles, reaching out to smack my arm.
"Whatever you say, Akon."
With a knowing smile and a squeeze of my bicep, Hisagi Shuuhei walks away. I watch him leave, then laugh to myself and head back to my own division.
What greets me isn't what I was expecting, exactly. My gaze is immediately drawn downwards, to the man's lowered hakama and the cock in his hand. I stare at it wide-eyed, at the mass of blue curls at its base. The former Espada is pissing on my wall.
"Hey, dipshit! What the fuck are you staring at?!"
"I'm staring at you pissing on my wall," I tell him, my tone a little incredulous. It takes me longer than it should, but I manage to tear my eyes away from his dick. I can't help feeling a little flustered, because I've just woken up to someone's cock. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez's cock, to be more specific. I guess it could have been worse, he could have been...masturbating...
Why is that thought more pleasant than it's meant to be?
Exhaling, I shake my head and fix the Arrancar with a bored look. "Tell me something, Jaegerjaquez. Of all the places you could piss, you chose to do it by my shoji. Is this another one of your virile displays, or just a coincidence?"
The former Espada stares at me, the look on his face as bored as mine. His wrist gives a little jerk, and I have to concentrate on not looking as he tucks himself back into his hakama.
"Huh? Did you say somethin'?"
In response to that, I just sigh softly. I think about shutting the door and ignoring him, but then I remember that it's raining out. It isn't a heavy downpour, more of a drizzle, but one look at Jaegerjaquez and I know he's wet. His skin looks slick, his black uniform is clinging to his muscular body, and that usually sculpted, blue hair is plastered to his forehead. As I take it all in, I can't hold back a cocked eyebrow.
"You look kind of soaked. Do you want to come in?"
The Arrancar stares at me beneath furrowed brows, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Why the fuck would I wanna come in?"
"Suit yourself."
I start closing the door, but his hand stops me when it smacks against the wooden frame. He shoves it back open, more violently than necessary, then pushes past me. I just smirk faintly and slide the screen door into place, leaving it open a crack to let cool air into the room. I'd go back to my futon but Jaegerjaquez is already sitting there, damp clothes and all. He's bent over as he fists handfuls of fabric in his hand, wringing the water from his hakama. I can hear the low rumble of his voice as he mumbles to himself, under the splash of water as it hits the floor.
"What was that?" I question, sitting down in front of the door. I rest with my bare back against the wall and cross my legs. The wind outside carries some rain inside, but I don't mind when the cold drops hit my skin.
"I fuckin' hate being wet," Jaegerjaquez grumbles, scowling at his feet as he tugs his waraji off. After tossing the sandals aside he yanks at his tabi, then discards them as well.
"If you hate being wet, then why were you out in the rain?"
"None of your fucking business! Stop asking questions!!"
Chuckling, I shake my head and look away. It seems nothing has improved, even after four days of being apart. I still make him as angry as ever. I have to admit that I feel flattered, in a sick way, that I produce such a strong reaction. I just wish it was more positive than negative. I still remember when he threw my lighter away, and how it stung something deep inside of me. That was the closest I'd ever gotten to giving someone a "gift," and to have him toss it aside like it was trash... Well, I'll be perfectly honest, it was a blow to my ego. I'm not the type of person that gets hurt feelings, but that was a rare moment in which my heart sank to my knees. Since then I've tried forgetting about it. I decided to focus on more important things, like staying out of his way for both our sakes. Now, though, I can feel that pain subsiding. Because he's here in my room, and that alone makes up for what happened by that ruined building.
I smile lazily at my own thoughts, then turn my head to look at Jaegerjaquez once more. "You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want. They're dry."
"Like I'd want your clothes. They fucking stink, like that shit you smoke."
My hairless brow arching, I point at the cabinet where I keep my uniforms. "The clean ones shouldn't smell."
The other man stares at me for a long moment, his lip curling as he squints. Then he stomps over to the cabinet, ripping the doors open before he starts stripping down. He shrugs out of his jacket first, then drops his hakama and kicks it away. Apparently he doesn't care that he's stark-naked, and he seems completely oblivious to my presence as he uses one of my uniforms to wipe himself down. My eyes droop as I watch the slide of his muscles; the way his arms flex when he rubs over his legs. I follow his movements and my eyes are drawn to the curve of his ass and the bulge of his large thighs. A strange heat moves over me as I watch him, my breath coming harder. I clear my throat quietly and look away, pushing the door wider so more air floods the room. I could use the cold breeze right about now.
I give him a minute for privacy, and then I chance a second look. He's wearing my hakama by now, and there's a shitagi in his hand as he pulls it on. The white fabric hangs to about mid-thigh, and he leaves it open so his torso is exposed. His hair is still damp with rain, and blue strands of it fall into his eyes when he looks my way.
"Jaegerjaques, why are you here?" I mutter. I really feel like it was no coincidence that I found him outside my room. Of all the places to piss in Soul Society, why would he piss in front of mine? Why would he be hanging around the Twelfth Division when he belongs with the Third? (Twelfth division, the place that tortured him when he first got here.)
Yea, catching him by my room (in the dead of night) wasn't by chance in any way, shape, or form.
"I was making a pit stop before I killed that bastard shinigami with the yellow teeth."
There's a perverted humor lacing the other man's words. He's expressionless as he stares at me, until a toothy grin splits his features. Looking at that psychotic smile, I realize how bland the past four days have been without it.
"You couldn't kill him, especially with that thing around your neck," I tell him around a low chuckle.
Jaegerjaquez's grin falters, his eyes tapered. He turns so he's facing me, and at this new angle I have a better view. My white shitagi makes the skin on his chest look tanner, and the redness of his scar even angrier. That blemish is like an arrow, leading my gaze to the cavity in his abdomen. It's so weird to think that there's a hole in this man, so unlike anything I've ever experienced. I can see the fabric of my shitagi through that hole, and something about that is oddly arousing. I stare at it longer than I planned, strange scenarios playing out in my head. I have to wonder if that hole is sensitive, what he'd do if I ran my fingertips along the edge... My lips curling at the corner, I glance up to eye the red collar encircling this thick throat.
"I didn't think I'd talk to you again. The last time I saw you, you said that it pissed you off when I lurked around."
"It does piss me off, you fucking stupid bastard."
"Yet here you are in my room."
I hear the growl in his throat; feel the heat of his gaze as he stalks towards me. I use the wall at my back for leverage as I slowly push myself to a stand.
"It pisses me off when you show up wherever I am, but I never said anything about showin' up where you are."
At those surprising words, I stare at him in mild confusion and tilt my head. "That's a good loophole, Jaegerjaquez. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you wanted to see me."
"Shut your fucking trap!! You still haven't paid for what you did to me!!"
When the Arrancar is this close, his shout is even louder than it normally is. It makes my heart jump a little, my nerves standing on end. I feel like squinting -- the way you do when a bright light startles you -- but I keep my face impassive. Jaegerjaquez on the other hand is full of expression, his eyes narrowed to slits and his lip twitching. I'm motionless as he stares at me, and then my eyes widen when he leans even closer. I have no way of telling what his next move is going to be, so color me shocked when I hear him sniff, his nose close to one of my horns. I can feel his breath on my face, and the puff of air when he exhales. That area has always been highly responsive, and that puff of air alone is enough to make me shiver.
"What are you doing?" I mumble, my voice huskier than it was a moment ago. I try leaning away but his arm shoots out, his hand splaying against the wall beside my head. I'll have to duck under his arm to get out of his way, or move in the opposite direction. But his face is that way, even closer as he keeps sniffing around my horns.
"You don't smell like a hollow..."
I furrow my brows a little, eyes half-lidded as I focus on keeping my breathing steady. His nose nudges the flesh surrounding one of my horns, and I have to bite my tongue so I don't moan. "Of course I don't, why would I?" I mutter, trying my hardest not to sound strained.
(I don't think I'm successful.)
"These horns, they're like a hollow's," the other man mumbles, his warm breath ghosting over my hairless eyebrow. That's another vulnerable area, so I turn my head to the side, trying to force some distance between us. He makes a gruff sound that hits my temple, and I can't help myself. I have to look back at him, and when I do his gaze immediately locks with mine.
"The Septima had horns that looked like yours. 'Cept they were in a line on the top of his head."
My brows furrow even more, and I'm having a hard time thinking straight. It'd help if his eyes didn't look so blue under the moonlight.
"Septima... The Seventh Espada?"
The Arrancar nods, and his lids are droopy, just like mine. He smirks at me crookedly as he drawls, "He was fucking weak. Just like you, now that I think about it. Maybe it has something to do with your stupid ass horns?"
I chuckle softly as I look away, glancing at the shoji door. If I don't look at him, I can refocus my thoughts. A few seconds without those blue eyes staring into me, and everything should be in working order. It's in that moment of staring at the shower outside that I suddenly realize something; something that I never considered before. And now everything starts making a lot more sense...
"Does it make you feel nostalgic, Arrancar...?" I ask him slowly, a smirk tugging my mouth upward. I slowly turn my gaze back to him, and I watch as his brows knit together. My smirk grows at his obvious confusion. "The horns, that is. You said yourself that they're like a hollow's. That's why I make you so angry, isn't it? It's also why you came to see me. Because I remind you of your life in Hueco Mundo."
With each word I speak, his scowl deepens. I can see the tendons in his jaw standing out as he grinds his teeth. The familiar fire sparks to life in his eyes; the fire that I've missed as much as I missed his grin. I chuckle at him, then let my brows shoot up, like a light just went off in my head and I want him to know.
"And that's why you've been so intent on fighting me, isn't it? If you cero a hole through my chest, I'll look even more like an Espada."
"FUCKER!"
Grimmjow punches the wall, his fist passing so close that it grazes my cheekbone. Now I really am trapped, because his left hand is still splayed by my head, and now his right hand is on the other side. He has me pinned to the wall, and in more ways than one. His scorching, blue-eyed gaze is burrowing into me, and his body is close to mine, the heat of it burning my own skin. I can see that his chest is heaving, rising and falling to the same rhythm of my own quiet panting. I think to myself that this is the moment, this is my chance, and before I have the time to really think about it and psych myself out, I lean up to crush our mouths together.
His is everything I thought it'd be. It's hot, and powerful, and his lips are slightly chapped. The taste of them is sharper than what I'm used to -- tangier -- and it sends a surge of desire racing through me. I thought my skin was on fire before, now that I'm kissing him it's like a fucking inferno. My mind is going crazy as I brush my tongue over his upper lip, then between the seam. I want to know what the inside of his mouth tastes like.
I want to know what the rest of his body tastes like.
And then he's biting down on my lower lip, breaking the delicate skin. I groan at the roughness of it, at the feel of warm blood running down my chin in rivulets. Then the next thing I know I hear a loud crack, and there's pain shooting through my jaw. The bastard just punched me. I blink my eyes and my vision is blurred, brows furrowed against the throbbing in my face. There's no way of knowing what kind of reaction he's looking for, but I find myself grinning. Then I'm chuckling, breathless.
"You're crazy," I mumble, my voice low and raspy. I look at him past my lashes and it's still a little spotty, but I can see him just fine. He curls his hand around my throat, his grip like iron, squeezing until it's hard to breathe. I watch him as he leans in, so close that I can see the dilation of his pupils.
"Let it bruise," he growls, before his tongue falls hot on my chin. He licks at the blood, laps it up, all the way to the split on my lower lip. His tongue is rough like sandpaper, and it makes me utter a muffled groan. He snarls in turn, his teeth piercing my lip one final time. Then without another word he lets me go and walks away, into the shadows outside. The rain is really coming down now, and a strong wind kicks his shitagi into the air. I get one final glimpse of his hollow hole, and the gothic six tattooed on his lower back, before he disappears around the corner.
Still breathing hard, I slowly sink down so I'm sitting on the floor. Let it bruise..? It only takes me a moment to understand what he meant. The former Espada doesn't want me healing the wounds he gave me. Like I really would, they're only scratches. I tip my head back and chuckle, flexing my jaw. Is that Grimmjow's way of marking someone?
Smiling, I close my eyes and lick over my injured lip. There's a persistent ache between my legs, and I groan softly as I cup it. My cock is swollen and hard under my palm, the fabric of my hakama damp with precome. The cold, stormy air from outside sends goosebumps all over my body, making me shudder even harder than I already am. I smirk to myself obscenely, then mumble a throaty moan as I squeeze my cock.
With the way I'm riled up, it should take me no time at all to get off.
