Fanfiction : Bleach - Quelling Boredom
Title: Quelling Boredom.
Type: Fanfiction : Bleach.
Prompt: Done for bleach_exchange, Halloween 2006. Specifically for Shini-san (shinigamikender).
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, in any form or way. Kubo Tite own them, and my secret dream is to marry him.
Rating: R, at best.
Word Count: 1,618 words.
Summary: There is nothing more annoying than boredom, as Grimmjow inevitably finds out. Di Roy is there, searching for a chance to prove himself. Ulquiorra is there, stoic and untouchable as always. And the moon shines crimson tonight. [ GrimmRoy, GrimmUlqui ]. One-shot.
Author's Note: Hoi. Had a lot of fun writing this and I think the summary is a tad more angsty than the actual story. XD Ah well! Enjoy and give feedbacks~♥
quelling boredom
Hueco Mundo could be a hell of a boring place because one didn’t know where to go for entertainment, and the vast expanse of desert either way you’re looking was certainly not a help in alleviating the boredom. Sure, there were the usual options of killing underlings, snarking around with other Espadas, getting out of Ichimaru’s way… but those became boring too after a certain amount of time. Terrorizing human, meanwhile, if done too much would end up being so tiring and so lame and so boring. Because human were such weak creatures; they died too easily. Easier than the pests in Hueco Mundo.
Grimmjow scowled, and cero-ed his thirteenth sparring partner to oblivion.
So fuckin’ boring.
“You workin’ out some sexual frustration or somethin’?”
That voice made Grimmjow scowl darker. “Come ‘ere and die, runt.”
Di Roy, all toothy grin and laughing eye, stepped out of the shadow and stretched his arms wide open in a submissive gesture. “Just kiddin’, just kiddin’.” He stepped onto what was left of Grimmjow’s seventh victim (quite pretty, but weak as hell) and squelched his way through puddles of drying blood towards the scowling Sixth Espada. “What’s with the massacre, really?”
“Boredom,” Grimmjow answered, running a hand through his unruly blue hair. His gaze swept across the training hall, eventually resting on Di Roy’s slouching figure. “Wanna spar with me?”
“I’ll pass. I’d rather live.”
“Let’s fuck then.”
“Ha! I know I was right about that sexual tension thing!”
“Shut up and drop your pants.”
Sex was not unfamiliar with them. In fact, that was one of the things that they were taught about right after their rebirth, other than how to dress properly and to always, always remember to separate white and colour during laundry day. Aizen and Gin, the two highest-ranking bastards in Hueco Mundo made sure of that. It was not clear whether or not Tousen was involved in the ‘breaking in’, as Gin fondly called it, because the blind bastard seemed to be suffering from terminal heterosexuality. Besides, he’s too busy preaching about his fuckin’ way of justice to give a damn about getting laid, which, come to think of it, must’ve been why he walked around Hueco Mundo like he had a mop stuck up his arse.
It could also be taken as one form of an entertainment around Hueco Mundo. When killing got boring, almost everyone switched to fucking in an attempt to quell the desire for bloodbath. More often than not, weaker partners were killed in the middle of a passionate coupling, both intentional and otherwise. Fucking was something similar to killing sometimes, but with less clothing involved.
The air thickened with grunts and moans and gasps, as Grimmjow shoved his hip forward in an increasing pace, hearing the obscene slap slap slap of sweaty bare skin against sweaty bare skin. Blood seeped into their clothes and bits of brain and something slimy clung to his skin and somewhere in his brain, Grimmjow knew that those stains were going to be a bitch to remove later. Di Roy was kneeling on the floor, pants caught around his knees and one hand desperately stroking his hardened member to reach for that sought-after climax. The other hand had been broken earlier in their passion, when the smaller arrankar tried to touch Grimmjow.
“Ahnn!”
They stayed curled against each other for a minute or two, before Grimmjow withdrew and started pulling up his pants. He gave a last glance at Di Roy, who was still heaving on the floor and said, “You should go get that arm fixed.”
“No thanks to you,” came the irate reply, amidst dry gasps for air and groans of pain.
Grimmjow smirked, wiping blood onto a white bundle of cloth that looked suspiciously like Di Roy’s jacket. “You’re welcome.”
The white hallways branched out at odd places to form some kind of an elaborate labyrinth that led to the unknown, and Grimmjow cursed loudly when he encountered yet another dead end. He was starting to suspect that Aizen had done this on purpose, just for the heck of it, because his creator got off on making others suffer. The Espada traced back his steps, and took the hallway to his right, vowing that if he got lost again, he would bloody murder the first person that he’d encounter (Ichimaru, Tousen and Aizen excluded by default). His chosen path was unnaturally quiet and clean (no severed limbs and/or bodies as could be usually found around the building), and Grimmjow scanned the white wall with something akin to suspicion. He felt like he had just stepped into another’s territory.
There was a window at the far end of the winding hallway, and someone was sitting on its ledge, observing the full moon outside.
Grimmjow instinctively sneered. That fuckin’ queer. Ulquiorra.
Ulquiorra was perhaps one of those that he truly despised, and longed to fuck into the wall at the same time. Petite frame, silky hair, pale skin, electric green eyes… just like a woman. No, better than a woman in fact. Ulquiorra was strong enough to withstand pain, and Grimmjow wondered how blood would look on that perfect pale complexion. In comparison to the other Espadas, Ulquiorra could be classified as one of the best looking. Beautiful. Grimmjow wanted to rip out those eyes, wanted to sink his teeth into that neck, wanted to just kill Ulquiorra…
The raven-haired Espada slowly turned his head towards Grimmjow, snapping the blue-haired Espada out of his thought. “Grimmjow.”
Only Ulquiorra could say his name and made it sound like an insult. Grimmjow took several steps forward, until the other Espada was in his strangling radius (in case he was given the chance to do that). “Funny seeing you here.”
“You have a bland sense of humour then,” replied Ulquiorra as he returned to his previous activity of moon-gazing. “You smell of blood.”
“I was bored.”
“And sex.”
Grimmjow felt like laughing. “Told you I was bored.”
“These meaningless killings must stop.” Those words made Grimmjow smirk, because they were spoken with cold indifference that suggested the complete opposite of what Ulquiorra had just said. “It’s important to gather as much force as possible for the future war.”
“I don’t fuckin’ give a damn about that, and you know it.”
Ulquiorra silently studied the white orb hanging far above the horizon for a few seconds, before muttering, in that soft, monotonous voice of his, “Are you still bored now?”
It took Grimmjow a while to read the implication behind that question, and when he did, he couldn’t help the roar of laughter that escaped his throat. Ulquiorra had switched his attention to the Sixth Espada, light irritation dancing in jade, removable orbs. He opened his mouth, ready to deliver some cutting comments that would’ve involved something along the line of ‘know your place’ or shit like that (Ulquiorra could be so freaking predictable that it’s funny), but Grimmjow was right in front of him in no time. His bigger frame covered Ulquiorra’s smaller one, and dry lips sought the open mouth, tongues tasting the moist cavern inside.
Spice. Salty. A hint of vanilla. Addictive.
Grimmjow grunted in annoyance when he felt two small, strong hands pushed him back. “What?”
Ulquiorra was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a calculated and unaffected movement. “I was going to propose a spar.”
“… Well. Fuck.”
“If you’re referring to the only thing in your mind right now, then you’re right,” retorted Ulquiorra, all prim and proper again. Like a damned virgin. “Unfortunately, it’s not in mine.”
It was frustrating, to say the least. That son of a bitch. “Bloody unlikely that you’re not thinking about it, cunt.”
“I believe that I know my mind better than you do.” Ulquiorra slipped off the window ledge and stood before him, back straight and looking so fucking regal that Grimmjow just wanted to twist that cold expression into one of pain and pain and pain and pleasure and wanton heat. Green eyes flashed in warning, as if his mind was readable, and Grimmjow felt molten heat rushing straight into his groin. Fuck. “Excuse me.”
And in a beat, Ulquiorra had disappeared, white silhouette consumed by shadows.
Grimmjow cursed and glared at his straining erection underneath thin layer of white.
Fuck.
When Grimmjow finally found the way back into his room (after three more misleading hallways and ten dead arrankars), he found Di Roy leaning besides the door. The Espada raised an eyebrow in question; he didn’t remember calling for room service that day.
“Yo, boss,” greeted the arrankar, grinning widely. His arm still appeared to be broken. “I heard from Forte that you’re planning on givin’ that shinigami boy a visit. Mind if I tag along?”
Forte’s gonna die. That queen and his loud mouth. “You’re not invited, dickhead.”
Di Roy laughed the insult away and nodded pointedly at Grimmjow’s obviously unattended ‘little buddy’. “Had an appointment with your right hand tonight? I can help if you want to.”
“Fuck off.”
“Aww… don’t be so cold.” The arrankar boldly took a step forward. “Lemme serve you, ‘kay? Break anythin’ you want; just don’t kill me.”
Grimmjow sighed. “Fine. Tell Forte you’re coming.”
“You’re the best, boss!”
“Get in and start stripping.” Cold, green eyes came to his mind as Di Roy closed the door behind him. Grimmjow scowled. “And cover your eyes with something.”
The arrankar paused in the middle of one-handedly unzipping his pants. “Why?”
“One question and one bone gets broken, understand?”
“Whatever you say. Mind givin’ me a hand with this blindfoldin’ business? Can’t do it with just one hand, you know.”
Fuckin’ smartass. Should’ve killed him earlier.
END
Edit needed!!
Type: Fanfiction : Bleach.
Prompt: Done for bleach_exchange, Halloween 2006. Specifically for Shini-san (shinigamikender).
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, in any form or way. Kubo Tite own them, and my secret dream is to marry him.
Rating: R, at best.
Word Count: 1,618 words.
Summary: There is nothing more annoying than boredom, as Grimmjow inevitably finds out. Di Roy is there, searching for a chance to prove himself. Ulquiorra is there, stoic and untouchable as always. And the moon shines crimson tonight. [ GrimmRoy, GrimmUlqui ]. One-shot.
Author's Note: Hoi. Had a lot of fun writing this and I think the summary is a tad more angsty than the actual story. XD Ah well! Enjoy and give feedbacks~♥
quelling boredom
Hueco Mundo could be a hell of a boring place because one didn’t know where to go for entertainment, and the vast expanse of desert either way you’re looking was certainly not a help in alleviating the boredom. Sure, there were the usual options of killing underlings, snarking around with other Espadas, getting out of Ichimaru’s way… but those became boring too after a certain amount of time. Terrorizing human, meanwhile, if done too much would end up being so tiring and so lame and so boring. Because human were such weak creatures; they died too easily. Easier than the pests in Hueco Mundo.
Grimmjow scowled, and cero-ed his thirteenth sparring partner to oblivion.
So fuckin’ boring.
“You workin’ out some sexual frustration or somethin’?”
That voice made Grimmjow scowl darker. “Come ‘ere and die, runt.”
Di Roy, all toothy grin and laughing eye, stepped out of the shadow and stretched his arms wide open in a submissive gesture. “Just kiddin’, just kiddin’.” He stepped onto what was left of Grimmjow’s seventh victim (quite pretty, but weak as hell) and squelched his way through puddles of drying blood towards the scowling Sixth Espada. “What’s with the massacre, really?”
“Boredom,” Grimmjow answered, running a hand through his unruly blue hair. His gaze swept across the training hall, eventually resting on Di Roy’s slouching figure. “Wanna spar with me?”
“I’ll pass. I’d rather live.”
“Let’s fuck then.”
“Ha! I know I was right about that sexual tension thing!”
“Shut up and drop your pants.”
Sex was not unfamiliar with them. In fact, that was one of the things that they were taught about right after their rebirth, other than how to dress properly and to always, always remember to separate white and colour during laundry day. Aizen and Gin, the two highest-ranking bastards in Hueco Mundo made sure of that. It was not clear whether or not Tousen was involved in the ‘breaking in’, as Gin fondly called it, because the blind bastard seemed to be suffering from terminal heterosexuality. Besides, he’s too busy preaching about his fuckin’ way of justice to give a damn about getting laid, which, come to think of it, must’ve been why he walked around Hueco Mundo like he had a mop stuck up his arse.
It could also be taken as one form of an entertainment around Hueco Mundo. When killing got boring, almost everyone switched to fucking in an attempt to quell the desire for bloodbath. More often than not, weaker partners were killed in the middle of a passionate coupling, both intentional and otherwise. Fucking was something similar to killing sometimes, but with less clothing involved.
The air thickened with grunts and moans and gasps, as Grimmjow shoved his hip forward in an increasing pace, hearing the obscene slap slap slap of sweaty bare skin against sweaty bare skin. Blood seeped into their clothes and bits of brain and something slimy clung to his skin and somewhere in his brain, Grimmjow knew that those stains were going to be a bitch to remove later. Di Roy was kneeling on the floor, pants caught around his knees and one hand desperately stroking his hardened member to reach for that sought-after climax. The other hand had been broken earlier in their passion, when the smaller arrankar tried to touch Grimmjow.
“Ahnn!”
They stayed curled against each other for a minute or two, before Grimmjow withdrew and started pulling up his pants. He gave a last glance at Di Roy, who was still heaving on the floor and said, “You should go get that arm fixed.”
“No thanks to you,” came the irate reply, amidst dry gasps for air and groans of pain.
Grimmjow smirked, wiping blood onto a white bundle of cloth that looked suspiciously like Di Roy’s jacket. “You’re welcome.”
The white hallways branched out at odd places to form some kind of an elaborate labyrinth that led to the unknown, and Grimmjow cursed loudly when he encountered yet another dead end. He was starting to suspect that Aizen had done this on purpose, just for the heck of it, because his creator got off on making others suffer. The Espada traced back his steps, and took the hallway to his right, vowing that if he got lost again, he would bloody murder the first person that he’d encounter (Ichimaru, Tousen and Aizen excluded by default). His chosen path was unnaturally quiet and clean (no severed limbs and/or bodies as could be usually found around the building), and Grimmjow scanned the white wall with something akin to suspicion. He felt like he had just stepped into another’s territory.
There was a window at the far end of the winding hallway, and someone was sitting on its ledge, observing the full moon outside.
Grimmjow instinctively sneered. That fuckin’ queer. Ulquiorra.
Ulquiorra was perhaps one of those that he truly despised, and longed to fuck into the wall at the same time. Petite frame, silky hair, pale skin, electric green eyes… just like a woman. No, better than a woman in fact. Ulquiorra was strong enough to withstand pain, and Grimmjow wondered how blood would look on that perfect pale complexion. In comparison to the other Espadas, Ulquiorra could be classified as one of the best looking. Beautiful. Grimmjow wanted to rip out those eyes, wanted to sink his teeth into that neck, wanted to just kill Ulquiorra…
The raven-haired Espada slowly turned his head towards Grimmjow, snapping the blue-haired Espada out of his thought. “Grimmjow.”
Only Ulquiorra could say his name and made it sound like an insult. Grimmjow took several steps forward, until the other Espada was in his strangling radius (in case he was given the chance to do that). “Funny seeing you here.”
“You have a bland sense of humour then,” replied Ulquiorra as he returned to his previous activity of moon-gazing. “You smell of blood.”
“I was bored.”
“And sex.”
Grimmjow felt like laughing. “Told you I was bored.”
“These meaningless killings must stop.” Those words made Grimmjow smirk, because they were spoken with cold indifference that suggested the complete opposite of what Ulquiorra had just said. “It’s important to gather as much force as possible for the future war.”
“I don’t fuckin’ give a damn about that, and you know it.”
Ulquiorra silently studied the white orb hanging far above the horizon for a few seconds, before muttering, in that soft, monotonous voice of his, “Are you still bored now?”
It took Grimmjow a while to read the implication behind that question, and when he did, he couldn’t help the roar of laughter that escaped his throat. Ulquiorra had switched his attention to the Sixth Espada, light irritation dancing in jade, removable orbs. He opened his mouth, ready to deliver some cutting comments that would’ve involved something along the line of ‘know your place’ or shit like that (Ulquiorra could be so freaking predictable that it’s funny), but Grimmjow was right in front of him in no time. His bigger frame covered Ulquiorra’s smaller one, and dry lips sought the open mouth, tongues tasting the moist cavern inside.
Spice. Salty. A hint of vanilla. Addictive.
Grimmjow grunted in annoyance when he felt two small, strong hands pushed him back. “What?”
Ulquiorra was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a calculated and unaffected movement. “I was going to propose a spar.”
“… Well. Fuck.”
“If you’re referring to the only thing in your mind right now, then you’re right,” retorted Ulquiorra, all prim and proper again. Like a damned virgin. “Unfortunately, it’s not in mine.”
It was frustrating, to say the least. That son of a bitch. “Bloody unlikely that you’re not thinking about it, cunt.”
“I believe that I know my mind better than you do.” Ulquiorra slipped off the window ledge and stood before him, back straight and looking so fucking regal that Grimmjow just wanted to twist that cold expression into one of pain and pain and pain and pleasure and wanton heat. Green eyes flashed in warning, as if his mind was readable, and Grimmjow felt molten heat rushing straight into his groin. Fuck. “Excuse me.”
And in a beat, Ulquiorra had disappeared, white silhouette consumed by shadows.
Grimmjow cursed and glared at his straining erection underneath thin layer of white.
Fuck.
When Grimmjow finally found the way back into his room (after three more misleading hallways and ten dead arrankars), he found Di Roy leaning besides the door. The Espada raised an eyebrow in question; he didn’t remember calling for room service that day.
“Yo, boss,” greeted the arrankar, grinning widely. His arm still appeared to be broken. “I heard from Forte that you’re planning on givin’ that shinigami boy a visit. Mind if I tag along?”
Forte’s gonna die. That queen and his loud mouth. “You’re not invited, dickhead.”
Di Roy laughed the insult away and nodded pointedly at Grimmjow’s obviously unattended ‘little buddy’. “Had an appointment with your right hand tonight? I can help if you want to.”
“Fuck off.”
“Aww… don’t be so cold.” The arrankar boldly took a step forward. “Lemme serve you, ‘kay? Break anythin’ you want; just don’t kill me.”
Grimmjow sighed. “Fine. Tell Forte you’re coming.”
“You’re the best, boss!”
“Get in and start stripping.” Cold, green eyes came to his mind as Di Roy closed the door behind him. Grimmjow scowled. “And cover your eyes with something.”
The arrankar paused in the middle of one-handedly unzipping his pants. “Why?”
“One question and one bone gets broken, understand?”
“Whatever you say. Mind givin’ me a hand with this blindfoldin’ business? Can’t do it with just one hand, you know.”
Fuckin’ smartass. Should’ve killed him earlier.
END
Edit needed!!