Fic
Title: Molten Milk
Character Focus: Akon
Pairing: Mayuri x Yoruichi
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Het funtiems, underage voyeurism, 2nd person POV, coarse language
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.
Summary: You're surprised that it isn't as white as the rest of Mayuri-sama -- that instead, it's nearly as dark as the slim fingers that slowly caress its underside.
Word Count: 1,810
A/N: I feel the need to state, again, that there is underage voyeurism in this fic. TBtP Akon is spying on people like a pervert. Please enjoy all the wrongness of this little fic. ^_^
If you were under any other man, in any other division, you may have had the mind to realize that what you're doing isn't exactly "normal." But as it is, you aren't a member of another division, and Kurotsuchi Mayuri is the man you work for. So you stay put, a flask of carefully (and successfully) combined chemicals clutched in your small hands. You hold the smooth glass against your chest and lean against the wall -- out of sight -- as you crane your neck to see through the crack in the door. The Institute's vice director is sitting on a high stool, his hunched form in silhouette. The room is dark (very dark), but it glows with an unearthly, colorful light from the rows of beakers. It is surreal but natural, like the haunting shine of a full moon illuminating swamp fog.
You can only see his profile, and he's mixing chemicals (the same as you, just a while ago). He's in a strange state of undress that you've rarely seen, with his kosode and shitagi bunched into a tangle of black and white fabric at his waist. His torso is stark white with paint and so is his face, save for the band of black around his eyes. His blue hair is slicked back neatly, as always, which fills you with a small sense of relief. He works meticulously as he sits there in silence, and when she emerges from the shadows he doesn't acknowledge her presence. She stalks towards him with slow, graceful steps, her bare feet gliding over the tiled floor silently. She is wearing her captain's haori and black wrist guards, but underneath you see that she's naked.
Tiny fingers gripping the glass, you narrow your eyes as you watch them. Shihouin Yoruichi walks by Mayuri-sama leisurely, and her slim hand reaches out to ghost the line of blue hair from his nape to his forehead. The vice director still hasn't moved -- or said anything -- and his eyes remain focused on his work. But there is a feeling of tension falling down to grab them both. You see it in her golden eyes as she watches him; in the sluggish roll of his back muscles as they slide beneath ivory flesh.
A grin plays at the corner of her mouth, but her gaze is noticeably calculating as she leans down. Out of your sight, now, and you assume that she's saying something against his ear -- or what would be his ear, if he had one. Mayuri-sama's grim mouth becomes a tight sneer, and he jerks his heard towards her as he mutters something that you can't hear, but imagine is curt and vicious. What you do hear is her resounding laugh, both light and husky. His arms are outstretched towards the table but she turns into him anyway, and maneuvers her muscular leg over his with all the deadly elegance of a jungle cat. She bends under his left arm fluidly, and once she's perched in between him and the table she grins in triumph.
You see his amber eyes stare at her blandly, but he doesn't push her off; doesn't yell at her in seething outrage, and it's for that precise reason that you study them so intently. Mayuri-sama's lack of reaction -- or lack of a reaction that you're used to -- is fascinating you. You need to know what it is about the bronzed woman that keeps him from killing her like you'd expect. What it is about her that has Mayuri-sama looking at her in such a way.
What it is about him that pulls her, of all people, from Urahara-san's private quarters.
Shihouin Yoruichi straddles him, and fans her haori back to better expose her naked torso. You see her full, heavy-looking breasts, her dusky nipples, and the flat plains of her toned abdomen. You wet your lips faintly and shift against the wall. Mayuri-sama, on the other hand, stares at the row of beakers on the table over the captain's shoulder. You see the man's disinterested expression and his lips moving, but again you can't hear what he's saying. The woman chuckles and starts undoing his obi; pulling the fabric apart with unhurried tugs. She's sitting far enough back on his thighs that when she pulls his cock free of his hakama you can see it perfectly.
You're surprised it isn't as white as the rest of Mayuri-sama -- that instead, it's nearly as dark as the slim fingers that slowly caress its underside. You have to wonder, if he painted it like everything else, would she still take him in? If she did, could the paint cause an infection, or would it just melt away with the heat of her fluids? Would it run together with her wetness and his, mixing with the white and clear of their combined come?
Maybe it is bad for her insides, and that's why Mayuri-sama has left it bare. The very possibility alone is enough to heighten your intrigue. That the vice director would take such precautions (for her, or him, or both of them) is surprising you in an almost horrifying way. But at the moment the only thing you can be sure of is that his cock doesn't look right, exactly-- standing so dark against the rest of him.
But it is standing, you notice, as she moves her hand over it; teasing with brushing fingertips and confident strokes. She fondles him like it isn't the first time, and the evidence of her experience is glaringly obvious by the way Mayuri-sama's cock hardens under her touch. The man's body looks tense, and there's a self-satisfied smirk on her face when she lifts herself and slides onto him smoothly. Their mutual shudder tells you that it feels good for both, and when she cants her hips, settling more firmly in his lap, you try to imagine what it must be like to have a woman's cunt.
To have one, and to have a man's cock deep inside it.
She lets her haori slide off her shoulders and down her arms, and when the white fabric falls to the floor you're glad. You're glad because this way, you have a better view of her heaving breasts. You stare at her hard nipples, and glimpse at her hands when they grip the chair over Mayuri-sama's shoulders. Your eyes drift down to watch her shapely hips as she rocks them back and forth; her powerful legs hugging the man's waist as she moves voraciously in his lap. Her husky voice penetrates your ears, and listening to the sounds she makes while you watch her riding Mayuri-sama makes your skin warm to a point that it aches.
You clutch the flask in your hands, and swallow dryly as you remind yourself not to crush the glass. Then your eyes widen when the vice director puts his face in the crook of her neck, and roughly runs his hand up her thigh.
They widen a fraction more when you see the white paint of his palm smear against her dark, sweaty skin.
The yellow-eyed captain tightens her legs around his waist, and you hear her groan loudly as she arches against him. She claws at his shoulders, revealing trails of deeply tanned skin like the racking away of snow from the dead soil of a winter Earth. Gruff sounds from Mayuri-sama are starting to reach you, now, and you struggle to control your own breathing as you observe the way they fuck. He drags his long tongue over her pebbled nipple before taking it into his mouth, and adds more streaks of smelted white to her back when he pulls her closer.
Shihouin Yoruichi whines, and you can't tell if the first syllable is some sort of ragged meow, or the beginnings of the vice director's name. You swallow for a second time, then edge closer to the door in hopes of hearing them better. The woman cards her fingers through his bright hair and tugs him back, leaving his neck arched and his face exposed. A flash of amber snares your attention, and you stare at his eyes as they stare at her. They're as harsh and penetrating as always, and the plume of black desire at their center only sharpens that cruel intensity rather than softening it. The paint on his mouth has faded and his lips are open slightly, the way you've seen them open for various pills and liquids from around the laboratory (the ones that he liked to test personally).
She holds his head in her hands and opens her mouth over his, slipping her tongue between his lips and purring like thunder.
"Akon."
You don't jump, but your eyes swivel at your softly spoken name. The captain is standing a few feet away, glancing at you, the door, then back again. His smile is warm, but his gun-metal eyes are impish when he says, "What are you up to?"
You tell him exactly what you're up to in a deadpan voice. His brow shoots up and he creeps up beside you, looking through the crack in the door. You watch him impassively, and you're well aware that he knew they were in there the entire time without you having to tell him.
He glances down at you with a queer expression, then smiles again and reaches out to pluck the flask from your hands. He holds the glass carefully and pivots, so he can walk back in the direction he came from. You watch him as he strides away, and steal one final look into the room-- seeing (with some disappointment) that you missed Mayuri-sama lifting Shihouin Yoruichi onto the lab table. Her alluring legs are currently hooked over his shoulders, and he's thrusting into her with aggravated urgency.
Frowning regretfully, you turn away and hurry after your captain. You could stay to watch until they finish, but if you did that you wouldn't know what Urahara-taichou has to say about your work with the chemicals. You think that this was his plan all along when he took the flask from you, but logically you can't be annoyed with him.
Simply you fall in beside him and look up, staring at him with dark, perceptive eyes. He looks down at you and smiles happily, then tells you in a nostalgic sing-song of his very first "peeping" experiences. He teases you by saying that he wasn't quite as young as you are now (not true, you immediately think), and that he's impressed with your curiosity at such an age.
"Delighted~" to have such a healthy boy as one of his underlings.
You ask him, in all seriousness, if that means he'll reward you by making you a female gigai.
One for you to fit into.
His eyebrows shoot up again, before he smiles softly and reaches down to muss your hair.
Character Focus: Akon
Pairing: Mayuri x Yoruichi
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Het funtiems, underage voyeurism, 2nd person POV, coarse language
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.
Summary: You're surprised that it isn't as white as the rest of Mayuri-sama -- that instead, it's nearly as dark as the slim fingers that slowly caress its underside.
Word Count: 1,810
A/N: I feel the need to state, again, that there is underage voyeurism in this fic. TBtP Akon is spying on people like a pervert. Please enjoy all the wrongness of this little fic. ^_^
If you were under any other man, in any other division, you may have had the mind to realize that what you're doing isn't exactly "normal." But as it is, you aren't a member of another division, and Kurotsuchi Mayuri is the man you work for. So you stay put, a flask of carefully (and successfully) combined chemicals clutched in your small hands. You hold the smooth glass against your chest and lean against the wall -- out of sight -- as you crane your neck to see through the crack in the door. The Institute's vice director is sitting on a high stool, his hunched form in silhouette. The room is dark (very dark), but it glows with an unearthly, colorful light from the rows of beakers. It is surreal but natural, like the haunting shine of a full moon illuminating swamp fog.
You can only see his profile, and he's mixing chemicals (the same as you, just a while ago). He's in a strange state of undress that you've rarely seen, with his kosode and shitagi bunched into a tangle of black and white fabric at his waist. His torso is stark white with paint and so is his face, save for the band of black around his eyes. His blue hair is slicked back neatly, as always, which fills you with a small sense of relief. He works meticulously as he sits there in silence, and when she emerges from the shadows he doesn't acknowledge her presence. She stalks towards him with slow, graceful steps, her bare feet gliding over the tiled floor silently. She is wearing her captain's haori and black wrist guards, but underneath you see that she's naked.
Tiny fingers gripping the glass, you narrow your eyes as you watch them. Shihouin Yoruichi walks by Mayuri-sama leisurely, and her slim hand reaches out to ghost the line of blue hair from his nape to his forehead. The vice director still hasn't moved -- or said anything -- and his eyes remain focused on his work. But there is a feeling of tension falling down to grab them both. You see it in her golden eyes as she watches him; in the sluggish roll of his back muscles as they slide beneath ivory flesh.
A grin plays at the corner of her mouth, but her gaze is noticeably calculating as she leans down. Out of your sight, now, and you assume that she's saying something against his ear -- or what would be his ear, if he had one. Mayuri-sama's grim mouth becomes a tight sneer, and he jerks his heard towards her as he mutters something that you can't hear, but imagine is curt and vicious. What you do hear is her resounding laugh, both light and husky. His arms are outstretched towards the table but she turns into him anyway, and maneuvers her muscular leg over his with all the deadly elegance of a jungle cat. She bends under his left arm fluidly, and once she's perched in between him and the table she grins in triumph.
You see his amber eyes stare at her blandly, but he doesn't push her off; doesn't yell at her in seething outrage, and it's for that precise reason that you study them so intently. Mayuri-sama's lack of reaction -- or lack of a reaction that you're used to -- is fascinating you. You need to know what it is about the bronzed woman that keeps him from killing her like you'd expect. What it is about her that has Mayuri-sama looking at her in such a way.
What it is about him that pulls her, of all people, from Urahara-san's private quarters.
Shihouin Yoruichi straddles him, and fans her haori back to better expose her naked torso. You see her full, heavy-looking breasts, her dusky nipples, and the flat plains of her toned abdomen. You wet your lips faintly and shift against the wall. Mayuri-sama, on the other hand, stares at the row of beakers on the table over the captain's shoulder. You see the man's disinterested expression and his lips moving, but again you can't hear what he's saying. The woman chuckles and starts undoing his obi; pulling the fabric apart with unhurried tugs. She's sitting far enough back on his thighs that when she pulls his cock free of his hakama you can see it perfectly.
You're surprised it isn't as white as the rest of Mayuri-sama -- that instead, it's nearly as dark as the slim fingers that slowly caress its underside. You have to wonder, if he painted it like everything else, would she still take him in? If she did, could the paint cause an infection, or would it just melt away with the heat of her fluids? Would it run together with her wetness and his, mixing with the white and clear of their combined come?
Maybe it is bad for her insides, and that's why Mayuri-sama has left it bare. The very possibility alone is enough to heighten your intrigue. That the vice director would take such precautions (for her, or him, or both of them) is surprising you in an almost horrifying way. But at the moment the only thing you can be sure of is that his cock doesn't look right, exactly-- standing so dark against the rest of him.
But it is standing, you notice, as she moves her hand over it; teasing with brushing fingertips and confident strokes. She fondles him like it isn't the first time, and the evidence of her experience is glaringly obvious by the way Mayuri-sama's cock hardens under her touch. The man's body looks tense, and there's a self-satisfied smirk on her face when she lifts herself and slides onto him smoothly. Their mutual shudder tells you that it feels good for both, and when she cants her hips, settling more firmly in his lap, you try to imagine what it must be like to have a woman's cunt.
To have one, and to have a man's cock deep inside it.
She lets her haori slide off her shoulders and down her arms, and when the white fabric falls to the floor you're glad. You're glad because this way, you have a better view of her heaving breasts. You stare at her hard nipples, and glimpse at her hands when they grip the chair over Mayuri-sama's shoulders. Your eyes drift down to watch her shapely hips as she rocks them back and forth; her powerful legs hugging the man's waist as she moves voraciously in his lap. Her husky voice penetrates your ears, and listening to the sounds she makes while you watch her riding Mayuri-sama makes your skin warm to a point that it aches.
You clutch the flask in your hands, and swallow dryly as you remind yourself not to crush the glass. Then your eyes widen when the vice director puts his face in the crook of her neck, and roughly runs his hand up her thigh.
They widen a fraction more when you see the white paint of his palm smear against her dark, sweaty skin.
The yellow-eyed captain tightens her legs around his waist, and you hear her groan loudly as she arches against him. She claws at his shoulders, revealing trails of deeply tanned skin like the racking away of snow from the dead soil of a winter Earth. Gruff sounds from Mayuri-sama are starting to reach you, now, and you struggle to control your own breathing as you observe the way they fuck. He drags his long tongue over her pebbled nipple before taking it into his mouth, and adds more streaks of smelted white to her back when he pulls her closer.
Shihouin Yoruichi whines, and you can't tell if the first syllable is some sort of ragged meow, or the beginnings of the vice director's name. You swallow for a second time, then edge closer to the door in hopes of hearing them better. The woman cards her fingers through his bright hair and tugs him back, leaving his neck arched and his face exposed. A flash of amber snares your attention, and you stare at his eyes as they stare at her. They're as harsh and penetrating as always, and the plume of black desire at their center only sharpens that cruel intensity rather than softening it. The paint on his mouth has faded and his lips are open slightly, the way you've seen them open for various pills and liquids from around the laboratory (the ones that he liked to test personally).
She holds his head in her hands and opens her mouth over his, slipping her tongue between his lips and purring like thunder.
"Akon."
You don't jump, but your eyes swivel at your softly spoken name. The captain is standing a few feet away, glancing at you, the door, then back again. His smile is warm, but his gun-metal eyes are impish when he says, "What are you up to?"
You tell him exactly what you're up to in a deadpan voice. His brow shoots up and he creeps up beside you, looking through the crack in the door. You watch him impassively, and you're well aware that he knew they were in there the entire time without you having to tell him.
He glances down at you with a queer expression, then smiles again and reaches out to pluck the flask from your hands. He holds the glass carefully and pivots, so he can walk back in the direction he came from. You watch him as he strides away, and steal one final look into the room-- seeing (with some disappointment) that you missed Mayuri-sama lifting Shihouin Yoruichi onto the lab table. Her alluring legs are currently hooked over his shoulders, and he's thrusting into her with aggravated urgency.
Frowning regretfully, you turn away and hurry after your captain. You could stay to watch until they finish, but if you did that you wouldn't know what Urahara-taichou has to say about your work with the chemicals. You think that this was his plan all along when he took the flask from you, but logically you can't be annoyed with him.
Simply you fall in beside him and look up, staring at him with dark, perceptive eyes. He looks down at you and smiles happily, then tells you in a nostalgic sing-song of his very first "peeping" experiences. He teases you by saying that he wasn't quite as young as you are now (not true, you immediately think), and that he's impressed with your curiosity at such an age.
"Delighted~" to have such a healthy boy as one of his underlings.
You ask him, in all seriousness, if that means he'll reward you by making you a female gigai.
One for you to fit into.
His eyebrows shoot up again, before he smiles softly and reaches down to muss your hair.